Title: A Song in a Song
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FCS
Characters: Lindir, Elladan, Elrohir, Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: PG-13 mainly, R rarely.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters found in this story nor was I creative enough to invent their world. I make no profit except in joy.
Timeline: Early Third Age
Warnings: Slash – some angst, some fluff, some romance. Not a songfic but a new genera Erfan and I call bum-fluff wherein a character lusts for another’s bum but the reader gets only fluff.
Beta: Weeping Naiad – a friend AND a scholar. Thank you, my dear.
Entry: 2008 Glorestor Challenge
Dedicated: To Patricia “slayer9649”, rescuer of orphans.
Author’s Note: A huge thank you to the “Tale Spinners”, Ezimachia and Svengalliedhare, for unwavering support and advice. Svengalliedhare, with whom I proudly share 25% of my genes, wrote all the songs in this story with edits by me. ***Except for the first and last sections this entire story is from Erestor’s POV


Chapter 1

Linael clung to the tree terrified. His nana stood close desperately urging him upwards and his ada cried at top voice as he slogged after Duinfel. The water was already up to their knees as the river swelled its banks

“Climb higher, my beautiful. That is good. Up, up to where the birds roost. Stop, pen dithen. Stay right there. Do not let go, Linael. No matter what happens hold tight.”

“Nana!” Linael cried out as his mother rushed away from the base of the tree. He started to slide down the trunk when his nana turned back.

“Nay, Linael. Stay or I will send your ada to punish you for disobeying me.”

Linael stopped, frightened by the fear he heard in his nana’s voice and the threat of her warning. Slowly, reluctantly he shimmied back up to the highest branch that could bear his weight, holding her eyes the entire time.

“I love you, Linael.” She turned then and moved sluggishly through the ever rising water to where his ada was struggling with Duinfel. Linael knew this was no game, and he yelled at Duinfel. But his brother was too young to understand, too far away to hear. Duinfel continued to giggle and splash in the water even as his ada strained against the surging river which was now waist high.

He continued to cry out for his brother and parents to join him in safety, desperate for their nearness, yet the water was pushing them farther away. Rain came sudden and fierce, pounding his exposed body, and the accompanying wind created an eerie symphony as if encouraging each gust to sweep him from his perch.

High above in the mountains beyond, the sounds of the earth groaning heralded the first deafening, cracking roars. The cacophony reverberated through the lowland as the spring thaw broke violently and swiftly poured into the cramped valley. The destructive wave of brackish water struck his family. Their limp bodies tossed skyward then fell back to the water where they lifelessly danced amongst the debris before disappearing from sight. Linael, cleaving to the tree, screamed soundlessly against the chaotic din.

As quickly as the storm came it ceased, stilling the turmoil and a hush fell over the valley. The day drifted to night and one tiny voice emerged calling out its mournful song.

~oOo~

The healing wing overflowed with injured elves and several humans. Vilya had spared the inhabitants of Imladris though it did not have influence on areas outside its borders. The spring flooding had taken the entire area by surprise and, immortal though they may be, no elf could breathe water. Coughs and ragged gasping filled the air as the healers, stretched thin for many days, raced around, tending to those seriously ill and hoping those they unwillingly neglected would not turn for the worse. The area was cramped with hastily constructed beds and the counselors, maids, soldiers and ladies who had been recruited into duty.

Erestor purveyed the scene from the far corner of the large room. His nose wrinkled from the stench of open wounds which defied healing. This was a place of pain and suffering and he avoided it whenever possible as it was outside of his realm of understanding and none of the actions here were within his control. The sights and the sounds threatened to overwhelm him so he turned his eyes downward and focused on the small elfling lying on the cot beside him. He uneasily monitored the elfling’s chest and the shallow breaths that barely moved it. Occasionally he would bend his face to the elfling’s nose to convince himself that he still lived. So caught up was he in his nervousness that he missed the fluttering of the elfling’s eyes as he gained awareness for the first time since his rescue.

“Ada?” The weak question came out as a croak from a voice long unused.

Erestor, now alert, awkwardly patted the small hand and smiled cautiously as the elfling turned his gaze towards him. The frail face frowned at him and Erestor could see his confusion.

“You are not my ada. Where is my ada?” whispered the bewildered elfling who immediately tried to rise from the bed.

Erestor bent low restraining the elfling while attempting to calm him.

“Hush child. Shh, shh, all is well. You are safe.”

The small elfling thrashed weakly and finally clung to Erestor. He cringed slightly when the elfling’s moist nose left a shining trail on his newly laundered robe. Finally he crawled into Erestor’s lap, frantically grabbed him, and started to hum tunes that were familiar and unfamiliar. For several hours they stayed this way. When he turned quiet Erestor thought him asleep until in a hushed whisper he once again spoke.

“You are too big to be my ada.”

Erestor smiled. He wanted to make sure the young one continued to speak as they had little information on his identity or his family.

“Have you never met one born in the First Age?”

The small head shook on his shoulder.

Eager to encourage the elfling’s attempts at communication he launched into a description of First Age elves.

“Ilúvatar, in His great wisdom, created us originally as tall creatures. I know not why but here in Imladris you will meet many of us from that time and you will know us well for we stand a good head above those born later. Still, there are always some who are gifted with height no matter what Age. Mayhap you will be tall, pen dithen…” He stopped himself on the edge of a panicked babble, trying to find words to fill the void.

His apprehension was for naught, however, as the elfling was no longer paying attention to his ramblings but lay singing an unknown song quietly under his breath. He did continue to cautiously peer at Erestor until slowly his eyes shut and he drifted once more to slumber.

Erestor sighed and looked around for someone to relieve him of this duty. There was no one. The healers were still attending to the more seriously injured and those, like him, had their own charges. So he sat, nervously wringing his hands and waited for the elfling to awaken again.

~oOo~

Erestor felt a mad chuckle rising from his chest and fought to squelch its eruption. He attempted to appear contrite and repentant as Elrond physically escorted him from the meeting room. He knew his mistake and he cared not. It was merely a jest at the expense of the simpering elfling. Erestor scowled as he thought on the brat! But the glower quickly left his face when Elrond, having loudly shut the office door, turned and unleashed his fury upon him. He admonished him in such a loud voice that Erestor’s face burned, not from the shame of speaking poorly of the child, but that every elf must surely be hearing the tirade within. Elrond berated him for his lack of feelings and irresponsible priorities.

“What is more important than our children?” Elrond had asked. And Erestor, in his most professional manner, spent the next five minutes reciting a long list of situations and things and ideas more important than bratlings. He knew he was angering Elrond with his answers but he was reckless and irate. His life was taken over and he had no choice! He needed away from the elfling and only Elrond could grant him release.

When he finished, Elrond let loose his exasperated rage for what seemed hours and flayed the skin from Erestor’s being with perfectly targeted dagger-like words. And when his anger finally burned itself out, Elrond simply walked from the room while issuing his nonnegotiable orders on the subject.

“You WILL make this work, Erestor! Your attitude is appalling and disgraceful and as my chief counselor I expect more from you! Find a way to make this situation tolerable immediately!”

Erestor bolted from the room stiff-necked and taut with anger. He headed for the woods. The unfairness of it boiled his blood. Elrond had made his situation permanent! He was saddled with this leech of an elfling who was slowly siphoning the life from him! Even his bastion of solitude, his private quarters, had been invaded as he was forced to clear one of the rooms for this nuisance.

He never wanted children. Ellith held no interest for him! This was not part of his scheme, for he had hatched a plan decades ago. A long laid and carefully orchestrated project to court Glorfindel. For years he had worked on befriending Glorfindel making himself an integral part of his existence.

Their friendship was his life’s masterpiece, carefully blended colors with the right amount of contrast to keep the interest alive and intriguing. Glorfindel, he found, was the only elf who seemed to like him, really like him, who understood his moods and quirks and knew everything about him. Now it was for naught! His chance was lost, his plan unfinished and involuntarily abandoned.

His days were now spent catering to a sulky elfling who said nothing and hid behind Erestor’s robes. He would not speak. He would barely walk. Sleeping was near impossible because of the continuous whimpering the child emitted at night. The screeching set his nerves on edge. There was no pattern to the nightmares, and when the screaming began, Erestor would be taken unawares, bolting from his bed and reaching for his knife each time. But each time, it was not a knife that was necessary to slay this beast. It was holding and rocking and soothing. Erestor was not made for cuddling children. He was an advisor and had skillfully risen to the highest level in Imladris as chief counselor to Lord Elrond. His time was precious and not for coddling brats!

Erestor ran hard. The sound of his harsh breathing filled his ears. He could not yet face the simpering child who was waiting for him. Until today, the elfling had not spent one moment away from Erestor since the day he woke in the healing wing, two months ago. And when Erestor had insisted he be kept with an attendant so he could return to work unfettered, the elfling had cried out, reached for him, and strained against the arms of the attendant, with wide-open pleading blue eyes that begged Erestor to stay. He had not tarried but, like now, fled.

Frustrated, he punched at tree limbs in his path. Recklessly he darted through the trees avoiding impact only at the last moment. Erestor let loose a great roar and cackled even louder as small animals scurried up trunks and several deer flashed through his peripheral vision, flushed from their foraging by his madness. He smiled gleefully with each sound of his robe being torn as it was snagged by branches. What did it matter? He was free of the elfling for the first time in months - the whimpering mewling hunk of flesh that had attached to him from the time he awakened in the healing wing - the cipher that clung to him day and night; saying nothing, being nothing.

Breathing heavily, he slowed his pace. It was long since he roamed this far from the Homely House, but he knew he was headed to a familiar favorite site. He could smell the water and feel the tendrils of moisture caressing his skin. This was a place he had visited frequently when first he arrived in the valley and was sick for his home near the sea.

As he neared the small pond, he increased his stride, suddenly longing for a dip in the cool water to rid himself of the sweat from his run. Instead his foot caught on an exposed root and he went down hard. Twisting, he turned himself at the last moment and with a grunt landed flat on his back. Stars swirled before his eyes. As he lay gasping for air, the sounds of hushed voices wafted through his perception. He stilled, for some unknown reason afraid of discovery, and lay quietly as the voices came ever closer.

Erestor slowly turned over, parted the brush with his hands and peered through. The sight before him confirmed his suspicions that the Valar were a cruel lot who recently took immense pleasure in striking out at him. Here, far away from their home, was Glorfindel, suave, and well spoken, never awkward or ungainly. On his arm he gracefully led the lovely Lady Amlugeth through the undergrowth around the pool. Fierce, bitter, irrational jealousy snarled through him as she stared adoringly into Glorfindel’s eyes. He spoke unknown words and she giggled perfectly in response. Amlugeth blushed at all the correct moments. She was consistently demure and she was bold when necessary and she knew exactly when to add her own thoughts to a conversation.

Erestor was quite sure he hated her. She was his competition for Glorfindel’s attention. He knew it and she knew it but Glorfindel appeared clueless of this struggle. And now, he, with the elfling taking up all his time, was unable to stay her hand! He was defeated without his consent. Niggling thoughts reminded him that Glorfindel had never shown interest in him or in any other ellon, other than friendship. Nay, Glorfindel’s preference for elleth appeared clear for he was known to wax poetically on the finer points of the female figure.

Yet, Erestor was not familiar with disappointment or defeat. His life, up until the last two months had been charmed. He was blessed with a loving family and a keen mind and his ongoing happiness seemed assured. Now unfamiliar feelings plagued him. This empty ache that gnawed at his insides was new and unwanted and he failed to understand how he could be so hollow when he had never had Glorfindel to begin with? Anger ran through his veins, adding harsh acid to his thoughts and his stomach churned constantly. Each morning, upon seeing the elfling, he found he loathed him with such ferocity that he occasionally wished the child had not survived the flooding of the valley. But then his resentment would fade a bit and his emotions would circle back. The next few weeks he would feel guilty about those unforgivable thoughts and a semblance of empathy would work its way back into his heart. He would chastise himself a thousand fold for lamenting those things he did not have when he had been blessed by so much already. Until, for some unknown reason, the caustic thoughts would resurface and the circle continued unbroken.

When Erestor could not abide the sound of one more perfect giggle he quietly admitted defeat, stood and left. In a moment of dispiriting clarity his course in life was finally made clear. Glorfindel needed him for nothing more than friendship. There was only one elf that needed his love and he had abandoned him at the first opportunity. He would find a way to thaw his icy contempt for the elfling, for if they were to be thrown together, this would be the only way for each to survive. Erestor knew. Nay, had always known that he was the catalyst for the elfling’s survival and well-being. And as he trudged back home he decided it was time to stop fighting this knowledge and help the child turn from despair to life.

Upon arrival back at the Homely House, Erestor made his way swiftly to his rooms careful to avoid any elf. Quickly he changed his clothing and dealt with his mess of hair. Unfortunately the bruises on his hands would not be hidden nor would the various scratches left by his charge through the trees.

Finally prepared, he left to retrieve his elfling. The attendant immediately answered his knock, and he noted her sigh of relief as he entered.

“Is all well, Vaeluth?”

“Nay, Counselor, he has not moved all day. Come.”

She led him into the playroom. There he lay curled into a tight ball with his head bent down to his chest and his knees tucked up so far they touched his head. There were no signs of tears being shed, just eyes staring into the distance while lips silently formed the words of an unknown song. Dejection and distress radiated from him.

Erestor’s heart ached at the sight. Mere hours were they separated and the elfling had reverted back to when they first met. He knelt close to him, gently touched his back and held out his hand.

“Come, child. It is time for us to return to our rooms.”

His voice startled the elfling who sat up immediately, scampered to his feet and threw himself into Erestor’s arms. His grip was tight and he clung fiercely. Still Erestor in turn put his arms around his charge and gathered him even closer.

“You should not have feared. I shall not leave you. Ever.”

Standing, Erestor gave a nod of thanks to Vaeluth and returned to their rooms. When they arrived he coaxed the elfling to sit next to him on the couch. It was time to press him into speaking and to obtain his name for he plainly needed some semblance of his own identity.

“You have a name, pen dithen. Can you remember it?” Erestor was firm in his approach but held the elfling close as he searched for answers. He had uttered a word here and there so Erestor knew he was capable of speech. It was time to draw him out.

Appearing to contemplate the question, his face scrunched into a hard look of consideration while one small finger wound a piece of hair, over and over. The finger never stopped its work. Round and round until the lock of hair was tight upon the finger, and the only portion of his finger visible was red and swollen. Then he would yank his finger out leaving a tight curl. Again and again the action continued but he uttered not one word. Finally, the elfling peered up at him dejectedly and shrugged his little shoulders; the finger never ceasing its work on his hair.

Pulling him even closer, Erestor took both of his hands and clasped them tightly giving the elfling no quarter but to stare at him.

“You must try again. Remember. Your parents picked a special name for you. Think hard now. What is your name?”

At the mention of his parents he stiffened noticeably but appeared to consider Erestor’s words carefully. Before long he was sputtering his first syllables in weeks.

“Li—,” came the stuttering reply.

“Li—,” he seemed confused and kept uttering this one syllable again and again.

Interrupting him, Erestor questioned further, “Li, pen dithen? Surely there is more?”

He peered up into Erestor’s face and shook his head no.

“Think hard. Your ada and nana thought long before naming you and it meant something unique for you alone. Where you born on a warm night perhaps? Was it cold? They may have named you after a special celestial event? ”

Erestor bent down to the elfling, eye to eye, and smiled warmly.

“Our names are precious, pen dithen. They hold power and describe something about us. What is yours? Please think well on this. I know you can recall it if you but try harder.”

A look of unyielding concentration came upon the elfling and his right eye squinted a bit. Erestor gently rubbed his hands providing what encouragement he could. Deliberation turned to pure delight suddenly lighting up his entire being

Quietly he answered, “My name is Little --.”

Momentarily shocked at hearing him speak his first sentence, Erestor could only ask, “Little?”

“Yes,” hesitantly he added, “Little Erestor.” Little Erestor looked questioningly into Erestor’s face.

Stunned failed to describe how Erestor felt at this pronouncement.

Stuttering for an appropriate response he said, “My name is Erestor so your name cannot…”

But Little Erestor interrupted him, “No, you are Big Erestor.”

“Pen dithen, each elf has their own special name and no one else shall have our same name even as generations pass to the next.” Even as Erestor spoke these words he recalled a similar conversation, in the recent past, he had with Thranduil.

“But how do you know someone else does not have your name?”

“Simply put, I am the keeper of names. Those who are about to become parents petition me with a list of suitable names for their child and I am able to guide them as I keep an ongoing roster.”

Erestor saw the suspicious look garner force on the elfling’s face.

Suddenly jumping to his feet Little Erestor cried out, “No! That is silly. There are too many elves! And anyway my name is Little Erestor. Your name is Big Erestor. We do not have the same name!” Little Erestor’s face was set in a stern frown.

Erestor blinked. Little Erestor’s outrage and demeanor again recalled his lost battle with King Thranduil over the name of his new son. But with Thranduil, he had acquiesced immediately once Lord Elrond secretly revealed to him the special relationship Thranduil once had with his son’s namesake. Although he did not understand Little Erestor’s insistence, he would once again, bow to the demand and for now share a name with his charge.

“Aye, pen dithen, aye, please calm down and come sit beside me again.” Erestor held out his hand and helped Little Erestor back up on the couch. “You shall be Little Erestor as of this moment.”

The tension between them broke and shyly, head down, Little Erestor climbed into Erestor’s arms. Erestor stroked Little Erestor’s long hair which was dirty and tangled. Little Erestor had grimly fought him each and every time he had attempted to wash the elfling. He feared water and seemed to believe that any droplet which touched him would send him to his doom. So for now, Erestor oiled his hair and pulled it back into a braid. He dearly hoped none had noticed the ripe aroma which clung to the child.

Title: A Song in a Song
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FCS
Characters: Lindir, Elladan, Elrohir, Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: PG-13 mainly, R rarely.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters found in this story nor was I creative enough to invent their world. I make no profit except in joy.
Timeline: Early Third Age
Warnings: Slash – some angst, some fluff, some romance. Not a songfic but a new genera Erfan and I call bum-fluff wherein a character lusts for another’s bum but the reader gets only fluff.
Beta: Weeping Naiad – a friend AND a scholar. Thank you, my dear.


Chapter 2

On a simmering day at the beginning of the summer months, Erestor sat scribbling away answering an important missive. His mind wandered and his temper was smoldering. As of late yesterday and continuing through the night, the rain poured and Little Erestor had refused to go out for fear of getting wet. It was apparent now that he was suffering from a lack of exercise and in recompense was playing one of his favorite silent games, imitate Erestor. No matter how he tried to ignore what was happening he could still observe the annoying activity out of the corner of his eye. Little Erestor copied his every move. Every pen stroke, every sound he made, every change of position, was reflected perfectly by the elfling.

Exasperated, he turned, ready to engage in his first admonition of the week when Glorfindel burst into the room. Little Erestor jumped from his chair and ran to hide behind Erestor.

“Nay! This will not do! It is the first perfect day of the year and you and Little Erestor are inside working!” Dramatic horror at their situation sarcastically laced Glorfindel’s voice.

Erestor rose and spread his hands, “Glorfindel --.”

Glorfindel pointed at him. “No arguments. Little Erestor needs exercise and the twins,” Erestor saw two identical faces peek around each of Glorfindel’s legs, “need a play companion. And you are as white as the ghost I saw flitting down the corridor last night.” Glorfindel paused dramatically, and Erestor knew he was allowing time for his words to be heard, and only continued when the frightened gasps of all three elflings echoed in the room. “Come, let us go.”

He knew better than to contend with Glorfindel when he was in a foul mood. And when Glorfindel deliberately searched for ways to frighten the twins, Erestor knew he should brook no argument to his command, for he would not hesitate to physically haul Erestor outside if he attempted resistance. Reaching around, he grabbed Little Erestor’s hand and followed.

Glorfindel juggled two balls in his hands and Erestor smiled wickedly. This was a favorite game, especially when he tired of the twins, who recently, forever followed him. He was rarely rid of them for as they grew their obsession with Glorfindel flourished in similar proportion. Erestor was grateful for the twins’ intervention. It put them both in a similar situation and kept Glorfindel frequently away from the Lady Amlugeth. Erestor was sure he loved the princelings more because of their unintentional interference.

The twins scurried after Glorfindel, but kept turning back to gaze at Little Erestor. These two had been circling his charge for months now. He could see the curiosity in their gazes, but not once had either garnered the courage to approach Little Erestor. He had at least expected Elladan to broach the ever shy Little Erestor. Elladan did keep a keen steady eye on Little Erestor but that was the extent of his interest. Elrohir seemed less curious. This was not unexpected though as Elrohir spent much of his time in daydreams and fantasies. His young mind wandered excessively on wild topics.

Indeed the day was bright and warm and the lawn was perfectly green. Lord Elrond’s ground keepers fought hard to keep this area as it was; a large open space for gatherings and play. Sadly, not a cloud dotted the perfect sky for Erestor much preferred the shade to direct sunlight. He sat, grudgingly, in the proffered lawn seat that Glorfindel had snatched from the garden on their way out. As he settled himself into the chair and shielded his eyes with his hand, Little Erestor huddled next to him, both hands tightly clutching at his robe.

Glorfindel had the attention of the twins who were bouncing in front of him waiting for the game to begin; however, he ignored them and was focused on Little Erestor. He tossed the balls skillfully between his hands as he spoke.

“The game is quite simple. I will throw the ball and whoever retrieves it and brings it to me first wins. There are no other rules. You must start the game here, Little Erestor. Come stand before me.”

Little Erestor shook his head no and clutched Erestor’s robes more, if possible, desperately.

“Nay,” queried Glorfindel. “Well then let us show you how it is done. Elladan. Elrohir. Make yourselves ready.”

The twins turned their backs to Glorfindel and leaned forward, perched on their toes, ready for flight. Glorfindel reared back and let go the ball. With cries of glee they dashed off. Moments later Elladan fell headfirst to the ground shouting out his frustration as Elrohir snatched up the ball and proudly trotted back.

Erestor watched Little Erestor’s reactions to this game. He was obviously fascinated with the action and the corners of his mouth lifted up just a bit. That faint smile was all the encouragement Erestor needed. He disentangled the tiny fists from his robe, put a firm hand upon the small of Little Erestor’s back, and nudged him toward Glorfindel. When he hesitated and swiveled back, Erestor placed a stern look upon his face and was only slightly surprised when he obeyed him and joined Elladan and Elrohir at Glorfindel’s side.

Meantime, Elrohir beamed at the praise bestowed upon him.

“Well done, Elrohir! That was a very fine run and return, indeed. Ah and we have another competitor! Come, Little Erestor, line up. On the ready.”

He launched it once again. Little Erestor began clumsily and fell completely out of the race. Elladan retrieved the ball. All three sprinted back to Glorfindel and encouragingly Little Erestor, even though losing the race, appeared ready, and most eager for another try. Glorfindel obliged their charges again and again and with each toss Little Erestor improved steadily – livelier starts, hare-footed dashes - until he was consistently neck and neck with the twins.

By the tenth throw, the competition between Elladan and Little Erestor became evident. They jostled each other for the lead, and both Erestor and Glorfindel were shocked when Elladan stuck out an arm and pushed Little Erestor causing him to fall hard and lose that round. Triumphantly Elladan returned, but Little Erestor had quickly recovered and was close on his heels.

As the ball was retrieved and returned, Glorfindel unhesitatingly threw it, each time. The three elflings sprinted after it seemingly obsessed with victory, and the struggle between Elladan and Little Erestor grew. Little Erestor retaliated, shoving and pushing Elladan, and Erestor was surprised by this behavior and the insight it provided. He enjoyed winning and was not cowed by Elladan’s aggressiveness.

“Glorfindel, I do believe they shall truly harm each other.”

“Nay, they will tire soon enough and as they sleep we will drink a large bottle of Lord Elrond’s rarest vintage, which is even now cooling in the Bruinen,” Glorfindel retorted with a glint in his eye.

“There is no better way to rid ourselves of the bratlings than a rousing game of retrieve the ball. And Elrond’s unknowing and generous gift of wine is proper recompense for our time!”

Erestor grudgingly agreed as, to his shame, they had played this ploy many times when left with the twins. It never failed. Further, Elrond’s wine cellar was famous for its wide variety of delicious wines and he was looking forward to a taste.

He startled out of his thoughts as Glorfindel shouted, “Elrohir! Nay!! Do not pick the wildflowers!”

Glorfindel leapt up and moved swiftly toward Elrohir, whose attention to the game had waned, and he carried a large spray of newly plucked flowers. Glorfindel descended upon Elrohir who cringed slightly as Glorfindel ripped the bouquet out of his hands and pushed him back to the game. Winded and with a sad look upon his face, Glorfindel returned to his seat while stroking the flowers.

“How many times have I done this? Yet Elrohir never learns! He has a fascination for nature yet chooses to destroy that which entices him.”

Erestor nodded as this was an old discussion between them. “He is but an elfling and these flowers will be replaced by others. You know well that once he has been reprimanded, oh hundreds or possibly thousands of times, he will finally remember. Until then, I fear, much shouting will be required.”

The tiring trio returned once more for another toss. Little Erestor still eager and interested, Elladan determined, but Elrohir had that familiar far away look in his eyes. Glorfindel reminded them who led in captures and launched the small ball once more. As they tore off, Erestor continued their conversation with a calculated change of direction.

“I have yet to see a final list of those who are traveling to Lothlórien. Are you planning on attending the voyage or will you send your second?”

“You know well I loathe traveling of any sort. I shall once again beg off and Elrond will allow it as he always does. There is no reason I need attend these meetings, and I despise the attention garnered upon me when I travel to other realms. Nay, gladly will I stay here playing nursemaid to our lordlings.”

Glorfindel’s head cocked as he seemed to consider his words. “Does it not appear that I do more than my fair share of elfling watching? Why am I reborn? Is it merely to chase after our young princelings?”

Laughing, Erestor answered, “Nay! It only seems this way because they have taken an obsessive liking to you. And what of me, for I am in the same situation? As with most anything our predicament is temporary. Soon these three will be less fascinated with us and shall move their attentions to others.”

The ragged elflings came once more up the hill, their step much less lively, as they panted to catch their breath. The exception was Little Erestor who had won his third straight race and bounced excitedly from one foot to the other, especially as Glorfindel heaped praise upon him. With a deep back swing Glorfindel made his longest throw yet and the contest was on again.

“I believe two or three more runs and we shall have blessed peace and quiet for a few hours. Do you concur?”

“I do.”

Their conversation lulled a bit and they quietly sat watching the elflings and their surroundings. A pause in their talks was a common occurrence for they were long friends and could sit comfortably and enjoy each other’s company without words.

Erestor continued an unashamed perusal of his companion. Glorfindel had stormed into Imladris centuries ago. Accompanied by Olórin, he had literally burst into the Last Homely House, strode straight to Elrond and engulfed him in a lingering embrace. The startled look on Elrond’s face had amused Erestor for years. The normally stoic and controlled lord had been regaled by Glorfindel as he told many stories of Elrond’s grandparents and the two spoke for an entire night while Erestor watched. Obviously forgotten by Elrond, he had spent the time hungrily listening to stories of Valinor and Nevrast and Gondolin. That Glorfindel was as beautiful as the songs foretold also kept his rapt attention.

Glorfindel’s outspoken and bright personality only served to accentuate his glorious physical appearance; luxurious hair which seemed to have Anor’s rays tangled within, tall stature, and long legs that descended from firm, neat buttocks. Never had so many ellyn and ellith began attending to their appearance as when Glorfindel arrived in Imladris. The streets would bustle with activity when word passed that he was about. For his part, Erestor was not immune to Glorfindel’s charms and found himself engaged in endless mindless musings. For years he had blushed guiltily each time they met until he assured himself that his secret thoughts were just that.

Glorfindel, astute warrior, tactician, and rogue, seemed to have little clue or interest in his affect on others. It seemed the rumor of Glorfindel’s insatiable appetite for bed partners was highly exaggerated. Attention on him had waned when it became clear his affection was not given lightly and was bestowed on a rare few and only after a prolonged courting. Still, no one had permanently captured his heart, so Erestor’s hopeful longing continued though in his more melancholy moods it bordered on hopeless. Erestor knew, however, that he had an advantage; he was Glorfindel’s closest friend and frequent confidant. Through time he had realized his power at swaying Glorfindel’s mind on many subjects including those he courted. Several times he had purposefully turned Glorfindel’s mind away from various elleth for his own selfish purposes. His single failure, Lady Amlugeth as Glorfindel seemed intent on keeping this one elleth. He cautiously broached the subject.

“Of course, if you do not join the convoy to Lothlórien you will also have more time to spend with the Lady Amlugeth.”

A mysterious grin appeared upon Glorfindel’s face as he turned to Erestor. “Aye, this is true. She IS perfect, is she not?” His eyebrow rose.

Erestor hesitated on his response.

“Well, aye, she is perfect if that is what one looks for in a mate.” Taking a deep breath he attempted his next question with extraordinary nonchalance. “Will you bond with her, Glorfindel?”

Surprise, then suspicion played across Glorfindel’s face before he roared out a laugh. Shaking his head, he answered, “You already know the answer to that question, Erestor!” And he started chortling again.

Shrieks from down the lawn forced their attention back to the elflings. They chased several large green frogs that were hopping erratically through the grass. The twins squealed each time one leapt high. Little Erestor followed too, lips moving in what had to be another song, his back stooped and his arms extended before him as he crept along trying to capture the leaping creatures. The ball was nowhere in sight.

Glorfindel, ever impatient when his orders were not followed, went charging down the lawn, yelling as he went. Powerful legs propelled him forward and Erestor felt a lick of heat coil inside him as he watched the commanding play of muscles. His lust quickly turned to mirth as Glorfindel, in a rare moment of irretrievable dignity, lost his footing. Water droplets sprayed as his feet flew up and he fell, with a dull thud, on his backside. His momentum caused him to skid across the grass and not once did his bellowing cease. Apparently small puddles of water remained from last night’s rain. Glorfindel’s legs kicked a few more times before, with grace refound, he lithely sprang to his feet. Surprised by the sight, Erestor could not squelch the bark of laughter that escaped. He was absurdly charmed by this inept display from his normally agile friend. The elflings, absorbed in their own pursuits, ignored the outburst completely.

Erestor, covered his mouth to hide his continuing smile, and calmly walked down the lawn. He gathered the elflings to him as the frogs leapt away to safety. Glorfindel swiped at his leggings and lifted his tunic high while wringing out the water. The exposed patch of white, smooth, perfect skin beckoned to Erestor, and his mouth watered to taste that mysterious flesh. Glorfindel mumbled unknown words under his breath and threw dark looks at Erestor. Still grinning broadly, Erestor shook himself from his musings, ignored Glorfindel’s mood, and herded the elflings back to the chairs as the twins prattled on excitedly about the frogs. Little Erestor kept turning back as if yearning for one last glimpse of his escaped prey.

Erestor spied Glorfindel as he slipped through the trees obviously headed for the small arm of the Bruinen which surely held the aforementioned bottle of wine. Taking this opportunity he directed the elflings to move the chairs under the shade of a nearby copse of trees. Immediately after doing so and without prompting the elflings laid down. It warmed Erestor’s heart to see the three huddled so close together and in a short moment all were asleep. As if on cue, Glorfindel reappeared, still muddy and grimy from his fall, but now a wide grin split his face.

As Glorfindel seated himself and proceeded to open the chilled wine, Erestor once again reflected on their friendship and his desire. But his thoughts were momentarily waylaid, and he swallowed hard as Glorfindel lifted the bottle to what Erestor had long ago dubbed the most desirable mouth in Middle Earth. The spell was momentarily broken when he smacked his lips, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and passed the carafe. Erestor blushed as their fingers touched and quickly brought the bottle to his own lips. He casually glanced around the decanter, appreciating the lazy sprawl of Glorfindel’s beautiful body, and the easy hardness sent a secret thrill through him.

For years he had weaved more than his fare share of erotic visions about Glorfindel, and sometimes when he was in a wicked mood he rehearsed what he would say if he had the nerve.* Good day, Glorfindel. At night I dream of possessing you completely. Shall we make my dreams a reality?*

Or when his thoughts became wild he imagined saying. *When I think on you, Glorfindel, I find I cannot cease touching myself and bring myself to completion while screaming your name.*

Or when his fantasies bordered on the romantic, he envisioned himself on bended knee plighting his troth or writing flattering poetry.

A wide grin of sly delight spread across his face as he thought on these fantastical moments and Glorfindel cocked his head questioningly as he took the wine from Erestor. Having no head for wine on a good day, Erestor relaxed into his seat, enjoyed the easy camaraderie and the excitement of a friendship still between them, content that Glorfindel had no means of discerning where his thoughts took him. Still he was grateful that the afternoon was spent in mostly companionable silence as he rarely trusted his tongue when in this state.
Entry: 2008 Glorestor Challenge
Dedicated: To Patricia “slayer9649”, rescuer of orphans.
Author’s Note: A huge thank you to the “Tale Spinners”, Ezimachia and Svengalliedhare, for unwavering support and advice. Svengalliedhare, with whom I proudly share 25% of my genes, wrote all the songs in this story with edits by me. ***Except for the first and last sections this entire story is from Erestor’s POV

Chapter 3

“Little Erestor! Come quickly or we will be tardy for the performance.”

Erestor bustled around their sitting room, completing his preparations. Imladris had been in a frenzy since the arrival of four wandering minstrels. Little Erestor had not slept a full night since he learned of their upcoming appearance, and once they arrived he had not stopped singing. His humming and singing and whistling had increased in amount and volume until, annoyed, Erestor had unthinkingly ordered him to cease. A look of pure pain had crossed Little Erestor’s face before he stomped away. Instead of immediately following him to apologize and still frequently at a loss on how to handle his small charge, he had ruminated on what he would say. Time ran swiftly while he thought on his problem and now the show began at half the hour. He knew he must coax the elfling from his room, for Little Erestor would never forgive him if he allowed this tantrum to interfere with his overwhelming desire to see the troubadours.

Erestor called out for the child again and again while he knocked on his door. His persistence was rewarded when Little Erestor hesitantly emerged from his room. His mouth was set in a full pout and he was clearly still upset.

Erestor would have to settle for a quick apology now, and later if necessary, they would speak further. “I am sorry, pen dithen. Your singing is beautiful and I apologize for shouting at you. It was very unfair of me, and I ask that you sing or hum or whistle whenever the mood suits you. Can you forgive me?”

Little Erestor looked up. Still no smile, but he nodded his head. It disheartened Erestor that his little one could not find reasons for ongoing happiness. He berated himself for his angry admonition. The child loved to sing, and he would not stifle this one bright spot in Little Erestor’s life. Tonight’s performance might be just what he needed to lift his spirits.

“If we do not hurry we will be late and all the best seats will be taken. Let us depart quickly,” he urged as he grasped Little Erestor’s shoulders and guided him out of their quarters.

A steady stream of elves filed into the Hall of Fire. The ever present fire pit radiated warmth and welcome from the middle of the room, and the wood-scented smoke wafted up to the rafters and beyond. The flames danced in brilliant shocking colors; bright reds dominated before being chased away by dazzling blues which were swallowed by greens and yellows in a blinding swirl! It popped and sizzled as specially dyed rocks burned in the heat. The audience gasped and exclaimed as the fire’s ever changing dance caught their imagination. Spectacularly garish swatches of plush velvets and satiny silks draped the walls and the ceiling in no recognizable pattern. Though he could not understand how, he had been told this would improve the sound quality of the performance.

In the background, rising above the din of voices, some unknown instrument beat out a prominent single note in a steady staccato pattern. Without realizing it, the audience moved and talked in cadence with this beat until they were, as a group, one. A thrum of excitement danced along Erestor’s skin and he felt himself drawn into the magic of the upcoming performance. He heard Little Erestor’s sharp intake of breath, felt his body relax, and knew that the ever-absent smile must finally be playing itself across his face.

Erestor laughed as the elfling jerked out of his grip and raced for the twins. The three had become inseparable and together were creating havoc amongst the population. Each day reprimands had been dealt out to Elladan and Little Erestor and occasionally Elrohir. Still, the social aspect of having friends his own age had stayed Erestor’s hand in breaking up the trio. Even now he could hear their excited voices above the noise as they chattered away about this evening and pushed their way through the throng. Heedless of other tongues raised in protest, they efficiently sliced their way through the crowd and none made to halt their progress. Squeezing themselves between already seated elves, the three plopped on the floor, front row center. Effortlessly they had secured the best seats in the Hall.

Smiling and shaking his head Erestor found his own place well back against a wall but with a clear view of his charge. He scanned the attendees in search of a golden head of hair. Glorfindel and the perfect Lady Amlugeth occupied seats to the right of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían. In a moment of unforced synchronicity their eyes met across the room and Glorfindel raised his hand in welcome. Erestor had a stronger reaction to seeing Glorfindel’s hand, hard and competent, beckoning him to join them. But, as he made a move to rise, the Lady Amlugeth turned to see who had caught Glorfindel’s attention. She rooted Erestor to the spot with a glare so full of venom that he slid back down the wall into a sitting position.

Saved a confrontation by the beginnings of a thunderous applause, he gratefully turned his attention to the four bards who entered the Hall and climbed onto the small, raised dais. Their gaudy, pied costumes, studded with multi-colored gems sparkled brilliantly against the backdrop of a hundred sparkling candles. One carried a large potted instrument with a taut surface that appeared to be a stretched skin. From this odd instrument came the slow steady metered beat. The others had stringed instruments of varying size.

They were a unique combination of elves and humans. The two elves, Taliesin and Aneirin, both Noldor, with raven hair and green eyes, were barely taller than most elflings and as slender as young willow trees. They moved with an unnatural grace, even for the Firstborn, and their smooth voices had entranced Erestor immediately. The two humans, Dafydd Gwilym and Iolo, were an exercise in contrasts. Where Dafydd was quiet, Iolo was coarse and loud, where Dafydd was tall, Iolo was short, where Dafydd was round, Iolo was significantly rounder!

Erestor, face hot with remembered embarrassment, focused on the four musicians whom he had not seen since their entrance in Imladris. Upon their arrival, he had met, welcomed, and escorted them to his office to conduct business. All four had quick smiles, however, and even quicker tongues, and Erestor had swiftly found himself outmatched as well as outnumbered. A bottle of strong wine had appeared and with dizzying speed Erestor had found himself hard, flushed, and removed of his robe. Hands soft yet demanding had stroked and cajoled and he recalled willing participation as he reached out in kind. An unwelcome rescue had come in the form of Glorfindel. Erestor could not remember exactly what had occurred, only a blurry whirlwind of blond hair and jumbled shouts of outrage and pain, and then nothing. The next morning he had awoken, alone with a nasty headache and his insistently erect cock. Unfortunately, Erestor did fearfully recollect brief moments after his friend’s intervention; leaning on Glorfindel, whispering unknown words into Glorfindel’s ear, pulling Glorfindel down upon his bed.

Now it was three days later and his face was still red.

He had been warned of the bard’s reputations. For the last ten years the four had presented a show that demanded viewing. Initially, just the odd mix of two elves and two humans performing together was enough to draw a large crowd of onlookers; however, as word of their striking entertainment spread, more attended for the music and the showmanship. Erestor had petitioned them for years and finally secured, for an outrageous price, two shows.

Only after he crowed long and loud about this success did he begin hearing the more base rumors concerning the four. There was, it seemed, much talk of their unusual relationships with each other and anyone they could tempt into their rooms, their disruptive behavior in pubs and baths, their destructive antics when too much wine or ale was consumed, and one toe-curling episode involving King Thranduil that Erestor refused to believe.

Erestor set into play many precautions, upon hearing these tales, and had personally trained four of his assistants in their temporary role as esquires for the four troubadours. Only once did he suspect that his plan had failed but when he inquired of Assistant Meneltin regarding his unusual side-shuffling gait, Meneltin had easily explained it away as too much time on horseback. It seemed the four bards loathed walking and rode from place to place even if the distance was short. Erestor let the incident pass without further inquiry as his assistants had done a superb job in managing the peace in Imladris. And secretly he was a bit jealous of the possible joys Meneltin might have found at the hands of the bards. He was also suspicious that Glorfindel had exerted some influence on this peace, but he was silent on the subject and Erestor had no desire to speak of that night.

Peaceful would not now describe Imladris. Every child was on their feet clamoring for a better view, waving their hands at the performers, and a few emitted ear splitting screeches upon being noticed by one of the bards. The musicians smiled patiently, tuning and strumming their instruments until the Hall quieted enough to begin the first song. The cadence of the potted instrument never ceased.

They knew their audience well and began with a collection of children’s songs. The bards encouraged all to sing along, and voices, old and young, lifted up the melodies of childhoods long gone or those newly entered. Even Erestor could not help but hum along for he could never recall all the words but the tune never failed him. He swayed with the crowd, lost himself in recalling his childhood, as each song brought back the pleasant memories of home, his naneth sewing a favorite tunic, his ada teaching him to wield a sword, his gaggle of siblings all snuggled together in front of the fire as ada read some exciting story.

Erestor blinked back to the present as the last stanza ended and the crowd erupted with good natured applause. Those recollections that brought him comfort were the very memories that would haunt Little Erestor. His family, whoever they might be, had been snatched away by the brutality of nature. He turned his attention to Little Erestor who, though presenting a serious face seemed to be enjoying himself as he chattered away between each song. When a new tune began he would jump to his feet, latch his arms across the shoulders of each twin, and the three would sway to and fro mimicking the beat as they crooned out the choruses.

The performers regaled them with a variety of refrains and flirtatiously included ribald songs so cleverly evasive that their innuendo was lost on the innocent. The moments made even more amusing as the adults snickered at the hidden humor while the elflings exchanged confused looks.

They quieted when a particularly poignant and moving ballad began retelling the deception of the jewel-smiths of Eregion. The sharp melancholic chords emoted the evil influence of Sauron and his smooth ensnarement of the jewel-smiths. The soft lyrics were purposefully light and gay representing their purity. So painful was the collective memory of the deception that it forced a hush across the gathered elves. And then, a diminutive but conspicuous voice rose above the performers. Its lines clean with no waver or shrill as the voice blossomed and filled the Hall. It delicately touched the high notes with effortless ease and sustained each to the end with breathless clarity, until even the bards were merely accompanying the inspired singer with their strings. The voice, a heart-rending reminder of innocence present but unwittingly forfeited amidst the tragic story. At the end, the last note echoed off the high ceilings, cascaded down, and tenderly touched all those in audience and forced a sob from Erestor’s chest.

Little Erestor stood, at the front of the crowd his back to them, his face tilted upwards, and his arms reaching skyward lost in his world of song. All eyes were upon him as his small throat emitted the final note. It was not until the first hesitant claps began that he opened his eyes, turned, and surveyed the room. As the applause turned to a deafening roar, Little Erestor blushed a deep red and quickly huddled between Elladan and Elrohir. The twins embraced him in their arms and heads down they exchanged unknown words.

The remainder of the performance was lost on Erestor. He instead found his eyes trained only on Little Erestor while he sat entranced by the singers. His charge’s eyes never wavered even when Elladan, obviously tired of sitting still, started pulling on his braid, playfully punching and pushing him. He ignored him long enough that Elladan, defeated, placed his head on Little Erestor’s shoulder and appeared to drift to slumber. Claimed by sleep long before, Elrohir’s head already rested in Little Erestor’s lap.
All too soon the entertainment ended, and Erestor went to retrieve Little Erestor who had run for the stage as Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían carried off the sleeping twins. Erestor caught glimpses of him standing at the side of the platform, shy-faced and nervously wringing his hands while his eyes glittered with excitement. He was obviously hoping for a moment with the bards and as Erestor finally made it to his side so did the bard Aneirin, who leaned down to speak with Little Erestor.

Erestor nervously grinned as Aneirin, who had obviously caught Little Erestor’s pungent aroma, quickly schooled his face and moved a respectable distance away. Little Erestor, who did not notice the minstrel’s distress, was prattling away asking questions about their work as performers.

“Counselor Erestor, are you his ada?” Aneirin asked, interrupting the babbling.

“Nay, but he is under my tutelage. Is he not an inspired singer?” Erestor smiled down at Little Erestor and placed an arm around his shoulder.

“We are agreed in this, Counselor. His voice is as sweet and clear as the Bruinen run new from its source. His talent is evident, and I counsel you to encourage him. When he is of age we would gladly take him on as a student.”

Erestor shot a stern look at Aneirin. Surely the bard realized he remembered their first night in Imladris. “We shall see. He is young yet and may find some other suitable profession.” Erestor looked at Little Erestor in time to see a fleeting expression that clearly stated Never!!

“Please pass my gratitude onto Taliesin, Dafydd Gwilym and Iolo. Your performance was most excellent, and we welcome you back in Imladris anytime. I will see you tomorrow and we will conclude our payments. A pleasant eve to you.” With a small nod of departure Erestor gently dragged Little Erestor away from the stage. His heart leapt with joy when Little Erestor turned to him with a rare smile before bounding off for their rooms.
~oOo~

Erestor surreptitiously parted the curtains and gazed out. Another perfect day graced the valley and a vision of loveliness stood right outside his window. Anor was at mid-sky and its glaring brilliance reflected in the glint off the polished sword hanging from Glorfindel’s belt. The belt which also encircled his perfectly trim waist just above… Nay, he could not afford distractions this afternoon as he had an extremely important briefing to conclude.

Erestor reluctantly drew his eyes upward and focused on the two elflings locked in fierce combat, their sticks, shaped like swords but with no points and no sharp edges, knocked against each other violently. It was an awkward battle, showcasing their inexperience and over aggressiveness. The hot days of summer had brought with it an appearance of the fiery temper possessed by Little Erestor. The child’s anger boiled ever near the surface and Erestor now spent more time reprimanding him than teaching him. It seemed there was no end to his fury. He shouted and fought every edict. The quiet lost elfling of four months ago had found his voice on the night of the bard’s performance and he insisted on being heard by everyone near and far though his wrath seemed particularly concentrated on Erestor.

Elladan and Little Erestor grunted with the effort of the fight. Their serious faces reflected the concentration they were putting towards its end. Both headstrong and willful they were evenly matched in their competition and it was clear that neither accepted losing as an option.

Erestor smiled with hopeful relief. This was exactly what Little Erestor needed, an activity to quell and channel some of his ever present temper and frustrations. Erestor was grateful to Glorfindel for inviting Little Erestor to the twin’s private sword play sessions even though the three constantly bickered. And their frequent squabbles were quite literally pushing Glorfindel to the edge of madness; yet he refused to confess his defeat and continued their lessons.

He thought in amusement of the time not long ago when the elflings were involved in yet another dispute regarding, of all things, apples. All three had emphatically brandished their dull paring knives wildly, talking over one another, in a confused and heated attempt at swaying the others to their position. Little Erestor had sworn every apple should be eaten whole. Elladan had demanded that all must peel their apples while Elrohir had staunchly defended his position that all apples must be cut into quarters and all the seeds painstakingly removed before they were consumed.

He and Glorfindel had watched in amazed amusement exchanging smiles or commenting on a particularly well thought out argument by one of the elflings. Glorfindel, finally tiring of the monotonous battle had looked at Erestor with a weary face but mischievously glinting eyes. He had fingered his blade and with all sincerity said, “It would take but one swipe of this sword Erestor and…snick! Three little heads would roll. All this noise banished with small effort.”

Glorfindel had then leaned back in a fake swoon, back of his hand against his forehead and continued. “And, as I am still quite delicate from my perilous journey from the Halls I would take no blame. Imagine how quiet our days would be and, of course, the ellith would flock around me, fluttering and fawning over another tragic occurrence in my life.”

For a single heartbeat Erestor was convinced that Glorfindel would do exactly as he said. He had borne witness to countless moments where Glorfindel’s black moods raised their ugly heads, and though they had lessened as the years passed, they still appeared irregularly. He was unsure if this might be one of those moments. But then the spell was broken when Glorfindel tilted back his head and released a giant roar of laughter. He continued his outburst until even the elflings could not ignore it, and their verbal sparring came to a sudden halt.

Erestor grinned again as he remembered the looks on the young one’s faces. Their argument forgotten, they stared slack-jawed at Glorfindel, their eyes darting to each other as if for support of what they were witnessing. And then their feet started to shuffle. Elrohir was the first to bolt with Elladan strong on his heels. Little Erestor, however, stood firm, transfixed by the scene, and looked upon Glorfindel with such wonder and kinship. It was clear that he understood Glorfindel’s momentary madness.

A cry wafted up from the court, cutting short his ruminations. Little Erestor gripped his right elbow, his face red as he shouted at Elladan.

“You hurt me!”

“I did not! And anyway it was your fault. You dropped your shoulder,” came the quick retort.

“You did that on purpose, you maggoty orc!”

Elladan, face contorted in fiery indignation, poked a small finger at Little Erestor as he yelled, “At least I do not smell like a balrog! I hate sparring with you because you stink! Each time you raise your arms I smell rotten eggs!”

Little Erestor screamed out a sound, so wicked in pitch that Erestor knew even Morgoth would have cringed at the intonation. Then he launched himself straight into Elladan’s midsection. The momentum landed them hard on the earth. Small fists flew, legs kicked, and colorfully descriptive invectives filled the air as the two tussled on the dusty ground. Elrohir stood rooted to the spot his eyes wide as dinner plates. Glorfindel’s hand twitched towards his sword before he reached down grabbed both elflings by the scruff of their tunics and hauled them upward.

Full of sighs these days, Erestor let another fill the air as he turned from the window and sat back down at his desk. There was work to be done yet his mind was still on his elfling. He was continually at a loss on how to deal with these outbursts or Little Erestor’s filthiness. No matter what tactic attempted he fought being washed. The fear was complete, irrational and unrelenting. Erestor had tried coaxing with soothing words. He had tried bribes. He had tried treats, and he had even tried reasoning. Congratulating himself on the brilliant idea he had sent Little Erestor to gather three plants of equal size and kind from the hot house. Together they oversaw a small exercise; not watering one plant, over watering another, and only moistening the soil of one. Little Erestor was convinced that both plants receiving any water would die. When the outcome showed that the only surviving plant was the one moderately watered, he had accused Erestor of switching the plants when he was not looking. All avenues explored, there was nothing more he could do and feared harming the elfling if he forced a bath. Even more appalling were the unsolicited suggestions he received. One outrageous written proposal, covertly slipped under his door, directed him to drug Little Erestor with a mild sedative so he could be washed. His horror over the recommendation had changed to curiosity as time passed, however. And now so desperate was the situation that he seriously considered speaking to Lord Elrond for a dram.

He had not time to pick up his quill before the wail of screaming, faint at first, but growing ever stronger and clearer heralded the end of his workday. Quickly, the cacophony arrived at his threshold when an obviously furious Glorfindel, flung the door wide, ripping the sturdy door off one hinge. He stomped into the office holding the source of the ear splitting screams, Little Erestor. Striding to the desk, he bent down next to Erestor nose to nose.

“Erestor! Get up, now! Move!” Then he pivoted on his heels and stalked out of the office.

Momentarily stunned, Erestor shot out of his chair and darted after Glorfindel, who was already bounding up the stairs shouting orders to every elf he saw.

Left well behind by Glorfindel’s anger-fueled strides, Erestor followed their echoed shouts to his rooms and into the bathing chamber. By the time he arrived, Little Erestor stood naked in the bathing pool with both arms stretched high above and held firmly by Glorfindel. A steady stream of elves arrived with pails and kettles and pans of water and Little Erestor screeched louder as each bucketful was dumped into the pool.

Glorfindel’s enraged expression greeted him upon entry though he spoke to Little Erestor.

“You will be washed so there is no need to continue this racket!”

“No. No water! I hate water. You are trying to kill me!” The child’s voice was ragged with stress and he fought to free his hands from the iron grip.

Erestor quickly disrobed and entered the bathing pool. Intent on soothing, he was unprepared for the small foot that lashed out striking him fully in the chest. With a whoosh of escaping breath he fell back.

Quickly Glorfindel loosened his hold causing Little Erestor to sink further into the water. The little foot was hurriedly placed back on the bottom of the pool as he desperately rose from the water.

As the steady input of water raised the level to mid-thigh, Glorfindel ordered a stop, sent one elf off to burn all Little Erestor’s bedding and clothing and the others back to their duties.

Erestor, rubbing his chest, moved closer for another try with Little Erestor, but the elfling was beyond coaxing. His cried hysterically and twisted in Glorfindel’s grip not daring to lift either foot from the bottom of the pool but still anxious to escape.

“Erestor, quickly now. Grab soap, a cloth, and swiftly clean him. There will be no comfort for him until we release him from this bath.”

He nodded his agreement and reached for the nearest bottle and flannel. Cautiously he moved in and quickly soaped Little Erestor from face to foot. He felt ridiculous and inadequate as he mimicked all the appeasing noises his naneth once made for him when he was young and upset. Little Erestor heard him not but continued his fear-laden cries for he truly believed he was being harmed. Erestor knew he had put off this confrontation for too long. He must find a way to convince the elfling that water, if respected, was nothing to fear.

Quickly he washed off the soap, Little Erestor screamed each time Erestor sluiced water on his body.

“His hair, Glorfindel! We cannot clean it while he is standing. I fear if water is poured down his face we will lose him from fright.”

Wordlessly Glorfindel agreed and lifted Little Erestor up by his hands and out of the bathing pool. Swiftly, and before the elfling had time to react, he grabbed him around the arms and tilted his head over the edge of the pool. Little Erestor’s cries were now little more than pitiful, hoarse moans.

Erestor squeaked his own dismay when he saw minute many-legged creatures struggling in the grimy brine. They had come from Little Erestor’s hair, which now floated in the water. Hundreds more filled the pool and he berated himself again for letting Little Erestor fall into such a filthy state. While he hastily soaped and rinsed the locks a tiny droplet escaped into Little Erestor’s eye, and the elfling let out such a tortured howl stories from the dark days of the past played through Erestor’s mind.

Finally Little Erestor’s hair was clean and Glorfindel lifted him fully out of the water and held him tight. Erestor left the dirt-filled pool and rushed for a clean flannel casting fearful glances over to where Glorfindel held the shivering elfling. Little Erestor was silent now and though he had loudly voiced his fear his eyes were still dry.

Little Erestor had not held his feet long after being released from the bath and now lay limp and lifeless across Glorfindel’s lap. His eyes unfocused and glazed with sleep while both Erestor and Glorfindel vigorously toweled him dry. Laying him in the newly made bed, Erestor hovered above Little Erestor sweeping damp tendrils of hair from his face before tucking a blanket firmly around him.

A hand placed softly on his shoulder, squeezed its comfort, before a warm breath whispered words into his ear. “I suspect he will sleep through the night.”

“Aye, he is exhausted from fright.” Erestor quickly exited to the living area, away from the succor of Glorfindel’s concern, and proceeded to dress. “I must do something for him, but I have no answers. How is this possible? I am chief counselor to Lord Elrond and yet I am stumped by one small elfling. I am powerless to sway his mind or his actions!”

A quick look of disbelief crossed Glorfindel’s face. “Were you not a fledgling counselor? I was there and I witnessed your growth. You were also shy and timid, but as your knowledge increased and you acquired experience you became bold. And now…” Glorfindel grew more serious. “Your reputation is such that none dare oppose you.”

Erestor snorted at that and felt some of his tension ease away. “It is a pity that Little Erestor does not respect my reputation! Of course, neither do you, Glorfindel, for I recall many sessions where you purposefully goaded me into an outburst.”

“Not I! You have me confused with some other devastatingly gorgeous elf.”

“Smooth-tongued rogue.” Shot back Erestor, his own barely controlled hysteria caused his tongue to loosen and he remembered the taunting names Little Erestor and Elladan had shouted at each other as they fought.

“Firedrake droppings!”

Erestor’s eyebrows shot up at the insult. Obviously Glorfindel remembered the colorful sayings as well.

“Hairy spawn of Ungoliant!”

“Goblin snot!”

“Whore of Morgoth!”

“Berg of Helcaraxë!”

For one short moment they both paused. Erestor saw the same worried expression mirrored on Glorfindel’s face, for both had heard rumors of each that bore resemblance to the insults. And then a small smile appeared on Glorfindel’s face, Erestor mimicked the grin, which turned into laughs, and then they roared. Once their hysterical outburst concluded they stood gasping and clutching at each other in their struggle to stay upright. As they wiped their eyes of tears they both agreed that the elflings had stumbled onto a wonderfully cathartic release.

With a final look in at the peacefully sleeping elfling, Glorfindel dragged Erestor off for a much needed dinner.

Chapter 4

A guffaw of laughter erupted from the twins causing Erestor to glance up from his meal. Standing in the doorway was Little Erestor, or what appeared to be Little Erestor. His once glorious long dark hair had been hacked off into various scraggy lengths. In several areas, the hair was cut away down to his scalp where small bloody cuts were speckled brightly on the background of shiny white skin and tiny rivulets of blood ran from his skull down his face and neck. Little Erestor was dressed in a dark tunic and leggings that belonged to Erestor. They drooped on his small body but were efficiently rolled up to allow free movement. He stood with his legs spread in an aggressive stance, his eyes wide and wild; his mouth split into a parody of a grin displaying teeth stained a brilliant shade of red, and his left hand slowly dripped blood onto the floor. Erestor continued to stare, dumbfounded, while Little Erestor brought his left hand up to his mouth and sucked at the small wound there.

Erestor turned away and glanced at Lord Elrond, who quickly avoided his gaze and shielded a grin behind a raised hand. Erestor gazed at Glorfindel who looked upon him with a lazy smirk on his face. Then Glorfindel dragged both of their eyes down to his hand which was gently stroking the hilt of his sword before looking back up at Erestor with a questioning stare. Erestor sighed. There would be no assistance from either of his friends.

He turned back to the elfling. This was no Little Erestor; this was Little Morgoth. His once timid shadow had turned into a monstrous nightmare. Erestor put on his most stern face, stood, walked towards the child and grabbed his uninjured right hand. Little Erestor immediately went slack and fell to the ground.

Erestor insistently tugged on Little Erestor’s arm. “We are returning to our rooms. Stand at once!”

“No! I am hungry! Release my hand!”

The vision of Glorfindel stroking his sword was such an appealing picture at this moment, but Erestor realized the delicacy of Little Erestor’s emotions. He must handle this situation carefully and privately. To avoid further public confrontations, he lifted him from the ground. He struggled a bit, but Little Erestor did not again verbally challenge him. Instead he lay still in his arms with a fierce anger radiating from his face as he stared at Erestor with a challenging look. As he carried him away, Little Erestor calmly began wiping his still bleeding hand on Erestor’s robe.

He refused to be baited by the actions. Instead he peered straight forward and calmed his own rising ire. This robe, he told himself, could be cleaned, yet words or actions hastily revealed would lead to nothing but recriminations. No matter that the robe had been purchased because Glorfindel had made an off-handed remark that this particular color of blue offset his eyes so well. No matter that each time he wore this particular robe Glorfindel complimented him. Nay, this robe meant nothing to him and could be replaced if necessary.

The journey to their rooms, which normally seemed so short, lengthened and was as laborious as a day in conference with a contingency from Mirkwood. Erestor finally arrived at their door and entered, breathing heavy. He valiantly attempted to ignore the sticky blood that seeped through his robe in the numerous spots where Little Erestor had rubbed his injured hand over and over.

Gently he sat Little Erestor on the side of the bed and watched as he fell back, his hand still oozing, and now staining the bedcover, the bedcover he had specially made by a weaver in Lindon. His eyebrows knitted together expressing his consternation, but otherwise he dared show no outward signs of provocation. He could see the sly sideways glances Little Erestor shot in his direction.

Instead he marched into the bathing room for supplies to clean and tend to the nicks in Little Erestor’s hand and on his scalp. Erestor was grateful that the child remained still and allowed him to clean the wounds and bind his hand without incident; however, where his body remained settled his mouth found reason to open.

“Are you not fond of your robes, Big Erestor?” he queried.

“Aye, I am quite fond of them.”

“Are you not angry with me? There is blood all over this one.” Little Erestor reached out and fingered the numerous red blotches to emphasize his point.

Erestor turned a bland eye upon him. “I have many robes Little Erestor; do not trouble yourself about this one. I can replace it many times over.”

Little Erestor’s mouth turned downward into a small pout and Erestor could practically hear the workings of Little Erestor’s mind as he sought his next attack. And then a small grin returned as he saw Little Erestor spy the damage he had done to the bedcover.

“You love this bedcover, Big Erestor. I heard you once, in a dream, inviting Glorfindel to lay on your beautiful bedcover. Now you cannot show it to him.” A devious glint shone from Little Erestor’s eyes as he said these words.

Erestor turned quickly away. A direct hit, scored to Erestor’s heart, which he could see fluttering his robes in its attempt to escape his chest. Surely Little Erestor was much too young to understand the implications of his words, though spending time with Elladan and Elrohir had most definitely matured him in many ways. He took in a deep breath and saw his knife. The breath stuck in his throat. The blade was covered with blood, slivers of skin, and bits of hair. Erestor stood and retrieved it.

Moving back to the bedside, Erestor knelt beside Little Erestor and pulled him up into a sitting position.

“This,” Erestor held up the knife and continued with a firm voice, “is not your knife. You are never to touch it or any that look like it. You are never to use any blades other than the ones laid out for use with food. You are also never to handle any weapons unless given permission by me or Glorfindel. Do you understand?”

Little Erestor continued to stare straight ahead not acknowledging Erestor’s directive or question.

“Do you understand?” Erestor said again with more force.

Silence greeted him once more.

Erestor calmly laid down the knife, placed his hands on either side of Little Erestor’s face, and turned it toward him.

“Do you understand?”

A transformation from calm to fury occurred before Erestor’s eyes and the screaming words hit him full force.

“Yes I understand! I understand that you are a mean and nasty elf, and I hate you Big Erestor! Everyone hates you!” Little Erestor slapped his hands away.

He reeled back from the response. The venomous words affected him more than they should. He knew he was not universally loved yet knew he was not hated. These careless words from the mouth of an elfling should not be heeded, still they stung in their intensity and told especially how Little Erestor felt about him.

Reaching out a hand which was steadier than he felt, he caressed the side of Little Erestor’s face, and spoke words he only now realized he truly meant.

“Your words sadden me, Little Erestor, for I care a great deal about you. How others feel bothers me not, but you…” he hesitated. “It is my hope that someday you will grow to care for me too. For now you will sit in a chair in the corner and reflect on what has occurred. You will heed my words and think on them for I shall not accept a repeat of today’s actions.”

Erestor led him over to the corner and stood Little Erestor there while he went and retrieved his desk chair. Little Erestor looked at the chair with disdain but when silently ordered to sit, he climbed on slowly. With one last lingering pat on Little Erestor’s head he walked away.

Little Erestor sat very still. His back rigid and stiff against the chair and his legs, too short to bend over the edge of the seat, stuck straight out in front of him. His patchwork hair and ill-fitting clothing added to the illusion that he was a much used wooden doll thrown aside by a child outgrown of the toy.

Erestor’s hopes sank rapidly. It had been many months since Little Erestor had been found stranded in the water-soaked valley, singing quietly at the top of a tree, and staring off into the distance. Starved and orphaned, there had been little hope of his survival until he had awoken and clung to Erestor. Now he was a raging monster, defiant and foulmouthed. This outburst of self-mutilation seemed to foretell a darker problem. Or was this simply a means of acting out? Erestor shook his head. He did not know. Little Erestor, and his ever changing moods, was a mystery to him. Managing an elfling was completely outside his area of expertise and it was clear he was failing.

Glorfindel walked quietly into the room, stood next to him, and placed a comforting arm around his shoulders.

“You look awful,” Glorfindel whispered into his ear.

Even in his melancholy mood, Erestor had to struggle to maintain his poise denying the pleasure that Glorfindel’s touch always heralded. He leaned his head slightly toward Glorfindel, smiled sardonically and said, “Flatterer.”

The arm slipped down to his waist, tightened, and pulled him closer.

“Do not play folly with my words. You know well what I mean. Little Erestor and his temper is wearing you down. You need rest. Further, he,” Glorfindel nodded his head in Little Erestor’s direction, “is clearly asleep so there is no reason for you to stand here at attention and worry yourself. This situation will not be rectified in one evening.”

Glancing over to the corner, Erestor realized Glorfindel was correct. Little Erestor’s head was lolling well off to the side of his body, and he was in danger of tumbling from the chair.

Shaking himself loose from Glorfindel’s touch, Erestor turned to face his friend. “It is impossible! I am unable to keep my wits about me at all times and keep Little Erestor in my sights. He is but one elfling, yet I am utterly vexed.”

“This no mere elfling. He is special and needs more than any other child. Nay, do not recriminate yourself for what has occurred for we all know you are doing your best for him. There is an order to his madness and it may be that this incident has broken his temper. Now, I will take our little balrog into his sleeping room while you ready yourself for bed.”

But Erestor was once again lost in his thoughts and heard not Glorfindel’s comforting words. All encompassing was the crush of the situation he found himself in and the hopelessness of ever reaching Little Erestor. He was numb from today’s events and the enormous burden of Little Erestor’s well being had rendered him unable to concentrate on anything other than his failures.

Glorfindel nudged him firmly, brushed a hand down Erestor’s arm, and with his voice laced with exasperated concern said, “Erestor, please. Remove your clothing, settle into bed, and let me attend to Little Erestor while you rest.”

Startled from his thoughts by the gentle touches he quickly moved beyond Glorfindel’s reach. Especially now, Glorfindel’s beauty and easy manners were confusing him, so he hid, as always, behind sarcastic wit. “Why, Glorfindel, you are ever so forceful.” Erestor fluttered his eyelashes and blinked demurely even as a secret thrill shivered through him.

“Erestor,” Glorfindel growled out warningly.

Erestor answered him with an innocent smile, even though he knew Glorfindel’s patience was growing thin, and then he sighed for the thousandth time that day, before nodding his acquiescence. He was very tired and always grateful for Glorfindel’s mere presence. “As you wish.”

Erestor first stripped the ruined bedcover off his bed before moving towards his wardrobe. As he made ready for sleep he covertly watched Glorfindel easily scoop up Little Erestor and carry him off to his own room. Curious, he silently moved to the doorway and watched as Glorfindel efficiently re-clothed Little Erestor in sleeping trousers. When he noted that the activity awoke the elfling, Erestor shifted out of the doorway until he could peer in without being seen.

He saw Little Erestor stare at Glorfindel, unsure and confused, and then his face lit up into such a sweet, guileless smile that Erestor’s heart raced and his hopes soared. He had never seen such an open and pure look upon Little Erestor’s face as at this moment.

“Read me a story,” Little Erestor demanded, yawning and stretching as he sat up.

“Shall we continue the one from our last visit?” responded Glorfindel.

Erestor’s mouth dropped open and he raised a surprised eyebrow at that statement. When had Glorfindel read to Little Erestor?

“Yes, I want to hear more of Gondolin.”

Glorfindel sat on the floor, removed a small book which had been hidden under his tunic and pulled Little Erestor onto his lap. Little Erestor’s hand automatically reached back, latched onto a strand of Glorfindel’s blond hair, and started twirling it around his fingers. Erestor knew that this level of comfort, between the two, spoke of many such meetings. Glorfindel was playing the fraud! Twitching a hand near his sword each time Little Erestor was uncontrollable then, in secret, finding time to sit and read to the elfling.

Erestor was mesmerized, entranced, and admittedly jealous of this hidden relationship between his ward and his love. Glorfindel read snippets from the book, pointed out the pictures and added little stories of his own. Little Erestor chuckled when Glorfindel told of being accidentally stabbed in his buttock by an inadvertent sword strike from a drunken Ecthelion. The sound startled Erestor. This was the first time he had heard Little Erestor laugh from enjoyment! As inappropriate as the story was, the sound of laughter was music to his ears.

Glorfindel continued the tales, fascinating to Erestor, who could rarely cajole Glorfindel into telling stories of his life before his rebirth, until Little Erestor’s eyes glazed and took on a faraway look. Glorfindel gracefully stood with Little Erestor in his arms, placed a small kiss on his forehead, laid him down, and pulled the covers up to his chin.

The display of such tough tenderness rooted Erestor to the spot. Until, knowing he must move, or be discovered, he found his legs and soundlessly slipped into bed.

His attempt at feigned reverie was for naught, however, for when Glorfindel entered his room and shone the dim candlelight his way he heard a low chortle.

“It appears that, this night, sleep eludes all the inhabitants of these rooms. Why are you still awake?

Erestor sat up, stretched and swiped at his eyes, still hoping it would appear he had at least slept for awhile.

“I am restless and the sound of your voice interrupted my slumber.”

“Ah, so this is my fault? Well, so be it. If I am to blame then I must remedy the problem.”

With that statement, Glorfindel threw back the bed covers and started to climb into Erestor’s bed.

“What are you doing?” Erestor gaped at Glorfindel and pulled the covers up to his neck.

“Are my actions not obvious? I am going to read you a bedtime story.”

“Glorfindel. I am well beyond my majority and my parents reside in Valinor. I am not in need of another naneth. Further I see that you do not have a book to read me.”

“Be that as it may it is clear that tonight you need me.”

Not awaiting Erestor’s approval, Glorfindel jumped onto the bed, settled into a sitting position against the headboard and pulled Erestor back in between his spread legs. Erestor sat rigid against Glorfindel, closed his eyes and willed his errant shaft into submission, as he dutifully tried to ignore Glorfindel’s breath caressing his neck. He could not abide the nearness, though, could not find comfort in this awkward position. And so he squirmed and wiggled, and ran a hand around his neck swiping away the arousal he felt at each hot exhalation, until Glorfindel, annoyed with his actions grabbed and secured Erestor firmly against his chest.

“You are all bony elbows and knees Erestor. Sit still!”

So near to his desire, instead he was weary and strain thrummed through his body. He was feeling too many things at once addling his thoughts. Yet he relented and allowed himself to accept this favor Glorfindel offered, and the anxiety ebbed away until he slumped against Glorfindel. The arms felt wonderful around him, so strong, so familiar.

“Better?” Glorfindel asked and Erestor could hear the solicitude. He nodded unable to trust his voice.

In a hushed voice, Glorfindel murmured. “Aye, I have no book to read but there are tales I will tell and they are for your ears only, Erestor. For I shall reveal secrets only a few know, but as my closest friend it seems fitting that I trust you with them.

I have no siblings. My parents have no siblings and their parents were of the One Hundred Forty-Four. Great in stature yet small in number, I strayed from the adults in my life and learned early on the value of friendships with those more my age. I came upon Ecthelion one day, while exploring the woods near my home, and through him established myself in his tight circle of friends. Before long, I was not an outsider, but a leader amongst the group, and though we changed loyalties as readily as the night fades to day, then fades to night, we were all close. One week I may run with one and the next week it would be someone new or often we gathered as a group. We were wild and free with few responsibilities.” Glorfindel snickered. “Those were heady days indeed, Erestor.”

The laugh soon turned quiet, though, as Glorfindel tensed and forged on. It was clear that he was omitting the most violent part of the story. Still it was Glorfindel’s to tell, and it amused him. And he had no stomach for tales about the dark days of the kinslayings this eve.

“By unspoken agreement it was known that when we established Gondolin, both Ecthelion and I would head our own houses. A portion of Ecthelion’s family had survived the crossing and many of our group also declared loyalty to him. My house was populated almost entirely by friends. Few were close blood relation, but blood brothers we were through our own design. Even though our group split, we all toiled long to build our houses which were next to each other.”

Erestor interrupted, “That is no secret, Glorfindel.”

“True! Aye, that information is readily available in any history of Gondolin. However, how our Houses were named is not so well known.”

Curiosity piqued, Erestor asked, “That also seems obvious for each House had a name associated with your personal names. Is this not correct?”

Glorfindel chuckled again. “You are partially correct. As I mentioned before, I first came upon Ecthelion in the woods near our homes. He was quite fond of the trees and the small creatures living there and confessed to me that he found each day in the forest was a new adventure and endlessly fascinating. Because of this, if one desired a conversation with Ecthelion it was common knowledge that one needed to embark for the forest. He was also well known for watering the trees, shrubs and all variety of plants in the woods.”

Erestor surged away from Glorfindel and turned to face him. “Nay, Glorfindel! That is untrue!”

Glorfindel smirked then put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I swear upon all that I hold dear. He would loose his water wherever and whenever he desired. It was a well known fact, amongst our group, that Ecthelion, the Fountain, was quite appropriately named.”

Erestor shook his head and swayed with laughter as he turned and fell back against Glorfindel.

“What about your House of the Golden Flower?”

“Aye, I also had a reputation though not as amusing as Ecthelion’s. As a small elfling I developed an affinity for flowers. I would dig in the gardens with my nana, she would tell me the names of the flowers, and I would recite them back to her. I clearly remember the first time she cut the blooms from the plants and placed them in her basket. The horror at seeing my nana destroy those beautiful flowers sent me screaming from the garden. My ada found me hours later curled up and asleep in a field of wildflowers. He was very angry for I had disappeared quickly and they had searched for quite some time before finding me. But once found I remember my attempts at explaining to him my agony on seeing my nana kill a living thing. I had always been taught that all life was precious and we should feel pain at the death of anything. “

Glorfindel chuckled. “I still recall his face when he heard me speak those words, Erestor. He grew pale and frowned and looked anywhere but at me. And many years later, on recalling the incident, it became clear that he was searching for the right answer to my conundrum.”

Glorfindel ran his hands through Erestor’s hair, gentle fingers combing out the tangles. “Shall you guess the outcome?”

Erestor, his body tingling from the considerate touches, could only shake his head to the negative.

“He never did find the soothing words I needed to hear. As strong and intelligent as my ada was, he did not have all the answers. He could not explain the hypocritical stance we elves hold, that all life is precious, yet we take other’s lives to perpetuate our own. Imagine my surprise when I realized this. Once my shock faded and I realized my ada was not perfect, I found I loved him more. Our bond strengthened, for he was no longer on an unreachable pedestal but beside me struggling to make sense of our world. “

Erestor leaned into the strong capable hands that stroked his hair.

“You are a special friend, Glorfindel. Thank you. I know I do not have all the answers, and I never will; however, there is still one answer I must have.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“Why was your House named Golden Flower?”

“Did I omit that part of the story?”

Erestor shoved a playful elbow back at Glorfindel, “Aye, you did. Your mind is not aging gracefully.”

“Too true, my friend. Ah well. You see Erestor, ever since that day in the garden I have been a friend to all flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“Aye, I became a staunch protector and in my presence no one was allowed to pluck a flower from its stem. I was very vocal about this and quickly earned the name Golden Flower. I wore the name proudly even though my friends teased me unmercifully about this quirk. Still, they never dared harm a flower in my presence!”

“Did Ecthelion regularly water your flowers?”

“Erestor!” growled Glorfindel and pulled them both down the bed until they were prone.

“Glorfindel!” Erestor found himself on his side with Glorfindel tight behind him.

“You are as bad as an elfling. Too many questions and not enough silence. It is time for sleep.”

He tried, really tried, to fall asleep, but sleep was proving coy this evening, kept away by the immediacy of Glorfindel’s touch. And that touch was better now than it had been earlier with Glorfindel’s arms closed around him, pinned down by the weight behind him. The strength of Glorfindel scared and thrilled him to equal measure. Erestor closed his eyes and realized that despite all that had happened these past months, he was happy, unreasonably happy, wrapped within the protectiveness that was Glorfindel, breathing his musky scent. He opened his eyes and lay interrogating the dark but refused to let insecure thoughts cloud his current contentment for now he was sure of one thing. Glorfindel fit him as perfectly in bed as out of it.

Unsure when he had finally fallen to slumber, he awoke, with Glorfindel’s hand possessively draped over his belly, their legs intertwined, and all the covers tangled at the foot of the bed. Had he dreamed the soft kiss to his shoulder before he had faded to slumber? Erestor, startled by a sudden movement, realized it was not time to rise, yet Little Erestor stood by the bed rubbing sleep-filled eyes and looking lost.

Erestor smiled at the elfling whose own lips rose slightly. Was it possible that all was forgiven? Erestor opened his arms beckoning Little Erestor forward. He quickly scurried in and cuddled up to him. He smiled again, pulled Little Erestor close and reveled in the contact and the clean scent of him. This time he fell asleep completely surrounded by love. Glorfindel warm and strong at his back and the rough feel of Little Erestor’s crudely shorn head nestled below his chin. He never wanted to leave this bed for surely there was nothing more precious than what he had right here.

Chapter 5

Lazily he woke and blinked against the light streaming into the room. He was alone and grateful. Unsure how he would have dealt with Glorfindel and Little Erestor in the light of day, he now had time to gather his thoughts. He walked to the window and peeked out. Anor was past its zenith. Erestor knew he had slept well past mid-morning and considering the events of the prior day he was amazed at how utterly refreshed and peaceful he felt. If sleeping with Glorfindel had produced these results he would willingly do it more often.

Curiosity caused him to pause in his dressing, and he took the opportunity to search for Little Erestor’s discarded hair. The elfling had managed to cut off his beautiful locks yet there were no traces of its existence. After several minutes of hunting he gave up, quickly donned a loose tunic and leggings, and retrieved his knife. He would leave no more temptations. Exiting, he strode down the hall and entered Glorfindel’s quarters, where he deposited the knife in a trunk. He would later tell him of its presence.

The enticing aroma of bread and sweets reminded Erestor of the day. Today, the kitchen staff would be busy baking goods for the week and every baking day found Glorfindel hounding Cook for anything fresh from the oven. This was his weekly routine and he never varied from it unless he was away on border patrol. Knowing this, Erestor finished his search for Glorfindel and Little Erestor in the kitchens. Cook looked at him only long enough to point her big spoon to the eating nook tucked at the back of the room.

Erestor halted in his quest once he spied the four elflings three small, one very large squeezed around the tiny table. Three had long glorious locks; two dark, one blond, the fourth was completely bald. Glorfindel must have shorn off the rest of Little Erestor’s hair, for now his scalp was smooth and shiny though the cuts still shone a brilliant red.

Amazed, Erestor took in the scene. All was apparently forgiven between Elladan and Little Erestor as they sat cheek to cheek. Only time would tell how things stood between them. There was no talking as the four ate their thick slices of heavy cake covered with a layer of jam and pushed it down with large gulps of milk. But Erestor could feel the tension radiating from them and was amused by the three sets of short legs swinging excitedly under the table. He took in his fill of Glorfindel whose casual intimacy and graceful presence had tended yesterday’s wounds for both him and Little Erestor.

His presence was finally noticed when Elrohir squealed his name before turning to his companions and shouting in exasperation, “He is finally awake!”

“We can go now, Glorfindel!” screamed Elladan as bits of cake flew from his mouth, and he jumped from the bench. But quickly he sat when Glorfindel’s scowl found him.

“Guess what, Erestor? Even Little Erestor has agreed to come to the river for a swim!”

Little Erestor looked at him with wide solemn eyes, mouth bulging, jam coating his lips, and vigorously nodded his head in agreement.

Eyebrow raised in question, Erestor turned to the largest elfling, “Glorfindel?”

Glorfindel regarded him blandly before he winked and waved his cake-filled hand in greeting. “True. All of it. You had best eat now while we saddle the horses. Our elflings have been impatiently waiting for you to wake and they are quite ready. I believe if we delay much longer no elf in Imladris will be happy for these three have tested the patience of all whom they have encountered.”

Stuffing a last bite of cake into his mouth, Glorfindel grabbed several slices, and tucked a jar of preserves in the crook of his elbow, before noisily pushing his chair away from the table and rising. Elladan, Elrohir, and Little Erestor quickly stood and, at a nod from Glorfindel, raced away. Glorfindel sauntered along behind.

After gulping down a late lunch, Erestor headed for the stables and immediately heard his friend’s raised voice directing all activity. He never seemed as content as when he was ordering someone around. Upon entering, he was not surprised to see that preparations were complete and the three elflings sat upon their colts who danced nervously under their excited burdens. Glorfindel stood beside a dappled mare which he had readied for Erestor. Green apple held before him, he moved to the head of the horse and offered his bribe, along with whispers of more treats to come. Erestor was an able horseman, yet so rarely rode he felt it wise to increase the likelihood of an agreeable ride. Once the gift was accepted and being happily munched, Erestor impatiently moved Glorfindel aside, threw him a foul glare, and climbed upon the mare. He was perfectly capable of mounting a horse without assistance even though Glorfindel seemed to forget this quite often.

The horses stepped lively as they left the Last Homely House, and Glorfindel called for them to allow their steeds full rein as they galloped to the swimming area. Erestor remembered his surprise when he first took Little Erestor for training in managing a horse. He had thought to gradually introduce him to the creatures, but on their first day at the riding circle, Little Erestor had jumped onto a spirited yearling and deftly handled her around the enclosure. The stable master had watched and guided for only a short while before returning to his duties, leaving Erestor to wonder. His small charge had so obviously been well cared for and schooled in many subjects yet they could still find no one who knew his family. Now Erestor gazed upon the lithe form of Little Erestor confidently perched on the back of his colt. His bald head reflected the rays of Anor, his face a mask of concentration with a hint of satisfaction. Riding was one of his favorite activities but was reserved for those days when the child behaved and gave him no cause for reprimands.

They crossed the land swiftly, slowing to a walk when they navigated woods and stopping occasionally to allow their mounts a drink from the Bruinen, then loosing their reins again in the more open fields. Emerging from a final copse of trees, bright winged butterflies fluttered before them as they entered the meadow which surrounded the small pond they sought. The sight inspired the elflings into peals of laughter, and they spurred their mounts into action racing around and around the grassland. This area of Imladris was remote and seldom used by any of the other inhabitants thus affording a rare opportunity for them to let loose their unruly side without disturbing other elves. Still, Glorfindel shot after them, yelling and looking with dismay at the trampled wildflowers left in their path.

Erestor continued to move forward toward the water, and soon his traveling companions were back on task and joined him. Their excited chatter mixed with the sounds of bird calls and the shuffle of animals in the tall grasses. Ringing the meadow were trees, stately and fully-leaved, that swayed in the gentle wind while the meadow plants birthed floating seeds and winged insects with each breeze. Creatures, legged or not, moved or slithered into the water at their approach. His mare pranced, snorted, and threw her head but quieted once they reached a craggy outcropping near the pond.

Rocks lined the banks of the pool as it had once been a tributary of the Bruinen. But over time, the large river had moved and cleaved new paths through the earth, creating a considerable number of lakes. This moderately sized pond was ideal as the weathered stones made perfect ledges for perching in the sun or jumping off into the water. One side had a natural slope allowing easy access that began ankle deep and progressed to a depth no more than to the chest of an adult.

The twins jumped down and eagerly started shedding their clothing. Glorfindel, as was his wont, shouted once more.

“Elladan! Elrohir!”

They stopped immediately and, knowing their mistake, turned to care for their horses. Little Erestor dismounted more slowly, his gait hesitant as he eyed the water warily. His previous keen agreement to this venture was not now evident. Still he followed the twins and removed the bridle and saddle before brushing down his colt. Once finished, the three turned to Glorfindel, silently awaiting his leave to move to the pool. Elladan danced with impatience and Elrohir seemed interested in a newly found shiny pebble but continued to eye Glorfindel for release. Little Erestor stood frozen with trepidation. Glorfindel inspected the horses, running his hands over their entire bodies, and when satisfied he liberated them to roam the field before nodding his head.

In a flash, Elladan and Elrohir stripped and ran for the pool. With a loud whoop of joy, the two hurtled themselves off the highest rock. Up they came, sputtering and laughing, and started an immediate game of drown your brother. Their frenetic actions churned the pond from clear to murky. As they effortlessly skimmed across its surface, Erestor reflected that these two had always been at home in water and moved through it like otters, sleek and graceful. From an early age both were recklessly drawn to the river, and on two occasions had escaped their minders and trotted off for a swim. No mischief befell them however, for each time Glorfindel had appeared and plucked them from harm’s way. Some special Valar created bond existed between his friend and the twins, this was clear. And for his actions Glorfindel was more a hero to Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían for these rescues than for his glorious history.

Not so joyful was Little Erestor. He seated himself hard upon the ground. His small legs wobbled furiously before giving out and Erestor was not quick enough to catch him. Instead he hurriedly sat next to the elfling and held his hand. Little Erestor shook but presented a brave face.

“There is no need to pretend, pen dithen. There is no shame in fear. You and I have spoken of this often and all we have shared has failed to rid you of this terror. Do you trust me, Little Erestor?”

“Yes,” he said with no hesitation.

“Good. Then quickly off with your clothing and join me at the water’s edge.” Erestor purposefully turned his back on the child, disrobed and stepped forward. The cloudy water lapped against his toes, soothing and warm. He held out his hand, beckoning to be joined.

Before long he felt a trembling hand slide into his and Erestor gripped it with a squeeze of comfort. He inched along until he was ankle deep. The small fist grasped his more tightly, yet there was no progressive movement. One more step and Erestor was forced to lean backwards as Little Erestor refused to budge. He tried a tiny tug and found that Little Erestor’s feet had an unshakable hold on the ground. Sighing, Erestor left the water and picked him up. Immediately Little Erestor wrapped terror strengthened arms around his neck and his legs clamped around Erestor’s waist. He felt as though his entire body was being crushed, so strong was the elfling’s clinch.

The twins, oblivious to the drama playing itself out on the shore, suddenly noticed Erestor entering the water with Little Erestor, and they surface dove over to greet them. Heedlessly they splashed as they came laughing and calling out to their friend. Little Erestor heard their disruption of the water and proceed to attempt a climb onto Erestor’s head. A small whine of terror escaped from Little Erestor’s chest, but Erestor quickly placated him with words and sternly shooed Elladan and Elrohir away.

Instead of leaving, the twins, who had not before witnessed Little Erestor’s fear of water, came closer, quietly and with sober eyes. Politely they touched him; rubbing his back and together they started singing Little Erestor’s favorite song.

“Quiet my child shed no more tears...”

The tune Little Erestor, one momentous day, had suddenly remembered his nana had taught him. He had been so proud of that singular memory and beamed as he breathlessly reminisced about it to Erestor. All other recollections of his family still mere shadows and feelings.

“For I am here to release your fears...”

As they sang to him, soft and consoling, Erestor felt the shivering cease, his grip lessened; his head rose and he turned to face the twins. Little Erestor joined them in song, and as they sang Erestor slowly moved deeper until they floated in water up to his waist.

“If there comes a time when you are lost and cannot find me...”

Elladan and Elrohir’s hands never left Little Erestor, never stopped their soothing motion, their eyes locked with his as they finished the tune together.

“Look inside your heart, for there I will always be...”

Big smiles graced the faces of all, especially Little Erestor’s. His body now seemed relaxed and calm, even though one tiny fist still clutched Erestor’s hair.

The spell was broken by Glorfindel who, having snuck up on the unsuspecting twins, placed a large hand on top of each identical head and unceremoniously pushed them fully under. Little Erestor gasped and tensed but did not turn; instead he seemed entranced as the twins surged up to the surface and immediately gave chase. Their shrieks so shrill and loud a large flock of nesting birds squawked their displeasure as they flew off from the noise.

The pull of the fight drew Little Erestor forward as he leaned away from Erestor and reached his hand out towards his friends.

“Would you like to join them?” queried Erestor.

Quickly he was answered. “No. Not today.” And Little Erestor shrunk back against him as several droplets of water made their way from the mock battle to his outstretched arm.

Erestor closed his eyes and sighed. Every step forward was wrought with fear and trepidation. For the occasional bouts of happiness there were just as many steeped in sadness. At least today his anger seemed to have disappeared, and here he stood in waist deep water with Little Erestor on his hip and no accompanying fits of crying or hysteria. Mayhap this was a new beginning of sorts. Today, Erestor decided, he must somehow mark a new era in the elfling’s life.

A zealous mood suddenly came upon him, and he wanted to infect Little Erestor with it. Putting his mouth to Little Erestor’s ear, he whispered, “Pen dithen, Glorfindel is a warrior of great renown. I am sure Elladan and Elrohir have recounted many tales of his heroism, and I suspect Glorfindel himself has filled your head with his glory. Is this so?”

Little Erestor turned to whisper into his ear. “Oh yes, Big Erestor. Elladan has said that one day he will be as good as Glorfindel in everything!” When he finished he turned his ear back to Erestor.

“Do you think I, a mere counselor to our Lord Elrond, can best Glorfindel in combat?”

Little Erestor giggled madly at the suggestion, shook his head no, and leaned close for another whisper. “You are tall, very tall Big Erestor, but Glorfindel is larger still. You cannot beat him.”

“Never?”

“Never.” Little Erestor stated with unhesitating confidence.

He flashed a grin closer to menace than to warmth, walked them out of the pond and placed Little Erestor down at the edge of the pool.

“Watch and learn, pen dithen.”

And with those words, Erestor quietly but swiftly ran and his long legs hurriedly delivered him down the sloping beach to where Glorfindel stood, calf-deep. Launching himself at Glorfindel he clasped his arms around his waist and they fell heavily together into the shallow water. Erestor unashamedly felt as much of the firm, hard body as he dared, reveling in the strength of resistance from Glorfindel who squirmed in his grasp, attempting escape. The water heaved and boiled where they fought beneath it until two heads emerged for breath, one dark, one light. Expeditiously Erestor pulled Glorfindel back down for he still had the advantage. Legs kicked and sought firm ground, but Erestor held fast until he could stay no longer underwater. He efficiently pushed away and had swum half the length of the pond before Glorfindel found his bearings and stood.

Glorfindel rose gloriously, transformed from mere elf to fey water creature, beautiful, powerful, and gleaming as Anor reflected off the liquid sluicing down the taut ridges and planes of his torso. Between his thighs, Glorfindel was well armed, shamelessly, lusciously big. He never tired of this sight, and when first he met Glorfindel he found every reason for them to head to the river for a swim.

Glorfindel’s chest heaved and his eyes stared accusingly at him over the distance of the pool. His demeanor arrogant, Glorfindel dramatically lifted one arm and extended an accusing finger in his direction.

“Prepare to pay for your folly, Erestor!”

Erestor placed a hand over his heart and donning a most innocent face answered, “Me?”

The elflings, simultaneously, had a different reaction. “No!” They screamed. “We shall save you, Big Erestor!”

Elladan and Elrohir furiously paddled after Glorfindel, and he could hear Little Erestor calling for him to move quickly. Glorfindel, meanwhile, progressed threateningly towards him, getting ever deeper, and when the twins reached Glorfindel, he picked them up with ease and flung them away, their screeching ceased as they hit the water and sunk beneath.

Glorfindel continued his advance and the elflings continued their attempts to thwart his attack. Erestor jeered and taunted Glorfindel, while continually moving out of his reach with quickness and the twin’s blessed interference. It amused him to see Glorfindel truly irritated, getting more and more annoyed by the minute. He was not used to being bested in any way, and Erestor had managed to not only master him but continued to do so. Though the banter was light and gay their game had a taint of seriousness about it, and Erestor was as determined not to be caught as Glorfindel was to catch him. Yet the thrill of being Glorfindel’s sought after prey inflamed him too.

They continued to dance around the pond until even Elladan and Elrohir gave up and retreated to the rocks with Little Erestor. All three jumped up and down with excitement and yelled out their support for Erestor. Suddenly Glorfindel mounted an assertive attack, swimming toward him with powerful strokes. His eyes glittered with aggression, and as Erestor dodged right, Glorfindel’s fingertips grazed his left arm sending shivers through him. He yelped involuntarily. Erestor had been waiting for just such an opening and pushed swiftly for the shore. His feet finally touched the muddy bottom, and he struggled through the thigh-deep water, moving slowly like a never ending nightmare. Breathing heavy from the exertion and the emotion, he allowed a triumphant smile to grace his face for he could see his victory until a sturdy hand wrapped around his ankle and jerked him off balance, forcing the air from his chest as he landed face down in the water, and his ears filled with the horrified shrieks of the elflings.

Glorfindel dragged him out deeper and flipped him over onto his back. Erestor frantically flailed as he blindly searched for purchase on the pond’s substrate, but strong hands had an iron grip on his hips and pulled him forward until he was pelvis to pelvis against Glorfindel. The contact caused an unwitting shock of pleasure through his body, and he gasped aloud. When his vision cleared, he saw menacing eyes beholding him, and Glorfindel’s face was a mask of danger and intimidation. And then he felt a small pressure as he was easily tipped backwards forcing his head underwater.

He came up sputtering, still held tight by Glorfindel, who now looked more amused than treacherous.

“I have you now, Erestor. It is time you declared defeat.”

The haughty voice irritated him and he shouted, “Never!”

Erestor was dipped back once more, slowly this time.

When he emerged, gasping and spitting, he saw that Glorfindel was truly enjoying himself.

“I am the winner, Erestor. You have lost. Admit this and I will free you. Refuse and I will be satisfied to spend the rest of this day dunking you in the water.”

Glorfindel waited several minutes for an answer as Erestor slyly looked for a way to free himself but just as Glorfindel made to tip him back he conceded.

“You are the victor.”

Glorfindel cocked his head to the side and looked off into the distance. “What was that sound? A faint whisper? A mere sigh in the wind?” He shook his head. “Nay, I heard nothing.” Erestor again felt pressure on hips. Quickly he released his pride and laughingly yelled.

“You are the victor!” Even with his ears half filled with water he could hear his shout echoing off the pond’s steep banks. The elflings were mysteriously silent.

Obviously garnering favor with his lusty shout, Glorfindel once more looked upon him. “Who is the victor?”

“You! Glorfindel is the victor!”

“Glorfindel is the victor, and?”

“And I am defeated.”

“Who is defeated?”

“Erestor is defeated! Come Glorfindel, release me!”

Mischievous eyes glinted at him reflecting an unnerving hunger. “I find I like you in this position. “

Erestor decided it was time to struggle anew. The unruly and erotic thoughts he experienced were inappropriate for the setting and the casual bump of Glorfindel’s lax genitals against his thighs caused the beginnings of the familiar sweet tightening in his groin. He took a firm grasp on Glorfindel’s hands and worked to pry the fingers off while kicking his legs furiously. His actions were to no avail as Glorfindel reinforced his hold and broadened his grin.

“Unhand me, Glorfindel! Enough! I have declared you winner and I defeated.”

Glorfindel, whose moods were often black also had a streak of inappropriateness and now was not the time. There was an audience of elflings to whom he must not appear weak, and it would not do to let them see him in this position for long. Nor would it be wise for them to see his more base reaction to his current predicament.

With a flash of irritation and pensive pout set on his mouth, Glorfindel let loose his grip, then grasped his arms and pulled Erestor to his feet. Face to face, Glorfindel stared hard at him as if searching…for something. That look, too quick to contemplate, broke as he was abruptly liberated.

“As you wish, and if you will not play further then I shall have to find new prey.” Glorfindel’s mood switched to menace as he turned to face the elflings. “Now you must answer for your treachery! You have betrayed me and must pay for your crime!”

Screeching, the three ran for the meadow where the horses grazed. Short legs pumped furiously and propelled them quickly away. They would, however, be unable to avoid Glorfindel who now loped after them, gracefully moving with careful precision. They screamed at top voice in a gleeful panic while attempting to avoid Glorfindel, racing this way and that but always staying in close contact with each other.

Erestor weakly exited the water and fell onto a sun-warmed rock. He struggled to dampen his desire and forced his attention to the game now in progress. Glorfindel skillfully played with the elflings, cutting off their escape routes and slowly limiting their choices to a smaller and smaller area, until he made his final tactical maneuver and culled Little Erestor from the tiny pack.

Grasping Little Erestor by one ankle and holding him forth, Glorfindel began a leisurely pace back towards Erestor. Little Erestor swung wildly as he kicked and screamed trying to loose himself from the strong clutch. Elladan and Elrohir ran along trying desperately to free their friend; their ineffectual hands slapping and feet kicking. Glorfindel, with inconsequential laxity, occasionally swung an absent-minded swat their way.

Once they reached the foot of the rock where Erestor sat, Glorfindel went gracefully to one knee. The twins, used to his ever changing moods and games, knelt down almost immediately. Little Erestor lay in a heap before them panting heavily but a contented smile graced his face.

Glorfindel spoke gravely, “My lord, I have captured this most cunning of elves and bring him to you for his pronouncement. He is yours to do as you will.”

Glorfindel manhandled Little Erestor up off the ground. “Kneel before our liege, you knave.” He swiftly fell before Erestor, that same satisfied grin still upon his lips.

Erestor jumped lightly off the rock and walked around Little Erestor pretending to inspect his new gift. He rubbed the smooth bald head, satisfied to note that the minute knife wounds were already healing. He leaned down and cupped Little Erestor’s face and lifted his chin. It was clear he enjoyed the game and the attention. Erestor had never seen him smile or laugh until last night and today it seemed as if Little Erestor was incapable of a serious face. He meant to give him another reason to smile when he thought of this day, and Glorfindel had given him the perfect opening. He tapped the end of Little Erestor’s nose and straightened.

“Rise, my minions! I command you to fetch me leaves and small twigs and flowers.”

Glorfindel threw him a glare when he mentioned picking flowers.

“Ah, nay, no flowers! Leaves and twigs will suffice. Quickly now!”

Little Erestor made as if to follow but he grabbed his hand.

“Not you, pen dithen. Up you go, onto the rock.” Erestor helped him climb to the perch. Little Erestor quickly crossed his legs comfortably and watched the twins and Glorfindel gathering as ordered. Each returned with an odd assortment of vegetation clutched to their chests. Erestor directed them to wet their bundles in the pond before placing them at his feet.

“I, your lord and liege, have determined that this elfling must be named. I will bestow upon him his name for life to be unique and cherished and known to all. Today, forevermore, shall be his Name Day!”

He heard Little Erestor gasp. The twins clapped and shouted excitedly. Glorfindel gave him an approving smile. Bending down, Erestor grabbed a handful of wet leaves and twigs and began placing them around Little Erestor’s head. Carefully he constructed a crude crown changing the look here and there until he was satisfied. Stepping back he perused his creation.

“It is done. You shall henceforth be known as Lindir. You are The Singer for your song is as lovely as any sung by the birds, as sweet as the finest wine, and as pleasing as a warm summer wind.”

Lindir sat up even straighter and beamed. The power of a new name immediately changed his countenance. Erestor sat beside Glorfindel, leaving Lindir seated high above them, and together they all called out.

“Lindir! The Singer!”

Chapter 6

Lindir’s name day heralded a new era. Gone were the tantrums and destructive behavior. Absent was the shy and yielding elfling. Lindir, still an aggressive child, learned to channel that tendency to his singing. Erestor found a suitable tutor, and Lindir now spent several hours each week learning the trade of performance.

His fear of water ever present, though lessened in intensity, he managed to wash himself without a great dramatic presentation. Water on his face was still of issue, but with a small flannel and good supervision he was clean and socially acceptable to the other elves. When he thought back on Lindir’s prior state of filth, he sometimes contemplated personally thanking each inhabitant of Imladris for not one had ever openly scorned Lindir when he ran amongst them smelling of a warg. Instead they embraced him and recognized his pain.

There was still much for Lindir to learn, and Erestor tutored him daily, though he was now attending a small class for regular studies. He missed Lindir, and on some days he actually searched for him so they could spend time together. He had come to rely on Lindir’s presence, and when they were apart for too long Erestor was forced to find him to soothe the ache in his chest. The young one had slipped through his defenses and stolen a heart he thought could only belong to Glorfindel.

To his dismay, a pervasive sadness still followed Lindir, and he rarely smiled or laughed. The elfling was often found peering out a window with a hopeful look on his face and a mournful song on his tongue. He was waiting, it seemed, though Erestor knew not for what.

Now walking hand in hand with Lindir, as they crunched through the pebbly beach surrounding a small lake, he realized they had come full circle. Lindir had been attached to his side every moment and he resentful of the ever present elfling. Now Lindir flexed his self reliance, and he searched him out for companionship. If only Lindir could find the same happiness. For that, he would forfeit all.

He startled from his musings when Lindir whispered. “I miss them, Big Erestor. Where have they gone?”

This was a question he had long expected from Lindir, and he felt unprepared to answer. Erestor hesitated, thinking of ways to mercifully but pragmatically explain why he was without his family. Finally he bent, picked up a small stone and handed it to Lindir.

“Take this, pen dithen; drop it in the water and watch.”

Lindir did as he was told and stood mesmerized as the ripples chased themselves across the surface.

Erestor picked up another pebble and held it before Lindir.

“This rock is our body and should it die our fëa is set free.”

Erestor dropped the stone at the edge of the water and knelt down, pulling Lindir close to him.

“You see how the ripples move to the other side of the pond? They never return. Our fëar, much like the ripples of water, move to the other side, to Valinor, and never return here to Middle Earth.”

He stood straight and still and Erestor thought him enchanted by the ripples which played across the surface. It was not until he turned Lindir to face him that he saw the over bright eyes.

His suddenly frail voice spoke. “But Glorfindel came back.”

“Aye, he did. The Valar made a decision to send him back as we here on Middle Earth needed him. We need him still.”

Lindir’s small face, his expression one of unwanted understanding, crumbled as he fell into Erestor’s arms. Frantically he grabbed onto Erestor’s robe, threw his head back and screamed to the sky.

“I need them! My ada and my nana! I want them back! Oh please, please I need them!

The cords in his neck were taut and strained, tears streamed down his red-blotched face as he repeatedly screeched, “Nana! Nana!”

And then he violently twisted himself back and forth before turning his wild pleading eyes on Erestor.

“Help me, Big Erestor, please help me!”

Lindir sagged against him as large gulping sobs took away his breath. Tears ran from Erestor’s eyes. Helplessly he placed his arms fully around the elfling and began a slow rocking motion.

“Help me, please.” One last hushed supplication escaped Lindir.

Quietly he began to hum one of the new tunes Lindir favored until gradually the cries became less frantic and the small body lay silent and limp. Gently he rose and carried Lindir back to their rooms, no longer a heavy burden. Erestor knew that Lindir had taken the final step toward healing. He had the strength to ask for the truth, and it was now revealed.


~oOo~

Alone yet together, holding hands again; one silently begging support, one silently offering comfort, they arrived at the large swimming pond. Fish large and small flicked through the sunlit pool, colorful in array, they sped around flicking their bodies erratically. Some jumped free of the water only to land once more with barely a perceptible splatter. The flora of the pond was in full bloom with lilies interspersed amongst mats of thick green growth. At the far end a waterfall tumbled, drowning out all sounds of the surrounding forest as the rumbling water rushed to meet the pool. Its passage wondrous as it cascaded down the rocks, creating misty breaths and casting off multi-colored rainbows when kissed by Anor’s rays.

With a final squeeze of support Erestor released Lindir’s hand and began to undress. Time for a final lesson to bind all that had come before this instance. They had worked so hard to get to this one moment, tiny steps overcoming the fears and sorrow that gripped Lindir. Less than two years had passed since his rescue.

He noted with satisfaction that Lindir had removed his clothing quickly and stood poking a tentative toe at the water’s surface.

Erestor joined him, bent and scooped up a handful and as it sieved through his hands he spoke.

“Life is not possible without water. It was no accident that Ilúvatar woke our ancestors beside a lake. And when they awoke their eyes first beheld the stars. Blessed Varda took the dews and the rains from the tree of Valinor and with this water she created the stars. Would not our days be short without this elixir and our lives less enchanting without the stars?”

Lindir silently nodded his agreement.

He took a small sip before leaning down to the pond’s edge once more. He splashed at Lindir and noted with satisfaction that he did not flinch when several droplets landed on his face. Instead, Lindir smiled, reached down and splashed him back.

Erestor reached out and Lindir readily accepted. Hands, once again, entwined and with two exuberant triumphant shouts filling the valley, they launched themselves into the water.
~oOo~

Erestor could not take the foolish grin from his face. It was Lindir’s name day, and it promised to be the most exciting yet. For the past twenty years Lindir insisted upon grandly celebrating this day, and each year Erestor worked to make it more special than those before it. Denied a begetting day as he could still not remember much of his family or where or when he was born, he had latched onto his name day revelry. For months beforehand, Lindir and Erestor would be in a fevered frenzy planning the event.

This time, however, Lindir was old enough to provide his own entertainment for the party. Erestor had watched him for the last year worry and fuss over the songs he prepared. He guarded them jealously; almost obsessively, and many a time he had come upon Lindir, whispering secretively to Elladan and Elrohir only to have a suspicious eye cast upon him before they moved away to whisper again. For some unknown reason he was overly nervous. Just this morning Lindir, usually so bold and outgoing when it came to singing, was fidgety and openly questioned whether he should actually perform. It had taken the better part of the day for Erestor to calm him. But now looking at him chatting and laughing with the twins it was clear his misgivings were laid to rest, and he enjoyed himself.

Usually his name day was a large affair but this year would be more intimate. In a bold move, he had invited the Lord and Lady of Imladris and the invitation had been eagerly accepted. Both Elrond and Celebrían were anxious to hear Lindir’s songs for his talent was readily known. Erestor was questioned daily by those awaiting Lindir’s first performance but those elves would have to wait, for today, only a few close friends were allowed.

Glorfindel was there, too, leaning casually against a wall, and politely smiling at some story Celebrían recounted. The perfect Lady Amlugeth was gone. She had vanished from Glorfindel’s life a fortnight after Lindir’s first name day. Erestor, though curious, reckoned her disappearance a boon and refused to ask Glorfindel why they parted. Since then, Glorfindel had not pursued anyone, leaving them time to explore their friendship. It was an agreeable arrangement, yet difficult. Each day his love for Glorfindel blossomed anew, and he longed for more, much more, but his cowardice and genuine fear of rejection kept him from his desire.

Erestor stepped from his corner, put his drink down, and clapped his hands together twice.

“The time is upon us friends. We shall hear our honored guest, Lindir, performing in public for the first time as he has graciously chosen today to herald the event. Please take your seats.”

Quickly the chairs were filled, and Lindir moved to the front of the room, picked up his lyre and calmly began tuning his instrument. Once satisfied, he cleared his throat, gave a small bow and while he softly picked at the strings of his lyre gave a short introductory speech.

“My Lord and Lady, dear friends and companions, I welcome you. And I thank you for bestowing upon me your presence on this my twentieth name day. Today, if it would so please you, I will perform three short tunes penned by my inexperienced hand. Forgive me if they seem crude and melodramatic for my only excuse is the folly of an innocent.”

When he paused for the expected and polite laughter, Erestor saw Lindir’s subtle glance at the twins and their responding smirk and, not for the first time, wondered about the bounds of their friendship. Glorfindel, who was seated next to him, obviously observed it too for he chuckled lewdly. Lindir nodded appreciatively and when the guests quieted he continued.

“I have titled this first piece ‘Ilúvatar’s Elixir’.”

With a dramatic sweep of his arm he raked the strings violently causing several to jump in shock. The tune was loud and aggressive as his fingers danced out the dark melody. Lindir’s face transformed and he demonstrated his harsh interpretation of simple arpeggios and struck melancholic chords from top to bottom. He swayed with the beat, and it looked to Erestor as if he was being thrashed in a storm, but nothing prepared him for the husky strained voice that called out the lyrics…

Relentlessly pouring down my cheeks;
Seemingly endless tears shed for those loved, now lost;
Swallowed so effortlessly by the raging storm;
Gasping for air as the waves of despair crash upon me;
A waterfall of agony engulfs me with its icy embrace;
Dazed and bowed I expect to be helplessly trapped by its fury;
Only to find the gentle ripples wrapping their protective waves around me;
Tenderly encouraging my next breaths;
For it rendered my innocence dead;
Yet it gifted me once again with life.

As fiercely as it began it had changed mid-song and became light and airy and with the last word, a hint of happiness lit upon Lindir’s face.

Erestor applauded wildly, along with the others; while Lindir bowed gratefully in front of the enthusiastic response. As the noise died, Lindir repositioned his lyre and began a soft strumming.

“All of you, dear friends, know my story but, mayhap, you know little of my reluctant rescuer.” Lindir, smiled his way, and it was Erestor’s turn to blush and squirm at the attention.

“It is to him that this next composition is dedicated for he has sacrificed much yet has freely given his love and guidance. This piece I call, ‘With Love Came Hope.’”

He picked each note cleanly, staccato-like, yet not distractedly so. The words were enunciated crisply, and Lindir held his eyes wide, changing his face to something more childlike. The sight and the tune swept Erestor back in time to when he was once Big Erestor, and he swallowed past the lump in his throat. Lindir had grown so quickly, and he had nobly progressed to this magnificent being before him. Beheld by this view of his, not so little, Little Erestor, not even the daunting words of their rocky beginning could dampen his pride.

Young and foolish and resentful;
How I longed for your failure;
Desperately clinging to the vague memories of my family;
I searched for your weaknesses, but instead you found mine;

Time and your persistence changed my perceptions;
Able to make sense of the scars that still pain me;
How your wisdom shed light on my darkness;
Guided me, fought for me when I was too defeated;
Gathered and mended my shattered pieces;

Until closeness emerged dampening my furious anger;
And you became something I had dared not hope;
A beloved friend and Adar of my heart.

Erestor blinked hard. He was not an overly emotional elf and preferred to keep himself under tight control, but the sweet simple phrases of love and gratitude threatened to crumble him. He knew that he and Lindir had become extremely close as the years passed, but had not expected him to acknowledge this quite so tenderly. As Lindir humbly hung his head before the applause, Erestor pretended to remove some foreign objects from his eyes and surreptitiously wiped away the gathered moisture. Glorfindel gave his arm a tight squeeze.

When he dared glance upward, it was to find Lindir’s stare hard upon him. The fear he had witnessed that morning was again present and expressed fully in Lindir’s eyes. Sending silent encouragement, Erestor motioned Lindir to continue. But Lindir continued to gaze at him, until just as silently, he seemed to consent to Erestor’s command. Clearing his throat loudly, he introduced his final melody.

“My final song is an acappella piece,” Lindir turned and placed his lyre on the table, “and my first attempt at a love song. This I have named ‘Not Unrequited’.”

A deep shaky breath introduced the haunting lyrics sung with a hint of desperation and longing.

Your features paint across my canvas;
Sketching a beautiful masterpiece of unrequited desires;
I long for what could be, but instead I hide away;
Desperately searching for these feelings in your eyes;
My desire for you is overwhelming;
Entranced by thoughts of you and me;
Wishing that your heart only knew;
How I crave your warmth, your touch, your love;
A simple glance, a whisper of promise, a wondrous smile;
I lie awake at night as I dream of a day;
When you might know my secret devotion.

Another round of enthusiastic applause heralded the end of Lindir’s performance. Each guest took their turn embracing Lindir and congratulating him on his fine skills. Until Glorfindel, ever the jester began the inevitable teasing.

“Lindir, pen dithen, who is this unknown suitor you seek? Surely all in Imladris already love and desire you. Let her name be known and I will see to her complicity.”

“Pay him no heed, Lindir. It was a beautiful song and the motive for it is none of his concern,” encouraged Erestor, but he was puzzled by the sudden paleness and fear on Lindir’s face.

“Aye Lindir, you will make a fine minstrel for the court should you so desire,” agreed Lord Elrond.

Lindir smiled at his Lord, and then spared a quick look at Elladan and Elrohir before he turned a bland face to Glorfindel.

“Lord Glorfindel, you honor me with your words. However, this song does not reflect my secret yearnings.”

Lindir hesitated, turned toward Erestor embraced him fiercely and gripped his hands firmly, before facing Glorfindel once more.

“No, my lord, this is how Erestor views you.”

Erestor stunned and held into inaction by Lindir’s firm grip barely maintained his feet. He did not knowingly register the gasp from Lady Celebrían, nor the exuberant grin that spread on Lord Elrond’s face. His love for Glorfindel was no longer his illicit secret but laid bare for all here to see. He could hear nothing above the furiously fast beating of his heart and the blood pounding in his ears, and his eyes flashed red as his face flushed with the helplessness of humiliation.

The moment was ended by the calls of Elladan and Elrohir. It seemed they were hungry for cake and could not wait a minute longer. Laughing and teasing the two cajoled the crowd back into pleasant conversation while Lindir dragged Erestor to the table.

He viewed the scene from afar as if his fëa had floated from his body though he was painfully aware of Glorfindel’s presence. He could not glance over at Glorfindel who was unusually quiet and somber. Instead he sat staring straight forward and laughed when it seemed appropriate although he heard not one syllable of the dialogues around him. No one attempted to engage him in conversation, and only Lindir dared touch him; one skillful hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. Erestor recognized the touch as the same he had used on Lindir, long years ago, when the elfling had woken from frightening dreams. But when he could no longer hold back the shaking, when his hands could not grip the utensils, he stood, prayed that his legs would not fail him, and made some excuse before leaving the party. Though he dared not turn around, he knew that every eye followed him out the door.
~oOo~

Erestor paced his rooms. Lindir in his naïve attempt at matchmaking had possibly ruined his cherished friendship with Glorfindel. He would have eventually approached Glorfindel with a declaration of love, but now that timing had been ripped from his control. He tried desperately to put his mind to a solution out of this disaster for he could no longer live without Glorfindel in his life. But with no ideas forthcoming he feared Glorfindel would run from him and abandon their friendship.

He tried to rationalize. All was not lost. Anor slowly sank from the sky to make way for Ithil. He could smell food cooking, hear elves laughing, feel the passage of time. Birds were rallying to their late afternoon song. His secret was out, aye, yet Middle-Earth had not ground to a halt. Life continued on as usual. Would that his own life could follow the same course.

A knock on the door froze Erestor in his tracks. Nay. He could see no visitors at this moment. It was best to keep quiet and ignore the would-be intruder. But the knock came again, more insistent, this time along with a voice calling for him.

Erestor’s blood ran cold. Glorfindel stood at his door. He was not ready for this confrontation, had not yet secured his denials to Lindir’s declarations. As the door opened without his approval, he considered a run for the bathing room where he could hide secure behind a lock. Instead he stood rooted to the spot, face looking down, hands balled into fists at his sides awaiting his sure doom.

“Erestor.”

His head jolted up at the sound. The way Glorfindel said his name…with such sweetness and a tinge of sadness and overjoyed all at the same time. Glorfindel’s eyes were filled with pleasure and desire; heated desire. It shocked the breath from him.

“No one angers me as you do. No one confounds me as you do. No one tests me as you do. But when you smile at me, Erestor, oh when you smile, I feel as if Anor shines only on me. You are my life and for these long years I have loved you.” Glorfindel put a hand behind his head and dragged him forward.

Erestor eagerly opened his mouth to the kiss which captured him, Glorfindel’s lips hot and lingering and frighteningly intense, yet a comfort and a lure. He gave himself up, fully consumed, until Glorfindel moaned and Erestor stole the sound from him turning the kiss hard and possessive. Elation and excitement coursed through him. Finally he held his heart’s desire courtesy of the bravery of one small elfling.


~oOo~

Lindir perched on the edge of the reflecting pool and watched several birdlings, unfazed by his presence, frolic. Elladan and Elrohir waited for him in the shadows. He felt them there and knew they sensed his unease. Their innocent fumblings in the dark and sincere declarations of love had unwittingly opened a fragile bond between the three of them. In the throws of this new love they had hatched a plan to bring together the two ellyn who were responsible for many of their happy childhood memories. Even though they had watched Erestor and Glorfindel dance around each other for years, it was clear now that their plan was not well thought out. Erestor’s stricken face would haunt him forever if they had miscalculated the strength of Glorfindel’s love for him. That possibility pained him so, and he ached with despair.

While he sat and pondered, Anor set and before long the birdlings flew off leaving the water’s surface calm and smooth.

He occasionally glanced up to Erestor’s windows, watching the lone shadow pacing through its rooms. Until…the lone shadow was joined by another. His breath caught and he leaned forward as if mere inches could provide him more sight. Lindir waited and observed as the shadows met and melded into one and then the light in the room winked out. Finally releasing his breath, he relaxed and smiled. He felt the twin’s relief also. His debt to Erestor would never be fully repaid, but this was a small beginning.

Turning back to the reflecting pool, he slowly dipped his finger into the water and set off a cascade of ripples across the once smooth surface.

The End