Title: Dance With Me (1/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Time line: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.

*words between these indicate internal thoughts*


Lindon - Second Age

He hated the boredom that forever haunted him. His world a never ending pile of correspondences, the same whining complaining documents, and he resented the thankless responsibility of it all. It amazed him that some men were envious of the longevity of elves’ lives. The times he had encountered and lived amongst humans he had scoffed at their awe of the Firstborn. Why could they not understand that long life just meant more time to experience monotony or suffer heartbreaking losses? The daily routine of pointless meetings, meaningless relationships, and hopeless memories taunted his every waking moment. Vaguely he recalled a time when his life was the envy of all and boredom merely an inconvenience but that had changed in a flash of violence.

Despair, his dual companion, flared in intensity these days, and he tired of fighting it. All the lonely years gone by and the agony is still vivid and wrenching, but he, the supposed lucky one, had survived to perform his duties. He abhorred the thought of this continued existence. Life that endured through the eyes of an elf that, though he appeared alive had died many years before when death stole from him all hope.

His sense of responsibility an eternal punishment that forced him to remain here and not take the final selfish step which would allow him to pass on to a place of numbing bliss. If only he was not ensnared by honor bound promises and free to end his suffering.

The weariness of it all weighed upon him. His heavy-lidded eyes closed and he laid his head down on the hard surface of the desk. For some unknown reason the ancient dreaded memories had resurfaced and they plagued him whether awake or in dreams. Painful recollections he had attempted to keep locked tightly in the deep recesses of his mind, and until the last few weeks had been successful. But now, he never knew when these thoughts would erupt rendering him helpless and vulnerable. It was a troubling predicament for one so used to controlling his environment. To complicate matters, he could not obtain assistance from the healers as this would prompt questions that he had no intention of answering and lying was impossible. So he continued to suffer and hoped he could once more muster the power to beat back these memories to a place they were forever forgotten.

Hopelessly he wondered at the mystery of why these dreams presented themselves now.

As his dark eyes opened they alighted on an old crack meandering its way across his simple wooden desk. His long pale finger lightly traced the deepening crevice, and he smiled faintly at the irony before reminiscence took him once more…

Gondolin - First Age

Erestor peered forward, positive that the crack in the wall had lengthened and developed new branches. He squinted at it fiercely, an unusual action for one with elfish sight, but he just had to be sure.

*Aye, that crack has definitely changed and it looks like something.*

He tilted his head to get a better view, eyed it closely as he walked to the left then to the right, crossed the corridor, placed his nose against it and slowly backed away. If he did not figure it out soon, he was convinced he would be forced to pull every strand of hair out of his head.

“What is this?” A voice boomed from down the hall.

Pulled from his musings, a wicked smiled formed on Erestor’s lips when he heard the familiar intonation.

“I see a warrior shirking his duties by daydreaming, and as one of King Turgon’s strategist’s I expect a more respectable performance of duties!”

Erestor tensed at the correct accusation and a flicker of fear coursed through him until he turned to face his accuser and saw the broad smile playing across his best friend’s face.

Radiant and handsome, his egregious friend closed the distance and turned to face the offending crack.

“So this is the sight which has so enchanted you, my friend? Hmmm, aye. I can see why you are so enthralled. The possibilities it represents are endless, are they not? But alas, I do think we need to contact the builder for a repair; do you not agree?”

Shocked at the thought of losing his distraction Erestor pleaded, “You would not be so cruel as to take from me my only source of diversion while I attend to this tedious wretched duty!”

Glorfindel roared his amusement. “It is a sad day when you and I are engaged in a serious conversation about a crack in the wall, and even more troubling that you would miss it should it be removed! You have only yourself to blame for this predicament. Remember well, Erestor that you convinced us all Idril needed a permanent guard. This assignment is but for a short time as Dínendhu will soon be mended and will resume his duties as sentinel to our princess. Yet here you stand protecting her by musing outside her door! This suits you not.”

Exasperated, Erestor tried to explain. “You do not understand the troublesome situation I face. She desires conversation about her hair, and other ellyn, and I cannot even begin to describe to you the things she has to say about men! That Húrin and Huor were ever allowed to enter our city has become a bane to my existence! I am forced out here in the corridor, guarding her door, out of fear for my sanity. She chatters incessantly about the most banal and vapid topics, and if I have to hear one more time how valiant and brave you are, I will most definitely scream!”

Smiling and chuckling as he continued down the corridor Glorfindel taunted, “How can you fault her for desiring perfection?! This whining suits you not, Erestor, and I strongly suggest you place your mind back on your duty before you become overwrought. As you have so wittingly reminded me in the past it is not a soldier’s job to think but to act and obey!”

Erestor beamed as he watched his friend continue down the corridor and out of sight. It had been many months since they had such a relaxed verbal interchange. Tense conversations and terse rebuttals were all Glorfindel offered during that prior time. Erestor had attempted drawing him out but on each occasion Glorfindel insisted nothing was amiss. Why today Glorfindel chose to revert to an attitude of playfulness completely baffled him yet he refused to dwell on the cause.

Pleased at this change of events heralded by their easy banter, he turned back to contemplate the crack further. As his evil mind concocted various scenes, all of them featuring Glorfindel compromised and at his beck and call, he soon found his shift completed. For the first time in many months he was pleased.

Duty completed for another day, Erestor strolled the pathway back to his room in the House of the Fountain. Breathing deeply the crisp air, he marveled at the beauty surrounding him, the craggy spires jutting toward the sky, the sweet smell of early blooming flowers, and the melodious tinkling of melting snow. He thanked the Valar that Turgon had the foresight and tenacity to plan and perfect this secured refuge.

Gondolin, a city in the teeth of the Mountains in the north of Beleriand, sat nestled within the stark beauty of this barren height in a luscious valley, a valley discovered by Turgon and secretly built upon as a safe haven. A hidden city, so far spared from the consideration of the dark minions, but daily the inhabitants faced the underlying fear of Morgoth. The evil that fled from Valinor now lurked in Middle Earth, and beneath the everyday calm they knew their sanctuary might be discovered. To watch the lives of the Gondolindrim one would never guess this fear existed, however surreptitious fearful glances skyward or out over the valley belied the serene facade. Morgoth, who had thus far been turned at every battle, might change his tactics at any moment and triumph over the elves of Middle Earth. And so the inhabitants did their best to make life normal while hiding in the mountains and keeping an eye on the horizons, hoping their day of reckoning would never arrive.

Erestor knew that beyond the underlying fear there still lingered the effects of the crossing of Helcaraxë. This had taken its toll on the Noldor population; and though Erestor was grateful, he and his mother had been spared the terror of that event, he still lived with its consequences. There were precious few Eldar remaining, and so their free nature turned to hard stereotypical ideals. King Turgon, spurred by these realities, had decreed that ellith should turn exclusively to childbearing and traditional roles. The ellyn would fight and rule. He encouraged early marriages and many children while discouraging unions that would not produce offspring. The result produced a seething anger as many of the free spirited elves reluctantly followed their king’s wishes and found themselves in circumstances they would not otherwise have chosen. It was a difficult time made more difficult by restraint of the true nature of so many inhabitants. And yet this realm seemingly reminded so many of them of their home in Valinor they chose to remain. The beauty and comfort of their new Tirion called to them more than their discomfiture at the restrictions.

As he changed from his uniform to clothes more suitably informal, Erestor reflected on the chief of his house. Ecthelion took the king’s edict to heart and married his first love Vespula. Together they bred five lively elflings in rapid succession, all of whom considered Erestor their personal playmate. Tonight he made his weekly trek to their quarters to visit the lively brood.

Vespula had made it her duty to have Ecthelion’s bachelor friends over each week. Erestor enjoyed these nights for the company and being the chief of his house assured Ecthelion the better cuts of meats, the best ales and wines, and freshest produce and baked goods. For one night each week, he was treated to the best fare offered in Gondolin.

Erestor made his way briskly down the hall towards Ecthelion’s suite anticipating with every step the luscious repast. With a brief knock, he entered the large family area. Immediately three of Ecthelion’s children greeted him.

"Erestor!" they shouted in perfect chorus and he was assaulted by three excited elflings before he could put out his arms to forestall their advance. Flinging themselves onto their captive, the elflings immediately demanded his attention.

Searching Erestor’s pockets, Baineithel thrust a pout on her lips, raised her disappointed face and wailed, “Where are my treats? You have forgotten my treats, Erestor! You never forget my treats!”

“Oh please, Erestor, tell us the story of how you slew ten orcs with one swoop of your sword! I never tire of hearing that tale.” Gwilithila pleaded. She continued and her requests became increasingly more excited. “Or how you tore the heads off three wargs as you rescued the beautiful elleth. Or my favorite! When you slew the Evil One to save a special elfling.” She sighed deeply as she looked dreamily at him for her gift of a story.

Tinuol, Ecthelion’s only son, not interested in a tale but a treat of a different sort, looked around behind Erestor disappointment clearly outlined on his face. “No one is accompanying you this evening? Where is your escort? I waited all afternoon to see what elleth would be on your arm and you have come alone!”

Chuckling, Vespula called from her chair where she was feeding her youngest, Meneltirn. "Let him breathe my children”

"I do apologize for disappointing you, Tinuol, but having already flirted with all the prettiest and available ellith I find myself out of options.” Erestor winked conspiratorially at Tinuol.

He gathered up and hugged Baineithel and Gwilithila, before falling to his knees in front of them, taking one hand each, and reverently kissing the back of those hands he vowed, “You, my ladies, are not of age for escorts, but already your beauty foretells of the many broken hearts you will leave in your wake.”

Leaving the young ellith giggling and red cheeked, he strolled over to Vespula and after kissing her lightly on the lips he whispered, “You, to my great regret, are not available.”

Smiling playfully, he lifted the blanket covering the infant Meneltirn. Having heard his voice so near, she already smiled, her suckling forgotten. He kissed her gently as she giggled and squirmed, his hair tickling her face. “And you have many years before you are available, and then I shall guard you from scoundrels like myself.” With a final kiss, he carefully laid the blanket over the elfling.

Vespula laughingly chided her friend. "You have no shame, Erestor!"

“I held your hand and suffered your pain as you brought Limithil into the world, Vespula. You have nothing new to show me, my lady,” he added, with a look of pure innocence on his face.

The shuffling of the elflings brought his eyes back to the front door where Glorfindel walked through, alone again. His preference for ellyn and his consideration for Ecthelion and Vespula forever forbade him from bringing a companion or lover to these events; however, his rank as Chief of the House of the Golden Flower did afford him a much more respectful and restrained greeting.

“Well met, Lord Glorfindel,” the elflings chimed together for the second time this evening. They were well taught on how to properly greet the lords and ladies of each prominent house as well as Gondolin’s royalty. Vespula’s pride of her children sparkled in her eyes.

Erestor shivered with excitement, his predictable reaction to the sight of his friend. Glorfindel’s uniquely-colored hair shimmered in the light of the room, and
Erestor recalled how his insides clenched the first time he had seen Glorfindel in the light of Anor. His beauty pronounced even amongst the elves, and he radiated joy as he swaggered along with the warriors of his house, golden hair lifting around him as if the breath of Manwë had been focused on Glorfindel for all to glorify this creation of Ilúvatar’s.

From that first glimpse, Erestor knew he was lost and had day-dreamed often of coming into favor with Glorfindel. It was disquieting, at first, this gravitation to another ellon, but he had since recognized this attraction as something he always possessed but had thus far refused to admit.

The realization that he loved Glorfindel had completely astounded him.

But Erestor, always cynical, felt the same about love especially in the context of his friend. Surprisingly quickly he had found favor with Glorfindel as a friend, and thus was afforded the privileged status of observing first hand how Glorfindel used ellyn and discarded them with nary a look backwards. Too well acquainted with the fate of abandonment that awaited all of Glorfindel's lovers, he rushed not to join their ranks, though some small part of him held out hope that Glorfindel would not treat him such.

The king’s edict also stayed his hand as well as his inexperience in the ways of loving another ellon. But most glaring was the fact that Glorfindel had never shown the slightest interest in him beyond friendship. Glorfindel refused to speak to him about his preference of bedmates, keeping a firm silence about his unorthodox desires, and Erestor despaired of ever knowing why Glorfindel deliberately chose to continue relationships that were frowned upon. It rankled, however, knowing that Ecthelion was privy to Glorfindel’s mind, and he refused to share the secret. It was one of the mysteries that surrounded the lord of the House of the Golden Flower.

Erestor, feeling a bit guilty for forgetting Baineithel’s treat, watched as Glorfindel gifted the elflings with his favorite treat – figs. He then greeted Vespula with a respectful kiss on the cheek, the love for her radiating on his face, and Erestor understood it absolutely. Ecthelion had managed the very thing Glorfindel seemed to be searching for but had never found, love and a family to come home to each night combined with security and happiness. He frowned at the wisp of uncertainty that quickly flashed across Glorfindel’s face.

Yet Glorfindel’s mask fell firmly into place as he turned to greet Erestor. “Where is your escort? Have the ellith of our city finally banded together and denied you access to their fair assets?”

“Tonight, I thought I would try something different. Since we are both alone, we will have to make do with each other,” Erestor teased.

The humor apparently lost on Glorfindel as he quickly looked away and the easy banter found earlier that day died a quick death.

Remorseful, he did not know how to move them from his blunder. However, his liege rescued him from further embarrassment. Ecthelion strode in resplendent in his dark blue tunic and leggings. His long dark hair loose and flowing around his face, he looked more like one of his elflings than the chief of a prominent house. As Ecthelion swept his wife off her feet for a breathtaking kiss, Erestor marveled at the chemistry between the two. After all their years together there seemed to be little to none of the fading of emotions he witnessed in so many other relationships. He quelled a small jolt of jealousy and laughed as Ecthelion took the baby from Vespula and herded them all towards the dining area. Stealing a glance at Glorfindel, he saw that his friend’s mask was still clearly in place, showing none of the earlier emotions.

The dinner was a fine affair filled with culinary pleasures. Afterward, Erestor relaxed while sipping his wine, full and pleasantly sated. He cautiously watched Glorfindel as he unconsciously wetted his lips, unaware of the affect it caused Erestor. He continued to gaze fascinated by the small pink tip that darted out from the full luscious lips to catch stray drops of wine. Erestor leaned forward barely able prevent himself from walking over and pulling Glorfindel into a kiss as he vaguely listened to the ongoing conversation of Ecthelion taking in the news of the day from his wife and elflings. This was their time to catch up with their father and Erestor would never deny them this moment, especially since his eyes and mind were firmly focused elsewhere.

Time after time he attempted to turn his gaze from Glorfindel only to glance back again and again. He watched as Glorfindel took in all the activity, and he wondered at the small smile on his face as well as the reason why he remained inordinately subdued this entire evening. Glorfindel was oddly sensitive at random times and Erestor had never been able to detect a pattern to these emotions, a further mystery of his friend. He kept his past close and rarely let Erestor glimpse into his life before they met.

Ecthelion finally ushered his children to their sleeping rooms while Vespula escorted he and Glorfindel to the study. If there was a room in all of Gondolin that Erestor coveted, it was this room filled from top to bottom with shelved books, carefully collected by and lovingly cared for by Ecthelion’s family. Erestor was completely drawn to them, and ran his fingers over their stiff bindings. Having read almost every tome here, he expected to finish the exciting task within the next decade. Then he would start on the library lodged at the House of the Pillar.

As Vespula poured an after dinner wine, Erestor plucked a red leather bound book and brought it to his seat. He dourly noted that as Glorfindel moved from the doorway, he seemed to have intentionally placed himself in the chair most distant from his own.

“You are a sensualist, Erestor.”

“My lady?” Erestor inquired.

“The way you caress those books. It is most loving,” she raised one thin eyebrow.

“When one lacks bed mates one turns to the dull love of a book.” Glorfindel, it appeared, had finally found a topic to which he could warm.

Erestor casually crossed his legs and cast a bland look at his friend. He refused to react to the taunt. “Some of us find use for more than one area of our bodies, Glorfindel. You might experience it and learn some variety in your life.”

“Lack of variety has never been a complaint.” Glorfindel gloated.

Ecthelion strode into the room with a broad smile on his face. “My friends! None of that this evening. And you forget there is a lady present,”

“Please do forgive me, my lady,” Erestor said with forced sincerity.

Glorfindel lowered his head in mock shame. “Aye, my lady, my sincere apologies.”

Vespula sputtered, unable to contain her laughter. “Enough! I can take no more of these unconvincing platitudes!”

Deliberately, Ecthelion changed the topic. “Our elflings are fully asleep, my dear. They are overly excited each time we have company, though they do seem to have an over exuberance for our friends here.”

“That always bodes well for us, love, as we will have an evening interruption free.”

Kissing his wife’s neck, he whispered, “Which truly bodes well for when we say goodnight to our friends.”

Erestor cleared his throat and smiled brightly. “You forget there is a lady present, Ecthelion.”

Glorfindel chuckled, Ecthelion reddened and Vespula sat up quickly moving a staid distance from her husband and swiftly took up a new subject. “Oh! I heard a brilliant performance by one of the king’s bards. His song so poignant and haunting, and I felt as if I was back on the crossing,” she shivered, “Most definitely an unwelcome experience but so powerful I could not bring myself to look away or cover my ears. “

As the conversation turned to talk of that harrowing journey and their time in Valinor, Erestor’s thoughts drifted to his family. This was his silent torment, the secret he would never reveal. Though all assumed it, he had not been born in Valinor, nor did he cross the Helcaraxë, and his connection to the House of the Fountain was farcical. Though his family is of Noldor descent, they chose to remain in Middle Earth, shunning the glory of Valinor and enduring the darkness. But when they received news of the return of their kin from the white shores, his naneth secretly confessed her desire to leave the woods and join with the returned Noldor. Together they clandestinely fled their family home for Nevrast and left behind his beloved brother.

Through a tenuous link from the marriage of a now deceased distant cousin, Erestor became a part of the House of the Fountain, cleverly manipulated by his naneth. This stroke of ingenuity had provided him with the opportunity for studies and his eventual employment as a strategist to King Turgon. His naneth had been extraordinarily pleased by his success. Sadly, she had disappeared during the secret trek from Nevrast to Gondolin and though he searched frantically for her he had finally been dragged onward by Ecthelion. Erestor knew that she would have thrived in Gondolin, and it distressed him that she was not here to witness this beautiful city.
He was not alone, however, as these three friends filled the gaps left by the disappearance of his mother and his abandoned brother. Still, he truly missed his family and despaired of ever seeing them again. He had been mistaken.

With a heavy heart, Erestor recalled the horrifying scene of his cherished sibling Eöl being dragged through the streets of Gondolin. His voice hysterically loud as it echoed off the mountains, he wailed his madness, alternating between defiance and crying out his innocence. His brother, lover and murderer of the King’s sister, was not quietly facing his doom. And then, as if guided by Ilúvatar himself, Eöl’s eyes fastened on his own. He stood ten deep in the crowd, yet Eöl saw him. Erestor’s heart broke as Eöl pleaded for mercy and help in escaping his death sentence, warning him of the evil possessed by his son, Maeglin. In an act of pure cowardliness, Erestor did nothing but fade further back and hope no one noticed to whom Eöl’s directed his supplication. Nevertheless, he broke down and openly sobbed as Eöl was pushed down over the Caragdûr to his death. His thoughts and dreams were ever haunted by his brother’s screams as he fell.

He knew he would never reveal the secret of his heritage. His only concession to his past was to keep a discrete but watchful eye on his nephew, Maeglin, as Eöl’s warnings continually clanged in his head.

Vespula’s guffaw interrupted his ruminations and he glanced up just as she exited the room. Glorfindel had a wide brilliant smile spread across his face and Ecthelion’s blotched face shone as red as the valley’s sanguiniflorus flower. Erestor had missed the innuendo Glorfindel oft times launched at Ecthelion. This was one of Glorfindel’s favorite past times, teasing Ecthelion about what he lacked by not marrying him, the rare occasion when Glorfindel would speak, albeit in jest, of his passion for ellon.

Erestor quietly watched the interplay between his friends and with a brief pang of expected jealousy wondered why Glorfindel refused to engage in this game with him. Glorfindel continued to describe the temptations of wicked delights only to be found in his bed, and Erestor, to his horror, began to experience stirrings in his loins. To cover his discomfort, he laughed, placed both hands on his lap, and decided that beauty and wit like Glorfindel’s made him a menace and dangerous. He needed to put some distance between the two of them. Erestor dared another look at him only to find Glorfindel staring straight back, his mouth laughing but his eyes as serious and unreadable as they had been for the past two months. He shivered at the unexpected attention and turned away…

Title: Dance With Me (2/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch. All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives. Two elves. One love.

Lindon - Second Age

Erestor reluctantly roused from his self-induced reverie tinged with a pang of arousal merely from his thoughts. If only his mind would stay on this path. Recalling only the happier times of his past he could be content, but he knew this would not last. He perceived the order of his memories and knew the darker side would rear its ugly head before long, and he hoped his sanity would hold.

The work day was long over, and he had accomplished very little save reminiscing. He quickly stood, shook the cobwebs from his head and gathered his dark robes around him. With years of practice he plastered a bland sneer on his face and strode through the door of his office. His intention to stalk past all elves in his path, but his ever-failing luck placed his employer directly in front of his doorway.

“Ah Erestor, I was coming to check on you. Where have you been hiding this day?”

“Greetings, Lord Elrond, and a good eve.” he proclaimed with a small formal bow, “I have been in my office attending to my duties as necessary. Do you have need of my services, my lord?”

“Nay, dear friend. It is nothing of import, nor am I concerned that you were neglecting your duties. I feel as if I have not seen you for awhile. Is all well?”

“Aye, all is well, and I headed to my quarters, so if there is nothing further, I respectfully ask your leave to attend to my rest.”

“Absolutely. Please, though I do require your presence in my office first thing on the morrow.”

“As you wish.” Erestor executed another small bow. “A good evening to you, my lord.”

“And to you, Erestor.”

He made his escape, trying not to notice the concerned look on Elrond’s face.

Erestor quickly traversed the hallways, outwardly calm, until he reached his quarters, entered and sagged against the closed door. Frantically, he pulled off his robes and slipped into the comfort of his bed. The sheets were warm, soft and inviting and he felt himself easily drifting to slumber for the first time in many nights, for once eager to re-join his thoughts of Glorfindel….

Gondolin - First Age

Officer’s night at the “Hide Away” was one event Erestor never missed. It was a chance for those in charge to relax and mingle with those of similar rank. Strict codes of admittance were adhered to and the ensuing happenings were rarely spoken of in public.

Tonight Erestor arrived late, and the evening’s activities were well underway when he entered the pub. The sweet scent of wine mingled with the hearty aroma of ale welcomed him as he opened the heavy wooden door. Laughter lifted above gay strains of music. From the corner where the small ensemble gathered, Ecthelion greeted Erestor with a quick nod without missing a note that flowed from his silver flute. Legolas frowned slightly, his attention diverted by a complicated flourish up and down the strings of his harp; the other two musicians candidly ignored his entrance.

Glorfindel faced away from him, though he was immediately recognizable amongst the contingency of elves surrounding him. His golden hair shone radiant as sunlight in the lantern glow. Erestor watched for a moment, feeling all the familiar emotions rushing through him. Glorfindel’s group seemed intent on the slips of parchment they were quickly exchanging amongst themselves.

*Ahh, the Game is on*. He thought and sighed heavily. His days of avoiding Glorfindel had done nothing to squelch his need.

Sly glances slid his way as he moved further into the warm inviting atmosphere of the pub. An electric charge filled the place, and Erestor felt the minute hairs on his arms lifting as if lightning was about to strike. A slow silence spread over the tavern and Glorfindel, turned and faced Erestor, his lips rising to a smirk while some unknown emotion played out quickly behind his eyes.

Erestor knew immediately that tonight the game afoot was him. His body tingled in anticipation, and he answered the smirk with a mock glare.

“Erestor! You are late!” Glorfindel bellowed his greeting to the room.

“Aye, and that is because I actually work. You do remember what that is?”

“Some of us are more efficient and complete our tasks quickly.”

“I have heard that you are quickly finished, though this does not seem a quirk you should proudly declare in public! “ Erestor allowed a satisfied grin on his face in response to the laughter throughout the room.

“Rumors? You would repeat tasteless rumors? You know rumors are highly exaggerated and perpetuated by those not privileged enough to partake of the desired fruit. They are all based on envy and wishful longing. Personal knowledge is the way to the truth of the matter.”

“Personal knowledge? Do not make me laugh, Glorfindel! Only a lonely masochistic would partake of this fickle fruit.”

“Fickle, perhaps, but oh so sweet, and though the fruit produces only short bursts of pleasure, it takes many bites to complete the fruit, and so it is that the sum of the parts equal a whole blissful experience.”

Erestor turned away feeling the heat creep across his face and hoped his carefully relaxed expression concealed the emotions raging inside of him. This was not the discussion he had expected. Instead, Glorfindel played some unknown game. It was time for him to turn this exchange back to familiar territory.

Drawing a deep calming breath, he turned back to Glorfindel. “A prudent elf would not seek this experience but flee to less dangerous fare. Unfortunately, we lack a means of escape from our fair city.”

Glorfindel smiled wickedly, appearing to be highly affronted by the statement, but Erestor could see he recognized the diversionary tactic for what it was; an old argument of which they never tired. He stood his ground as Glorfindel strode closer, stopping with his face mere inches from Erestor’s. An aggressive maneuver that warned of the battle to come.

“You dare to question the wisdom of the planning of this city? Plans drawn up by the finest minds on Middle Earth including our lord King Turgon?”

“No one is perfect, Glorfindel, but to build a city with only one public route of escape borders on neglect. This one choice for survival gives the same population we are sworn to protect little hope should we fail in this duty! Not to mention that our king has plans to permanently block this one passage!”

“Are you sure no one is perfect? You seem to have a high opinion of your ideas.”

“I am prudent. Nothing more, yet my warnings fall upon deaf ears. We must have more routes for escape!”

“Your ideas would give rise to pure panic. Is it not enough that all Gondolindrim continually keep a watchful eye for the dark minions? Would you terrify them anew with construction of more passages? Nay! If we are faced with a decision, we either defeat the legions of Morgoth or we perish. There is no other way.”

“You are arrogant and stubborn, and you play loosely with others’ lives!”

“A personal attack now? Can you not think of any further arguments for your precious strategy that you must lower yourself to assaulting my character?”

“I am presenting a proposal for the safety of our kin! This is no folly.”

“You think and speak too much, Erestor, and I, for one, am tired of hearing your complaints!”

Without warning, Glorfindel grabbed Erestor, clenched him in his arms, and kissed him with such savage fervor that Erestor could barely breathe.

When released, it occurred so abruptly he stumbled back, gasping for air, brain muddled but screaming for an escape route of its own, mouth opening and closing but no sounds forthcoming. Dumbfounded, Erestor stood silent as emotion after emotion sliced through him and he was master of none. He was helpless to do anything but watch as Glorfindel appraised him, cocked his head to the side, and waited for the expected outburst.

After what must have been an eternity, a devious smile slowly spread over Glorfindel’s face as he turned and flashed a triumphant smile at his fellow gamblers. “A winner has been decided! It is time to pay up my friends.”

The sarcastic and triumphant crowing finally pushed Erestor into action. He fled. Crashing through the pub’s door, he caught it as it flew back and slammed it shut. Stomping down the stairs, he self-consciously wrapped his arms around his waist, hugging himself as if against a sudden burst of cold.

Finally protected from prying eyes, Erestor let his guard down. His face felt hot with embarrassment and flushed with desire. He glared at his traitorous shaft hard and throbbing in his constrictive leggings, felt it strain and grow with each step, the material caressing him as he wished Glorfindel would.

*No doubt about it, I have been bested this night - the master strategist beaten at his own game by a dirty trick.* A wry, mirthless laugh escaped his lips.

To Glorfindel the kiss had been nothing more than a ploy to win a game and collect his gold, but to Erestor it was serious. Intellectually he knew that Glorfindel had no idea what his tactic had cost, but it still hurt. His feelings for his friend had grown out of proportion. His thoughts and emotions about Glorfindel were well beyond mere friendship and tonight’s game, he feared, had exposed him for all to see.

*Had Glorfindel felt the evidence of his desire?* The thought panicked Erestor and he increased his pace toward home, increasing it further when he heard Glorfindel’s voice calling out to him.

“Erestor! Wait!”

He turned back to see Glorfindel hurrying up the pathway after him. His trepidation increased tenfold and a hand of fear clenched his heart, but he knew running from Glorfindel would only temporarily stave off their confrontation, so he stopped and waited.

“Please Erestor, let us speak.” Glorfindel stood before him breathing heavy, his eyes dark and unfathomable.

Erestor gazed back at him, not giving an inch.

“Have you followed to embarrass me further? Was once this evening not enough for you? My friend,” he spat. “That I ever considered you such shows how truly ignorant I have always been!”

Glorfindel paled at the harshness in Erestor’s voice. “I am your friend. We have been best friends for centuries, and I am truly sorry for this evening. I let the spirit of our ongoing competition take over and it clouded my rationality.” He turned from Erestor and whispered, “And I am a coward.”

“What did you say?” Erestor demanded. “Would you turn from me now and whisper words you cannot say to my face? You speak about friendship yet you abuse it at every turn!”

Glorfindel spun around. “I AM A COWARD!! The great and powerful Glorfindel is a coward! Are you satisfied now that you have heard my confession?”

Confused, Erestor gaped at Glorfindel as he stood in front of him proudly apologizing, yet his voice hinted at deep abiding sadness. He had caught glimpses of this same emotion in the recent past, but only now saw the full force of it.

Erestor’s anger relented abruptly and he allowed a weak smile to grace his face. He had vowed to be a constant source of happiness for Glorfindel and not add to his mysterious grief. Gently he took Glorfindel’s hand and was satisfied to see some of the anguish retreat; however Erestor needed answers.

“Please help me to understand what is happening here. This evening, nay, the last two months have been.” He hesitated to find the correct word. “…different.”

Glorfindel stared, maintaining his silence about what had changed over two months ago. He remained mute for so many moments that Erestor was sure he would turn and leave without uttering a word. Disappointed, he twisted away, but Glorfindel laid a reassuring hand on his arm.

“I am not sure you are ready to hear this, and I am fearful of losing our friendship which has kindled my happiness for so long.”

Retracting his hand he turned away from Erestor. Not daunted, Erestor followed Glorfindel’s movement and tenderly grabbed on his shoulder.

“There is nothing you could say that would ever take me from your side.”

“Not even what occurred this evening?”

Glorfindel’s shoulder tensed beneath his hand as he began a light massage. “’Tis an aberration? A way for you to defeat me at our game?”

Swinging around, eyes flashing, Glorfindel hissed, “Nay! It is something I have been tempted to do since I first laid eyes upon you.”

As he paced back and forth, Glorfindel gestured at the crossroads where they currently stood. “Our lives all follow paths and at points they connect, becoming one with the other. Somehow I always knew that the path we followed would lead us to that kiss, but I was daunted by the prospect of facing you in private, so I forced my desire for intimacy into the public arena, cloaking it in our game of verbal dominance.”

Stunned, Erestor took in the confession and witnessed the sincerity on his friend’s face. He had desired this confession for years, yet he was strangely hesitant. The long awaited offer loomed before him, more a dark, dangerous cave than a blissful temptation. The stakes were high. He felt as if he was falling down a vortex of uncertainty. Unashamedly unsure of how to proceed, he opted for more time.

“I must think upon this, Glorfindel. It has been a long strange night, and I am well past time for sleep. It is my promise that we will speak of this further. Good evening.”

And with those words he abruptly strode down the pathway to the House of the Fountain leaving a dazed Glorfindel in his wake. Glorfindel’s final whispered plea for forgiveness reached Erestor through the stillness of the night yet he dared not look back…

Title: Dance With Me (3/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch. All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives. Two elves. One love.

Gondolin - First Age

He tossed and turned restlessly in his bed, bemoaning his fate. For weeks he had been unable to complete a full night’s sleep. His mind continually raced with thoughts of Glorfindel and the events of that fateful evening.

Glorfindel’s friendship had been so unexpected it had taken him months to recognize that Glorfindel truly considered him a close companion. His struggles to master the sword and bow caught Glorfindel’s attention while still in Nevrast. He soon recommended and volunteered to conduct private lessons and continued to support Erestor even when it became painfully obvious that his weaponry skills would never progress beyond the mediocre level. Recognizing Erestor’s insightful abilities for strategizing and planning, Glorfindel proposed he turn to more cerebral pursuits, and so he did. He knew that initially he had agreed to the suggestion merely to please his friend and find further favor in his eyes but soon Erestor realized he did truly possess some talent in forming tactics. He never dared dream his studies would propel him into a position reporting directly to his king. To this day he wondered if Glorfindel possessed some talent for premonition, for he had seemed confident from the first moment that Erestor would attain some measure of success.

Erestor basked in the warmth of their companionship, but always felt it an unequal relationship. Never could he fathom what benefits Glorfindel reaped from their continued alliance. He felt especially guilty when his feelings spilled over the boundaries of friendship. So he had partitioned off those emotions, not willing to taint their closeness. But now he knew. Knew that what he felt from the beginning was mutual, and he could not think of a reason to deny himself one moment longer. Except that he had never seen Glorfindel spend more than one night with any lover. Ever. Nor had Glorfindel declared his love. Nay, his words and actions clearly indicated desire and nothing more. Erestor shuddered at the thought of one night of passion leading to an eternity of lost amiability.

A slight breeze fluttered through his room, caressing his body. He shuddered as the thin cover slid over his nude form. Slowly, he let his hand drift down to touch his burgeoning length, lightly teasing himself, enjoying the buildup, his languid strokes defied the aching need, and he started to lose himself in his favorite fantasy.

Quickly sitting up, he grabbed the pillow and pounded out his frustrations. Throwing it back on the bed, he let his head thump forcefully down upon it, and he fought to dampen his rising desire for sexual release. Simply thinking about Glorfindel always led to this state. The ferocity of his yearning frightened him. It seemed the attraction worsened each time he saw Glorfindel, and Glorfindel, as if by some trick, had appeared before him everywhere this last fortnight. Those sparkling blue eyes and thrilling voice caused him to spend these last two weeks half-erect, and his hands were not near enough to quell the desire. The ache in his groin had become so much a part of his existence that he forgot what life felt like without it.

He wanted to bed Glorfindel.

Craved it with such clarity of thought he felt sure he had never been so confident of anything in his life before this moment. However, he recognized that his emotions were highly intense, and he feared his heart could be forfeit if he risked an encounter. It seemed an almost certainty in view of Glorfindel’s character, but he never had a more trusted friend. If he could not surrender the safekeeping of his heart to Glorfindel, then on whom could he rely?

The inactivity was unbearable and he sprang to his feet. Pacing around the room, he continued to weigh the pros and cons of sleeping with his best friend. He stopped abruptly. He was done thinking. It was time to DO something about this situation. Donning his clothing with unusual haste, spurred on by his lust, he rammed through his bedroom door and raced toward the House of the Golden Flower.

He meant to have Glorfindel this night.

As he strode purposefully onward, his long, obsidian hair snapped behind him like a whip. He could feel roils of heat flowing off him, while lightning flared in his groin, and it spurred him forward. Glorfindel had deliberately thrown down the gauntlet, and Erestor had snatched it up.

*You may have issued the challenge, but I shall give you a lesson in how such a challenge is meant to be wielded!* His breath quickened as he neared Glorfindel’s home and it sounded unnaturally loud and desperate to his ears. All the noises of night amplified by the absence of the elf inhabitants.

As the house came into view, he gazed upon Glorfindel's window, a flicker of light seen from within. Erestor's smile turned feral, and his pace escalated. He stalked by the sentries, who exchanged uneasy glances as he passed, and strode more swiftly once he was inside. He prowled down the corridors, following the scent of Glorfindel, drawn forward by instinct like a predator to his prey. With his goal before him, he briefly paused to collect himself, smile still in place as he pounded on Glorfindel's door.

"Open," he shouted. Silence greeted him. "Open NOW you coward!"

The door slowly creaked open and a ruffled blond-haired head cautiously poked out.

"Have you lost your mind?!" Glorfindel gaped at Erestor.

"Have you not been following the gossip? How unlike you, Glorfindel! Ever since you publicly forced your tongue down my throat I have heard nothing but comments about the unnatural gleam in my eyes.”

Glorfindel grasped Erestor’s arm and dragged him into the room, slamming the door shut. Wrapping his strong arms around Erestor, Glorfindel forced himself fully against Erestor, thrusting his groin aggressively against the hard unyielding body.

"Why have you come, Erestor?"

Erestor gasped at the sensations assaulting him as Glorfindel sensually played out the sweetest melody against his shaft. Shakily he put his finger over Glorfindel’s lips and stammered, “Apology accepted.”

Continuing his onslaught, Glorfindel brushed his lips against the tip of Erestor's ear and whispered, "I am pleased you have finally arrived as I was beginning to wonder which of us is truly the coward."

Roughly he pushed himself back from Erestor, quickly untied his robe, and let it fall from his shoulders. He raised a hopeful eyebrow, threw his arms wide and spun a slow circle.

“Well? I have shown you mine.”

Erestor shivered at the loss of contact as well as his control of this encounter. He stood mesmerized as Glorfindel exposed his nude form for perusal, arrogant, self-assured and proud, and as always he was struck by the dichotomy of Glorfindel. From the neck up he resembled an elfling just woken from a nap, his hair wild and in disarray. But as his eyes roamed downward, the elfling comparison paled.

Glorfindel was slightly larger than the average ellon, and noticeably well muscled. The rippling action of his chest distracted Erestor and he experienced a thrilling moment of fear as he appreciated the true nature of his friend large, foreboding, and dangerous. His body shivered with excitement as his gaze took in dusky nipples straining with arousal, skin shimmering with a light sheen of sweat, and a faint sprinkling of golden blond hair trailing downward from Glorfindel's belly. Erestor's eyes widened at the sight of Glorfindel’s hardened length, thick and formidable in its turgid form, a hard and challenging promise.

Aroused, Erestor lifted his gaze to Glorfindel’s and found the calm appraisal unnerving and disconcerting, but he looked straight back at the probing eyes, seeking out and finding the passion in their depths. He could delay no further and quickly discarded his clothing, dramatically pausing to lavishly stretch his tall lithe body for Glorfindel’s full view.

As the answering stare turned from excitement to raw lust, Erestor knew that tonight he would find no solace or repose in his friend’s arms. The scintillating tension thrumming between them promised a quick frenetic end. Frantically, they closed the distance, pressed their bodies together from head to toe, and locked in a tight embrace their mouths met to kiss hard and demanding and desperate. Grappling with each other, briefly jostling for dominance, Erestor was determined to lead. He pressed his need to possess and consume by forcing Glorfindel onto the bed, rolling him onto his back, and straddling him. His rigid shaft pushed against Glorfindel’s stomach.

Glorfindel responded by wrapping his arms firmly around Erestor’s waist and pulled him flat, forcing their arousals tightly together. They thrust, as one. Erestor struggled to move even closer, fighting to merge their desire. His breath grew ragged and he panted rapidly as he surrendered to the culmination of their craving, yelling out as the warm liquid surged between their entwined bodies, senses aware of nothing except release…

Title: Dance With Me 4/13
Author: Hare
(harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia - The best 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.

Gondolin - First Age

Anor’s warmth and light pulled Erestor from his slumber. In a sleep induced haze, he reached over to touch his lover and encountered a cold empty space. Mildly disappointed at not finding Glorfindel next to him, he let his hand wander down his abdomen and smiled as he discovered the flaky evidence of last night’s desire. Glorfindel may have wandered off but his gift from their tryst remained firmly attached to Erestor’s belly.

He ached from last night’s quick but strenuous activity and slowly hauled himself out of the large bed. Never truly appreciating Glorfindel’s bed he allowed himself a long perusal of the structure. It perfectly reflected the wanton and priapismic ways of Glorfindel; its size dominated the room, large and tall with four golden posts. Each was intricately etched with golden blooming flowers and radiant sunbursts from top to bottom. It exuded an inviting and seductive air especially in its currently crumpled state so he decided to leave the bed in disarray to remind Glorfindel what had taken place.

In the meantime, he would take advantage of Glorfindel’s bathing chamber. Not afforded this particular luxury in his personal quarters, Erestor bathed publicly when a quick rinse would not suffice. He rubbed his hands together and rushed to take full advantage of the large, private tub.

Erestor knew that Glorfindel’s attendants filled his bathing pool each morning and today the water was still tepid and just warm enough to elicit a satisfied groan from Erestor as he sank down within it. He reached out, hesitating for just a moment as he perused the eclectic display of oils. Even in this Glorfindel’s penchant for excess was evident. Oil slick bottles, large and small, some intricately designed and some plain, glistened in Anor’s rays, and the variety of colors startled as bright blues, reds, and yellows danced before Erestor’s vision. Closing his eyes shut he randomly chose a vial, poured in a large amount, and with a sigh of delight submerged to his chin in the inviting water.

As he took a fresh fig, out of Glorfindel’s ever present supply, his thoughts once more drifted to his new lover. He knew, just as Glorfindel had confessed, that they were inextricably bound to one another, and he could remember the exact moment he gained that knowledge. It occurred the very first time he had seen Glorfindel, and his reaction was, at least on the surface, like all those around him. He had been intrigued by his beauty and strength, and he had wanted to soothe the hurt he detected beneath the pompous and playful attitude. He had known that Glorfindel was beloved and sought after by many, but he had also felt that once united they would never part. He now realized that Glorfindel knew this also. All the signs had been there but he had been unable to move beyond his own ruminations and discern what Glorfindel felt, until now.

On his part it had been an immediate reaction but he wondered if Glorfindel may have gradually come to awareness of their special bond. Someday he might have all his questions answered. Yet even though they had lain together in lust, he was still not privy to the thoughts and desires of his lover. Glorfindel, the master of frustrating misdirection, never divulged his secrets whether Erestor asked in curiosity or in a completely casual manner.

In hopes of Glorfindel’s return, Erestor knew he stalled his departure. Unable to remain longer he slowly finished washing and dressed for the day. He reluctantly departed when he could not delay further without facing repercussions from lack of attention to his own duties.

Erestor never did locate Glorfindel that day. He briefly looked for him on the training grounds, but Glorfindel had effectively disappeared. Harried and very late, he finally gave up the search and rushed to his office in the palace.

Life as one of the King’s strategists had its perks, and even in times of peace his talents were of use. As Turgon built Gondolin, his new Tirion, groups were formed to study all aspects of life in their soon-to-be home. Erestor had been assigned leader of planning and implementation of food growing. He had relished this new role as his skills as a tactician were previously tested only during times of battle, and he had been grateful for work on a project solely aimed at preserving life.

There were extremes to consider when one cut ones self off from trade as well as perching a city at such a great height. His experience from years of self-sufficiency held him in good stead as they gathered and experimented with many varieties of seeds and were ultimately successful at discovering an abundance of grains, vegetables, and fruits that were suitable for growth in Gondolin. The height of the city further guaranteed a harsh winter every year and preparedness for this was of the utmost importance.

Once they had secretly inhabited Gondolin, his duties became more routine and mainly confined to arranging delivery and storage of food stuffs to ensure there was enough to last for the winter. In the growing months, he would ride out to the crop fields and inspect the progress for the year and reported back directly to King Turgon.

Meat was secured from wild fowl which landed in the area during the year and many of the twelve Houses kept small flocks of domesticated animals. King Turgon would not tolerate activities outside the walls for any reason and this was a hard fast rule. The only possible exception would be starvation, so every elf involved with maintaining an adequate food supply worked diligently. It pleased Erestor that they had greatly added to the libraries on animal husbandry, and erosion control and manipulation of plants. Each year increased their knowledge, and he was satisfied that no foraging or hunting outside the walls would be necessary this year or, hopefully, any year.

And so the day after his tryst with Glorfindel found him in meetings dedicated to setting the king’s mind and his counselors’ minds at ease regarding this year’s bounty. Indeed his own mind could not even wander to bask in the afterglow of his fantasy come to life before it was dragged back by some question he had answered at least a half dozen times prior.

Finally released from duty, he quickly fled the palace and wandered over to Glorfindel’s home. But after an hour of fruitless questioning he realized that no one knew where their lord had gone, only that he would be away for several days.

Stunned, he slowly made his way back to his rooms, oblivious to all around him and valiantly trying to ignore that small rational voice whispering to him that his fantasy was a one night option.

The next few days were intolerable for Erestor. He fretted constantly over Glorfindel’s disappearance, convincing himself that Glorfindel had run so as not to face him in the awkwardness of the morning after. One moment he felt distraught and the next so violently angry, he vowed to rip that mane of golden hair straight from Glorfindel’s head!

Unbidden thoughts plagued him as he recalled one of Glorfindel’s discarded lovers. Used for one night and then left alone to deal with the consequences of his unfulfilled fantasies, the young ellon had worn a shattered expression for months after the brief affair. That look now haunted Erestor’s waking and dreaming moments, and he feared he should have been wiser and taken that as a sign of his own fate.

The night of his weekly dinner with Ecthelion and Vespula came, and he managed an imitation of good cheer even as his emotions raged on. Unable to enjoy the good food or the excellent company, he continued to smile and laugh even as Vespula incessantly questioned him on his state of health.

He did glean one bit of information that evening. Ecthelion mentioned in casual passing that Glorfindel was on reconnaissance, a twice yearly inspection of the areas outside of the walls to check for any suspicious activity near the city. Upon hearing this news, Erestor had a vague recollection of conversing with Glorfindel about this mission. Still with all that had happened in the ensuing weeks, he could not be sure if that conversation was a true manifestation or some excuse he tried to concoct.

Even gaining the knowledge of Glorfindel’s whereabouts did not ease Erestor’s thoughts. And as he made ready for sleep, he keenly felt the hurt of lost trust as he had been sure they were beyond the games lovers played. The years they had known each other, all the battles they had been through, the shared moments should not have led to this. It never occurred to him that Glorfindel would pretend nothing had happened between them.

Settling down, he let awareness drift from his mind only to be awakened at some unknown time later by the sensation of lips touching his, tenderly and gently they eased his open so a hot tongue could snake its way into his mouth. Snapping completely out of his reverie, he marveled at the pale blue eyes gazing at him through a fringe of dark lush lashes. Fantasy and reality merging, he stood swiftly, grabbed Glorfindel and forced him across the room and up against the wall, scattering several piles of books along the way.

Hissing into Glorfindel’s face, his anger boiled to the surface. “You dare come here after leaving me with nary an explanation, gone for fourteen days, and smelling of horse?”

Glorfindel threw his arms up in surrender.

“You were resting so peacefully that morning, and I had no desire to disturb your slumber. We talked about the reconnaissance but days before Erestor, and I assumed you would remember.”

“I obviously had other things on my mind, and I have no intention of recalling your schedule as well as mine. Next time find some way of reminding me!”

Running one long finger down the side of Erestor’s face, Glorfindel let loose one of his rare heart-breaking grins, a look that shot an arrow of lust straight to Erestor’s groin. Glorfindel seemed to know full well the effect he caused as he innocently stated, “Why do we waste time arguing when I have more tempting uses for our mouths. Shall I demonstrate?”

As Glorfindel’s finger moved around his face, down the side of his neck, and then slowly up and down his arm it left a blazing trail of heat that flared his desire. Erestor bravely tried to ignore the temptation, not wanting to let this encounter turn physical before they discussed what was happening between them, so he grasped Glorfindel’s wandering digit and fixed a serious gaze on his friend’s face.

“We do need to speak, Glorfindel. “

Mouth turned downward in a mock frown Glorfindel sighed. “I thought finally you were convinced of your tendency to over speak. I see now that you need more persuasion to silence your tongue.”

Glorfindel, as he spoke, beheld him with arrogant anticipation, eyes coolly perusing his nakedness. Erestor shot him a withering look knowing the mood of his friend would prevent any further discussion. Still not ready to forgive Glorfindel completely, he tried to move, but was quickly held, turned, and propelled back up against the wall. Glorfindel fully clothed, pushed against Erestor’s naked skin, slowly rubbing up and down. The rough slide of Glorfindel’s clothes over his defenseless body set off an eruption of shivers as desire awoke again and his need to discuss their situation was driven from his mind.

Blue eyes appraised him as hands and mouth claimed his body. Glorfindel worshiped him, nipping and licking from his neck down to his abdomen. Not an inch remained untouched, bathed in the essence of Glorfindel. Gentle palms caressed down his belly, thumbs traced along the curve of his hips and continued down to stroke his inner thighs as Glorfindel slid gracefully to his knees.

Not prepared for the suddenness of the action, Erestor gasped. A hot moist mouth closed over his arousal and engulfed him to the root. With palms tightly braced against the cold wall, his body slammed backwards as he bore the onslaught. He felt weak and feverish and swayed on his feet as Glorfindel brought him to the brink of release before slowing the pace. A voice cried out its pleasure and he felt no embarrassment that it belonged to him. His entire world focused on the beautiful sensations Glorfindel’s mouth created on his brutally hard length.

When Glorfindel thought to deny him release for a third time, Erestor clinched Glorfindel’s head in a tight hold and forced it back to task, gasping at each new sensation. Running his hands through the mane of silk he firmly grasped it, gaining a more commanding grip and increased the tempo, gratified by Glorfindel’s acquiescence. Barely maintaining control, he used Glorfindel’s mouth roughly, groaning as the warmth left him and moaning as it surrounded him once more. Erestor felt the skillful tongue swirling around his swollen shaft. The drag of the perfect suction finally brought him screaming to completion before he had time to assess Glorfindel’s willingness to receive his seed. This minor fear rose through his erotic fugue, but was quickly squelched as he felt Glorfindel swallowing repeatedly with no attempt to escape his mad clutch.

Sliding to the floor, spent and weak from release, he reached for Glorfindel and pressed his mouth against Glorfindel’s swollen, wet lips, putting all his pent up passion behind the kiss. Erestor felt the bulge of Glorfindel’s erection pressing against his thigh and knew it was time to let his hands speak for him.

He efficiently removed all of Glorfindel’s clothing, touched each area as it was exposed, and gently pushed him down on his back. He was desperate for a reaction from Glorfindel who had not, since their first kiss, opened his eyes or made a noise. So he moved from letting his hands dictate the pace and put his mouth to the search, tasting Glorfindel; his mouth, his ears, his neck, and his hard nipples.

His journey finally took him to Glorfindel’s dusky sex where he hesitated contemplating the large object before him. The pungent smell spoke of many days in the same leggings but underneath was the familiar scent of Glorfindel a powerful and heady aroma that drew him in, and he gingerly placed his mouth around the shaft. The musky taste was odd but not unpleasant, though he struggled with the size.

Pleased to hear Glorfindel gasp aloud, he moved his tongue experimentally over and around the hardening length, taking mental notes on what Glorfindel seemed to find enjoyable. Gaining momentum, he plunged his mouth over the weeping erection, absorbing each new sensation, straining to please his lover.

Emboldened by Glorfindel’s responses, Erestor slid a wandering hand beneath and gently probed the opening there, not far, but enough that Glorfindel cried out, a choked-off sound of surprise. Erestor wanted to plunder whatever inhibitions he held onto and was spurred onward as Glorfindel moaned out his name over and over.

Eager to please, Erestor took Glorfindel to the edge of ecstasy and recklessly pushed him over. He blinked in surprise as Glorfindel exploded in his throat, and he drank, glowing from the flames that licked him from the inside as the heat slid into his belly. He burned with the power of lust. Finally, his eyes strayed to Glorfindel, who was once again silent and rocked against Erestor as his soundless lips fought to call out the name they repeatedly formed.

As they lay in a boneless heap, sated and drowsy , Erestor puzzled over the taste of Glorfindel, which was at once bitter and salty but contained an undercurrent of a familiar flavor he could not quite place. He chanced another quick glance at Glorfindel and was a bit startled to see a small smirk.

Glorfindel pulled him to his feet, kissed him thoroughly, and whispered one word before dragging them both to Erestor’s bed, “Figs.” Too tired to solve the puzzle of that one word, Erestor quickly followed Glorfindel to his slumber.

His pleasure was short-lived, however, and his words spoken so harshly earlier that evening were obviously ignored as Glorfindel left his bed. Once more Erestor awoke to movements at his bedside and watched silently as Glorfindel stealthily clothed himself. Deliberately donning the mask of false slumber, he took in every sideways look in his direction. He could see an inkling of panic in those blue eyes as Glorfindel dressed and quietly left his room.

Panic swelled, gibbering and demanding his attention, but Erestor fought it down as best he could and moved to the window to observe Glorfindel striding for his own home without a backward look.

Unable to sleep, Erestor donned a robe and sat dejectedly in front of the unlit fireplace. His frustration at not being able to solve the riddle that was Glorfindel neared its pinnacle. Glorfindel returned to him with a logical explanation for his absence, they argued, Erestor had demanded that he never leave again without clearly explaining his intentions, they had loved each other, Glorfindel then left with no explanation. Nay. He had not left so much as he had slipped away designedly. This behavior showed more than just cowardice, it spoke of deliberate avoidance. His annoyance mounted as he thought on it further, and he knew not how to rectify the situation. He only knew that his pain and hurt must come to an end…

Title: Dance With Me 5/13
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia - The best 1-2 beta-punch!
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.

Lindon - Second Age

With a groan Erestor awoke from his vivid dreams. His body boiled hot and the damp sheets were restrictively twined around him. Struggling determinedly he extracted himself only to realize the covers were not damp from sweat alone. Horrified, he bolted up and raged around the room, stripping off the linens and flinging them to the floor before efficiently putting on a clean set.

Erestor stalked into his washing area and scooped up some cold water. Its frigid temperature caused him to tremble. Catching a glimpse of his face in the mirror, he let the water sieve through his fingers back into the bowl. What peered back at him was ragged and gaunt, pale and lined, grim and sullen. He barely recognized himself. Shaking, he traced what appeared to be the beginnings of a permanent flaw from his hairline to the outside corner of his eye. The skin below his eye looked bruised and hollow. He was being tested for some unknown reason and clearly he was failing.

Why did these unbidden thoughts continue? Elrond, he knew, would help if he but requested it. The young lord was not only shaping up to be an excellent leader, but an excellent healer as well. But Elrond had enough worries without him adding to those problems.

Though Erestor suspected there would be a specific ending to this torture, he could not fathom when it would occur or what it might entail. He did know that rising from his bed every morning and continuing his work became more difficult, and Elrond would not be fooled or tolerant of it for much longer.

A sob escaped from deep within his chest as his control momentarily faltered, but he quickly stifled the impending emotional scene before it could gain momentum. Erestor silently chastised himself for his weakness all the way to his office.

Setting up his notes, Erestor waited for his lord to appear. His small office was attached to Elrond’s. Erestor intentionally kept it sparse, the walls were a dull white with no decorations, his shelves were unused with the exception of the few books he needed for occasional reference, an old desk rescued from a rubbish pile, a hard-backed, cushionless chair, and files for parchments and scrolls - a reflection of his own outlook on life. Elrond once gifted him a potted plant, but it failed due to lack of light from the one small window and Erestor’s neglect. There was only one personal item in his office and Erestor ignored it when possible. The sentimentality connected with this object forced him to keep it. He could not part with it though daily he cursed his foolish attachment.

It suited him that the Elrond rarely spent time in his own office. He was not only Gil-galad’s herald but also a trusted counselor and friend, and so he was most often found with the High King, only visiting here for a mandatory weekly meeting with Erestor.

As his personal assistant, Erestor kept track of all correspondences, replying to those for which he had authority and presenting to his lord those which required a more delicate touch or more authority. They met once per week to determine the course for the next seven days and then Erestor was given leave to handle the matters at will. At length Elrond arrived, and Erestor rose to greet him.

“Good morning, Erestor. Thank you for being prompt as usual. I have an ambitious schedule today and need to conclude this quickly before our meeting with the high king.”

He sat, gestured for Erestor to sit, and began shuffling through the papers.

“Yes, my Lord. I have taken the liberty of arranging the correspondences in order of importance. The top document is from Celebrimbor. He brings joyful news regarding the betrothals of his two daughters and requests your herald on this happy occasion. The next is a dispute between two neighbors over property boundaries, and they request your intercession. We also have a serious problem with the mortar at the southwest side of the palace which requires immediate attention. I mention this because I am suspicious we may have been the victim of inferior craftsmanship. The repairs were completed merely twenty-five years ago and already these walls are in need of serious repairs. Mayhap there is some previously unknown reason for these problems; therefore I request your authority to allow a thorough inspection. ‘Tis a light week so far, my lord, and these represent the total correspondences we have received.”

“Excellent news. I will contemplate these first two until mid-week. At that time I will hear your views on these documents and a decision will be made. Now, the repairs. It is time I raise your authority on these issues. War is coming, Erestor, and I have little time to contemplate matters such as these. Henceforth, you may attend to these problems directly. Please draft a document for my signature and then distribute to the appropriate staff. Make it clear that none are to approach me with these concerns unless they have first gone to you.”

“Yes, Lord Elrond.”

Elrond rose, circled the desk, grasped him by the elbow and pulled a startled Erestor to his feet.

“Tell me what troubles you my friend.”

Taken off guard, Erestor stuttered his reply. “I am well.”

“Are your worries so fierce that you are forced to attempt deceit?”

The accusation, correct and brutally stated, dizzied Erestor. His respect for Elrond almost forced him to spill out his confession of anguish and pain. Instead he opted for misdirection.

“My Lord, please, we must hurry or we will be tardy for this conference.” He cringed at the pleading he heard in his voice.

Cupping his chin tightly and forcing Erestor to face him, Elrond responded. “You are correct. Haste is a necessity at present. But know this and heed these words. I see evidence of a serious problem and we will speak on this soon. Do you understand, Erestor?”

Erestor nodded and stifled another sob when Elrond finished the conversation by extending a gentle finger, which pushed a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. No one had dared touch him in such a long, long time and that one simple act moved him so greatly he flinched away, fleeing from any emotion and the elf who threatened to expose his secrets. Elrond stayed with him, never leaving his side, and easily slipped back into talk of the upcoming meeting, and softly murmured information on what today’s encounter would entail.

They rushed into the room as High King Gil-galad brought the leaders, counselors, and strategists to order. Elrond took his seat at the right of Gil-galad and Erestor sat in his unnoticed position at the back.

Settling in, he brought forth his writing utensils for note taking. His duty was as Elrond’s scribe, leaving his lord free to participate in the discussions and decision making. He would dutifully record every word uttered.

What Elrond did not know was that Erestor had lived and relived meetings similar to this one well before most in the room were birthed. Ever skillfully, he would add his own thoughts to the notes, interjecting strategies he felt would be appropriate or useful for scenarios discussed. Only once had he been questioned on these additions, and that was by Elrond himself. Unbeknownst to Erestor, Elrond and Gil-galad compared notes taken by their personal scribes and on that particular occasion it had been glaringly obvious that Erestor documented more critical information than Gil-galad’s scribe, Borondu. He sputtered through an explanation that both secured his secrets and prevented Borondu from reprimand. Somehow Elrond accepted his justifications, at least on the surface, but since that time he rarely supplemented the notes, only inserting information when he saw a critical point missed by one of the high king’s tacticians.

This meeting crept along like all before as each point was argued and examined. The comments and recommendations were admirable from a group with little to no actual participation in warfare for they gleaned most of their knowledge from books and tales. From the high king to the lowest ranking amongst them, their lack of experience was obvious, but Erestor did not despair. Skill at battle had not prevented better prepared elves from losing the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, nor did it prevent the fall of Gondolin, a city protected by the most seasoned and successful warriors on Middle Earth. Though this group lacked experience, they had the benefit of learning from their elders’ mistakes. Still, at every meeting one would voice fear, fear that their inexperience created a serious burden on their preparations to face evil foes. Doubts were expressed and ideas put forth on how to overcome this handicap, and every meeting Erestor would remain silent.

Gil-galad met the eyes of those assembled round the room and all were drawn to his commanding presence and heeded his words.

“We have moral cause on our side, and I am proud of the leadership you have all exhibited. We are disciplined and possess a superior army; our communities believe in our strength and are firmly on our side. Never shall we forget all that we have learned from our fore bearers. This is a time for strategy and planning, for careful planning will lead to victory. We must not forget that war is full of deception, and the evil which threatens us is the master of this. Strategy is our best defense to ruses. Our question this day is one we have discussed before. Do we take this war to Sauron or do we entice him to our own ground?

Cuilclor, a strategist, was the first to speak. “We are strong, my liege. Our power will overwhelm Sauron and force him into blunders we may seize upon! We must take the battle to the Black Gate.”

“Nay,” interrupted one of the Captains. “Those who have bravely infiltrated the dark lord’s minions have returned with tales of their might. We must consider a defense, one that renders us invisible and able to attack the dark forces with stealth and surprise as our advantage. This position will force advantageous blunders we may then use to bring about the defeat of Sauron.”

The strategy battle was well joined as each shouted his opinion on the subject. Erestor hid a small smile, his first in weeks, as he reflected on the youth of the leaders. He prayed they would bring the same enthusiasm and intelligence to the battlefield, for evil was a strong foe and history recounted bleak stories to counter every tale of hope.

Gil-galad swiftly brought tempers under control and adjourned the meeting, and Erestor made his way back to his office to copy the notes into something legible. His lord required their completion no later than the morning after each session. This day was always a long and tedious one.

Unfortunately, his lack of rest and nourishment found him occasionally dozing and his mind wandered back to days he would much rather forget…

Gondolin - First Age

Erestor knew he behaved in a trite and childish way, but he had adopted a new tactic for handling his Glorfindel problem – avoidance. Foolishly he had allowed himself to fall in love and now faced the consequences. Even though Glorfindel appeared to have forgone other lovers during their short time together and had granted Erestor more than one brief encounter his behavior continued to be erratic and unpredictable. And so Erestor purposefully kept his distance. It was not difficult as Glorfindel’s duties kept him busy training and running his household. When Erestor thought on it he had realized that their past encounters were not by chance; it seemed their friendship operated by scheduled appointment and not happenstance.

For three weeks he concentrated only on his occupation. He had excused himself from the weekly invitations to join Ecthelion and Vespula with complaints of a mounting workload, and he deliberately stayed away from officer’s night at the Hide Away. He had truly cut himself off from all contact with Glorfindel and rationalized away any pain felt from the separation. He had spent most of his life alone and he could be alone again.

“Master Erestor.” The voice brought Erestor out of his musings and he looked up to face the intruder. “I have a summons for you.”

The young elf strode forward and handed the parchment to Erestor. “And I have been instructed to remain with you until you have opened and read the orders.”

“Who are these orders from?”

The elf merely stood unanswering.

“Well, I have no time at present to attend to this. Return to your duties.”

The soldier nodded his understanding, stepped back to the door still facing Erestor and he fell into an attention stance.

Astonished, Erestor’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the young elf. “Your duties, soldier. You are dismissed!”

“My duties currently require me to stay with you until you have read the orders. I will remain until that has occurred.”

“This is too much! Remove yourself from my office at once!”

Erestor felt his ire rise as the warrior merely remained as he was, waiting and watching. Angrily, he snatched up the parchment and tore off the seal.

“Fine! Look I am reading it! Aye, aye! Such important matters, I am sure.”

He made a show of reading every line of the orders which were nothing more than a requirement for him to attend some exercise sessions. He had been lax in his training and his inattention to sword and bow skills was noted.

“Tomorrow! Nay this is quite impossible. We are in the middle of harvest.”

Hastily, he scrawled a response, poured and stamped a seal, and motioned the soldier forward. “Deliver this to the one who sent you on this errand.”

The young elf shook his head. “My apologies, but if you note the seal on your orders you will recognize it as coming directly from Lord Ecthelion. I have been further instructed to refuse any response. You must speak directly with your lord.”

Performing a sharply executed about face the elf strode out of the office, leaving a speechless Erestor in his wake.

Title: Dance With Me 6/13
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia - The best 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.

Gondolin - First Age

Erestor fumed as he stomped out of the palace, squinting his eyes against the annoyingly beautiful day as Anor shone brilliantly, unfettered by clouds. The perfectly hewn marble streets glistened in the rays while elves laughed and enjoyed their day. Feeling the mist of the fountains as he neared his home, he glanced at the elflings playing in the water; joyous and happy. Jealousy gripped him at their carefree existence and he longed for those days.

His search for Ecthelion led him away from the House of the Fountain and to the exact location he wished to avoid. The common training area.

Though each of the twelve prominent Houses were separated into different units, every unit trained with and against each other, constantly seeking out those weaknesses which needed improvement. A certain amount of conditioning was expected of every ellon in each house year round, whether one was a soldier or not, and the sessions were recorded. Erestor knew he had lapsed in this but expected special dispensation as his duties for King Turgon were burdensome. Apparently, Ecthelion disagreed with him and felt this required a discussion.

Though orderly, the training area was large and he had significant trouble locating Ecthelion amongst the great number of elves currently in combat exercises.

Finally, he observed a substantial but oddly silent crowd gathered around a dueling pair. As he neared for a closer look he stopped abruptly, shocked at the sight. Ecthelion and Glorfindel sparred within. Both lords were clothed only in leggings, their naked torsos bathed in sweat while blood ran freely from numerous nicks and cuts. The duel had obviously been long and arduous, and Erestor recognized the serious intent behind this engagement. Their former comradery seemed lost as they grunted from the force of each blow. While their moves retained some trace of the elegance, he saw the beginning signs of fatigue in their increasingly sluggish movements as they glided around the combat area. An unusual tension filled the air, and Erestor noted concern registered on the faces of those gathered.

Both seconds from Houses of the Fountain and Golden Flower stood posed and ready to intercept the match should it intensify. Realizing something was seriously amiss, Erestor moved quickly over to Aduaegas, the second to Ecthelion.

“Aduaegas, what happens here?”

Not taking his eyes off Ecthelion, his voice laced with concern, he answered. “There has been a tension building between our lords for several weeks now. Just this afternoon they were overheard shouting at one another and half past the hour I was summoned to this fray. Both Elfaer,” Aduaegas nodded over to Glorfindel’s second, “and I have attempted to intercede but have been threatened out of the circle by both lords. We have dispatched for assistance from the House of the Mole, as they are also training this day. So far we have not received word from Lord Maeglin.”

“This is wrong, Aduaegas. We cannot wait for Lord Maeglin.”

Quickly, Erestor stripped off his over robe and cautiously strode into the area. He needed to be free from any impediments should the temper of his friends prove unmanageable. Still intent on their opponent, neither paid any attention to those outside of their private quarrel. Their swords swung with wild precision, the sun glinting off them as they whirled in their deadly patterns. Quick successive pings shattered the silence as each blow was blocked by the other, evenly matched in their dance.

Erestor moved in as close as he dared and then started circling, trying to catch their eye, but not wanting to get too close as their single-minded focus might cause them to be careless.

Softly he called to them. “Ecthelion. Glorfindel. You have used your allotted time for this space, my lords. There are others who await their training.”

Neither acknowledged his presence nor hesitated in their pursuit of the other’s surrender. The intensity of their fight became clearer as he ventured closer. Subtlety seemed lost in this engagement.

Two lords publicly fighting was practically unheard of, and Erestor knew this delicate situation needed to be diffused as quickly and amicably as possible. He must command their attention without forcing their grievances further into the public sphere. His advantage was his knowledge of each elf’s ability, Glorfindel’s reaction time was a bit slower than Echthelion’s when attacked from behind.

Erestor sweated from the heat and the emotion, he wiped his brow, steadied himself, and quickly darted in to tap Glorfindel’s shoulder before dancing back to avoid the arcing sword. Glorfindel turned expeditiously. Before he could defend himself, Glorfindel knocked him flat on his back. Glorfindel loomed over Erestor, wild-eyed and panting, with his sword shoved tightly against his throat, dripping sweat and blood upon him. Time halted as they stared at each other and Erestor struggled to breathe against the weight of the pressing blade. He dimly noted when recognition finally flared in Glorfindel’s eyes, and he dropped his sword. Erestor instinctively grabbed his throat then looked at his hand to see if blood had been drawn, there was none.

Suddenly Ecthelion appeared, pushing past Glorfindel, and extending his hand to Erestor, pulling him to his feet and quickly checking him over. Erestor noticed that both seconds had lightened their lords of their swords, and he was impressed with their quick action.

“That was foolish, Erestor,” Ecthelion barked in his ear.

“No more foolish than this public display of temper, my lord.” He would not stand for chastisement from his lord - not at this moment. But as swiftly as he had arrived Ecthelion moved away, headed towards Glorfindel. Weaponless they faced each other, mere inches between them.

Erestor watched in astonishment as Ecthelion intentionally poked his finger painfully into Glorfindel’s chest, repeatedly ramming it with each word.

“Remedy this problem NOW, Glorfindel!”

Ecthelion then turned to face the crowd. “Do you not have duties to attend to this day? Disperse this instance!”

The soldiers, not eager to face the wrath of the lord of the Fountain, immediately scattered to all corners of the grounds while Ecthelion swiftly moved out of the area towards his home.

Erestor, with little desire to be left alone with Glorfindel, started after Ecthelion only to be halted by a strong grip on his upper arm. He turned to find Glorfindel staring at him, and he pulled to free himself, but Glorfindel would not relinquish his hold.

“Nay, Erestor, stay.”

Erestor froze at the sound of Glorfindel’s plea and then his anger poured forth. “What was this about, Glorfindel? Two lords in a public display of temper. Two friends! What foul deed brought this upon you?”

“Had you not been hiding away from us, Erestor, this fight would have been avoided.”

“This is my fault? I am to blame for two grown elf LORDS settling a dispute in public? I cannot wait to hear how your convoluted logic has worked out my blame.”

Erestor wrenched his arm from Glorfindel’s grasp, crossed them in front of his chest, and set a smug smirk on his face. “Proceed, Glorfindel. Please explain how this is my doing.”

“You accept no invitations for socialization. You have stopped attending officer’s night. You sneak from your rooms to your office and back, and Ecthelion has blamed me for your behavior!”

“Are you to blame?”

Glorfindel snorted. “Surely you jest? NO ONE directs your mind. You decide your own course, and since you have decided to hide I have no insight as to why you have stayed away from me.”

“Valar, Glorfindel! Naming you dense would be generous! Must I explain everything? Frequently it amazes me that you are the lord of one of the prominent Houses. Could your relatives not have chosen a more suitable leader? One not so clouded by irrationality and immorality? I rue the day I allowed you to sway my mind and agreed to move our relationship from friendship to that of lovers. I regret it with all my heart because now I have nothing. Nothing!”

Shame filled him as he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes and fall down his cheeks. As he struggled to gain control, he pushed past Glorfindel only to be gathered in a strong embrace. Glorfindel crushed him to his chest and Erestor struggled for freedom not wanting to be held by this traitor, not wanting to believe more lies and open himself for further hurt, but Glorfindel held him fast and tight. Erestor stopped his fight. He knew well that Glorfindel had something to say and would not release him until he had that chance.

“My immorality did not bother you three weeks ago.”

“You taunt me with my words!” Erestor shouted as he began his struggles anew.

“ Nay, Erestor, be still! Be still!” Glorfindel held him close until he ceased moving. “I understand how it appears the last time we were…together, but all is not as it seems. There are two sides to every story. I had been long from our home, and I needed to wash in a proper bath, rest in my bed, and change to fresh clothing. The next morning I had many appointments scheduled, and if I had stayed with you these would not have been accomplished. I am the lord of my House, my faults notwithstanding, and I have many duties. You know this, yet your emotions cloud your judgment and you jump to incorrect conclusions blaming me for wrongs I have not committed. Our friendship still stands. Forever. “

Erestor sighed. Another explanation he could not ignore as it made perfect sense. Yet he was still unconvinced and needed further reassurance.

“And the other?”

Erestor could feel Glorfindel’s smile against his cheek. “I am still very interested, but I leave that decision completely in your hands. Deep friendship and desire both vie for primacy when I think on you. I crave both, and yet it seems to cause us no end of trouble. This has all been an unfortunate incident. Please let us put it in the past and find Ecthelion.”

A high-pitched sarcastically laced voice interrupted them. “Well, well is this not a cozy picture?”

Startled, Glorfindel released Erestor and they both turned to face Lord Maeglin, a sneer slashed across his face.

“It appears I have been misled. I heard tale of a serious fight that needed my attention, but it seems there is a mistake. I see no fighting, but the mistake yes, the mistake is clear! You flaunt your unnatural lust in public. Is it not enough that you tempt young ellyn to your bed, Glorfindel? Now you openly slap our liege in the face by fondling your lover where all can observe! Your behavior ridicules his rule!”

Glorfindel moved menacingly towards the young lord of the House of the Mole. “You are questioning my morality, Maeglin? Take a moment to dwell upon the hypocrisy of this conversation when next you spread your legs for Salgant!”

Deep anger flushed Maeglins’s face as he spat his venomous words at Glorfindel. “You are finished here, Glorfindel! I have the right ear of the king, and he shall hear of this discourtesy. Gladly will I let my tongue speak of this moment as it will mark your undoing. I have lived for just this day!”

Glorfindel’s mocking laugh taunted Maeglin as he stalked away.

“You may have his ear, Maeglin Eölion, but you do not have his full trust. That is something earned by deeds, not assumed by blood.” Maeglin flinched at the deliberate usage of his father’s name. “Mark this day well as your arrogant assumptions will cause you to overstep your bounds one time too many, and your over ambition will be the ruin of you!”

Erestor stepped in front of Glorfindel. “Cease this taunting, Glorfindel. He is correct! We were behaving against a clear edict from our king.”



“It was a hug, Erestor! Deemed as more than a casual gesture by a filthy minded brat!”

“It was more than a hug. It was an embrace interpreted correctly!

Glordindel’s anger vanished from his face and his mood grew contemplative. “Why do you defend him?”

Erestor shrugged. “I do not.”

Erestor watched as his nephew stalked away, and as the silence grew around them he brought their conversation back to what truly mattered to him. “Why did you not seek me out these last weeks?”

Glorfindel’s eyes cleared, and he hestitated before responding. “Your actions clearly indicated you did not wish to be found. It was my assumption that you were finished with me, and I was not ready to accept our end. I also hoped that I could find some words to change your mind, but I could never settle upon the exact phrases to express what I feel for you.”

Glorfindel placed a finger over Erestor’s lips, expertly cutting off the next question. “You know I desire you. You know we are great friends. There is nothing left to discuss, but we do need to seek out Ecthelion and clear this entire affair at once.”

Erestor acquiesced once more and accompanied Glorfindel to find Ecthelion, knowing full well he should instead force Glorfindel to finish their discussion…

Title: Dance With Me (7/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.

Lindon - Second Age

Erestor’s chin hit his desk with resounding force, and woke him from the deep slumber which had claimed him. Rubbing the painful nodule that quickly formed, he assessed that the damage, though throbbing and achy, was minimal. He lifted his head while forcing the sleep from his eyes only to be faced with the smoky brown orbs of his king.

Stumbling to rise, he gasped out, “My liege! How may I assist you?” Smoothing out his robe and hair, Erestor hastily executed a formal bow.

Erestor shifted uncomfortably under Gil-galad’s inscrutable gaze. He dared not utter another word as protocol forbade speaking before ones liege. In a sleep-fogged haste, while trying to hide his lapse in work, he had trampled horribly on proper decorum.

“Erestor, please sit, relax, and release that terrified look from your face. I am no orc, merely your king. You hold to formalities like one born in the First Age.” The high king smiled knowingly at Erestor, and that grin made him squirm further.

“As you wish. I see you have this morning’s notes in your hands.” Erestor attempted a change of topic. “I do apologize, but I have not finished scribing them as of yet.”

“Aye. It did seem that you were otherwise occupied.”

Erestor lowered his gaze at that statement.

“It is of no consequence, Erestor. No one but yourself requires you to behave perfectly.” Gil-galad stood to leave, placing the notes back on the desk.“ However, in light of what I have witnessed I must concur that my cousin is correct in his worry about your health. You are ordered to the healers this time tomorrow. I will inform Elrond of this command and you can expect him to meet you there. Is this understood?”

“Absolutely, my liege.”

“Excellent. I look forward to reading your notes on our meeting. They are always most enlightening. Good day.”

“And a fine day to you.” A bedraggled Erestor finally let his guard down as the high king left his small office. This was what he had hoped to avoid. Not only had his lord questioned him, but it was obvious from Gil-galad’s words that he and Elrond had discussed him. The thought made him uncomfortable. Thinking, he decided, was something better left to others, and so he sat down to finish writing out the notes. This task was always slow and tedious, and he barely finished the transcription before the day transferred to the next.

Drained, he lumbered off to his chambers. His exhaustion evident as his elvish eyes closed, and he slipped into a restless slumber…

Gondolin - First Age

The hidden city swelled with excitement. Once more they had reaped a successful harvest and King Turgon proclaimed a celebration in order. Baskets of grain, conspicuously displayed on every doorstep. gave evidence to the bounty of this year’s harvest and the excesses received. Shouts of praise to Ilúvatar resounded through the streets, thanking him for this blessing on their city.

Peering out his window, Erestor happily found himself caught up in the gaiety, still he knew well that Ilúvatar would just as soon see them starve as feed them. He silently thanked all those who had worked so hard to ensure success in surviving the harsh conditions here. Though surrounded by attractive and breath-taking scenery, beauty was not always a precursor to kindness, and Gondolin with its lofty towers and shining streets, would be little more than a memory if its inhabitants were not fed. The creator had seen fit to confound his creatures with beautiful and sometimes deadly lessons.

He longed to spend this rare day of leisure with Glorfindel, but they had just managed a precarious peace. Their friendship appeared to have survived yet they were both loathe to move back to a more physical nature. He dreamed often of holding and caressing Glorfindel, but they were not yet on an even keel, so he shied away from spending much time alone with him.

Today he had decided to spend an entire day lounging in his own quarters, a place where he ultimately found all pretense could be dropped. Frequently the brunt of jokes regarding his fastidious and pragmatic nature, he would simply smile and think of his room. Those who taunted him would be thoroughly surprised to view the havoc that always resided here. Clothing was thrown haphazardly throughout the small space. Old dishes littered the tops of his table and desk, and papers important or not perched precariously atop any area of the desk not already inhabitated by dirty crockery. Books - some open, some closed and notched by a mark - were stacked high in all available space. The maids, after years of fruitless chastisement, refused to enter his rooms, and had demanded he set his dirty clothing and dishes outside the door when he needed their service.

They also insisted he remove his wall hangings, and he utterly rejected those pleas. The only decorations he displayed were odd bones collected when he first entered the valley. As his duties required, he had been present when the valley’s earth was first tilled. Bleached white bones had shone out through the dark organic-filled earth, and piqued his curiosity. Painstakingly, he pieced some of the bones together, only to be awed at the creatures these bones hinted at. Fins, tails and ragged teeth told the tale of a long dried up body of water that once filled this valley and of the struggle for life in that water. He had hoped, and continued to hope, that these long dead creatures did not portend the same fate for the soon-to-be inhabitants of the valley.

As with most things, his fascination quickly dulled as work took more of his time, but only after he had glued and mounted many of the ancient skeletons.

The day stretched to night, and he prepared to pick up his companion for the feast and ball at the palace. A harvest celebration certainly called for something appropriately festive, so he settled on a deep green tunic, light over robe and matching leggings stitched with golden threads. The threading a perfect mate to the glowing golden locks that adorned the elf he most longed to spend this evening with, but alas they would be mere acquaintances at the gathering.

Erestor had decided that King Turgon spent more time looking in his general direction since that unfortunate meeting with Maeglin. Glorfindel, consistently stubborn, refused to give the matter any further thought. He simply declared his personal life off limits to any commands from his lord and king. Erestor, on the other hand, knew it was much easier to declare such things when one was held in such high esteem no matter their proclivity, while it was another matter when one was simply a common worker who had risen in the ranks. Glorfindel had heartily laughed at such a notion and declared Erestor to be anything but common.

Erestor had accepted the comment with good grace and the subject was not discussed any further. He was willing to shy away from any topic that might impede their progress and they had fallen back into the light teasing banter so typical during their friendship. This was a welcome relief for Erestor, and he knew their next step was to take this mood and build upon it, though both were reluctant to return to a physical relationship. Still, he was content to let matters lie since they came close to losing their friendship, and he continued to blame his own lack of will when it came to desiring Glorfindel. This was better. This was easier.

Treading the familiar hallways, Erestor stopped in front of the entrance to Ecthelion’s suite, shifting from foot to foot, and he tapped an ongoing staccato beat on the door. His gay mood dampened only slightly as he reflected on how much he truly loathed most public festivities. His childhood had not included training for dances or music or any form of art, as his kin were of a stoic lot. Surviving took more of their time than it obviously had for the elves who forayed to Valinor. These elves planned parties at a moment’s notice and found any happy occasion an excuse for another, so he had attempted to learn every dance. Unfortunately his social skills, like his fighting skills, never rose above a blandly mediocre level, making him less than popular with the ellith he had courted. He learned quickly that they preferred presence on the dance floor over smart conversation when a celebration was in full swing.

Vespula responded to his incessant knocking, looking harried but resplendent in her silver gown. She wore her hair expertly coiffed in the latest style, which reminded Erestor of a sea animal he once saw dead on shore, its body a bloated sail and its extremities a mass of tangled tentacles. Tendrils of her dark hair hung down the sides of her face and the back of her head, while the top was piled high with layer upon layers of curls. Tiny delicate pearls twinkled out from her raven locks. Stifling a snigger, he took her hand and reverently kissed the back.

“My lady, you are lovely as usual, and you will be pleased to know there is no wind this eve,” he added wickedly.

“Another blessing, as I have toiled for the entire afternoon to get this just so. I would be loathe to have it blown down immediately upon leaving our house.”

“True, though I am more concerned that any wind might grab hold of your hair and lift you straight to Ilúvatar himself!”

“Erestor! It has been a tedious afternoon with all our assistants absent as they make their own preparations for the gala, and I am in no mood for your antics!”

Properly chastised, he immediately placed a look of contrition on his face. “Where is the lovely Limithil?”

Erestor had promised to accompany his lord’s eldest daughter to the celebration as she was not old enough to accept a true dating companion, yet too old to stay home with a sitter.

“She is ready and has been waiting for you to appear.” Vespula leaned in and whispered conspiratorially into his ear. “She has been nervously pacing her room excited to present herself to you and see your reaction.”

Immediately suspicious, Erestor laughed nervously. “My lady, please convince me she is not harboring some secret attraction! I am merely providing a service. Surely she understands!”

Vespula laughed. “Ah, Erestor, it is fitting that you have found love with an ellon as you do not understand ellith at all.”

“Love! No one has mentioned love! And it is a well known fact that no ellon understands an elleth.”

“Maybe it is time someone did speak of love.” Patting his hand and shaking her head in defeat, Vespula left the room to collect her daughter.

Erestor moved around the room unable to stand still. Surely, his lord’s daughter did not harbor awkward feelings for him, but his discussion with Vespula did nothing to ease his mind.

The rustling of skirts heralded the arrival of his date, and he placed a wide smile on his face and readied himself to compliment the young elleth, who as it turned out, had transformed into an absolutely breathtaking beauty since he last saw her. Quickly, he understood Ecthelion’s concern and request for a more mature companion for Limithil. Erestor knew he would have his hands full properly chaperoning his charge this evening.

“Limithil, my lady. Your beauty is overpowering, pen dithen. I will be the envy of all ellyn this evening!”

“Erestor, your tongue is as silver as ever!” Limithil said with fondness in her voice, and graciously accepted his bent-knee kiss to the back of her hand.

With a quick good-bye to Vespula, Erestor directed Limithil out the door, eager to be on his way. The two, protector and charge, hurried off with Limithil chattering madly about the upcoming ball. She had no interest in the feast, unlike Erestor’s stomach, but was fascinated by the opportunity to meet all the young ellyn from the prominent houses. Erestor was in turn fascinated and relieved by her intrigue with young Lindir, a very pleasant and courteous, if shy, ellon who also happened to be a cousin to Glorfindel. It appeared both elves, young and old, would have their eyes trained on the contingent representing the house of the Golden Flower.

A cacophony of sounds and a plethora of smells greeted the pair as they strolled into the palace. Everywhere elves bustled to and fro, taking in all the sights and greeting old friends. The palace was ablaze in light from candelabras and lanterns, and the smells of scented candles competed with the mouth-watering aroma of grilled meats and baking desserts. The halls and rooms were adorned with pumpkins and sheaves of wheat and barley, vines still heavy with sweet globes of fruit were draped over tables, and a carpet of rose blossoms were scattered in the hallways. The two trees had been creatively lit with the colors of autumn.

Erestor nearly fainted from shock when he beheld buffet tables groaning from the weight of the food. They were laden with every imaginable kind of meat, dishes, and baked delights. He dampened down his pragmatism and refused to fret over how much of their stock had been depleted to create this banquet. Instead he allowed himself to be caught up in the wonder of his charge as she gaped at the prepared feast with all thoughts of young ellon temporarily abandoned in the face of the kingly spread.

Erestor used her moment of silence to scan the large room and search for a head of golden locks, which he easily spotted in a sea of ebony. Erestor’s heart raced at the mere sight. Glorfindel, it appeared, was happily holding court with a gaggle of ellith and ellyn, obviously recounting some tale of his bravery. His rapt adherents sighed and laughed at each line as Glorfindel wove his spell of magic over the captivated audience even as he also surveyed the room. It was not long before blue eyes fixed on him and for that moment, amid the shrill sounds of gaiety, no one else existed. A relaxed smile past between them, and Glorfindel, not missing a beat, finished his story with a flourish.

Glorfindel soon quit his assembly and slowly mingled his way over to Limithil and Erestor. Erestor chuckled as he drew near. Glorfindel, ever a creature of habit, balanced a handful of dried figs nestled close to his body so as not to lose any should he be jostled. He happily munched them as he approached.

“My lady, Limithil. Well met, pen dithen. You are positively radiant this evening although you do realize your reputation is permanently tainted from showing up with this rogue!”

“Glorfindel, my lord.” She gave a quick curtsy. “Then why did you not save me thus? I might have been accompanied by a golden rogue, and hence my reputation would have suffered less.”

“She is Vespula’s child, Glorfindel. You should know better than to attempt matching wits with someone of superior intellect.”

Glorfindel shoved a fig in Erestor’s mouth. “Have a fig, Erestor. I know how you crave the taste, and it will help us all rest our ears from your annoying patter!”

Grabbing Limithil’s arm, Glorfindel steered her over to a large group of ellith where he quickly deposited her.

Erestor struggled to follow, but was detained by many who wished to thank him for his part in the successful harvest, and then restrained by Glorfindel on his way back.

“I am her guardian for the evening, Glorfindel!”

“You know that she is perfectly safe and surely has no desire to be squelched in her fun by two old and boring elves. Let her be. We will watch her from a distance.”

And that they did, as they partook of the bountiful meal and again later when they moved into the dancing hall where the young ellyn and ellith eyed each other warily across the crowded room. Having not grown up with many elves his own age, Erestor had always wondered why elflings always seemed to form large packs. Tonight, it appeared, they assembled as a safety measure. He was pleased to see Limithil at the back, well away from the watchful eyes of the ellyn. Glorfindel, however, decided she would not hide from him and strode over to her for the first dance.

Erestor, with a bottle of wine, made his way to an empty table. He spent the evening watching Glorfindel, envious of every elleth with whom he danced. Glorfindel’s warrior-large frame encircled his partner’s as he gracefully guided each around he floor. His face alight with pure joy as he whirled them through the various steps.

Erestor’s mood was exactly opposite. Envy clouded his joy and he railed against the forces, including his king, which had shoved his relationship with Glorfindel into secrecy. It was he who should be twirling with his lover, not some anonymous elleth. He should not be idly sitting here slowly succumbing to the affects of the wine.

While sulking in this piteous state, he failed to notice when Glorfindel left the dance floor and moved to his side. Erestor felt a hand on his shoulder. A hand which slipped slowly down his back as Glorfindel knelt beside his chair.

Glorfindel’s face, once alive and happy, reflected concern as he perceived Erestor’s misery. His hand moved from Erestor’s back to his face, gently stroking a reddened cheek. “Erestor. Dance with me.”

“You know this is not possible, Glorfindel. It is severely frowned upon, and we would be punished in some way. I cannot.”

“We have spoken of this before and agreed that our liege’s edict is unfair and a trifling with matters he should have no say in. Let us break down this barrier together. Dance with me.”

“Stop this torture! Nay, I am leaving. Please see to Limithil.”

Erestor bleary-eyed, shoved away from Glorfindel and pushed his way through the throng of elves as he escaped into the night…

Title: Dance With Me (8/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.


Gondolin - First Age

Guilt coursed through Erestor. He had abandoned his charge, Limithil yet he did not move to rejoin her. Nay, instead he remained lying on his back, and stared into the black night with its white splash of a million twinkling stars. He was as far from the celebration as possible but the sounds of merriment still carried to this spot. It seemed the sounds taunted him and though he begrudged the elves of Gondolin nothing this evening, he still felt the sting of his separateness. He was different, and had been from the first time he and his naneth had joined the elves from Valinor. Now, being in love with Glorfindel furthered that separation. But at the moment he found he could not bring himself to care much what anyone thought of him.

He was content to wallow in a moment of self-pity before moving onto the next crisis, which would probably present itself tomorrow when it was determined the entire harvest had been used for this evening’s feast. Erestor exhaled softly and concluded that righteous sorrow seemed more gratifying when one was alone in the dark night with the vastness of Ilúvatar’s universe to contemplate.

Adrift in his thoughts, he vaguely heard the approach of someone but still startled when a soft head of hair plopped itself on his shoulder. The strong smell of wine assailed him as the unknown elf’s breath panted in his ear. With a quick glance his spirits immediately lifted as he confirmed that Glorfindel had indeed joined him and lay flat on his back, his head on Erestor’s shoulder, and his face directed toward the starry night sky.

“Ecthelion rescued his daughter from my clutches soon after you departed, and last I saw he stared daggers at any ellon who dared to approach.”

Erestor chuckled. “He really should not smother Limithil so. She is a bright ellith with a sensible disposition.”

“’Tis an easy comment when one is not Adar to a daughter.”

“What say ye then, Glorfindel, as you have no daughters either.”

A long silence greeted Erestor’s statement until finally he looked at Glorfindel to see if he was still awake and noted that he now held himself with a strange rigidness. Once again, at a loss to explain this sudden change of mood, he quickly moved to a new topic of conversation as he was loathe to lose this rare alone time he so craved with Glorfindel.

“Do you suppose we will be floating free through all the universe once Arda breaks?”

“I know not,” came the immediate reply.

“Have you never thought on it?”

“Nay. My thoughts tend to center ‘round more physical activities.”

Erestor snorted as he turned to face Glorfindel and witnessed the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. This glint gave way to a more serious look as he reached out and grabbed Erestor’s hand.

“There is a dance which none can forbid us.” He leaned in and lightly brushed his lips across Erestor’s. “I have missed you.”

Glorfindel smiled then, sweet and seductive, as he rose and headed away towards his house. With no hesitation, Erestor stood and followed he, a dark shadow behind his golden friend, and if there was a sense of something significant missing, he rejected it without introspection.

As they passed through the city, Glorfindel was greeted by many admirers to whom he pleasantly nodded as he strode unhesitatingly forward. Erestor trailed Glorfindel, a mere afterthought, and none sought to engage him as he seemingly slid by the throngs unseen, pulled along by an invisible thread of desire. His lust swelled as he watched the sway of Glorfindel’s backside and the delicate way his long blond tresses caressed the sensual curve of his buttocks. It was a sight of which he never tired.

They slipped into the house of the Golden Flower where Glorfindel’s brightness and his shadow flowed up the stairs to the promise. The promise of a dance. A dance they sought to right the imbalance which tilted their world.

As Erestor entered the room, Glorfindel fell into his embrace. He relished the moment. Glorfindel seemed content to merely be held as he lightly ran his hands up and down Erestor’s back. The difference of this night was evident. Thorough exploration replaced the urgency of their prior couplings and at Erestor’s insistence Glorfindel stumbled willingly to the bed.

Clothing was leisurely removed and pushed aside as their slow seduction moved them toward ultimate consummation. Erestor teased and indulged himself in the worship of Glorfindel’s body. He knew this was where he belonged, with the elf he loved. There were many needs yet unfulfilled, so much to learn about each other. He felt as if he hardly knew the elf beneath him, yet, for a time he found it was enough to stroke this perfect being in his arms, to revel in the feel of his silky skin, the quickening of his breath, and the steel of his aroused state.

Glorfindel kissed him then. His tongue lazily explored Erestor’s lips before delving into his mouth, forcing him open, pressed forward and traced every inch inside possessing him with its sweetness. Erestor rolled them onto their sides giving Glorfindel more freedom to search him, to discover how to make him squirm and plead.

“I want you, all of you, this night,” Glorfindel gasped into his ear.

Erestor wanted this also yet he still experienced some reticence regarding the act to follow, and so he slowed his exploration of Glorfindel’s body, banked down his lusty hunger, and took Glorfindel’s warrior-roughened hands in his own. He placed them on his forehead.

"This says aye.”

He moved them down to his chest, and he laid Glorfindel’s hands over his heart.

"And this is emphatically urging me on."

He dragged Glorfindel’s hands down to his fully erect groin, smiling a bit shyly.

"This is a resounding yes."

Erestor then placed Glorfindel’s hands around behind him and he softly moaned as Glorfindel gently stroked his cleft.

"But this,” he hesitated, “this is unsure."

Glorfindel continued to explore the dark recesses of Erestor’s buttocks while a lazy but predatory smile found its way to his lips.

"Trust in my powers of persuasion this eve, Erestor."

He moved and gently caressed Erestor’s raven-capped head.

"Heed what you hear here.”

He then dragged his nails lightly down Erestor’s neck to his chest, where he ran soft circles over Erestor’s left nipple.

"And here.”

Glorfindel continued his exploration down Erestor’s body to his hardened shaft

"And here."

Finally, Glorfindel’s reached around to firmly cup Erestor’s buttocks. The grasping hands forced him apart while a finger lazily grazed over his tight opening.

“And this will not be disappointed. It will be good if you but relax and trust me."

Without hesitation and not awaiting affirmation, Glorfindel pinned Erestor beneath him, covering him with his heavier body. Erestor had a disconcerting moment as he was pressed down into the bed, odd but not unwelcome. Coherent thought fled when Glorfindel’s hot mouth consumed him as he slowly maneuvered Erestor onto his belly. A hand brushed down the side of his body, causing a rippling of sensations; kisses trailed down to the small of his back, sending him higher, until a moist tongue passed over his opening and his nerves sang with pleasure. As it breached him, Erestor found himself pushing back for more.

He stilled briefly, anticipating pain, as Glorfindel’s slick fingers entered him, stretching the tight ring of muscle. They felt large and clumsy as they fought to widen him, but as Erestor willed himself to relax and open to the invasion, Glorfindel’s exploration seemed more deliberate, stroking and lovingly searching for the pleasure while dually relaxing the muscle. A cry broke from his lips when Glorfindel’s finger grazed over the gland within him. Sensual satisfaction flooded through him and filled his groin as he once again abandoned himself to the siren’s call of lust.

He felt bereft as Glorfindel’s fingers left him and loudly complained of the emptiness until he felt the blunt head of thick, heavy flesh pushing into him, impaling him. A flare of pain ignited and he thrashed and surged forward as it felt like he was actually split wide open. Erestor squirmed, trapped by the agonizing pressure which increased, gasping pitifully, as Glorfindel tightened the grip on his hips preventing escape.

And then Glorfindel moved, boring him with firm deep strokes, commanding him to submit while whispering words with no meaning into Erestor’s ear. Erestor could not relax, could not understand the depth of the pain involved with this act, could not tie it in with the love he felt for Glorfindel. It was emotionally devastating and he hated it! But he kept trying, searching for the pleasure in this act, reached for it, begged for it until it was almost there.

There were moments when the sensation was good - tiny sparks, brief and shocking, when Glorfindel touched the gland within him and he quivered from the strange bliss. That faint flutter of excitement enticed him to complete the act and not call out for Glorfindel to cease. Within Glorfindel’s iron grip he could move little but a minute shift changed the angle of his thrust and when it hit Erestor cried out a long splintering howl of satisfaction.

Glorfindel reached forward then and fisted his sagging erection. Pleasure and pain fought for dominance until pleasure asserted its marginal victory and Erestor stiffened, his entire body spasmed, and Glorfindel’s orgasm filled him. Their cries of release shattered the night, and the words “I love you!” echoed ominously in the room.

The fog of pain and pleasure lifted when Glorfindel quickly pulled from his body and rolled away. Erestor immediately berated himself for his temporary lapse in calling out the words he knew Glorfindel would not heed. Slowly, he moved onto his side and found that Glorfindel faced away from him. Reaching out a tentative hand, Erestor stroked Glorfindel’s sweat slicked back and felt the muscles tense at his touch.

“It is late, Erestor. Go to sleep.”

Erestor flinched from the emotionless tone. He withdrew his hand and it wandered aimlessly over the jumbled cooling sheets as Erestor searched for words to make this right again. He ached to gather Glorfindel in his arms, but the walls he thought battered down from around Glorfindel had been erected in an instant. He could see Glorfindel’s rigid posture and its coldness struck out at him. The throbbing he felt in the place Glorfindel had bored into spread throughout his body, leaving him hollow and listless. He knew not how long he lay there as despair crashed through him at a wondrous night turned suddenly tragic. The emptiness of the situation filled him with agonizing regret and his eyes shone with unshed tears.

Choked by emotion and suffocating, Erestor jumped from the cold bed as panic took hold. He pulled on his over robe, leaving the rest of his clothing in an abandoned pile, and spared a quick glance at Glorfindel’s back.

“I cannot stay tonight,” he stammered. “It slipped my mind that I have an early meeting with Ecthelion. I must go.” While his mind cried out for Glorfindel to ask him to stay.

Erestor sprinted from the room, while tears finally shed streamed down his cheeks. The image of Glorfindel’s stiff back and mocking silence taunted him forward even as Glorfindel’s essence slipped down his legs leaving a second trail of tears. He knew with dreaded certainty that the pathway of his and Glorfindel’s lives had diverged forever…

Title: Dance With Me (9/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.

Gondolin - First Age

Erestor stood, ruminating, in the palace corridor once again. The foolish notion that Glorfindel, after their first liaison, would declare his undying love, reject all others, and pledge his heart for eternity had died an ugly death. Erestor grimaced as he reflected on his painfully naive and simple thoughts and chastised himself for the thousandth time on how easily he was duped.

Certain that Glorfindel’s feelings were not merely a passing fancy, he had decided the risk was worth the consequences because he loved Glorfindel passionately and deeply, like none before. Love, like all poets of the Age predicted, had most certainly rendered him blind and witless. For countless years, he bore witness as Glorfindel chose partners who would ask nothing more of him than a pleasant encounter for the evening and then a quick emotionless ending. Nevertheless he had abandoned his rational mind, determined that Glorfindel would never treat him thus and convinced himself that Glorfindel had lost his heart just as he, the first moment their eyes met.

He wanted everything from Glorfindel, his heart, his body, and his fëa. Stupid words, useless talk; these were the follies that came with love. Instead he, as all others before, was a quick and disposable romp. Glorfindel made it quite clear he could never love him as he loved Glorfindel. Yet, until thrown aside and ignored he had never imagined the haunting pain of rejection. It was truly torment beyond belief.

The humiliation of unrequited love was another unforeseen outcome. Their short affair had garnered more attention than he realized, and he had taken to hiding in his rooms to avoid the whispers, and stares, and the pity.

His final night with Glorfindel occurred months ago, yet the memory still tortured his days and the pain remained as searing as on that horrible night. His life had now dwindled to a solitary path from his home to his office and back again, only leaving the sanctity of his rooms when absolutely necessary. He survived the misery, barely, out of a sense of duty to those who dwelled in the city. A mere shadow of his former self, Erestor, proud tactician, lover and friend of Glorfindel, died that eve.

Not surprisingly, Glorfindel did not seek him out, and even if he had, Erestor would have refused to speak to him. The time for listening to his former friend and lover was gone, and he meant to see Glorfindel as little as possible and certainly only as duty called.

Lady Idril’s regular guardian currently attended his wife during the birth of their elfling, and Erestor was called into service. His mood wavered not over the last few months, and he certainly had no desire to brave a conversation with his lady this day. So he loitered in the hallway and commenced his daily session of brooding, which explained why he missed hearing the soft click as the latch to Idril’s rooms opened.

“I know about you, Erestor,” came the soft whisper.

Startled, Erestor spun around to find Lady Idril gazing at him in calm perusal. She smiled a warm welcome and held out her hand.

“Come. Sit with me awhile, my protector. I have longed for a moment alone with you, yet I dared not approach you outside these walls. “

Erestor’s curiosity piqued, but he was unsure of her motive. Still, he reluctantly took her hand and followed her into the room.

Idril guided him to a lush velvet-covered chair in her waiting room, and she set about arranging tea while he unbuckled his sword belt and carefully placed it beside him. He glanced around curiously, not recalling the last time he had entered this long avoided room. Idril was precious to him, and ever since Maeglin had started his unrelenting campaign to win her hand, he frequently kept a watchful eye on his nephew for her. However, he forever viewed her as a spoiled child of a ruler, knowing full well that under her smooth exterior lurked a cunning mind. She played the game of court with skillful precision. Erestor knew her skill at manipulating those around her for petty gains and he was concerned this meeting was another of her ploys. He fervently hoped she would not mention Glorfindel.

As she efficiently laid the table for tea, Erestor broke the silence.

“My lady, truly this is not necessary on my part. Please speak your mind and let us have done with it.”

“Erestor, have you no patience? I promise this discussion will be worthy of your attention, but I am loathe to rush our time together, for you see the Valar have finally answered my pleas and delivered you to me! My ladies will make sure we are not interrupted.” Idril’s face shone with excitement, and her hands trembled slightly as she poured tea for Erestor.

“Thank the Valar that tea grows at high altitudes. Imagine life without this elixir,” Idril said with the proper amount of horror in her voice. “This is the new variety produced by Eirien, and of course she will not share her secret. I suspect she bruises the leaves and if you let the brew rest in your mouth for a bit you will detect the hint of several oils. Ah yes, there you are. Is it not perfection?”

Erestor made a show of tasting the tea, finally bowing to the knowledge that Idril would not be rushed into the discussion. He voiced his agreement that the tea was quite perfect and watched over the top of his cup as she picked up a plate and poked at the various cakes on the platter.

“A wonderful harvest this year. Such a blessed bounty, and the bakers have outdone themselves with their pastries. I can hardly decide which to try. And you, my protector? Which shall I serve you? A cream filled horn, perhaps? Or this sweet berry-filled torte?”

“It matters not. I will be content with whatever you decide for me.”

“Such deference, Erestor,” Idril intoned with an incorrigible grin. “This is unlike you. Do not be unnerved by this meeting, for it is I who takes the risk in trusting you, although I have knowledge that you will be sympathetic to my plight.”

“My lady! Truly, enough with this dancing around. Let us come to the point and quickly. I will be missed in the corridor when the guards make their rounds.”

Idril frowned, smoothed out her skirt and began.

“It all began with Eöl. He gained entry to our fair city with such ease and it triggered my doubt regarding the defenses of Gondolin. And but a few years later I began to hear the whispers and realized my fears were not singular in their existence. Others were concerned and fearful that our safeguards, which could not forbid entrance to one, would never hold against a horde of dark minions. And if our foes gained entrance then what? We would be hopelessly trapped within our own walls.”

Erestor stood, paced to the window, and gazed out on the peaceful city while he hoped Idril had not noticed his moment of panic when she mentioned Eöl’s name. Below him the streets of Gondolin were alive with its occupants.

Speaking in a hushed voice he asked, “You know my feelings on this subject. But how?”

Idril nodded and spread her hands. “I have many friends, and how I came upon this information is irrelevant, but when I first heard of your dissent regarding our lack of escape passages I knew you were the keystone to our success.”

“Our success?”

“But of course, my protector. Surely, you realize it is not just I who has started planning and devising ways to flee Gondolin if necessary. The ellith of this city have been approaching me for years. They fear for their elflings, and as I have always availed myself to our population, they do not hesitate to come to me. It is as if they sensed my openness to their fear, and to those close to me, I have not hidden my apprehension about the defenses of our city, at least not since Eöl and his darkness tainted this hallowed ground.

“But, I must take care as I am running against my adar in this matter and it would devastate him if he discovered I do not have the required commitment to his leadership. And I do have faith in him, but being close to him, I can also see his weaknesses, and in this his vision is clouded. He frequently views Gondolin from the realm of fantasy as he dreams of our home in Valinor and the wife, family and friends he lost there.

“This,” she swept her hands wide, “has become his Valinor. I sometimes fear he has forgotten that we no longer reside in that sacred place, so twisted are his thoughts. And then in a moment his eyes will clear and he will once more be my beloved strong adar. It is clear to me that he has created a web he calls Gondolin and we are all dangerously entangled. Each day he grows fiercer in his determination to repel intruders and trap those dwelling within. He has spun the web so tightly we have no escape from the shadow of death creeping along the edges. I see in your face, Erestor, that I bear old news. You have spoken these exact words for years. Is this not so?”

“Aye. It is true. Do I dare hope that your dream is the same as mine? Are you planning a secret passageway to the outside of the city?”

“It is true, and it is a dream no longer. You are the final piece in our puzzle as we have lacked a tactician, someone who is adept enough to strategize all the aspects of this venture. It is a massive undertaking and though we have detailed many of our problems we are still much vexed. Say you will join us, Erestor. Make a pledge this day.”

Erestor felt humbled at all he heard and glad at the chance to mend his ties with Idril. Obviously he never knew her true mettle and he regretted judging her so harshly without fully knowing her mind.

“My lady. I am heartened to hear you speak thus. You are correct, and though I know not how you came to your knowledge of my most feared aspect of this city, I am prepared to join you in this venture.”

Idril beamed at Erestor and grasped him into a firm clutch. Filled with satisfaction for the first time in many months, he enthusiastically returned the embrace. He would have a part in constructing a safe passage, and even if it was never used his mind would be more at ease knowing it existed. And, he admitted to himself, this project would suit nicely as a boon for his aching heart. A task to throw himself into and try to forget his pain at losing both the love of his life and his best friend in one unguarded moment.

“Our work is covert, Erestor, and though others are with me, we must tend our secret. No one else is to know about this. Meet me tonight, and we shall start our planning.”

Erestor nodded his agreement, strapped on his scabbard, and slipped out to his post. His mind already pulled up information he had stored these many years as he conjured ways to design a passage. His only fear that their construction was started too late.

Lindon - Second Age

Reluctantly Erestor rose from his bed. Another sleepless night had passed as his vivid memories worked through those long-ago years, and he was once again exhausted. This day, he would be forced to face Elrond in his role as healer. Questions he was not prepared to answer would be asked. Elrond was no fool, and he would spot any deception, but Erestor could not find it within himself to confide in anyone, let alone Elrond.

He dressed quickly, skipping a much needed meal, and hurried to the healer’s wing. Although reluctant to face Elrond, he knew it was futile to resist a direct order, and so he was bound to be on time.

The palace wing set aside for healing was intentionally open. Windows lined the walls, and sunlight streamed through the panes, setting the room awash with strong beams and warmth. It was a purposeful atmosphere designed to promote improved health and hope. Erestor sat, waited, and involuntarily slipped into a fitful doze recalling another day that dawned as beautifully as this one...

Gondolin - First Age

The day glared bright and warm and spirits seemed high in the city. Erestor lounged back against an ivy covered wall as the murmuring of hundreds of voices lulled him into a sense of contentment. He watched the elves of Gondolin mingle around the market. Elflings ran by screeching as they played mock predator-prey games; merchants hawked their fare, some calling loudly for customers while others displayed garish banners promising top quality workmanship. Erestor recalled his brief forays into the marketplaces of humans and his surprise at the similarities between the two races. The human marketplaces, however, were more prone to outrageous claims of product capability.

He finally felt his gloom lift a bit while working with Idril, so he had timidly ventured out from his self-imposed prison, hoping he could stand for awhile in anonymity and observe those for whom life still held enjoyment. Once he had lived for these lazy sunny days where all he had before him was the prospect of hanging about elf-watching and secretly peering into a brief moment of the lives about him.

He did not consider himself nosy, but he was most definitely an observer, cataloging the quirks and mannerisms of his fellow Gondolindrim. It came naturally as a result of his years of training, and satisfied his innate curiosity. And, the information he gleaned over the years was amazing - sultry glances between secret lovers, notes passed with quick hands, disputes between vendors and families, as well as the occasional random acts of vandalism and thievery. It was an eye opening experience into the behavior of elves who believed they were unobserved.

He recalled his horror at witnessing the Chief of one of the twelve prominent Houses as he smoothly picked his way through the crowd and stealthily pinched the bottoms of every unsuspecting elleth in his path. Erestor’s horror had ultimately given way to mirth as the Chief completed the gauntlet of the market without detection, and left in his wake dozens of squawking ellith intent on revenge! He had a harder time reconciling the prohibited acts he witnessed, but he decided long ago to never speak of the things he saw or interfere unless grievous harm was committed. He did, however file away all of this information for possible future use as he was an opportunist and never turned away from a possible advantage in the future.

His short but satisfying adventure into the marketplace took an abrupt turn for the worse when he spied Glorfindel and Ecthelion strolling into view. Ecthelion accompanied Vespula, whose face was set in a deep scowl. Legolas, who had always scorned Erestor for reasons unknown, clung to Glorfindel in a less than discrete manner and were so caught up in each other they failed to notice the disapproving stares of those tracking their passage. Erestor grimaced as jealousy, searing and rancid, stung him. Glorfindel guided the group toward a fruit stand where he picked up a handful of fresh figs. As he took a hardy bite from the fig, a thick clump of jelly ran down his chin. Legolas leaned in to lick off the substance, tongue darting out, teasing and cleaning at the same time.

Erestor felt his stomach tighten with anger as Legolas speared him in place with a calculated look across the market, and with a smug grin silently mouthed the word, “Mine.” Glorfindel, completely unaware of Erestor’s presence, whispered something to Legolas, flicked a coin to the merchant, and they quickly left the marketplace…

Lindon - Second Age

Erestor roused with a startle. Rubbed his eyes and recalled that unfortunately, that day had ended poorly as his jealousy at seeing Glorfindel with another lover defeated his fleeting good mood. He hoped that today, thousands of years later, there would be no similar end to such a glorious morning.

Resolved to his fate, Erestor rose as Elrond entered the healing chambers.

Smiling indulgently, Elrond motioned Erestor to sit down, but that smile rapidly turned to a firm look.

“Your exhaustion is evident, Erestor. I need not be a trained healer to witness this. And you shiver. It is clear your body is reacting to your lack of rest. Tell me, why you are not sleeping?”

“I am having dreams, my lord. They prevent my sleep.” Though resolved to the truth Erestor also decided that brevity was the key to making his quick escape.

“What can you tell me of these dreams?”

“I fear that their content is lost to me on awakening, though I must assume they are troubling.”

Elrond frowned at that statement, and Erestor held his breath. Again he had lied, but it appeared Elrond accepted the explanation.

“You are too thin, also.” Elrond proceeded to remove Erestor’s robe and tunic while poking and prodding him as if to emphasize his point.

Erestor gritted his teeth and struggled to remain calm through the examination. It was too long since his body had been touched by another and Elrond’s touch, though impersonal, threatened to crumble his resolve. He fought not to lean into those skillful hands.

Finally, Elrond stepped away, and Erestor gratefully shrugged back into his clothing. But when he glanced up, he noticed that Elrond’s back was to him and he stood completely still.

“You are a mystery to me, Erestor. You are ill and yet you conceal the cause. You are head strong and willful and quite skilled at hiding behind protocol. I know full well you will not heed my advice once given. “

Elrond turned towards Erestor, his face grim.

“Are you determined to let this illness take its full course?”

Erestor stuttered at the implication. “But they are merely dreams. Surely, I am not ill.”

“Do not play the idiot with me! You know quite well what is happening. My question remains!”

Elrond advanced on Erestor and knelt in front of him, urgency written on his face, “You are needed here, Erestor. I need you. Unless you eat and rest, your illness will advance and soon there will be no help for you.”

Stunned, Erestor realized that Elrond actually feared for his life. Wrapped up in the ongoing battle with his dreams, he had not realized the extent of their toll on his health. Though death held much promise, he knew that route was not an option at the moment.

He smiled reassuringly at Elrond. “I will follow your advice; however, I warn you that a sleeping elixir would be useless unless it is able to block all dreams, for it is these dreams which cause my restlessness. Admittedly, I have been skipping meals, and this I can remedy immediately.”

Elrond nodded. “You will take your meals with me so I may monitor your intake, and when you are finally agreeable you will speak to me about your dreams, know that I am here to listen.” Still kneeling, he gently picked up Erestor’s hands, cupping them within his own. “As your healer and your friend.”

Elrond’s words stayed with him that day. They warmed and comforted him, and he allowed himself to remember another time when another friend confided in him…

Gondolin, First Age

Another day finished and though spent in the cramped space of the hidden corridor, dark and dank and depressing, his enthusiasm knew no bounds. They were making real progress on the secret passage and his planning was coming to fruition. Slowly but surely, over the last year what was once a dream had become reality. Escape would be possible within the next few years. In addition, the hard, steady work had been exactly what he needed in his life, some worthy project to fill his time between the end of his regular duties and sleep. Anything to keep his thoughts from drifting back to the gnawing emptiness in his life.

Erestor trudged toward his rooms, filthy and exhausted, where he wanted nothing more than to fall first into bed, and then fade into a deep slumber, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened and turned.

In some perverse way, Erestor felt giddy at how poorly Glorfindel looked. He was pale, and dark circles ringed his seemingly lifeless eyes. The heart he thought turned to stone now beat heavy in his chest, and Erestor struggled for breath. Just Glorfindel’s touch still had an affect on him. Jerked from his trance, he moved away, put a look of complete boredom on his face, and found himself embroiled in a conversation with Glorfindel. Their first over the last year.

“What do you want?” Erestor asked.

Glorfindel countered with assertion. “What I have always wanted.”

“You have never opened your mouth, Glorfindel. Well, at least not to say anything I am willing to hear. So I will ask again what do you want?”

“Let us speak, Erestor. Has not enough time passed with bad feelings clouding our days? Can we not find some compromise and rekindle our friendship once more?”

It was painful speaking to Glorfindel again and hearing his attempt at rectifying a situation that ended long ago, but Erestor was in no mood to placate. He had moved on. Aye, he had lost his heart to Glorfindel, and then on that fateful night he had handed over his fëa. Glorfindel in one swift moment had crushed him, leaving him an incomplete elf wandering aimlessly. This was not something he would soon forget.

“Never! I want nothing more to do with you, and I made this clear to you a year ago!” Spitting those words toward Glorfindel, Erestor moved away with purpose.

Glorfindel remained at his side and matched him stride for stride.

“Nay. Not this time. Our friendship is worth more than the heartache of this last year. I demand but a small portion of your time.”

Erestor whirled to face Glorfindel. “Demand? Why should I even consider such a thing? Surely, you have not forgotten how we came to be at this place!”

“Just a brief moment of time. I will meet you in your rooms tonight, and I promise. Aye! I promise I will do what I must to regain our friendship.”

With those parting words, Glorfindel turned and strode away not waiting for his agreement on the proposed meeting.

Once in his rooms, Erestor paced and fretted and braced himself, determined to ignore Glorfindel. Should Glorfindel even show, for he assumed that, like always, Glorfindel’s resolve would fail and he would not follow through as promised. When at last the knock sounded, however, his conviction faltered, and with only a brief hesitation he allowed Glorfindel admittance.

Erestor marveled as Glorfindel entered with a quick shy glance his way but then purposefully marched across the room, grabbed two chairs and placed them facing one another. Still quiet, he motioned Erestor to sit. Erestor bristled at the unspoken command, but as he willingly allowed Glorfindel entrance it seemed too late to turn from the upcoming conversation.

The awkwardness of the situation caused Erestor to squirm. This was his best friend of years, and yet he could barely look at the friend he had loved. The friend he still did love. The betrayal he felt at Glorfindel's rejection was complete, but he realized he had silently agreed to this meeting because he also put his desires above reality. He knew Glorfindel turned from his lovers after one night of pleasure, and he had foolishly thought he would be spared that same fate. They reached this place because of both their actions. The blame was shared, and Erestor had hardened his heart, determined to move on and push aside the problem.

But Glorfindel sat before him, making it clear their situation would be ignored no longer. His chair stood close in front of Erestor's, so that their knees occasionally brushed, and caused Erestor to squirm for quite another reason. It galled him that his body could still be so inflamed by the nearness and the slightest touch of Glorfindel. He wanted to be outraged, but instead he felt the dullness of his senses. His emotions had ridden a terrible storm. There was nothing left to feel, except the obvious lust that currently coursed through his body, and he was disgusted by this lack of control.

He lowered his eyes and turned away from Glorfindel, as he knew the emotions playing across his face revealed too much. Glorfindel reached out and cupped Erestor's chin to gently force his eyes to meet his own, but Erestor lashed out and punched his hand away.

"I have agreed to this meeting, Glorfindel, but I did not agree to being mauled!"

Glorfindel grimaced but started determinedly. "I am grateful that you have agreed to speak with me. It is only that I need you to look at me while I tell this story. Please allow me this request."

Hesitantly and grudgingly Erestor lifted his head and gazed at Glorfindel. He placed a small frown on his face.

Glorfindel smiled one of his rare sweet smiles. "Thank you. I know, Erestor, that I hurt you deeply. It was not intentional, my friend, and if you remember nothing else this evening know this. By the Valar, I would forfeit my own life before I would ever set out to purposefully harm you. I am truly sorry for the sorrow I have caused you…caused us both. Though words will never suffice to make up to you this bane, I wish to try so you will understand. Are you willing to hear me? For once I start I require your promise to hear this to the end."

Erestor, not trusting his voice, nodded his assent as his eyes bored into Glorfindel's.

With a shaky intake of breath, Glorfindel started his tale.

"Though you are too young to remember, Erestor, there was a time when life was much more innocent. Love more often than not simply a matter of finding the correct family who had an appropriate mate. We did not always sense or experience a deep feeling of rightness when our life mate was encountered. Nay, that is a new development, something that has evolved within us.

“There was never a concern that an attraction would be missing, as all elves were as beautiful then as they are now and so a spouse was an easy commodity. During this time of innocence my family garnered a mate for me. I had gained my majority and remained wild and irresponsible yet I agreed to the arrangement, and we married as a convenience.”

Erestor shook when he heard this, but Glorfindel pressed on without interruption.

“She was redundantly beautiful, from the proper family, and willing to produce offspring. There were no other requirements she needed to fill, and I had little responsibility but to live properly, learn how to run our estates, and pass on our line. I was happy in our simple life because this was all I knew, and Caulustrea assured me often that she felt content also.”

“My life was gloriously brightened as she bore our two daughters, Faelcalad and Faervain. The twin lights of my life. Small and precious they were, dark-haired as their mother, but with striking blue eyes flecked with brilliant gold flakes that sparkled whether there was light present or not.”

Glorfindel’s voice faltered and he whispered. “I was so blessed, Erestor.”

His own brilliantly blue eyes reflected sadness, his hands clenched, but he continued his tale.

“And then Melkor and Ungoliant appeared. I had never fought before. Who of the firstborn had ever taken up arms? Oh aye, I hunted and played at learning the sword, but what need did I have to perfect the ways of killing? My family governed and produced wine and we resided in VALINOR,” he shouted.

Glorfindel rose and started a frantic pacing around the room.

“Fate, with her uncaring hand, struck, and we found ourselves in the middle of violent chaos. I could not protect them. I was clumsy and ineffective, and they perished in my arms - my daughters, and my wife, all victims of the fighting. Innocence died that day, and anger thenceforth ruled my being. I cared not for my future except that it should be short.“

Glorfindel stopped his pacing and stared long at Erestor before finally continuing.

“I can only hope, Erestor, that when you hear what I say next you will not forever loathe me.”

With a large cleansing breath he began again. “I was a willing participant in the kinslayings, slashing and setting fire to anything or anyone who dared stray into my destructive path. I comprehended none of what occurred, and when we were forced to cross the Helcaraxë I reveled in the pain of the cold and the hunger and the despair of my companions. Nightly I taunted the Valar to strike me down, for what punishment could be worse than that already meted out to me?

“But the Valar, in their unfailing wisdom, allowed me to survive the crossing and forced me to continue my life here. Time has passed slowly, and my anger has dissipated slightly. My close and extended kin, with their misguided sense of my valor, insisted I take up the mantle of leadership. The diversion and franticness of ruling my House has been a balm to my anger as I am too busy to reflect on much save duty. Too busy to remember.”

Glorfindel sat down in his chair and leaned close to Erestor.

“Then one day, you were there. Sarcastic, unkempt, undisciplined, barely able to swing a sword and certainly no marksman. You were a distraction that I was not ready to accept. I wanted nothing to do with you, yet I could not stay away!”

Erestor jumped to his feet, hands curled into fists. “You push yourself into my rooms only to disparage me! You pursued our friendship! You initiated our physical relationship! Do not complain to me any further. “

“Enough! You are purposefully refusing to hear what I am saying to you. Can you not see that I am in lo--”

Erestor, ears closed to Glorfindel’s ongoing speech, fled for the door and ran straight into one of the king’s pages. The rapidly gasping young elf stood with hand poised to knock, looking extremely pale and nervous. His eyes darted between the two elves.

“Erestor, Lord Glorfindel. Our king has sent summons to all his officers and tacticians. He demands your presence in the Hall now. It is war!”

The page darted away, and with sideways glances at each other Erestor and Glorfindel swiftly followed.

Title: Dance With Me (10/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.


Gondolin - First Age

The march was protracted and arduous, and Erestor ached with dull soreness. Too long had it been since he spent this amount of time perched on the back of a horse. The upcoming battle, however, for most of the journey kept his mind off his physical woes – and his concern for Glorfindel.

Erestor had seen Glorfindel behave this way before as they had participated in more battles than he cared to remember. This time he understood Glorfindel’s obsessive motivation. Revenge obviously foremost on his mind and his mood could only be described as gleeful. Glorfindel repeatedly pushed his mount through the troops, cheerfully predicting victory, describing in detail the torture he had in mind for Morgoth. But when away from prying eyes, he rebuked all conversation. Erestor attempted to speak with him every night but never received a reply. Each evening Glorfindel reverted back to his sullen ways, and a mantel of sadness surrounded him. In the morning, he transformed and would once again begin his campaign of forced cheer.

Erestor pushed away his worry and busied himself with preparations by constantly checking their supplies and vigorously participating in every officer’s meeting. Although a battle loomed, his own conflict to keep his mind on work and away from thoughts of Glorfindel raged on. He knew he must stay focused if he was to survive and keep their supply lines open. Yet, he feared being called to join the fighting as he would certainly be defeated in any one on one combat. His fighting skills were atrocious. In the midst of all these grim dealings, he found a moment of amusement as he realized he was not quite as ready for death as he once believed.

He was not surprised; however, that he constantly lost his ongoing struggle. Thoughts of Glorfindel and the revelations of their last conversation kept creeping in and distracting him from the serious matter at hand. He felt as if he had missed something extremely important when he listened to Glorfindel. As if some secret conversation took place between the two of them, but he was not present to hear it.

He knew with certainty that Glorfindel felt overwhelming guilt for being unable to save his family, and added upon this lay more guilt as a result of his participation in the kinslayings. Erestor had satisfied his curiosity on that by discretely discussing the issue with Ecthelion, the one elf constantly by Glorfindel’s side throughout his long life. Ecthelion confirmed that Glorfindel had a grossly exaggerated view of the damage he had imparted and was actually most ineffective during the kinslayings, but his grief kept him from discerning fact from fiction. Ecthelion had waged a long battle with Glorfindel about this very issue, and Glorfindel had yet to be swayed to the truth.

But those haunting words, “…and we married” kept echoing in his mind. Had his wife decided to be reborn? Would she stake her claim on Glorfindel? And then he would rebuke himself for feeling envious of this elleth, for he had no claim on Glorfindel. Not now and, it appeared, not ever. He needed Glorfindel most as a friend, but in an ongoing fit of irrationality, he held out a speck of hope for love between them.

That speck transformed to a spark of hope when Glorfindel sought him out the night before the battle began. Though he had stopped his futile attempts to speak with Glorfindel, he had refused to give up on their evenings. Each night, Erestor bundled up his sleeping gear, found Glorfindel, and slept beside him for warmth and comfort between the twilights, in silence, but still together.

That final peaceful evening, Glorfindel came to him with a reluctant smile on his face and a blanket in his hands. After settling beside a stunned Erestor, he had leaned in for a kiss; soft and tender and lingering, as if reluctant to ever part. He spoke to Erestor for the first time since they departed Gondolin.

“Do not die, Erestor. Please do not leave me.”

And then once more, Glorfindel fell to silence as the mask of pain and loss slipped back into place.


Erestor, not having an answer to Glorfindel’s plea settled instead for wrapping his arms around him, delaying his rest to bask in this too precious moment of watching Glorfindel sleep. His face relaxed and innocent looking as all barriers fell during his slumber. Erestor then gathered Glorfindel tighter in his embrace as he drifted off.

The next morning dawned all too soon announcing itself spectacularly as Anor blazed. The smell of cooking fires and the sounds of thousands of elves moving in concert greeted his awakening. Glorfindel was, of course, gone from his side and rallying the warriors once more.

As he struggled into his clothing and armor, he heard horns in the distance and a great roar went up from the Gondolindrim soldiers. As one they surged forward in answer to the call, even as their own captains frantically tried to establish order. Something was not right here as the proper signal was not given. It was too soon. But the battle had been joined so he rushed to Ecthelion’s banner just as the charge sounded…

Lindon - Second Age

He experienced his first peaceful night of sleep in weeks after being examined by Elrond, which he found ironic considering where his dreams were taking him. He knew that the battle which tempted King Turgon from Gondolin, along with ten thousand of his best soldiers, marked the beginning of the end for the hidden city. They challenged Morgoth and failed. The soldiers of Gondolin had escaped, not unscathed, but as a group much better off than the others. The battle of Unnumbered Tears was indeed named appropriately, for the implications were still felt years later in a multitude of unforeseen ways; however, for Erestor, it led to the brightest moments of his life.

That peace remained so elusive for his kind was a constant irritant for Erestor. Though life as a dark elf had often been depressing, it was constant. There was a calm order to living day to day with little variation combined with little freedom. When recalling his life, it seemed that since joining the Noldor he was either preparing for a battle, involved in a battle, or in fear of the next battle.

Oddly refreshed, for the first time in many months, he dressed and departed for another long day of conducting business for Elrond and willingly day dreaming of the defining moment of his life…

Gondolin - First Age

Erestor blindly followed a banner of Gondolin, barely able to keep it in sight with his wounded horse and tear-filled eyes. Panic filled him, as he had long ago lost sight of Glorfindel in their scattered withdrawal from the battle. It took all Erestor’s skill to manage his failing horse.

Some vicious betrayal had occurred and the alliance of elves and men and dwarves was defeated with combat barely begun. The dark minions had outflanked and outnumbered them and the result was worse than a massacre. Even now his mind balked at the scenes he had witnessed and the sounds of death still rang in his ears. His skills as a strategist were sorely tested in the ensuing melee, and he was the first to call for their retreat. An escape made possible only by the valiant bravery and sacrifice of men.

Only one thought pushed him forward now. He must find the one he loved. His countenance further strengthened the farther they moved from the carnage, and as his eyes slowly cleared, he earnestly sought that shining mane of blond hair.

The wild panic of retreat slowly gave way to exhaustion, and the elf-warriors of Gondolin wearily fell from their mounts, most too numb to move from the spot where they landed. Grief-laden laments filled the air, and slowly they responded to their captains and moved to establish a safe perimeter. Duty, a will to survive, and protection of their new High King outweighed the burden of grief and shock.

Erestor, however, never stopped moving. He passed his horse to a young ellon and performed a whirlwind surveillance of the camp. The anguished howl which had burst forth from Maedhros, when he learned of High King Fingon’s death, rang prophetically in his ears. He would not die without ever having loved or been loved – tonight he would make sure of this. Erestor was starved for love, hungry for it, tired of merely surviving, so the mistakes of the past would be rectified this evening.

Glorfindel loved him! He knew this and had known it since the start, but he had pushed too soon. Glorfindel’s affection had always there, and the love too, but buried under the burden of guilt.

Suddenly Erestor spotted Glorfindel and sprinted to where he directed his warriors in their duty. Vile orc blood covered his blond hair, and the spilled blood of comrades reddened his armor. Erestor waited, barely able to contain himself from dragging Glorfindel off to a private area. Duty, always duty first. He seethed with the frustration of waiting. When did life happen? Why did duty and death always seem to rule the day? He choked on the unfairness of the entire situation. So many elves, men, and dwarfs to lament, so much waste and the Valar seemingly turned a blind eye to it all allowing Morgoth to rule.

Erestor followed Glorfindel around for hours, raw need piercing him. Afraid that if he left his side for even a moment, their chance for reconciliation would be thwarted forever. He would not allow this to happen. Not now. Now he understood what Glorfindel had been trying to say to him. Now that there was so much urgency he needed to throw off the stench of death and despair and find hope once more.

Finally, Glorfindel turned to him. Fear shined in his eyes, fear that had been absent before the battle. An astonished Erestor only now clearly understood. Glorfindel did not fear death or violence, but he feared love. Erestor knew better than anyone that need and commitment was dangerous and frightening. Glorfindel would be exposed and vulnerable. There would be no more hiding.

Erestor grabbed Glorfindel before there could be any discussion or loss of nerve. He pressed his hand into the small of Glorfindel’s back and steered him toward the small stream that ran parallel to their camp. Once there, he stripped Glorfindel and searched his battered form for injuries, gently washing and tending and giving thanks that the wounds were few and minor. He treasured each allowed touch as it had been much too long since their last.

When finished with his examination he removed his own clothing and curled his arms around Glorfindel’s frame, drawing it to him, making it his. With soft touches and soothing words, he calmed Glorfindel’s shivering, letting him know he would be their strength, he could let go and let himself be loved and cared for. He would lead Glorfindel through the perils of need and commitment. The time was right for him - for them both - to take another chance.

Erestor reluctantly pulled slowly away and placed his hands on Glorfindel’s face, cradling it. There was such vulnerability there, and trust. All arrogance displayed on that first night he gazed on Glorfindel’s naked body gone. Transfixed by Glorfindel’s beauty, he momentarily, could not proceed further. The sounds of the wounded, the occasional sound of normality as the cooks prepared a meal and others prepared to sleep, the laments that continued to fill the night with grief, all faded instantaneously into an insignificant background if only for this brief moment.

The spell cast was only broken by Erestor’s passion to possess Glorfindel further. He pressed his mouth to Glorfindel’s for a kiss that quickly transgressed from sweetness to deep open-mouthed urgency. Erestor pushed Glorfindel down onto his cloak. Stunned by the gentle capitulation, he laid himself on top. There was no struggle for dominance, no battle of wills, just Glorfindel’s willingness to submit.

It was such an unexpected and powerful seduction that Erestor was suddenly struck with the need to pierce the sultry body beneath him, but he banked down this need and lovingly roamed Glorfindel’s body. Previous experiences not forgotten, he laved and nipped his way to all of Glorfindel’s sensual spots. Craving intimacy, Erestor moved up and kissed him again, hard and frantic, breaking only to take needed breath before again searching out Glorfindel’s wet and swollen lips.

Frenzied, he devoured Glorfindel with his tongue and swiftly moved downward to Glorfindel’s hard and weeping erection. Glorfindel heaved upward as his body jumped in voracious reaction, his head swinging back and forth, as Erestor engulfed him whole. He pinned him down with a forearm across his belly, thwarting Glorfindel’s attempts to thrust further into his mouth. With Glorfindel’s movement contained, he was able to savor the dichotomous texture of Glorfindel’s silky skin over his steel-hard shaft as he swallowed him deeper.

Erestor moved between Glorfindel’s thighs and spread them wide, his mouth not once leaving Glorfindel. He slid his tongue back to the dark crevice, stabbing into the center of Glorfindel’s hot body, then back up to Glorfindel’s shaft, which he licked and tongued with reckless abandon, continuing this movement over and over. Glorfindel yielded to the wanton pleasure. He writhed and moaned and cried out distress at his delayed release and ultimate pleasure.

Quickly, Erestor wetted his finger and gently rimmed Glorfindel’s opening while he licked the head of Glorfindel’s erection. He pushed his finger into the now wet hole, slipping it in and out, while sucking with the same rhythm. Glorfindel’s pleas turned to screams as he thrust up strongly with enough force to choke. Without warning, Glorfindel’s orgasm erupted in a fierce sudden burst of fiery liquid which Erestor allowed to flow out from his mouth and down the crease of Glorfindel’s buttocks. Scooping up the precious liquid he slathered a copious amount on his own shaft and quickly worked some into Glorfindel’s relaxed opening.

Erestor found his way slowly into Glorfindel’s body, and he deliberately looked down into the blue eyes which stared back at him wide and glazed with passion; the vision tainted only by the pain-filled grimace on Glorfindel’s face. There was no hiding. Face-to-face, the sweet simple truth of their love was laid bare in this act. Erestor bent down to kiss away Glorfindel’s distress and pain as he continued to press forward. His own eyes flew wide as he slid further into the slick constricted entrance. Captured by virgin-tight flesh the pleasure increased, complete and devastating, squeezed and pulled deeper and deeper by the lingering spasms of Glorfindel’s orgasm.

Fighting down his own impending release, he stilled and allowed himself an instant to gather his will for he wished this moment to last forever. Finally he removed himself to the tip before clenching his muscles to firmly enter again as deep as possible, all the while biting and kissing Glorfindel on any patch of flesh he could reach.

Glorfindel moved with him, picking up the rhythm, joining with him in this ancient dance; fast, slow, fast, the beat changing as he roughly penetrated Glorfindel’s body again and again. Glorfindel’s rigid arousal was trapped between them begging again for release. Blood boiled hot through his veins, and his entire being exploded as he released powerfully into Glorfindel’s body. The bliss of the moment overwhelmed him, and he fell down on top of Glorfindel, panting hard, teetering on the edge of consciousness.

Arms sure and comforting surrounded him and velvet strokes caressed his body. He felt a curious sense of power so lacking in his life but now alive as a result of this one instance, and he was awed with a raw affection for Glorfindel. Never before had they shared anything as intimate and profound as they did now. Reluctantly, he slipped from Glorfindel’s body only willing to do so safe in the knowledge he would soon return.

Slowly, he lifted his head to gaze at Glorfindel and gently brushed a tuft of sweat-slick hair from his forehead. The feeling of overpowering love thrilled him, and he gripped Glorfindel close to him, fiercely but tenderly, as they drifted off to sleep.

The following morning, he awoke fitfully but settled down at once when he found himself still cuddled in the tight comfort of Glorfindel’s embrace.

Lindon - Second Age

Alone in his office with his unbidden thoughts, Erestor abandoned his normal stoic self and allowed a broad radiant smile to light up his face as he recalled that wanton act of pleasure and the following morning. Odd that something which occurred so long ago still held such a vivid spot in his memory. The excitement he experienced when waking to find for the first time that Glorfindel had not fled from his side still thrilled him. Even though they had just experienced a painful defeat, this new development allowed him to face the tragedy and reign in his grief.

To this day, Glorfindel’s face, relaxed and vulnerable and innocent as he slept, was the face Erestor recalled whenever he allowed himself the luxury of remembering those times. It was a memory filed away but rarely brought out even though it marked the beginning of one of the most beautiful times in his long life. Their relationship blossomed from that day forward, and they were practically inseparable. Glorfindel even joined him and worked on construction of the secret passage.

Rousing himself Erestor picked up the parchment he had dutifully scribed and left his office to tack it to its proper place. Elrond decided that the upcoming marriages of Celebrimbor’s daughters should be heralded to the city. A joyous occasion, to be sure, yet he did not care for bonding ceremonies…with one exception. That exception particularly stood out in his mind, and as today was his begetting day, he grudgingly allowed himself to remember the fine event so long ago…


Gondolin - First Age

Erestor marveled at the transformation of the hall, though he was not surprised at the ostentatious decorations which awaited the wedding party. A human male and an elleth were married on this day. The occasion so odd it brought out every possible opinion over the last year while Tuor courted Idril. Odder still that the elleth happened to be the only child of High King Turgon.

Turgon had taken to Tuor immediately and happily approved their union. Erestor did wonder if Idril had joined so quickly with Tuor to avoid the hardship presented by Maeglin, who constantly pressed his unwanted advances on her. But Idril had assured him she married Tuor simply out of love. High King Turgon seemed to find nothing out of the ordinary with their pairing and spoke of naught but when he could expect his first grandchild. It seemed greatly unfortunate that the high king could not find this same acceptance for other unusual relationships.

Maeglin now sat at a table glaring at the happily gathered guests. Anger shone from his face and its source was clear. No hope existed for him now that Idril was married to Tuor. Erestor had never been fooled as to the source of Maeglin’s attraction for Idril. Love was not involved. Maeglin hunted power and saw Idril as a means to an end. He intended to rule Gondolin and sought the quickest route to his goal. Ironically, it was the high king who blocked his advances. Turgon’s obsessive desire for propagation stopped Maeglin when Turgon proclaimed he thought those too closely related by blood would be Valar-prevented from bearing children. Idril was clear also. She despised Maeglin, and Erestor did his best to encourage her feelings.

No matter. Proper decorum dictated that Maeglin must be invited to the wedding. Luckily many elves were in attendance so his face would be well hidden behind other quests. Erestor had, he realized, been holding his breath waiting for an outburst from Maeglin and only relaxed when Tuor and Idril retired for their wedding night adventures. Somehow Maeglin managed to contain his madness, which Erestor knew broiled beneath the surface.

Contrary to his other wedding experiences, this one sparkled. He sat beside Vespula, gossiping about the various elves in attendance while Ecthelion danced with his daughters in turn. Glorfindel found his first dance partner hours ago, and had not rested since. This celebration, however, was much different from one he sat through years ago. There was no need for resentment or jealousy now.

His eyes drifted to Glorfindel who commanded the dance floor as he commanded his House. He moved with an enviable grace and smooth stride. Before long, Glorfindel’s eyes found his and with a wink he twirled his current partner off. Erestor smiled at Glorfindel’s performance which was for him alone. Aye, this time was different. He knew he would occupy Glorfindel’s bed this evening. He knew he held Glorfindel’s love and attention. He knew he would pleasure Glorfindel tonight, and it would be his name that sang off Glorfindel’s lips as he found release…

Lindon - Second Age

A wicked smile played across Erestor’s face as he recalled that night. Glorfindel had indeed sung his name that evening many, many times. His grin faded, however, as he approached a door, and he hesitated outside the healing wing. Today, fifteen ellith had simultaneously begun to labor and every available healer was summoned to assist. He could hear their moans of pain and frequent cries, as well as the soft murmuring words of those who held their hands.

Erestor wrung his own hands as indecision stalled his entrance into the rooms. He held important business for Elrond yet he seemed rooted to this spot by past memories. He was not present at the birth of Idril’s son but Eärendil’s birth had been successful, and she flourished as a mother. Her son was the happy recipient of her love as well as a loving father, grandfather, and friends. He knew Idril would approve of Elrond, her grandson, and his great skill as a healer. She herself spoke to him often of taking up that calling.

As his nerve failed him, and he moved back toward his office, Erestor refused to dwell on another birth gone horribly wrong. The mournful entry of two elflings who were born this very day almost sixty years earlier. Children born on his begetting day, a day that seemed destined to occasion so many sad memories…

Gondolin - First Age

Eight years after the birth of Eärendril and many decades into their relationship, Glorfindel, on Erestor’s day of begetting, threw him a party. That his begetting day also fell within the week of the Gates of Summer festival gave Glorfindel the excuse he needed for extended celebrations, and Erestor completely enjoyed his day. He was pampered and treated to an array of special treats, mostly of a physical nature.

The day began with a steam bath, which obviously required much physical labor from Glorfindel’s assistants. Erestor, fully appreciating their hard work, rollicked and luxuriated in the muscle-relaxing heat until Glorfindel’s hand roamed around his groin once too often. Slippery with oil, he wrestled Glorfindel over the side of the bath and took him with no preparation and nothing to soothe the way but the oil which clung to his erection. The heat of the bathwater faded to nothingness compared to the heat which had surrounded his shaft.

Following their bath, Glorfindel guided him through an extensive tour of the gardens surrounding the House of the Golden Flower. Erestor learned, that day, how knowledgeable Glorfindel was regarding plants as he named and described each blossom.

A perfect day for Erestor always included time spent in a library, of which Glorfindel was well aware. So today Glorfindel arranged for their lunch to be served there. Erestor roamed the shelves and was not able to stifle a screech of glee as he spotted a rare copy of “Chatterings”. He immediately sat down to read this long sought after book, and only reluctantly set it aside when confronted by a very naked and very aroused Glorfindel. In short time, Glorfindel was bent over the library desk and Erestor slipped into the still relaxed opening aided only by spit and stamina. This time he relished the moment and drew it out, waiting for Glorfindel to implore for release. Glorfindel, he found early on in their relationship, was never too proud to beg, and raised the crescendo of his pleadings to new heights this afternoon. Knowing the ruckus they made caused, Glorfindel’s continuing blush, as they later walked through the halls greeting member after member of his House who all wore the same knowing smile.

Still more surprises greeted him as Glorfindel dragged Erestor off on a mysterious adventure through previously unknown tunnels outside the house, secret passages through the home, and ending their journey upon the roof where he was fed once more. Glorfindel served dessert on his knees when he devoured Erestor whole.

Now, here, outside on the side terrace, twilight fell and the heat of the day waned as Erestor sat content and surrounded by friends. Several empty bottles of wine lay strewn around the area as a testament to their activity these last few hours. Vespula and Ecthelion sat to his right, Idril and Eärendil to his left, the tiny elfling fast asleep across his naneth’s lap. Several other friends, similar in nature as he and Glorfindel, joined them.

Erestor lounged on a long couch, his back warm where it rested against Glorfindel’s chest. The heat and steady breath of his lover as well as a head full of wine lulled him into a contented state. Erestor’s final gift stood before him.

Glorfindel’s young cousin, Lindir, stood wide-eyed and trembling. He was to present Erestor’s final gift, a gift of song. Having reached his majority, Lindir decided upon the occupation for which he was named. The young minstrel accepted his first commission, which happened to be from Glorfindel. A commission to prepare several songs for Erestor’s begetting day, and the time had come for Lindir to deliver.

Eyelids drooping, Erestor smiled warmly at Lindir, hoping to give him quiet comfort and encouragement. Glorfindel, being full of spirit and wine, was not similarly inclined and bellowed out his comment.

“On with it, dear cousin!” And not waiting for Lindir to begin his song, Glorfindel started his own.

“To Erestor on his begetting day we do celebrate! And if you do not begin soon we shall copulate!”

“Quickly, Lindir!” shouted Ecthelion. “Commence your ballad now before the lout attempts to croon once more!”

Amid the responding laughter, Lindir’s small but penetrating voice heralded the beginning of his first song…

Later that evening, Erestor and Glorfindel sat in bed naked and sated from their long day of adventures. Erestor turned the paperweight over and over in his hands. He marveled at it and could not remove his eyes from the gift. He had thought Lindir’s songs his final gift.

He was mistaken.

Finally, he lifted his eyes to Glorfindel who watched him intently, a small quirky smile flitting across his face.

“A romantic.” Erestor announced, incredulity lacing his speech.

“I will deny it for eternity.”

“But I have the proof in my hands Glorfindel. You are a certified romantic. Did you carve this?”

“Aye.”

Erestor examined the paperweight again. It was appropriately weighted and crudely done but the time invested could not be ignored. The small petals of the flower were whittled to imperfection but recognizable. And the sun with its multitude of rays painstakingly carved in the middle of and amongst the petals of the flower. The entire piece was painted a brilliant gold. The magnitude of the gift awed him and he struggled to contain his emotion.

Erestor lifted his eyes once more to gaze at Glorfindel, silently asking for an explanation.

Glorfindel turned serious. “You are my Anor, Erestor, and I am your flower. Like the sun’s flower, I live only at your whim and through the day I turn myself, following you, always to face you. I flourish only when your warmth shines upon and surrounds me.”

Erestor painfully swallowed past the lump in his throat. Glorfindel open and unguarded declaring his love for him threatened to be his undoing. Words that had once been the enemy now soothed away any lingering pain of their long-ago separation.

He was lost when Glorfindel reached for him, bringing him to readiness with the ease of familiar lovers. Glorfindel’s tender homage calmed him into a languished state, and he settled in for a slow release. When Glorfindel rolled away and arched his back presenting himself, Erestor swiftly responded and moved with him. With gentle hands, he parted Glorfindel, revealing the coy small hole still slippery and smooth from their prior loving. Erestor joined them quickly as he rode Glorfindel slowly and easily and lazily brought them to a silent mutual ecstasy and quick slumber.

A knock on the bedroom door roused him abruptly and he sat up confused.

“Adar? Adar? May we come in?”

Erestor reached out for Glorfindel. His dead children were calling for him, but the bed was cold, and when he realized Glorfindel had once again left him alone so did his heart turn cold…


Lindon - Second Age

Wiping at his eyes, Erestor awoke groggy and befuddled. His dream and reality finally separated when he realized his twin sons stood beside him and peered at him nervously.

“We apologize for interrupting, Adar,” Figwit said hesitantly.

“And we know we are not to disturb you while you are in your study, but…,” added Faelon.

By this time, Erestor was on his feet, stalking towards his sons. “Then why have you come here against my known commands!”

“Adar, please, Lord Elrond sent us to summon you to his side. A visitor of some renown has arrived, and you are to meet Lord Elrond in his study immediately,” whispered Figwit.

Erestor dismissed his sons with a wave of his hand. “Leave me and deliver a message to Lord Elrond that I will arrive momentarily.”

As his sons hurriedly departed, Erestor sighed, straightened his clothing and hair, and dragged himself down the hallway to attend to yet another of his mindless duties.

Title: Dance With Me (11/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.

Lindon - Second Age

Erestor scurried down the hallway still angered by his sons’ intrusion. His head throbbed from lack of sleep or restless sleep chased away by dreams, wonderful and horrible, and his work suffered. He needed his employment as he was bound to Elrond by a promise of honor. He could never forsake Elrond, so he rushed to his beck and call whenever summoned.

As he rounded the corner, he stopped. A voice called to him from long ago, its intonation once music to his ears but now it clanged as a warning signal. He could hear it vaguely, speaking in low tones, from behind Elrond’s door. His feet were rooted to the spot. Surely, this was some jest, some trick of sound. He could not be hearing a voice he never expected to hear again.

Physically shaking himself, he realized his folly. It was the fault of the visions which haunted him. Of course, he would transfer those thoughts to his waking moments, as his mind focused on nothing lately but his years with Glorfindel, causing him to stand out in the hallway trembling like a virgin, creating silly fantasies. Fantasy would give way to realism once he faced the owner of that voice.

Striding forward, spurred on by delusion, he boldly entered Elrond’s office. Immediately struck dumb and rigid, he grabbed onto the door frame as the world tilted oddly around him. Before him sat Elrond gently speaking to the visitor.

Glorfindel!

His eyes wide, he could not mask the emotions tumbling off of him. Glorfindel seemed to sense his presence and turned, gazing at him with the same stunning blue eyes. Eyes that peered through him without recognition. Eyes empty of anything; it seemed, save pain and sorrow. How long they stared at each other Erestor knew not, only that eventually Elrond also registered his presence.

“Thank you for arriving so quickly, Erestor. Please.” He gestured to the seat near Glorfindel. “Sit down.”

The sparkle in Elrond’s speech was evident and he radiated excitement. Rigidly, he walked over and sat stiffly on the chair Elrond indicated as his eyes continually flicked over to Glorfindel.

“We have been blessed by the Valar! Gifted by the presence of a warrior worthy of his legend. This is Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin re-birthed. Glorfindel, this is my personal assistant Erestor. He will be in charge of settling you into your rooms and will assist in all your needs.”

“Erestor, Lord Glorfindel will be housed in the spare suite of rooms adjacent to yours.”

Elrond turned to address Glorfindel. “These rooms are spacious, my lord, and you will have an excellent view of the mountains as well as the training grounds.”

Glorfindel merely nodded his head throughout Elrond’s entire speech, and Erestor followed suit, knowing full well he could not have uttered a single word if his life depended on it.

Erestor gazed as unobtrusively as possible at the elf who was once his lover, his life, his reason for happiness, and it seemed a cruel joke that the Valar had returned him completely as he was, no alterations that he could detect. Yet those eyes, always so expressive and magnificent, told the story of his alteration. Glorfindel’s indomitable spirit seemed gone. He was clearly ill at ease and tentative, and grief evidenced by the defeated droop of his lids.

Glorfindel, it appeared, had been pulled from the Halls of Waiting physically whole, but mentally deficient. And yet, in some perverse way, Erestor was grateful for this. He had tried hard to forget Glorfindel and all the incredible memories he represented. Erestor knew now that nothing as beautiful as their love was forever. That lesson was brutal and complete. Glorfindel may have returned but Erestor’s resolve to forever banish love from his life remained. His return merely one more hurdle and it was to his benefit that Glorfindel’s memory of their time together seemed to be erased.

Elrond, in his joy, never appeared to notice how quiet both of his companions remained, and he shooed them out the door with plans to retrieve Glorfindel later for a private dinner with the high king.

Erestor, eager to deposit Glorfindel in his rooms, finally found his tongue and he babbled all the way to his own door describing the inanities of Lindon. At the security of his own doorway, he managed to present a calm face to Glorfindel, careful to mask the raging emotions he still felt.

“This is my room, Lord Glorfindel. I am only two doors away from your own and you must feel free to knock should you need any assistance. This is my service and it will be no imposition.”

Again Glorfindel just nodded his understanding. Erestor’s heart twisted at the bleak forlorn look on his old friend’s face, but he battled down the emotion and placed the guard back around his heart, chiding himself internally for being so easily swayed.

He moved swiftly down the hallway, dramatically opened the door to Glorfindel’s new home and ushered him inside. As he moved through the room, inspecting and opening drawers, Glorfindel merely stood at the doorway and nodded, no voice given in acknowledgment. It unnerved Erestor to see Glorfindel so taciturn. His egregious friend seemed lost and barely aware of his surroundings, but selfishly all he wanted was to complete his duty and swiftly return him to Elrond for handling. Finally, Erestor managed to bring his tongue under control, stopped his prattling and regarded Glorfindel from across the room.

“Is there anything else you require, my Lord?”

Glorfindel merely shook his head.

“Well then, if it pleases my Lord, I shall leave you alone to rest, unless you require a further tour of the palace?”

Glorfindel once more swung his head from side to side.

“Be at peace then, Lord Glorfindel, and in two hours time Lord Elrond will arrive to escort you to dinner. I will see that you are served breakfast on the morrow, and then we shall see to your wardrobe. A pleasant eve to you.“ Erestor executed a quick bow and beat a hasty retreat to his own rooms.

Once safely alone, he paced the length of his room and attempted to quell his mood. He had literally spent an Age bent on ridding himself of thoughts of his old lover, and in one poignant moment, he failed. Glorfindel had dropped on his doorstep and he wanted to run from him while at the same time gather him in a warm embrace. He shook his fist at the ceiling, yelling his displeasure to unseen Valar, but oh how he hoped they heard his cries. Hope, he lamented, was what he lost all those years ago.

He stripped then he splayed out upon his bed and stared out the window at the bleak scenery. Although they were at the peak of the warm months, Arda appeared gray and as cold as when it passed through its winter phase. It matched his mood. It matched his existence, especially after Glorfindel was ripped from his life and all hope faded for a pleasant and fulfilling journey…

Gondolin - First Age

The celebration was over. A fierce red light burned in the east, growing larger as it headed straight for Gondolin, and fear spread amongst the crowd as the warriors ran for the armories. Their worst nightmare come true as surely Morgoth now marched his dark army towards the city. Erestor stared at the retreating back of Glorfindel and a morose feeling washed over him, but his own duty spurred him to action and he leapt into the crowd of elves.

He began the wild struggle of shoving through the throng and headed towards the palace. Chaos ruled, maddening and frantic, as the hordes of elves panicked while trying to flee the enemy. He was driven along with the masses unable to break through the herd of elves, awash in distress as he fought to find Idril and Eärendil. But the crowd pushed against him, thick and frenzied, and for every step forward he was swept back two. Unseen hands tore at his clothing as wild-eyed ellith screamed for assistance in fleeing and in securing their elflings. Wailing children, swept aside by the unthinking terror-fueled evacuation, cried out for their parents.

Desperate beyond imagining, he continually flung himself forward in a futile effort to part the raging tide of bodies, to escape the crush, and reach his destination. It was a losing struggle that robbed him of his strength and punished his will, until in one final moment of anguish he surged forward only to be roughly pushed aside and carried by the momentum head first into the city wall. Erestor felt the warmth of his blood as it ran down his face, and he slowly faded to unconsciousness.

Confusion muddled his senses as he tried to clear the fog in his mind, and he struggled to determine where he was and why he could not move. As he opened his eyes he perceived stars. This sight baffled him further as he never expected to see stars in the Halls of Waiting.

Reality slowly penetrated his being. He had not perished. The truth of his situation thudded in his head, with the pulse of his heart, as screams and unbearable shrieks pierced his consciousness. Not just one voice, but many voices lifted into screeching wails, speaking of agony and hopelessness.

His vision cleared slightly, and he was greeted by the grim sight of the most immediate source of the screams. He could see nothing save the wildly thrashing limbs of an elleth with an enormous and wretched smelling orc kneeling between her legs, defiling her. He was powerless to help, his body and voice caught in some strange paralysis he could not cry out his support for the tortured elleth, and tears poured down his face as her torment continued.

The orc laughed at her flailing attempts to push him off and he punished her further, eliciting higher pitched yelps which earned her a vicious punch in the face. She remained silent as the orc grunted to completion, and Erestor glimpsed a flash of blood and black seed as the vile creature moved off to allow another access. The second orc flipped the elleth to her stomach and fell upon her, causing a whoosh of breath to leave her battered body.

Her bloody tortured face was now turned towards him, and he witnessed her struggle to breathe and the horrific howl of pain as she was breached from behind. His vision was obscured as another laughing orc knelt down in front of her and effectively stopped her screaming. Erestor’s consciousness slipped away, the sounds of horrible choking, pitiful wailing and evil glee fading as he spiraled down into the dark, and he at last realized he was still inside the walls of Gondolin.


Lindon - Second Age

With a start and muffled cry, Erestor sprang from his bed. It took him a moment to confirm that he was safe inside the walls of the palace as he continued to hear screams. Desperately, he clamped his hands over his ears, but could still make out a single voice raised in solitary torture as it shouted out its pain and loneliness. As Erestor sobbed he heard Glorfindel yell out for his long dead wife and elflings. Envy sparked inside him each time her name was repeated, and he was disgusted at himself for feeling this emotion and for not moving to help Glorfindel, selfishness and old hurt staying his feet.

Exhaustion and relief flooded him as he realized the healers had been summoned to Glorfindel’s room. He reassured himself that they were better able to care for Glorfindel’s grief. It was proper that he not involve himself any further than his duties forced him. While his breathing slowed and he sank to the floor, whatever force had put him on this course directed his thoughts back to where his nightmare left off…

Gondolin - First Age

As Erestor struggled for consciousness a second time he sensed nothing. There was no movement near him, no sounds. The air smelled of old smoke, and the sky was pale and drab. What day or time it was he could not fathom, as time has no meaning to the hopeless.

He turned his head and gazed into the elleth’s lifeless eyes. Her misery had ended.

Erestor knew he must move and make some attempt to leave the city, so he tentatively stretched his fingers. One at a time, with much required determination, he wiggled them and finally some feeling returned. His feet were next and before long he could flex his entire leg. Flat on his back, with the wall to one side, his vision remained completely obscured but he knew the dark minions would not have abandoned their prize, Gondolin, and time was of the essence. Hoping to speed his recovery, he moved his head side-to-side. He twisted and turned and stretched to awake his long-stilled body.

His recovery seemed agonizingly slow, and he finally recognized that the blow to his head had been severe. Severe enough that the orcs and wolves dismissed him as just another dead elf. Deliberately, he moderated his movements and set his mind to planning an escape. Gingerly, he rose and rested, on his elbows, taking stock of the situation. He was greeted by a grisly site.

He had not made it far from the celebration area, nor had many of the inhabitants. A red sea of blood littered with thousands of dead bodies swam before him and black dots danced in his vision. With the carnage so complete, he slammed his eyes closed against the horror and sank back to the ground.

Despair threatened to defeat him right then. It would be so much easier to use his blade and end it, but his promise came floating back. A promise, quickly given without true introspection, now bound him to protect Idril and her family. Until he knew their fate, he would go on.

Erestor latched onto the first chaotic plan that formed in his mind. He must go to the House of the Golden Flower. Surely, if Glorfindel survived he would be there mounting some attack. And in his confused state he started off for the one place he could feel safe.

Erestor shook uncontrollably and had difficulty maintaining his feet. The terror of the situation almost stunned him into helplessness. He stopped momentarily, fell into a crouch, and tried to calm himself with steady, deep breaths. When at last he felt he could continue, he hesitantly crept from the main square and finally managed to make cover. He wiped at the sweat covering him and shivered, knowing his fate would be far worse than his imagination could conjure, should he be discovered. Still, he had made it this far and grim determination spurred him forward to Glorfindel’s rooms.

He hugged the walls and moved from shadow to shadow, traveling quietly out of the city’s main courtyard. Careful to stay off pathways, he froze as several orc guards marched by. They seemed scattered throughout the area, and he could make no guess as to where they might turn up. It appeared as if Morgoth had no plan beyond sacking Gondolin and then letting his evil servants loose to do their worst. He was also puzzled as to why none of the prominent houses were badly burned yet the rest of the city seemed utterly annihilated.

Shuddering and weak from fright, he finally slid through the side door of Glorfindel’s home. The house was still infused with the smell of freshly baked pastries, but now mixed with an underlying tinge of copper, a scent his mind would not let him identify as he moved in a half-daze.

A noise, dull and distant, caught his attention and he halted, still as a statue as he listened and ultimately identified it as the squeak of a bed frame. He crept forward, blade ready, knowing he should not stop to investigate, and he fought against every instinct that screamed at him to flee as he drew toward the open door.

Perched upon the bed was a large foul orc, naked and grunting as he abused a bound elf. The elf, his eyes open and blank staring at the ceiling unseeing, unaware and apparently unfeeling as his body was brutally assaulted.

Erestor’s last bit of control snapped at the sight, and he sprang forward knife raised, silently howling his delight as it sank deep into the flesh of the beast. The orc jerked to a halt and turned to face his attacker, but Erestor was much quicker and slashed through the flesh of both upper arms, severing the tendons. As the orc gazed at him, stunned, Erestor pushed him off the bed. Grim satisfaction thrummed through him as he watched the lazy tumble and look of surprise as the orc was unable to catch itself with its useless arms. Faced with his now defenseless victim, Erestor’s sanity slipped as the tortured became the torturer.

Darting in, he methodically stabbed at vital areas; the throat to cut off any chance of calling out for assistance, the hamstrings to prevent escape, the abdomen which held the foul smelling intestines, and the groin still red with blood from his latest victim severed at a swipe. Chuckling evilly as each wound brought a shudder of pain from his victim, he righteously tortured the beast long after its gruesome death. Blood flowed freely, splattering the entire room and Erestor reveled in the carnage. His breath heavy as he inhaled the heady vapor of his sacrifice, and he was half hard with the thrill of revenge.

A small whimper from the bed brought him crashing back to reality. The young elf lying limp was now covered in blood and still tied to the bed. Erestor moved slowly and non-threateningly over to the elf’s side, slipped the blade between the knots and cut him free, immediately starting a vigorous massage on the arms which seemed long held in their confined position. He clamped his hand over the young elf’s mouth as he moaned from the pain of feeling returning to his limbs soothing words of encouragement and light slipped from Erestor’s mouth.

“You are safe now, linnon dithen. Lie still. You are safe.” Erestor continued his ministrations, easily turning the compliant elf over and checking his injuries.

He then cupped the young elf’s face in his hand and stared into those blank eyes.

“Pen dithen, can you hear me? Lindir? It is I Erestor. I know you are here, you can hear me. We must go now and quietly. Be still and make no sound. Do you understand?”

There was no indication that Lindir comprehended his speech, so he continued on while lifting the young elf to his feet.

“Can you walk? Please, pen dithen, try to move.”

But Lindir could not stand on his own, let alone take steps. Erestor let him gently fall back onto the bed and while stroking his hair whispered into his ear. “I will return in one short moment.”

At those words, Lindir grasped out with the swiftness of desperation, and seized Erestor with a grip of steel.

“Nay, pen dithen, do not fret. I leave you for but a minute. We will hide you here until then. You will be safe, and I will return and we shall leave this place together. I have only one task I must complete before we go.” But Lindir’s hold had not lessened, and now his body shook with fear and his breath was rapid.

Erestor knelt down and touched his forehead against Lindir’s. He was being irresponsible and should leave this house now, but he could not go without checking for Glorfindel. He was desperate to get to his rooms and see if any sign remained as to the fate of his lover. Only now he knew he could not leave Lindir in this room alone.

“Alright, pen dithen, you will come with me. You must put your arms around my neck while I carry you.”

Erestor wrapped Lindir’s arms around his neck and they fell down as soon as he let go. Lindir was once again as still as the dead, eyes staring off blindly. He had wasted enough time, and these delays threatened their safety. With strength born of necessity he swept Lindir into his arms and headed for the door.

There seemed to be no other sounds from this floor, but he continued to be cautious as he slunk along the corridors to the room where he spent his last night with Glorfindel. Slowly, he opened the large ornate door and his breath fled. The room was untouched, a tribute to their night of reconfirmed love and celebrating his begetting day.

The bed lay rumpled and stained, and as he laid Lindir upon it the scent of Glorfindel wafted up, bringing on such longing that Erestor fought the tears which threatened to flow. The evidence of their midnight feast remained over by the fireplace, dishes of half eaten culinary delights and bottles of wine.

Fortunately, not all the bottles were empty, and he walked over to retrieve one along with the leftover food. Lindir needed sustenance before they attempted their escape from the city, so he uncorked the wine and brought Lindir to a sitting position. Forcing his lips open, he poured a large amount into Lindir’s mouth and coaxed him to drink it down. To his great relief he managed the entire mouthful.

He continued feeding Lindir scraps from the table until he was sure the young elf was sated. He could not be sure when their next meal would be found. Erestor bolted down what he could, though his stomach protested its treatment. His appetite waned, but he had a young elf to save and a lover to find, and he planned to be successful at both. Just occupying this room bolstered his spirits and his confidence.

Once again carrying Lindir, he took him to the bathing chamber swiftly rinsing away the filth accumulated from his captivity. After efficiently washing himself, he quickly dressed them both in Glorfindel’s clothing and though large it afford some measure of protection. Erestor donned what he knew to be Glorfindel’s favorite outfit – a spring green tunic and leggings with supple brown boots. He also strapped on Glorfindel’s favorite sword before slipping another knife into his boot. Savoring the feel and smell of the material, Erestor tried to convince himself he would see his love again, and Glorfindel would be thankful for the return of his clothing.

Snapping out of the daydream, he found Glorfindel’s pack and rummaged around for salve and necessities. As he filled the sack further, he spied the gift Glorfindel had bequeathed him. He picked up the pitiful paperweight, lovingly whittled by Glorfindel’s own hands, and caressed the present before placing it in the pack.

Glorfindel was nowhere in sight, and Erestor realized how foolish he had been to come here. But then he gazed at Lindir and knew his misguided search for Glorfindel had at least one positive result. He strapped the pack on Lindir’s back and started quietly tearing strips from the sheets to make a harness. If Lindir could not walk, he would carry him to safety. Quickly tying and securing the makeshift carrier, he first placed a blindfold gently over the young elf’s eyes, and then slipped the harness over Lindir’s limbs and slid his own shoulders through the loops. As he hauled Lindir off the bed, the straps dug cruelly into his shoulders. Lindir’s head lolled forward onto his right shoulder and one small arm wound itself around his waist.

They advanced slowly but eventually made their way to the palace. Erestor continued to watch for other survivors as well as foes. He was surprised by the lack of guards around the palace but grateful for their absence.

About to enter the secret passageway, he heard shouts from a multitude of dark fiends and the crackling of fire, and smelled the acrid scent of smoke. The final burning of Gondolin had begun. Heavily burdened, he sprinted towards the entrance to the secret tunnel. There was no thought to stealth, for it was time to find escape or burn!

Flying down the dark passageway he heard shouts of pursuit behind him. His training not forgotten he continued a steady pace using his elvish sight to keep him on track and ahead of the hunters. Without warning, he burst out into the open. Erestor could just make out a copse of trees close to the foothills of the mountains, but the way was long and afforded no cover.

He knew they would not make it, but for Lindir’s sake he was determined to try. Not pausing to look behind, he flew into the sunlight and sped for the foothills, desperate to reach the trees and find some sort of hiding place. He raced on, fueled by adrenalin and fear, and refused to plead for help from the Valar he felt had abandoned his race.

Ignorantly and until Lindir started his mindless screaming, he hoped they would make the stand of trees. But Lindir’s ongoing shrieks forced him to look behind and assess the situation. The orcs were close, so near he could smell their foul odor, too close. They would be captured if he did not stop and take matters into his own hands.

Erestor halted and swiftly removed Lindir from his back. Quickly, he retrieved his knife. The cruel blade glinted in the sun as he brought it forth, and he knelt down by Lindir removing his blindfold.

Lovingly stroking Lindir’s face he spoke softly. “I promised I would not allow these filthy beasts to harm you further and that we would escape.”

Reaching for Lindir’s hand, he placed it on the knife hilt hoping he would understand, feeling that Lindir needed to know his fate.

“Escape is at hand, linnon dithen.”

He kissed Lindir’s cheek. Lindir grasped the hilt and pulled the knife to his chest. A serene expression settled upon the young elf’s face and Erestor’s resolve strengthened.

As he mustered up the strength to thrust the blade forward, he heard sounds of terror amongst the ranks of racing orcs. Screams pierced the dale. He hesitated and looked up. Eagles were everywhere; swooping in and tearing at the flesh of the dark beasts!

Unseen during their approach from above, two of the larger eagles lifted the elves in their talons and soared away. Erestor immediately twisted in the talons and loudly protested that he not be separated from Lindir. He feared that Lindir, who had suffered so horribly, would lose what little sanity he might have with one more trauma. The eagle with a low soothing voice, assured him they would be set down together once they were over the mountains.

He and Lindir survived their flight thanks to the unexpected rescue, and Erestor was grateful until he met more survivors from Gondolin. Every elf relayed the same information, and he finally accepted the truth.

Songs were already being sung about Glorfindel’s bravery in defending the survivors, and indeed Erestor had seen the scorch marks on the high pass of Cirith Thoronath. Crushed by the news of Glorfindel’s death he could not find happiness in the knowledge that he died a hero’s death. How he had perished mattered not if the light of his life was gone.

Erestor knew that the loss of his beloved marked the end of hope for his joy, and he was further burdened by the treason of Maeglin. Eöl’s warning had gone unheeded and Gondolin’s fall was a direct result of his nephew. Erestor ever expected the dark forces of Morgoth to find them one day, but that one of his relatives was involved shamed him. He cursed his silence while his days dragged by and he cared for Lindir.

As happens during the times of mourning, rumors flew and stories mounted, so picking out small bits of truth became burdensome. One truth found him many months after the fall of Gondolin. Tuor, Idril and Eärendil lived! And with this knowledge, his promise forced him into a search even though it meant abandoning Lindir. He passed Lindir to a loving family who had lost several of their elflings in Gondolin. Only later did he realize he had failed to secure the name of this family or their final destination.

From that time forward his days were spent ferreting out information on the whereabouts of the royal family. Frustration ruled his life as he always seemed just days away from their location when some new word would arrive and send him off in a new direction. And then Idril and Tuor were gone from Middle Earth, and Eärendil and his wife disappeared as Elrond and Elros were taken. For an age his search was in vain, but still bound to that familial line he felt beholden to them more because of the treachery of his nephew Maeglin. When, by mere happenstance, he finally met Lord Elrond, that bond strengthened.

Lindon - Second Age

Erestor awoke after the night of dark visions, feeling ill-rested and on edge. Glorfindel was back and now further problems would plague his waking life. From the moment they met, Erestor suspected that his life and Glorfindel’s were intricately intertwined. He knew that Glorfindel afforded him a rare trust first as friends and then as lovers, and he was granted the privilege of defining the quality of Glorfindel’s life to a great extent. They had shared so much of their lives together that he never imagined what his life would become without him. He felt sometimes that he could not breathe with the knowledge he would never see Glorfindel again. Erestor had long ago decided he would never set foot on Valinor. He could face no further disappointment or heartache. Along with that decision, he also knew he would never tell his children that their mother was human. Once his duty to Elrond ended, he would spirit them away to a place where he would end his own suffering and they would live out a human lifespan. These resolutions were not changed with the arrival of Glorfindel.

Several days later Glorfindel, once again, tested his resolve. As he sat working, Erestor noticed the door to his office slowly opening. Glorfindel softly padded in. He had not seen Glorfindel since the first day of his return, though his thoughts were solely focused on him.

Glorfindel sat and stared at Erestor. “Why?”

The soft, tentative voice seared a hole in Erestor's heart.

“You left me,” Erestor spoke numbly.

“Not of my own accord.”

“You left Gondolin, left me behind without even searching. You abandoned me.”

Glorfindel hesitated, “I was a warrior. I am a warrior. You were a warrior. Our purpose to protect. And as one of the few survivors, my duty bound me to try and save those elves I could. There was no time. My personal choices were not a consideration. Please try to understand.”

The pleading in Glorfindel’s voice grated on him so he stood and turned away.

“Why, you ask? I will tell you. I banished you from my thoughts when I realized you left me. You broke a promise and stole the hope from my life.” Turning back, he hissed, “And I will NEVER trust you! Never again!”

“What can I say to make you understand? It is done, but I would sacrifice anything you ask to have your understanding. Anything!” Glorfindel’s eyes blazed as he shouted.

Erestor felt his resolve once again crumbling. The elf he loved, the elf he still desired, sat before him pleading for his understanding. But his life had been submerged in darkness for too long and hope no longer existed. Despair was his friend now, and it crowded in around his mind, clouding his judgment.

He advanced on Glorfindel and cackled.

“You would beg me? You who have spent your nights crying for your dead wife? Not once did your lips form my name!”

“My mind was not my own! “ Glorfindel moved toward him arms open in supplication.

“Where were you when I was bereft? Do you know the horrors I encountered? Gondolin was completely sacked and not all elves were dead when you stole away with those survivors. Those left unprotected were tortured and raped, and I witnessed the horror of their acts. And afterward, when I found safety, who comforted me as I spent my nights wracked with nightmares? Not you! Not healers! I was alone! I am still alone, and alone is how I will die! Leave me be!”

Erestor grabbed the paperweight. He hesitated briefly, contemplating it. For years he had kept hold of this one object to remind him of his lost love. But now it seemed only a stain on his life, the paint cracked with age and the wood buckled from neglect.

He heaved the paperweight at Glorfindel’s head and stormed from the room.

Title: Dance With Me (12/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.

Lindon - Second Age

From the moment Glorfindel regained his memories, he approached Erestor and tried desperately to re-establish their friendship, but Erestor rebuked every attempt. Now, two years later, his almost daily confrontations with Glorfindel were the talk of Lindon. Their arguments grew more legendary with time, and both were ordered to stay far from each other. To Erestor’s dismay, Lord Elrond intervened in their last altercation, literally pulling Erestor from the room, reprimanding him, and sending him back to his office.

Sleeping was no longer a problem. Eating was no longer a problem. The anger, burning as a fast wick in a thin candle, fueled his days and left him exhausted each night. His appetite roared back to life, and he ate more than an elleth in the final term of her pregnancy. His sons had taken to hiding from him more than usual. Interestingly, the very elves of Lindon who ignored him before Glorfindel’s appearance now whispered as he walked by and seemed to hold him in some regard. Had he not been so embittered by Glorfindel’s presence, he was sure he would have found the attention amusing.

Matters went from bad to worse when he found Figwit conversing with Glorfindel one day. He had come around the corner of the tutor’s building in time to see his son laughing and staring adoringly at Glorfindel. Rage propelled him forward, and he had insinuated himself between Glorfindel and Figwit. He roughly pushed Figwit admonishing him for neglecting his studies and directed him to return to his rooms. Infuriated, he had turned to Glorfindel for yet another confrontation.

“You have no business with my son, Captain. Now, nor at anytime in the future,” Erestor fumed.

Glorfindel stared at him blandly and nonchalantly said, “And you, Erestor, cannot dictate to me with whom I may or may not converse.”

“He is my child and is not yet of age! I have complete control over his social life and forbid him to have contact with you! This discussion is old, yet you continue to seek out my children. You will stop or I will report the matter to Lord Elrond!”

“What are you afraid of here? That I might tell your children who they are? That I might tell them who you are?”

Erestor balked and he had visibly paled upon hearing Glorfindel’s statement. “You will tell my children nothing. Do you hear me?!”

“I hear you, Erestor! I have heard nothing but your raised voice and veiled threats since I returned to this place. Your children deserve the truth from you, and by the Valar, it pains me to know that you withhold it from them. To see what you have become.” Glorfindel’s voice lowered. “Your bitterness is like the venom of a viper, poisonous to all those you spit upon. I grow weary of our fights.”

“You are a lech, Glorfindel, and you will stay away from my children.” Erestor turned away, but he was stopped by the iron grip of Glorfindel’s hand on his robe. Glorfindel’s other hand clenched into a fist and cocked back as if ready to strike.

“How dare you speak to me thus! I have never dishonored any of my lovers, and I would never EVER stoop so low as to bed any elf that has not reached majority age.” Glorfindel’s face was filled with rage. “I see, Erestor, that your children are not of full-elven blood, and I see that they do not know the truth of their heritage. You have lied to them for what purpose I cannot understand, but it is plain to me that they know little of you or your life. They fear you like a slave fears his master, and they cringe when you speak to them. And yet in my discussions with them, it is clear they want so desperately to please you.”

“Figwit’s,” Glorfindel snorted as he spoke the name, “greatest desire is to follow your path and become an assistant to Lord Elrond. Faelon is enchanted by art and desires a business of candle making. Have you even seen their quarters? Books line the walls as Figwit toils to increase his knowledge and make you proud of him. Faelon has collected hundreds of scents and colors and is constantly experimenting to produce a candle so perfect even you could not resist complimenting his skill. Their innocent and unfailing love is heartbreaking, and you deserve none of it! I wonder at the idiocy of the Valar for bestowing upon you the greatest gift possible. Your behavior towards your sons is disgusting and vile, and I wonder how I ever called you love.”

“They are my children, and I shall raise them as I see fit and you will tell them nothing. You shall say nothing!“ He allowed a sneer to cross his face as he backed away from Glorfindel. “And you never called me love! Your cowardice took care of that!”

Erestor stomped away then and went in search of his sons. His temper not yet spent and if he could not control Glorfindel’s actions he meant to threaten his children into obeying him!

Still fuming because of the encounter, it was not until several nights later while dining alone in his rooms that a thought struck and a spark of hope ignited within him.

*I am free! I can leave this place with my sons. My duty is complete with Glorfindel’s return.*

The mantel of a promise made long ago now rested firmly on Glorfindel’s shoulders. It seemed obvious that the Valar returned Glorfindel for the benefit of Idril’s offspring. Erestor could depart with a clear conscience, take his sons with him, find a quiet place, well secure and away from all fighting, where the three of them could live out their lives.

He quickly finished his meal and retired to his desk. With great purpose he wrote a letter of resignation and then swiftly exited his rooms to place the document upon Lord Elrond’s desk.

Erestor detoured to his office to place a seal on the letter, and as he entered he stopped short. Glorfindel was waiting for him.

Glorfindel sat in his chair with both booted mud-covered feet up on the desk. His eyes glittered menacingly, and he toyed with the paperweight in his hand. Even in the gloom of early twilight, Erestor could see it sparkled like new. A fresh coat of gold paint adorned it.

Abruptly, Glorfindel sprung from his seat and slammed the paperweight down on the desk. Unprepared for the swift action, Erestor flinched and took a hasty step backwards. He recovered immediately though, and moved to meet Glorfindel before he could leave the room.

“This office is private, Glorfindel. Do you intend to mar every bastion of solace I have fought so hard for? Or do you so enjoy my threats that you continue to bait me with your actions?”

A small smile played across Glorfindel’s face, but his eyes betrayed his deep hurt.

“Why, Erestor? Why must we continue this way? We must find some measure of peace.”

"It is simple, Glorfindel. So simple I would have expected even you to figure it out! I am fearful of hope. Do you understand? Can you truly comprehend the pain and suffering that occurs when one's entire life is wiped out in one tragic night? I lost everything that night, Glorfindel! I lost you, I lost Ecthelion and Vespula and their promising elflings, my home, my security! Can you even begin to understand the depths of my despair? And you dare to return and offer me hope! I have no hope; it is gone, it tumbled down a precipice, and then was permanently scourged from my being by the screams of my lover as I pulled our sons from her pain-wracked dying body. You will not turn me, so desist from these actions. They are not appreciated, nor are they welcomed! My only hope is that you will depart from my presence!"

In one swift movement, Glorfindel lifted Erestor from his feet and forcefully pinned him, with hands above his head, to the wall. Glorfindel's body fully pressed against Erestor's, and his eyes shone with fury. Erestor struggled and turned his head to remove the frightful image from his sight. With his free hand, Glorfindel forced Erestor to face him, to see the sneer which had found its way to his contorted face, to feel the heat as his words spilled forth.

"My dear friend,” he stated mockingly. “Did you know that the elves of Lindon consider me quite mad? I have overheard them repeatedly fretting to one and other about my supposed lunacy. And I, for one, believe them to be quite correct in their assumptions except on one point. It was not my death or confinement in the Halls of Waiting which brought me to this state. Do you think they would find it amusing or pathetic that you are the one who has brought me to my knees? You see before you the results of your repeated rejections!”

Glorfindel pressed his advantage and crushed his lips against Erestor’s. A muffled cry escaped Erestor as he felt teeth sink into tender flesh. The taste of blood flooded his mouth as Glorfindel forced his way in kissing him deeply until it felt as if the very breath was stolen from him. He fought back as the first tendrils of desire wound their way around his shaft, and his knees shook as the long-erected walls sheltering his heart threatened to crumble. But his struggles were in vain and the kiss, which lasted for mere minutes but felt like an eternity, ended just as Erestor felt the dark edges of unconsciousness starting to fold around him.

Body weak and humming, brain hazy and jumbled, he attempted to concentrate on Glorfindel’s next words.

"Deny that, Erestor. Deny that you still feel hope for our love. Deny that your body has responded to that hope. Deny that your mind begs for hope. You cannot deny it, because you know it to be a lie!! I will not come to you again. It is up to you.

“I love you.”

Glorfindel shook him violently.

“I love you!

“Valar help me, but even as despicable as you have become, I love you as I have always loved you. But I am through begging. I am weary and I ache with despair that even though we are near we are parted. Gaze upon me, Erestor! I am here! I am not here just for Elrond but for you and me. I am here, and I AM hope! Grasp for it, Erestor. Do it now before hope truly is gone from your self-created miserable life!”

Glorfindel shoved away from him and pierced him with one final glare before stomping out of sight. Stunned and unable to bear his weight, Erestor slowly slid to the ground, Sob after sob escaped, filling the air, his hand still clung to the now forgotten and crumpled resignation letter.

It was in this state, hours later, that Elrond found him.

"My friend, what troubles you so?" Elrond hesitantly approached Erestor and knelt down beside him.

As Erestor lifted his face, he could see that Elrond was startled by the presence of a small smile behind the flow of tears.

“Erestor?”

“He said it.”

Patiently, Elrond sat beside Erestor and questioned him further. “Who is he? What did he say?”

Erestor’s tentative smile did not waiver. “Glorfindel loves me.”

Title: Dance With Me (13/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.


Lindon - Second Age

It was as though a fog lifted from his life. Lord Elrond, it seemed, had always known he was a refugee from Gondolin. Elrond had admitted that an elf, who he refused to name, had recognized Erestor and quietly passed on the information to him. At the end of their conversation Elrond released him from his promise, but it was the last words Elrond spoke which echoed in his mind.

*Sometimes there are no answers to the circumstances of our life. Not all is Valar guided and not all is luck. Sometimes what is is, and we must be content. That you came to me out of a need to fulfill a duty establishes that I am blessed. It is my sincere hope that you will agree to stay here not out of duty but out of desire to continue our friendship. We are ever that, Erestor, and I would be loath to lose it. Now tell me about Glorfindel and the nature of your relationship with him during your time in Gondolin.*

So desperate was he to speak of his life in Gondolin, Erestor rambled into the wee hours of the morning, confessing all to Elrond and voicing, for the first time in an age, words to describe his love for Glorfindel.

This morn, he felt that his fëa shone as brilliantly as Anor, which was currently blinding him as he lazed in bed reveling in a rare but welcomed three days free from work duties. Three days to rectify his life, such a short time to make amends and work towards a brighter future with the three elves who meant so much to him.

Slowly and methodically, he planned out his first day. He pulled his long hair back into a braid and put on his black robe with a subdued brushed gold tunic and leggings hidden beneath. Erestor stared long at himself in the mirror. His skin no longer pale. His eyes no longer puffy. His face no longer drawn and gaunt. And then, hesitantly, he allowed the corners of his mouth to turn upward until a full tooth-filled smile reflected back at him. He stood there for a long while, admiring the sight, and only reluctantly relinquished his grin as the muscles of his face sang their displeasure. It was a position they had long forgotten.

After gathering the contents of his closet, he strode the short distance to the rooms his sons occupied. It was early yet, so he felt sure they had not left for their tutoring sessions. His stomach fluttered its nervousness and his limbs shook as he maneuvered his load to free one hand to knock. Hearing movement within, Erestor stepped back a pace. His heart pounded and his throat constricted, but he managed a smile when Faelon, disheveled and harassed-looking, threw open the door.

Faelon stopped dead, and Erestor saw panic seize him as his eyes rolled revealing their white. Nervously he addressed his father.

“Adar. I..I..um, have we forgotten an appointment with you?”

Erestor’s grin faltered a bit. “What idiot Adar would require an appointment to see his sons?” He smiled wider.

After a protracted silence, Erestor realized his son was struck dumb. He tried a simpler question to draw Faelon out. “Is Figwit here also?”

“Yes, Adar.”

“Good! May I please come in?”

Faelon hesitantly nodded and allowed entrance. Figwit stood just inside the door, still and rigid, as he warily watched Erestor enter their rooms.

Erestor glanced around curiously. Just as Glorfindel had said, books and bottles cluttered the shelves and tables. This room was a disaster. His grin expanded. He knew that his sons took after him in their slovenliness.

He turned to face his sons and his mood darkened a bit. They stood as far from him as possible in this confined space, and their faces expressed mistrust. It would take years to change this, but they were elves and for once, time was his ally. They deserved a better life than he had given them and Glorfindel had been correct to bring attention to his negligence. His children still lived while Glorfindel’s daughters had been ripped violently from his life.

Shifting his burden once more, he forged on with his plan. He dropped his smile as it seemed to truly upset them, and decided upon a more mild approach. Jolly was not how he should appear, but repentant or sorrowful, for he was filled with both. His beautiful sons were so close to their sixty-year majority, and for that entire time he was merely a ghostly presence barely available to them. And when they did interact, his attendance frightened them.

“I know, my sons, that my visit is unexpected. I will not force you to follow me, but I would be most pleased if you spend this day with me. We have much to discuss. Will you come?”

Erestor tried to convey his sincerity in this offer. He faced them fully, hoping his love would shine through. But his words echoed hollow in the room. The silence stretched and tightened the tension flowing between the three of them.

Sighing, Erestor set down his bundle and walked toward Figwit and Faelon. Both cringed slightly and took a tentative step backwards until their backs were pressed against the wall. They appeared as young colts facing a deadly predator.

Not allowing their fear to detract him from his purpose, he reached out and took hold of Figwit’s hand then fumbled awkwardly for Faelon’s who had bunched both behind his back. Erestor commanded their attention and touched his children for the first time in many years. He ran his thumbs in gentle circles attempting to sooth their fright and marveling in their soft skin. He looked down at these hands, strong yet nervous, Figwit’s stained blue with writing ink and Faelon’s colored a rainbow of shades that were an obvious result of his candle-making.

“My sons,” he whispered. These beautiful terrified creatures were his. He had created them. Rare were the gifts in his life, and it was time to treat these precious elflings as the gifts they had always been.

“Come.” Not a command but a plea. He gently tugged until they each took a tentative step forward, and then another, and then another. When he was confident they would continue their march, he reluctantly dropped their hands and gathered his clothing.

Out into the cold brisk day they walked, until they came upon a patch of land barren yet striking for its view of the vast sea, a high bluff where the wind whipped and battered them. Erestor led them to a natural rocky outcropping, which provided some protection. He dropped his burden and sat hard upon the ground, gesturing to his sons to join him. They did, and actually sat closer to him than he would have dared hope. Curiosity, he could see, now outweighed their fear.

He gathered an ample supply of dried plants from around him then reached into his pocket and withdrew a tinder box. Erestor quickly formed the kindling into a pile and placed the charred linen on top. The fire-steel and flint quickly created a spark which was captured by the linen, and a small fire soon burned. He reached for his first black robe and began to methodically tear it into small strips which he fed into the fire.

“I never did care for these robes, especially the color, and today seemed a perfect day for disposing of them.” He smiled again at his sons whose eyes were as wide and round as the full moon which would shine this night.

Soon a large fire raged as black robe after black robe caught and burned. Erestor was careful to keep several back as he needed the fire to warm them for as long as their conversation would last.

He swallowed nervously and began. “Today is for you, my sons. Every one of my days from this moment forward shall be for you, if you so desire.” He hesitated. There was so much to say, so many amends to offer, and he was at a loss where to start. He looked at them both, helpless, unable to go on.

Figwit took the next step.

“Speak, Adar, of whatever you shall and we will listen. Already this last hour has been a boon to me, and I need more. Please continue.”

Faelon nodded his agreement, never taking his eyes off Erestor.

“I am so very sorry ---.”

“Nay, Adar! Nay! No apologies. Not yet, not now. Please there are so many things we need to hear, but not that,” Faelon interrupted.

“As you wish, but first I beg you to listen to my warning, for it involves our kin and the curse we carry.” Erestor’s voice dripped with discomfiture and he wrung his hands. “We are afflicted with a madness, my sons, and you must be on guard for it! You must be diligent in recognizing the signs. This madness brings death and destruction and untold heartache, and I was only able to end mine by facing my past. If I had not, then my range of subversion would have known no boundaries. If not for the reappearance of Glorfindel, I would have destroyed all of us!”

“Adar, you are not deranged! What is this confusing madness you speak of?”

A faraway look blanked Erestor’s eyes, and he was lost in his thoughts but continued.

“When the Eldar left Middle Earth for Valinor, our kin decided to stay. We are dark elves. Our connection with this land pulled strong and the tug of Valinor weak. My Adar was especially tied to Middle Earth, and he confided in me once that the very thought of leaving made him infinitely sad. I remember this confidence for the very reason that it happened so rarely. He was a hard and sullen elf, prone to fits of depression and introspection. From my earliest recollections I remember spying on him as he walked the woods speaking to only himself, and yet for all his strangeness, he was able to attract as mates two ellith. The first felt the call of Valinor and departed with her kin, leaving my Adar and her only child, my brother, behind. Years later he met and married my naneth, who was much younger than my brother. My birth followed many turns later.

“From the start, I adored and idolized my older brother. Like you, we were extremely close. He nurtured my love of the woods and all the wonders of nature. I sat for hours and listened to him speak on a rich assortment of topics. He was learned in ways other elves were not, for he was a friend of dwarves and spent many years with them learning their ways. He filled my mind with awe and instilled in me a desire for learning. I loved him with all my heart and fëa and would have died for him; that is how precious our love ran. Our adar, with no warning, disappeared one day and my brother’s importance in my life increased exponentially.

“We were never apart, and he could do no wrong in my eyes. If ever anyone dared to speak harshly of him in my presence, I would rebuke them immediately, demanding of them evidence or a swift apology for their words.

“It was not until years later that I realized it might be I who was blinded to some evil nature which guided my brother. I fought that notion, however, and continued to defend him with all my might until one day I saw my naneth in a discussion with him. The fear on her face haunts me to this day. Though I could not hear their words it seemed obvious that he threatened her. His face was intense, and the hatred written upon it powerfully communicated his intent. From that day forward, I covertly watched him when he was unaware of my presence and a very different picture of my brother emerged. Where he was kind and gentle with me, he was harsh and cruel to all others.

“The day came when we heard of the return of a large group of elves. They had come back to Middle Earth from Valinor. My naneth was anxious to leave the woods, and though she did not speak it, I knew she wanted to be well away from my brother.”


Figwit, unable to contain his curiosity interrupted, “Who is your brother, Adar, and where is he?”

Erestor licked his lips nervously and swallowed uncomfortably.

“Eöl.”

His sons inhaled sharply and immediately paled at the mention of the accursed name.

“Beyond the history you both know of Eöl, I fear, he murdered both my adar and naneth, and though I have no evidence for such a statement it seems clear. Mere coincidence cannot explain the mysterious disappearance of both parents.

“As poorly as you have thought of me before this day my behavior now pales when compared to the truth of the matter. You see, it was within my power to stop your cousin Maeglin. When my brother was dragged through the streets of Gondolin, he warned us all of the evil within Maeglin’s heart, and we did not listen. Everyone believed those warnings to be the ravings of a lunatic, but I alone knew better. I knew that whatever madness plagued Eöl had not rendered him a dolt, for he clearly was quite mad throughout the entire time I knew him, and at the same time quite brilliant. He spoke the truth, but I failed to act because of my embarrassment. It was my demented brother who had murdered the high king’s sister, and my pride would not allow me to step forward and admit my relation for I had secured a prominent place, one with some authority and that mattered more to me than the safety of our city. Self-glorification clouded my judgment, and I did nothing to prevent the destruction that came, and thousands died! Thousands! I contributed to the shame that continues to follow our family. “

Erestor crawled to his sons, grabbing their hands once more.

“You must guard against this madness. Promise me now! Promise me! At the first sign you will come to me, and we will seek help from Lord Elrond.”

Both Figwit and Faelon nodded their heads in the affirmative.

Faelon bravely squeezed Erestor hand as he replied. “You must not fret so. We promise.”

Erestor, released his sons, sat back, shredded a bit more from another robe and fed the fire.

“I ask one more promise from you, my sons. Speak of our relatives to no one. I know that when you have secured love you will be tempted. You will want to trust, but you must both fight this temptation as you would fight the madness. It is my opinion that honesty in this matter would bring hard times to you both, and I would not have you suffer any more than you already have.”

“This is a grave promise you ask of us. Would you have us lie to those we love?”

“Nay, not lie, but omit. I know this is a difficult thing to ask.”

“How do you know this is difficult, Adar?”

“I have loved only one in this long lifetime, though sadly I must confess it was not your naneth, and I never spoke of this with my love. With your naneth,” Erestor smiled, “I could have been honest about my past because she would not have known any of our relatives. She was human. You are peredhel, my sons, blessed with the tendencies of both races. I will tell you all I know of her even though we spent only a short time together.”

This revelation seemed not to shock his sons as neither reacted to his proclamation of their heritage, but merely continued with their questioning.

“Does she still live?”

“Nay, my loves, she passed from this existence many years ago.”

“How did she die?”

Erestor sidled up close to his sons.

“Giving birth to twins is very difficult even when a healer is present. She fell into labor so quickly there was no time to fetch the midwife.”

Horror filled Figwit’s face as he heard Erestor’s words. “She died birthing us?”

Desperation laced his voice as Faelon shouted. “Nay! I do not want to hear about her death. Please, Adar. Tell us about her life. How did she live?”

Erestor reached for his son’s hands once more, soothing them as best he could.

“We met on a road leading to Gondor. At odds with my life, I was set adrift and heading towards no particular destination when I rounded a curve and came upon a short plump woman hauling a load of turnips upon her back. I offered her assistance, and she accepted. She was headed to the market to trade for food, and I had nowhere better to go. Later that day, I accompanied her to her place of employment. As she told me, her work as a tavern wench did not provide her with adequate income, so she sold food from her garden as a supplement. For weeks I observed her. I spent the days drinking ale and the nights in her bed. We did not speak much to each other until the day she revealed she carried my child. It was not a shock as I knew well that humans did not plan these things. The news filled me with a joy I had never felt before. After a life of disappointment and pain, I could finally be responsible for something good and pure.”

Erestor smiled, lost in thought. “She and I were very similar. We had no great expectations of our relationship. It was simple, purely for companionship and then to raise our child. It was enough.”

He looked up at Figwit and Faelon. “Not until your nana labored did we realize there were two of you and our excitement grew.”

Erestor looked off into the distance. “She has relatives. An old aunt and uncle with several children. I suspect we could find their offspring should you be interested. There may be some alive who might tell you more about Lehda, your nana, as our time together was less than one year.

“Quite by accident, during my time with your nana, I learned of the settlement here in Lindon. I brought you here when you were but one week old as I knew I was unable to raise you both alone. My mind, already muddled, once again turned to dark thoughts, so I abandoned you to a wet nurse and vowed I would have as little to do with you both as possible. I rationalized you would be better off with minimal contact from me. I even toyed with the notion of allowing you to be raised by another family, but having abandoned one young elf long ago I could not find it in my selfish heart to suffer again and abandon two more. You were mine and I intended to keep you no matter the cost.”

“Another elfling?”

Erestor waved off the question with a sad smile playing across his face. “That tale is for another day, but know that some day I intend for you to meet this other elf I speak of.”

Figwit and Faelon exchanged a glance before scooting over to Erestor, concern etched their faces.

“Will you tell us of Glorfindel?”

Erestor’s mouth dropped open and his sons smiled brightly, their first of this day.

“You know?”

“Everyone knows. You and Glorfindel have been the talk of Lindon for the last two years, but the question has always been - is it love or hate? Faelon and I decided you loved each other.”

“Nay!”

“Aye, Adar!”

“But no one has said one word to me.”

“Excuse me for being so bold, but you are not the most approachable elf. Figwit and I have longed to discuss him with you. Are you in love?”

“Aye.”

“And is he in love with you?”

“Aye.”

“Then it is all settled, Adar. You shall live happily ever after!”

Erestor shook his head. “It is not that simple. Glorfindel and I have not spoken of this. Our love has always been…complicated and wild since the moment we met. We have thrown insults and injured each other to such a degree that I fear his heart may be closed to a renewal of our relationship.”

“You must face him as you have us. He will be amenable.”

“Time will tell, my sons.”

Erestor stood and removed his black robe, effectively dismissing the topic. He fed the robe into the lagging fire, turned, reached down and embraced both fiercely. Sitting before them, he ran his hands over them, reveling in their beauty. Having never allowed himself this luxury, he reluctantly released them and settled in for a long night of discussion.

Two days passed since his reconciliation with Figwit and Faelon. He had learned much about his children during that time, and even watched them dance at the opening of the Winter Festival. At some point in their education, they had learned all the current dances, and he was startled to see they chose both ellyn and ellith for partners. Much had changed since the First Age, so it seemed, and he had somehow failed to notice.

Their exuberance for dancing warmed his heart as he watched them sway and dip and laugh the night away. Both attempted to persuade him out onto the floor, but he stood firm. As much as he loved his sons, there was someone else to whom he owed a first dance. Figwit and Faelon seemed to understand his reluctance and did not push.

Most amazing to him was the resilience of his children. They were both exceedingly normal and well adjusted considering how they had been abused, and seeing them enjoy life fueled his guilt. He ached as he thought of the years of neglect he had bestowed upon them. For the last two days he had dreamed of ways he would encourage them and help them through their journey of life. His desire was to stand atop a mountain and shout for all of Middle Earth to take notice of his beautiful sons. Instead, he would help them with their studies and find every reason to plan celebrations for their benefit.

Erestor smirked as he recalled yesterday. Both Figwit and Faelon were hardly able to pull back the string of a bow as they attempted to show him their mastery of archery. He had barely concealed his amusement before their frustration reached a boiling point. It seemed his temper had been inherited by both, as well as his untidy ways.

With the sword, they were little better. They had no reach or natural ability, having inherited their mother’s short stature and his clumsiness. Still, to his, eyes they were magnificent.

Their minds, however, were quick and cunning, and he watched them maneuver around each other in a game of verbal dominance. Figwit would make a fine counselor and Faelon certainly had the acuity for business. As for physical attractions, he sensed that they had yet to decide upon a preference. It would be most interesting to observe their choice.

His preference was decided long ago, and that preference had just yesterday returned from the borders. From the shadows of his small balcony, he had seen Glorfindel’s approach and graceful dismount. He watched him in easy banter with the other Captains, watched him shoo away the stable hand and tend to his own mount tenderly wiping and brushing his horse fully, and then watched him as he walked into the palace. Desire and fear still burned through him. His sleep had been disturbed last night as he tossed and turned, trying to decide how to approach Glorfindel. What would he say?

In the early hours of the morning, while he lovingly sharpened and cleaned the sword and knife he took from Glorfindel’s room so many years prior, he made a decision. Tonight he would speak to Glorfindel.

All he had to do was wait out the day…

Erestor paused outside the door to Glorfindel’s room. He had been here before, a different door and a different time but the same circumstance. A chance once taken with a devastating outcome. H could appreciate their short period of joy now, and he was convinced that all the pain was worth the risk. Here he stood again, however, stalling. It was up to him this time. Glorfindel made it clear he would pursue no longer. Erestor could only hope he had not arrived too late to salvage their happiness.

His heart beat loud and impatient as he screwed up his courage, knowing he could not turn from the door. He entered without knocking.

Erestor was unexpectedly greeted by a jolly scene. Glorfindel leisurely seated, along with three of his officers, around a table laden with cheeses, breads, and roasted pheasant. The smell of spiced wine filled the air as it filled their goblets, and loosened tongues and wits seemed to prevail as they laughed uproariously at some unheard jest. A warm inviting fire crackled and spit in the hearth, while the wind sneaking through the panes created an eerie concert with the distant music from the festival.

Erestor took in the scene with the terrifying clarity of one who feels he is facing his doom. He stepped forward and all eyes turned to him as he strode into the light of the room, decision made.

With eyes completely focused on his target he announced, "I still have hope for us, Glorfindel."

The room completely stilled as time seemed to grind to a halt for the five elves; two of whom were locked in a visual embrace and three an unwitting audience. Erestor took in Glorfindel’s appearance and the stark hollowness of his eyes. Glorfindel’s large hands squeezed white with tension as he held onto his wine glass. Those hands were rough and violently capable of killing, and yet he knew the gentleness of their caress. He needed that caress again.

In one perfectly fluid and poignant action, he slid his last black robe off to reveal his nude form. Impossibly, the room stilled further, followed by the gasps, broad smiles, and smirks of Glorfindel’s companions. They knew well of the confrontations between Erestor and Glorfindel, and now in one short moment understood the truth of those clashes. Erestor, eyes still locked on Glorfindel, barely noticed when the others removed themselves from the room, practically knocking each other over to be the first to reach to door to freedom and begin gossiping.

Glorfindel continued to eat pheasant, never shifting his sight from Erestor's.
Erestor continued to stand silently and saw Glorfindel’s eyes change from reflecting shock to shining with predatory glee. He waited, growing apprehensive and doubtful as to the wisdom of his actions, these feelings intensifying due to Glorfindel’s lack of verbal response or movement toward him. His stomach churned wildly as he anticipated Glorfindel’s actions, vulnerable and openly nude, and his mind and body experienced the age-old flight or fight battle.

Unable to contain his agitated impatience, he was forced to speak, “Glor-“, he hesitated, as Glorfindel placed a finger over his own lips, then fell silent once more continuing his vigil and nervously awaiting response.

Glorfindel’s lazy rise from his chair and relaxed posture were in direct contrast to Erestor’s emotions. Excited fear and trepidation coursed through his veins as Glorfindel strode toward him. His eyes widened and he stepped backward but Glorfindel automatically responded, honed by years of military training, by increasing his approach to thwart any chance of escape for the now hesitant Erestor.

He stopped directly in front of him, and Erestor fixated on the minute details; flawless skin, eyes dilated from too much wine, and the small hairs framing Glorfindel’s face rising and falling in beat with his nervous panting breaths. Glorfindel’s gaze traversed his form and his head nodded its approval. He went rigid as Glorfindel circled around behind and trembled when Glorfindel’s light teasing touches moved slowly down and around to his backside. His body inflamed with every caress.

Erestor jerked as he felt the firm embrace of an arm about his waist while greasy fingers brutally plunged into his depth. He cried out at the stinging pain while Glorfindel’s fingers forcefully worked him, stretching his orifice with their girth.

Glorfindel’s voice, angry and unrelenting, hissed near his ear, “We both know this is not the position you prefer.” He rotated his fingers roughly accentuating his comment.“ So why are you here, Erestor? Have you come as a sacrifice? To pay penance on your back!? Are you to be martyred upon my shaft?”

“Nay! Please, not this, Glorfindel. No more pain.” Erestor ‘s body writhed with agony as he tried to stifle another cry while trying to find some leverage to escape Glorfindel’s grasp, but the forceful digits continued their brutal attack.

Glorfindel questioned him again as he continued his preparations of Erestor’s body. “I will ask you again, why have you come?”

“You said you still loved me,” Erestor gasped forcing each word through teeth gritted against the pain. “You SPOKE the words! Was it an untruth?”

Erestor felt Glorfindel’s whole body stiffen, his breathing slowed, his fingers stilled and easily retreated from his body. Relief crowded his thoughts as he was considerately helped into a sitting position on the bed. Glorfindel gently nudged his legs apart and knelt between.

“Nay, I will never again lie about my love for you, Erestor. My lie once caused us immeasurable pain, and if we agree on anything this evening let it be that our love remains intact.”

Erestor, still shaking, gripped Glorfindel’s hand tightly. “Aye, it is agreed that our love is still present.”

Gazing up into Erestor’s eyes, he went on. “You are a most welcome sight. However, no matter your original intentions, Erestor, this night I will take only one sacrifice from you.”

Standing suddenly, Glorfindel swooped up Erestor’s last remaining black robe, wiped his soiled hands upon it, and dashed it into the fiery hearth. He continued to his wardrobe and removed a blue over robe.

Turning to Erestor, he smiled.“ Black does not suit you, Erestor, and ever since my return I have desired to rid you of those robes. My favorite color for you has always been ocean blue. It reflects who you are, on the surface alternating between calm and turbulent, with faithful steady currents beneath and mysteries in your depths.”

A grateful Erestor donned the robe and his mood soared when he heard Glorfindel’s words and a change in music heralded a change of atmosphere inside the room. A soft gentle beat accompanied by a low sensual voice wafted through the night and Erestor once again found Glorfindel kneeling at his feet.

“Dance with me, Erestor.” Glorfindel reverently kissed the back of his hand, then stood, and beckoned him to follow.

Erestor did not hesitate in accepting the invitation and threw himself into Glorfindel’s outstretched arms. He was home as the arms wrapped around him, pulled him close, and he relaxed in the embrace. They danced in silence as their past sloughed off and became meaningless, at least to Erestor, and his mind turned to their future.

He began to speak but Glorfindel shushed him with a kiss. “Nay, Erestor. Say nothing. We shall have no promises between us as we have been through too much, my love. I know not whether we can stand the test of time, and I know you agree. We are both, if nothing else, usually practical.”

Erestor felt his heart breaking into pieces, and as he numbly nodded his head in agreement Glorfindel continued.

“Let us have one night together. We shall dance and love and if it is only for this evening it will be enough, for we are in disagreement no longer.”

At a loss for words, Erestor sobbed against Glorfindel’s shoulder. Sorrow at Glorfindel’s bleak outlook of their future threatened his resolve.

Gripping Glorfindel tight he pressed closer, merging them until he felt as if they were one. As they continued to move together, Erestor wiped his tears away and silently vowed that his resolve would never crumble. Sometime soon in the bright light of day their love would be publicly declared.

And then, he would invite Glorfindel to another dance - a dance that would last for eternity.


The End.