Title: Dance With Me (1/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Time line: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.
*words between these indicate internal thoughts*
Lindon - Second Age
He hated the boredom that forever haunted him. His world a never ending pile of correspondences, the same whining complaining documents, and he resented the thankless responsibility of it all. It amazed him that some men were envious of the longevity of elves’ lives. The times he had encountered and lived amongst humans he had scoffed at their awe of the Firstborn. Why could they not understand that long life just meant more time to experience monotony or suffer heartbreaking losses? The daily routine of pointless meetings, meaningless relationships, and hopeless memories taunted his every waking moment. Vaguely he recalled a time when his life was the envy of all and boredom merely an inconvenience but that had changed in a flash of violence.
Despair, his dual companion, flared in intensity these days, and he tired of fighting it. All the lonely years gone by and the agony is still vivid and wrenching, but he, the supposed lucky one, had survived to perform his duties. He abhorred the thought of this continued existence. Life that endured through the eyes of an elf that, though he appeared alive had died many years before when death stole from him all hope.
His sense of responsibility an eternal punishment that forced him to remain here and not take the final selfish step which would allow him to pass on to a place of numbing bliss. If only he was not ensnared by honor bound promises and free to end his suffering.
The weariness of it all weighed upon him. His heavy-lidded eyes closed and he laid his head down on the hard surface of the desk. For some unknown reason the ancient dreaded memories had resurfaced and they plagued him whether awake or in dreams. Painful recollections he had attempted to keep locked tightly in the deep recesses of his mind, and until the last few weeks had been successful. But now, he never knew when these thoughts would erupt rendering him helpless and vulnerable. It was a troubling predicament for one so used to controlling his environment. To complicate matters, he could not obtain assistance from the healers as this would prompt questions that he had no intention of answering and lying was impossible. So he continued to suffer and hoped he could once more muster the power to beat back these memories to a place they were forever forgotten.
Hopelessly he wondered at the mystery of why these dreams presented themselves now.
As his dark eyes opened they alighted on an old crack meandering its way across his simple wooden desk. His long pale finger lightly traced the deepening crevice, and he smiled faintly at the irony before reminiscence took him once more…
Gondolin - First Age
Erestor peered forward, positive that the crack in the wall had lengthened and developed new branches. He squinted at it fiercely, an unusual action for one with elfish sight, but he just had to be sure.
*Aye, that crack has definitely changed and it looks like something.*
He tilted his head to get a better view, eyed it closely as he walked to the left then to the right, crossed the corridor, placed his nose against it and slowly backed away. If he did not figure it out soon, he was convinced he would be forced to pull every strand of hair out of his head.
“What is this?” A voice boomed from down the hall.
Pulled from his musings, a wicked smiled formed on Erestor’s lips when he heard the familiar intonation.
“I see a warrior shirking his duties by daydreaming, and as one of King Turgon’s strategist’s I expect a more respectable performance of duties!”
Erestor tensed at the correct accusation and a flicker of fear coursed through him until he turned to face his accuser and saw the broad smile playing across his best friend’s face.
Radiant and handsome, his egregious friend closed the distance and turned to face the offending crack.
“So this is the sight which has so enchanted you, my friend? Hmmm, aye. I can see why you are so enthralled. The possibilities it represents are endless, are they not? But alas, I do think we need to contact the builder for a repair; do you not agree?”
Shocked at the thought of losing his distraction Erestor pleaded, “You would not be so cruel as to take from me my only source of diversion while I attend to this tedious wretched duty!”
Glorfindel roared his amusement. “It is a sad day when you and I are engaged in a serious conversation about a crack in the wall, and even more troubling that you would miss it should it be removed! You have only yourself to blame for this predicament. Remember well, Erestor that you convinced us all Idril needed a permanent guard. This assignment is but for a short time as Dínendhu will soon be mended and will resume his duties as sentinel to our princess. Yet here you stand protecting her by musing outside her door! This suits you not.”
Exasperated, Erestor tried to explain. “You do not understand the troublesome situation I face. She desires conversation about her hair, and other ellyn, and I cannot even begin to describe to you the things she has to say about men! That Húrin and Huor were ever allowed to enter our city has become a bane to my existence! I am forced out here in the corridor, guarding her door, out of fear for my sanity. She chatters incessantly about the most banal and vapid topics, and if I have to hear one more time how valiant and brave you are, I will most definitely scream!”
Smiling and chuckling as he continued down the corridor Glorfindel taunted, “How can you fault her for desiring perfection?! This whining suits you not, Erestor, and I strongly suggest you place your mind back on your duty before you become overwrought. As you have so wittingly reminded me in the past it is not a soldier’s job to think but to act and obey!”
Erestor beamed as he watched his friend continue down the corridor and out of sight. It had been many months since they had such a relaxed verbal interchange. Tense conversations and terse rebuttals were all Glorfindel offered during that prior time. Erestor had attempted drawing him out but on each occasion Glorfindel insisted nothing was amiss. Why today Glorfindel chose to revert to an attitude of playfulness completely baffled him yet he refused to dwell on the cause.
Pleased at this change of events heralded by their easy banter, he turned back to contemplate the crack further. As his evil mind concocted various scenes, all of them featuring Glorfindel compromised and at his beck and call, he soon found his shift completed. For the first time in many months he was pleased.
Duty completed for another day, Erestor strolled the pathway back to his room in the House of the Fountain. Breathing deeply the crisp air, he marveled at the beauty surrounding him, the craggy spires jutting toward the sky, the sweet smell of early blooming flowers, and the melodious tinkling of melting snow. He thanked the Valar that Turgon had the foresight and tenacity to plan and perfect this secured refuge.
Gondolin, a city in the teeth of the Mountains in the north of Beleriand, sat nestled within the stark beauty of this barren height in a luscious valley, a valley discovered by Turgon and secretly built upon as a safe haven. A hidden city, so far spared from the consideration of the dark minions, but daily the inhabitants faced the underlying fear of Morgoth. The evil that fled from Valinor now lurked in Middle Earth, and beneath the everyday calm they knew their sanctuary might be discovered. To watch the lives of the Gondolindrim one would never guess this fear existed, however surreptitious fearful glances skyward or out over the valley belied the serene facade. Morgoth, who had thus far been turned at every battle, might change his tactics at any moment and triumph over the elves of Middle Earth. And so the inhabitants did their best to make life normal while hiding in the mountains and keeping an eye on the horizons, hoping their day of reckoning would never arrive.
Erestor knew that beyond the underlying fear there still lingered the effects of the crossing of Helcaraxë. This had taken its toll on the Noldor population; and though Erestor was grateful, he and his mother had been spared the terror of that event, he still lived with its consequences. There were precious few Eldar remaining, and so their free nature turned to hard stereotypical ideals. King Turgon, spurred by these realities, had decreed that ellith should turn exclusively to childbearing and traditional roles. The ellyn would fight and rule. He encouraged early marriages and many children while discouraging unions that would not produce offspring. The result produced a seething anger as many of the free spirited elves reluctantly followed their king’s wishes and found themselves in circumstances they would not otherwise have chosen. It was a difficult time made more difficult by restraint of the true nature of so many inhabitants. And yet this realm seemingly reminded so many of them of their home in Valinor they chose to remain. The beauty and comfort of their new Tirion called to them more than their discomfiture at the restrictions.
As he changed from his uniform to clothes more suitably informal, Erestor reflected on the chief of his house. Ecthelion took the king’s edict to heart and married his first love Vespula. Together they bred five lively elflings in rapid succession, all of whom considered Erestor their personal playmate. Tonight he made his weekly trek to their quarters to visit the lively brood.
Vespula had made it her duty to have Ecthelion’s bachelor friends over each week. Erestor enjoyed these nights for the company and being the chief of his house assured Ecthelion the better cuts of meats, the best ales and wines, and freshest produce and baked goods. For one night each week, he was treated to the best fare offered in Gondolin.
Erestor made his way briskly down the hall towards Ecthelion’s suite anticipating with every step the luscious repast. With a brief knock, he entered the large family area. Immediately three of Ecthelion’s children greeted him.
"Erestor!" they shouted in perfect chorus and he was assaulted by three excited elflings before he could put out his arms to forestall their advance. Flinging themselves onto their captive, the elflings immediately demanded his attention.
Searching Erestor’s pockets, Baineithel thrust a pout on her lips, raised her disappointed face and wailed, “Where are my treats? You have forgotten my treats, Erestor! You never forget my treats!”
“Oh please, Erestor, tell us the story of how you slew ten orcs with one swoop of your sword! I never tire of hearing that tale.” Gwilithila pleaded. She continued and her requests became increasingly more excited. “Or how you tore the heads off three wargs as you rescued the beautiful elleth. Or my favorite! When you slew the Evil One to save a special elfling.” She sighed deeply as she looked dreamily at him for her gift of a story.
Tinuol, Ecthelion’s only son, not interested in a tale but a treat of a different sort, looked around behind Erestor disappointment clearly outlined on his face. “No one is accompanying you this evening? Where is your escort? I waited all afternoon to see what elleth would be on your arm and you have come alone!”
Chuckling, Vespula called from her chair where she was feeding her youngest, Meneltirn. "Let him breathe my children”
"I do apologize for disappointing you, Tinuol, but having already flirted with all the prettiest and available ellith I find myself out of options.” Erestor winked conspiratorially at Tinuol.
He gathered up and hugged Baineithel and Gwilithila, before falling to his knees in front of them, taking one hand each, and reverently kissing the back of those hands he vowed, “You, my ladies, are not of age for escorts, but already your beauty foretells of the many broken hearts you will leave in your wake.”
Leaving the young ellith giggling and red cheeked, he strolled over to Vespula and after kissing her lightly on the lips he whispered, “You, to my great regret, are not available.”
Smiling playfully, he lifted the blanket covering the infant Meneltirn. Having heard his voice so near, she already smiled, her suckling forgotten. He kissed her gently as she giggled and squirmed, his hair tickling her face. “And you have many years before you are available, and then I shall guard you from scoundrels like myself.” With a final kiss, he carefully laid the blanket over the elfling.
Vespula laughingly chided her friend. "You have no shame, Erestor!"
“I held your hand and suffered your pain as you brought Limithil into the world, Vespula. You have nothing new to show me, my lady,” he added, with a look of pure innocence on his face.
The shuffling of the elflings brought his eyes back to the front door where Glorfindel walked through, alone again. His preference for ellyn and his consideration for Ecthelion and Vespula forever forbade him from bringing a companion or lover to these events; however, his rank as Chief of the House of the Golden Flower did afford him a much more respectful and restrained greeting.
“Well met, Lord Glorfindel,” the elflings chimed together for the second time this evening. They were well taught on how to properly greet the lords and ladies of each prominent house as well as Gondolin’s royalty. Vespula’s pride of her children sparkled in her eyes.
Erestor shivered with excitement, his predictable reaction to the sight of his friend. Glorfindel’s uniquely-colored hair shimmered in the light of the room, and
Erestor recalled how his insides clenched the first time he had seen Glorfindel in the light of Anor. His beauty pronounced even amongst the elves, and he radiated joy as he swaggered along with the warriors of his house, golden hair lifting around him as if the breath of Manwë had been focused on Glorfindel for all to glorify this creation of Ilúvatar’s.
From that first glimpse, Erestor knew he was lost and had day-dreamed often of coming into favor with Glorfindel. It was disquieting, at first, this gravitation to another ellon, but he had since recognized this attraction as something he always possessed but had thus far refused to admit.
The realization that he loved Glorfindel had completely astounded him.
But Erestor, always cynical, felt the same about love especially in the context of his friend. Surprisingly quickly he had found favor with Glorfindel as a friend, and thus was afforded the privileged status of observing first hand how Glorfindel used ellyn and discarded them with nary a look backwards. Too well acquainted with the fate of abandonment that awaited all of Glorfindel's lovers, he rushed not to join their ranks, though some small part of him held out hope that Glorfindel would not treat him such.
The king’s edict also stayed his hand as well as his inexperience in the ways of loving another ellon. But most glaring was the fact that Glorfindel had never shown the slightest interest in him beyond friendship. Glorfindel refused to speak to him about his preference of bedmates, keeping a firm silence about his unorthodox desires, and Erestor despaired of ever knowing why Glorfindel deliberately chose to continue relationships that were frowned upon. It rankled, however, knowing that Ecthelion was privy to Glorfindel’s mind, and he refused to share the secret. It was one of the mysteries that surrounded the lord of the House of the Golden Flower.
Erestor, feeling a bit guilty for forgetting Baineithel’s treat, watched as Glorfindel gifted the elflings with his favorite treat – figs. He then greeted Vespula with a respectful kiss on the cheek, the love for her radiating on his face, and Erestor understood it absolutely. Ecthelion had managed the very thing Glorfindel seemed to be searching for but had never found, love and a family to come home to each night combined with security and happiness. He frowned at the wisp of uncertainty that quickly flashed across Glorfindel’s face.
Yet Glorfindel’s mask fell firmly into place as he turned to greet Erestor. “Where is your escort? Have the ellith of our city finally banded together and denied you access to their fair assets?”
“Tonight, I thought I would try something different. Since we are both alone, we will have to make do with each other,” Erestor teased.
The humor apparently lost on Glorfindel as he quickly looked away and the easy banter found earlier that day died a quick death.
Remorseful, he did not know how to move them from his blunder. However, his liege rescued him from further embarrassment. Ecthelion strode in resplendent in his dark blue tunic and leggings. His long dark hair loose and flowing around his face, he looked more like one of his elflings than the chief of a prominent house. As Ecthelion swept his wife off her feet for a breathtaking kiss, Erestor marveled at the chemistry between the two. After all their years together there seemed to be little to none of the fading of emotions he witnessed in so many other relationships. He quelled a small jolt of jealousy and laughed as Ecthelion took the baby from Vespula and herded them all towards the dining area. Stealing a glance at Glorfindel, he saw that his friend’s mask was still clearly in place, showing none of the earlier emotions.
The dinner was a fine affair filled with culinary pleasures. Afterward, Erestor relaxed while sipping his wine, full and pleasantly sated. He cautiously watched Glorfindel as he unconsciously wetted his lips, unaware of the affect it caused Erestor. He continued to gaze fascinated by the small pink tip that darted out from the full luscious lips to catch stray drops of wine. Erestor leaned forward barely able prevent himself from walking over and pulling Glorfindel into a kiss as he vaguely listened to the ongoing conversation of Ecthelion taking in the news of the day from his wife and elflings. This was their time to catch up with their father and Erestor would never deny them this moment, especially since his eyes and mind were firmly focused elsewhere.
Time after time he attempted to turn his gaze from Glorfindel only to glance back again and again. He watched as Glorfindel took in all the activity, and he wondered at the small smile on his face as well as the reason why he remained inordinately subdued this entire evening. Glorfindel was oddly sensitive at random times and Erestor had never been able to detect a pattern to these emotions, a further mystery of his friend. He kept his past close and rarely let Erestor glimpse into his life before they met.
Ecthelion finally ushered his children to their sleeping rooms while Vespula escorted he and Glorfindel to the study. If there was a room in all of Gondolin that Erestor coveted, it was this room filled from top to bottom with shelved books, carefully collected by and lovingly cared for by Ecthelion’s family. Erestor was completely drawn to them, and ran his fingers over their stiff bindings. Having read almost every tome here, he expected to finish the exciting task within the next decade. Then he would start on the library lodged at the House of the Pillar.
As Vespula poured an after dinner wine, Erestor plucked a red leather bound book and brought it to his seat. He dourly noted that as Glorfindel moved from the doorway, he seemed to have intentionally placed himself in the chair most distant from his own.
“You are a sensualist, Erestor.”
“My lady?” Erestor inquired.
“The way you caress those books. It is most loving,” she raised one thin eyebrow.
“When one lacks bed mates one turns to the dull love of a book.” Glorfindel, it appeared, had finally found a topic to which he could warm.
Erestor casually crossed his legs and cast a bland look at his friend. He refused to react to the taunt. “Some of us find use for more than one area of our bodies, Glorfindel. You might experience it and learn some variety in your life.”
“Lack of variety has never been a complaint.” Glorfindel gloated.
Ecthelion strode into the room with a broad smile on his face. “My friends! None of that this evening. And you forget there is a lady present,”
“Please do forgive me, my lady,” Erestor said with forced sincerity.
Glorfindel lowered his head in mock shame. “Aye, my lady, my sincere apologies.”
Vespula sputtered, unable to contain her laughter. “Enough! I can take no more of these unconvincing platitudes!”
Deliberately, Ecthelion changed the topic. “Our elflings are fully asleep, my dear. They are overly excited each time we have company, though they do seem to have an over exuberance for our friends here.”
“That always bodes well for us, love, as we will have an evening interruption free.”
Kissing his wife’s neck, he whispered, “Which truly bodes well for when we say goodnight to our friends.”
Erestor cleared his throat and smiled brightly. “You forget there is a lady present, Ecthelion.”
Glorfindel chuckled, Ecthelion reddened and Vespula sat up quickly moving a staid distance from her husband and swiftly took up a new subject. “Oh! I heard a brilliant performance by one of the king’s bards. His song so poignant and haunting, and I felt as if I was back on the crossing,” she shivered, “Most definitely an unwelcome experience but so powerful I could not bring myself to look away or cover my ears. “
As the conversation turned to talk of that harrowing journey and their time in Valinor, Erestor’s thoughts drifted to his family. This was his silent torment, the secret he would never reveal. Though all assumed it, he had not been born in Valinor, nor did he cross the Helcaraxë, and his connection to the House of the Fountain was farcical. Though his family is of Noldor descent, they chose to remain in Middle Earth, shunning the glory of Valinor and enduring the darkness. But when they received news of the return of their kin from the white shores, his naneth secretly confessed her desire to leave the woods and join with the returned Noldor. Together they clandestinely fled their family home for Nevrast and left behind his beloved brother.
Through a tenuous link from the marriage of a now deceased distant cousin, Erestor became a part of the House of the Fountain, cleverly manipulated by his naneth. This stroke of ingenuity had provided him with the opportunity for studies and his eventual employment as a strategist to King Turgon. His naneth had been extraordinarily pleased by his success. Sadly, she had disappeared during the secret trek from Nevrast to Gondolin and though he searched frantically for her he had finally been dragged onward by Ecthelion. Erestor knew that she would have thrived in Gondolin, and it distressed him that she was not here to witness this beautiful city.
He was not alone, however, as these three friends filled the gaps left by the disappearance of his mother and his abandoned brother. Still, he truly missed his family and despaired of ever seeing them again. He had been mistaken.
With a heavy heart, Erestor recalled the horrifying scene of his cherished sibling Eöl being dragged through the streets of Gondolin. His voice hysterically loud as it echoed off the mountains, he wailed his madness, alternating between defiance and crying out his innocence. His brother, lover and murderer of the King’s sister, was not quietly facing his doom. And then, as if guided by Ilúvatar himself, Eöl’s eyes fastened on his own. He stood ten deep in the crowd, yet Eöl saw him. Erestor’s heart broke as Eöl pleaded for mercy and help in escaping his death sentence, warning him of the evil possessed by his son, Maeglin. In an act of pure cowardliness, Erestor did nothing but fade further back and hope no one noticed to whom Eöl’s directed his supplication. Nevertheless, he broke down and openly sobbed as Eöl was pushed down over the Caragdûr to his death. His thoughts and dreams were ever haunted by his brother’s screams as he fell.
He knew he would never reveal the secret of his heritage. His only concession to his past was to keep a discrete but watchful eye on his nephew, Maeglin, as Eöl’s warnings continually clanged in his head.
Vespula’s guffaw interrupted his ruminations and he glanced up just as she exited the room. Glorfindel had a wide brilliant smile spread across his face and Ecthelion’s blotched face shone as red as the valley’s sanguiniflorus flower. Erestor had missed the innuendo Glorfindel oft times launched at Ecthelion. This was one of Glorfindel’s favorite past times, teasing Ecthelion about what he lacked by not marrying him, the rare occasion when Glorfindel would speak, albeit in jest, of his passion for ellon.
Erestor quietly watched the interplay between his friends and with a brief pang of expected jealousy wondered why Glorfindel refused to engage in this game with him. Glorfindel continued to describe the temptations of wicked delights only to be found in his bed, and Erestor, to his horror, began to experience stirrings in his loins. To cover his discomfort, he laughed, placed both hands on his lap, and decided that beauty and wit like Glorfindel’s made him a menace and dangerous. He needed to put some distance between the two of them. Erestor dared another look at him only to find Glorfindel staring straight back, his mouth laughing but his eyes as serious and unreadable as they had been for the past two months. He shivered at the unexpected attention and turned away…
Elvish Translations (for entire story):
Ilúvatar – The Creator
Fëa – The soul
Ellyn – Male elves
Ellon – Male elf
Ellith – Female elves
Elleth – Female elf
Pen dithen – Little one
Linnon dithen – Little singer
Adar – Father
Naneth – Mother