Title: Dance With Me (13/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.
Lindon - Second Age
It was as though a fog lifted from his life. Lord Elrond, it seemed, had always known he was a refugee from Gondolin. Elrond had admitted that an elf, who he refused to name, had recognized Erestor and quietly passed on the information to him. At the end of their conversation Elrond released him from his promise, but it was the last words Elrond spoke which echoed in his mind.
*Sometimes there are no answers to the circumstances of our life. Not all is Valar guided and not all is luck. Sometimes what is is, and we must be content. That you came to me out of a need to fulfill a duty establishes that I am blessed. It is my sincere hope that you will agree to stay here not out of duty but out of desire to continue our friendship. We are ever that, Erestor, and I would be loath to lose it. Now tell me about Glorfindel and the nature of your relationship with him during your time in Gondolin.*
So desperate was he to speak of his life in Gondolin, Erestor rambled into the wee hours of the morning, confessing all to Elrond and voicing, for the first time in an age, words to describe his love for Glorfindel.
This morn, he felt that his fëa shone as brilliantly as Anor, which was currently blinding him as he lazed in bed reveling in a rare but welcomed three days free from work duties. Three days to rectify his life, such a short time to make amends and work towards a brighter future with the three elves who meant so much to him.
Slowly and methodically, he planned out his first day. He pulled his long hair back into a braid and put on his black robe with a subdued brushed gold tunic and leggings hidden beneath. Erestor stared long at himself in the mirror. His skin no longer pale. His eyes no longer puffy. His face no longer drawn and gaunt. And then, hesitantly, he allowed the corners of his mouth to turn upward until a full tooth-filled smile reflected back at him. He stood there for a long while, admiring the sight, and only reluctantly relinquished his grin as the muscles of his face sang their displeasure. It was a position they had long forgotten.
After gathering the contents of his closet, he strode the short distance to the rooms his sons occupied. It was early yet, so he felt sure they had not left for their tutoring sessions. His stomach fluttered its nervousness and his limbs shook as he maneuvered his load to free one hand to knock. Hearing movement within, Erestor stepped back a pace. His heart pounded and his throat constricted, but he managed a smile when Faelon, disheveled and harassed-looking, threw open the door.
Faelon stopped dead, and Erestor saw panic seize him as his eyes rolled revealing their white. Nervously he addressed his father.
“Adar. I..I..um, have we forgotten an appointment with you?”
Erestor’s grin faltered a bit. “What idiot Adar would require an appointment to see his sons?” He smiled wider.
After a protracted silence, Erestor realized his son was struck dumb. He tried a simpler question to draw Faelon out. “Is Figwit here also?”
“Yes, Adar.”
“Good! May I please come in?”
Faelon hesitantly nodded and allowed entrance. Figwit stood just inside the door, still and rigid, as he warily watched Erestor enter their rooms.
Erestor glanced around curiously. Just as Glorfindel had said, books and bottles cluttered the shelves and tables. This room was a disaster. His grin expanded. He knew that his sons took after him in their slovenliness.
He turned to face his sons and his mood darkened a bit. They stood as far from him as possible in this confined space, and their faces expressed mistrust. It would take years to change this, but they were elves and for once, time was his ally. They deserved a better life than he had given them and Glorfindel had been correct to bring attention to his negligence. His children still lived while Glorfindel’s daughters had been ripped violently from his life.
Shifting his burden once more, he forged on with his plan. He dropped his smile as it seemed to truly upset them, and decided upon a more mild approach. Jolly was not how he should appear, but repentant or sorrowful, for he was filled with both. His beautiful sons were so close to their sixty-year majority, and for that entire time he was merely a ghostly presence barely available to them. And when they did interact, his attendance frightened them.
“I know, my sons, that my visit is unexpected. I will not force you to follow me, but I would be most pleased if you spend this day with me. We have much to discuss. Will you come?”
Erestor tried to convey his sincerity in this offer. He faced them fully, hoping his love would shine through. But his words echoed hollow in the room. The silence stretched and tightened the tension flowing between the three of them.
Sighing, Erestor set down his bundle and walked toward Figwit and Faelon. Both cringed slightly and took a tentative step backwards until their backs were pressed against the wall. They appeared as young colts facing a deadly predator.
Not allowing their fear to detract him from his purpose, he reached out and took hold of Figwit’s hand then fumbled awkwardly for Faelon’s who had bunched both behind his back. Erestor commanded their attention and touched his children for the first time in many years. He ran his thumbs in gentle circles attempting to sooth their fright and marveling in their soft skin. He looked down at these hands, strong yet nervous, Figwit’s stained blue with writing ink and Faelon’s colored a rainbow of shades that were an obvious result of his candle-making.
“My sons,” he whispered. These beautiful terrified creatures were his. He had created them. Rare were the gifts in his life, and it was time to treat these precious elflings as the gifts they had always been.
“Come.” Not a command but a plea. He gently tugged until they each took a tentative step forward, and then another, and then another. When he was confident they would continue their march, he reluctantly dropped their hands and gathered his clothing.
Out into the cold brisk day they walked, until they came upon a patch of land barren yet striking for its view of the vast sea, a high bluff where the wind whipped and battered them. Erestor led them to a natural rocky outcropping, which provided some protection. He dropped his burden and sat hard upon the ground, gesturing to his sons to join him. They did, and actually sat closer to him than he would have dared hope. Curiosity, he could see, now outweighed their fear.
He gathered an ample supply of dried plants from around him then reached into his pocket and withdrew a tinder box. Erestor quickly formed the kindling into a pile and placed the charred linen on top. The fire-steel and flint quickly created a spark which was captured by the linen, and a small fire soon burned. He reached for his first black robe and began to methodically tear it into small strips which he fed into the fire.
“I never did care for these robes, especially the color, and today seemed a perfect day for disposing of them.” He smiled again at his sons whose eyes were as wide and round as the full moon which would shine this night.
Soon a large fire raged as black robe after black robe caught and burned. Erestor was careful to keep several back as he needed the fire to warm them for as long as their conversation would last.
He swallowed nervously and began. “Today is for you, my sons. Every one of my days from this moment forward shall be for you, if you so desire.” He hesitated. There was so much to say, so many amends to offer, and he was at a loss where to start. He looked at them both, helpless, unable to go on.
Figwit took the next step.
“Speak, Adar, of whatever you shall and we will listen. Already this last hour has been a boon to me, and I need more. Please continue.”
Faelon nodded his agreement, never taking his eyes off Erestor.
“I am so very sorry ---.”
“Nay, Adar! Nay! No apologies. Not yet, not now. Please there are so many things we need to hear, but not that,” Faelon interrupted.
“As you wish, but first I beg you to listen to my warning, for it involves our kin and the curse we carry.” Erestor’s voice dripped with discomfiture and he wrung his hands. “We are afflicted with a madness, my sons, and you must be on guard for it! You must be diligent in recognizing the signs. This madness brings death and destruction and untold heartache, and I was only able to end mine by facing my past. If I had not, then my range of subversion would have known no boundaries. If not for the reappearance of Glorfindel, I would have destroyed all of us!”
“Adar, you are not deranged! What is this confusing madness you speak of?”
A faraway look blanked Erestor’s eyes, and he was lost in his thoughts but continued.
“When the Eldar left Middle Earth for Valinor, our kin decided to stay. We are dark elves. Our connection with this land pulled strong and the tug of Valinor weak. My Adar was especially tied to Middle Earth, and he confided in me once that the very thought of leaving made him infinitely sad. I remember this confidence for the very reason that it happened so rarely. He was a hard and sullen elf, prone to fits of depression and introspection. From my earliest recollections I remember spying on him as he walked the woods speaking to only himself, and yet for all his strangeness, he was able to attract as mates two ellith. The first felt the call of Valinor and departed with her kin, leaving my Adar and her only child, my brother, behind. Years later he met and married my naneth, who was much younger than my brother. My birth followed many turns later.
“From the start, I adored and idolized my older brother. Like you, we were extremely close. He nurtured my love of the woods and all the wonders of nature. I sat for hours and listened to him speak on a rich assortment of topics. He was learned in ways other elves were not, for he was a friend of dwarves and spent many years with them learning their ways. He filled my mind with awe and instilled in me a desire for learning. I loved him with all my heart and fëa and would have died for him; that is how precious our love ran. Our adar, with no warning, disappeared one day and my brother’s importance in my life increased exponentially.
“We were never apart, and he could do no wrong in my eyes. If ever anyone dared to speak harshly of him in my presence, I would rebuke them immediately, demanding of them evidence or a swift apology for their words.
“It was not until years later that I realized it might be I who was blinded to some evil nature which guided my brother. I fought that notion, however, and continued to defend him with all my might until one day I saw my naneth in a discussion with him. The fear on her face haunts me to this day. Though I could not hear their words it seemed obvious that he threatened her. His face was intense, and the hatred written upon it powerfully communicated his intent. From that day forward, I covertly watched him when he was unaware of my presence and a very different picture of my brother emerged. Where he was kind and gentle with me, he was harsh and cruel to all others.
“The day came when we heard of the return of a large group of elves. They had come back to Middle Earth from Valinor. My naneth was anxious to leave the woods, and though she did not speak it, I knew she wanted to be well away from my brother.”
Figwit, unable to contain his curiosity interrupted, “Who is your brother, Adar, and where is he?”
Erestor licked his lips nervously and swallowed uncomfortably.
“Eöl.”
His sons inhaled sharply and immediately paled at the mention of the accursed name.
“Beyond the history you both know of Eöl, I fear, he murdered both my adar and naneth, and though I have no evidence for such a statement it seems clear. Mere coincidence cannot explain the mysterious disappearance of both parents.
“As poorly as you have thought of me before this day my behavior now pales when compared to the truth of the matter. You see, it was within my power to stop your cousin Maeglin. When my brother was dragged through the streets of Gondolin, he warned us all of the evil within Maeglin’s heart, and we did not listen. Everyone believed those warnings to be the ravings of a lunatic, but I alone knew better. I knew that whatever madness plagued Eöl had not rendered him a dolt, for he clearly was quite mad throughout the entire time I knew him, and at the same time quite brilliant. He spoke the truth, but I failed to act because of my embarrassment. It was my demented brother who had murdered the high king’s sister, and my pride would not allow me to step forward and admit my relation for I had secured a prominent place, one with some authority and that mattered more to me than the safety of our city. Self-glorification clouded my judgment, and I did nothing to prevent the destruction that came, and thousands died! Thousands! I contributed to the shame that continues to follow our family. “
Erestor crawled to his sons, grabbing their hands once more.
“You must guard against this madness. Promise me now! Promise me! At the first sign you will come to me, and we will seek help from Lord Elrond.”
Both Figwit and Faelon nodded their heads in the affirmative.
Faelon bravely squeezed Erestor hand as he replied. “You must not fret so. We promise.”
Erestor, released his sons, sat back, shredded a bit more from another robe and fed the fire.
“I ask one more promise from you, my sons. Speak of our relatives to no one. I know that when you have secured love you will be tempted. You will want to trust, but you must both fight this temptation as you would fight the madness. It is my opinion that honesty in this matter would bring hard times to you both, and I would not have you suffer any more than you already have.”
“This is a grave promise you ask of us. Would you have us lie to those we love?”
“Nay, not lie, but omit. I know this is a difficult thing to ask.”
“How do you know this is difficult, Adar?”
“I have loved only one in this long lifetime, though sadly I must confess it was not your naneth, and I never spoke of this with my love. With your naneth,” Erestor smiled, “I could have been honest about my past because she would not have known any of our relatives. She was human. You are peredhel, my sons, blessed with the tendencies of both races. I will tell you all I know of her even though we spent only a short time together.”
This revelation seemed not to shock his sons as neither reacted to his proclamation of their heritage, but merely continued with their questioning.
“Does she still live?”
“Nay, my loves, she passed from this existence many years ago.”
“How did she die?”
Erestor sidled up close to his sons.
“Giving birth to twins is very difficult even when a healer is present. She fell into labor so quickly there was no time to fetch the midwife.”
Horror filled Figwit’s face as he heard Erestor’s words. “She died birthing us?”
Desperation laced his voice as Faelon shouted. “Nay! I do not want to hear about her death. Please, Adar. Tell us about her life. How did she live?”
Erestor reached for his son’s hands once more, soothing them as best he could.
“We met on a road leading to Gondor. At odds with my life, I was set adrift and heading towards no particular destination when I rounded a curve and came upon a short plump woman hauling a load of turnips upon her back. I offered her assistance, and she accepted. She was headed to the market to trade for food, and I had nowhere better to go. Later that day, I accompanied her to her place of employment. As she told me, her work as a tavern wench did not provide her with adequate income, so she sold food from her garden as a supplement. For weeks I observed her. I spent the days drinking ale and the nights in her bed. We did not speak much to each other until the day she revealed she carried my child. It was not a shock as I knew well that humans did not plan these things. The news filled me with a joy I had never felt before. After a life of disappointment and pain, I could finally be responsible for something good and pure.”
Erestor smiled, lost in thought. “She and I were very similar. We had no great expectations of our relationship. It was simple, purely for companionship and then to raise our child. It was enough.”
He looked up at Figwit and Faelon. “Not until your nana labored did we realize there were two of you and our excitement grew.”
Erestor looked off into the distance. “She has relatives. An old aunt and uncle with several children. I suspect we could find their offspring should you be interested. There may be some alive who might tell you more about Lehda, your nana, as our time together was less than one year.
“Quite by accident, during my time with your nana, I learned of the settlement here in Lindon. I brought you here when you were but one week old as I knew I was unable to raise you both alone. My mind, already muddled, once again turned to dark thoughts, so I abandoned you to a wet nurse and vowed I would have as little to do with you both as possible. I rationalized you would be better off with minimal contact from me. I even toyed with the notion of allowing you to be raised by another family, but having abandoned one young elf long ago I could not find it in my selfish heart to suffer again and abandon two more. You were mine and I intended to keep you no matter the cost.”
“Another elfling?”
Erestor waved off the question with a sad smile playing across his face. “That tale is for another day, but know that some day I intend for you to meet this other elf I speak of.”
Figwit and Faelon exchanged a glance before scooting over to Erestor, concern etched their faces.
“Will you tell us of Glorfindel?”
Erestor’s mouth dropped open and his sons smiled brightly, their first of this day.
“You know?”
“Everyone knows. You and Glorfindel have been the talk of Lindon for the last two years, but the question has always been - is it love or hate? Faelon and I decided you loved each other.”
“Nay!”
“Aye, Adar!”
“But no one has said one word to me.”
“Excuse me for being so bold, but you are not the most approachable elf. Figwit and I have longed to discuss him with you. Are you in love?”
“Aye.”
“And is he in love with you?”
“Aye.”
“Then it is all settled, Adar. You shall live happily ever after!”
Erestor shook his head. “It is not that simple. Glorfindel and I have not spoken of this. Our love has always been…complicated and wild since the moment we met. We have thrown insults and injured each other to such a degree that I fear his heart may be closed to a renewal of our relationship.”
“You must face him as you have us. He will be amenable.”
“Time will tell, my sons.”
Erestor stood and removed his black robe, effectively dismissing the topic. He fed the robe into the lagging fire, turned, reached down and embraced both fiercely. Sitting before them, he ran his hands over them, reveling in their beauty. Having never allowed himself this luxury, he reluctantly released them and settled in for a long night of discussion.
Two days passed since his reconciliation with Figwit and Faelon. He had learned much about his children during that time, and even watched them dance at the opening of the Winter Festival. At some point in their education, they had learned all the current dances, and he was startled to see they chose both ellyn and ellith for partners. Much had changed since the First Age, so it seemed, and he had somehow failed to notice.
Their exuberance for dancing warmed his heart as he watched them sway and dip and laugh the night away. Both attempted to persuade him out onto the floor, but he stood firm. As much as he loved his sons, there was someone else to whom he owed a first dance. Figwit and Faelon seemed to understand his reluctance and did not push.
Most amazing to him was the resilience of his children. They were both exceedingly normal and well adjusted considering how they had been abused, and seeing them enjoy life fueled his guilt. He ached as he thought of the years of neglect he had bestowed upon them. For the last two days he had dreamed of ways he would encourage them and help them through their journey of life. His desire was to stand atop a mountain and shout for all of Middle Earth to take notice of his beautiful sons. Instead, he would help them with their studies and find every reason to plan celebrations for their benefit.
Erestor smirked as he recalled yesterday. Both Figwit and Faelon were hardly able to pull back the string of a bow as they attempted to show him their mastery of archery. He had barely concealed his amusement before their frustration reached a boiling point. It seemed his temper had been inherited by both, as well as his untidy ways.
With the sword, they were little better. They had no reach or natural ability, having inherited their mother’s short stature and his clumsiness. Still, to his, eyes they were magnificent.
Their minds, however, were quick and cunning, and he watched them maneuver around each other in a game of verbal dominance. Figwit would make a fine counselor and Faelon certainly had the acuity for business. As for physical attractions, he sensed that they had yet to decide upon a preference. It would be most interesting to observe their choice.
His preference was decided long ago, and that preference had just yesterday returned from the borders. From the shadows of his small balcony, he had seen Glorfindel’s approach and graceful dismount. He watched him in easy banter with the other Captains, watched him shoo away the stable hand and tend to his own mount tenderly wiping and brushing his horse fully, and then watched him as he walked into the palace. Desire and fear still burned through him. His sleep had been disturbed last night as he tossed and turned, trying to decide how to approach Glorfindel. What would he say?
In the early hours of the morning, while he lovingly sharpened and cleaned the sword and knife he took from Glorfindel’s room so many years prior, he made a decision. Tonight he would speak to Glorfindel.
All he had to do was wait out the day…
Erestor paused outside the door to Glorfindel’s room. He had been here before, a different door and a different time but the same circumstance. A chance once taken with a devastating outcome. H could appreciate their short period of joy now, and he was convinced that all the pain was worth the risk. Here he stood again, however, stalling. It was up to him this time. Glorfindel made it clear he would pursue no longer. Erestor could only hope he had not arrived too late to salvage their happiness.
His heart beat loud and impatient as he screwed up his courage, knowing he could not turn from the door. He entered without knocking.
Erestor was unexpectedly greeted by a jolly scene. Glorfindel leisurely seated, along with three of his officers, around a table laden with cheeses, breads, and roasted pheasant. The smell of spiced wine filled the air as it filled their goblets, and loosened tongues and wits seemed to prevail as they laughed uproariously at some unheard jest. A warm inviting fire crackled and spit in the hearth, while the wind sneaking through the panes created an eerie concert with the distant music from the festival.
Erestor took in the scene with the terrifying clarity of one who feels he is facing his doom. He stepped forward and all eyes turned to him as he strode into the light of the room, decision made.
With eyes completely focused on his target he announced, "I still have hope for us, Glorfindel."
The room completely stilled as time seemed to grind to a halt for the five elves; two of whom were locked in a visual embrace and three an unwitting audience. Erestor took in Glorfindel’s appearance and the stark hollowness of his eyes. Glorfindel’s large hands squeezed white with tension as he held onto his wine glass. Those hands were rough and violently capable of killing, and yet he knew the gentleness of their caress. He needed that caress again.
In one perfectly fluid and poignant action, he slid his last black robe off to reveal his nude form. Impossibly, the room stilled further, followed by the gasps, broad smiles, and smirks of Glorfindel’s companions. They knew well of the confrontations between Erestor and Glorfindel, and now in one short moment understood the truth of those clashes. Erestor, eyes still locked on Glorfindel, barely noticed when the others removed themselves from the room, practically knocking each other over to be the first to reach to door to freedom and begin gossiping.
Glorfindel continued to eat pheasant, never shifting his sight from Erestor's.
Erestor continued to stand silently and saw Glorfindel’s eyes change from reflecting shock to shining with predatory glee. He waited, growing apprehensive and doubtful as to the wisdom of his actions, these feelings intensifying due to Glorfindel’s lack of verbal response or movement toward him. His stomach churned wildly as he anticipated Glorfindel’s actions, vulnerable and openly nude, and his mind and body experienced the age-old flight or fight battle.
Unable to contain his agitated impatience, he was forced to speak, “Glor-“, he hesitated, as Glorfindel placed a finger over his own lips, then fell silent once more continuing his vigil and nervously awaiting response.
Glorfindel’s lazy rise from his chair and relaxed posture were in direct contrast to Erestor’s emotions. Excited fear and trepidation coursed through his veins as Glorfindel strode toward him. His eyes widened and he stepped backward but Glorfindel automatically responded, honed by years of military training, by increasing his approach to thwart any chance of escape for the now hesitant Erestor.
He stopped directly in front of him, and Erestor fixated on the minute details; flawless skin, eyes dilated from too much wine, and the small hairs framing Glorfindel’s face rising and falling in beat with his nervous panting breaths. Glorfindel’s gaze traversed his form and his head nodded its approval. He went rigid as Glorfindel circled around behind and trembled when Glorfindel’s light teasing touches moved slowly down and around to his backside. His body inflamed with every caress.
Erestor jerked as he felt the firm embrace of an arm about his waist while greasy fingers brutally plunged into his depth. He cried out at the stinging pain while Glorfindel’s fingers forcefully worked him, stretching his orifice with their girth.
Glorfindel’s voice, angry and unrelenting, hissed near his ear, “We both know this is not the position you prefer.” He rotated his fingers roughly accentuating his comment.“ So why are you here, Erestor? Have you come as a sacrifice? To pay penance on your back!? Are you to be martyred upon my shaft?”
“Nay! Please, not this, Glorfindel. No more pain.” Erestor ‘s body writhed with agony as he tried to stifle another cry while trying to find some leverage to escape Glorfindel’s grasp, but the forceful digits continued their brutal attack.
Glorfindel questioned him again as he continued his preparations of Erestor’s body. “I will ask you again, why have you come?”
“You said you still loved me,” Erestor gasped forcing each word through teeth gritted against the pain. “You SPOKE the words! Was it an untruth?”
Erestor felt Glorfindel’s whole body stiffen, his breathing slowed, his fingers stilled and easily retreated from his body. Relief crowded his thoughts as he was considerately helped into a sitting position on the bed. Glorfindel gently nudged his legs apart and knelt between.
“Nay, I will never again lie about my love for you, Erestor. My lie once caused us immeasurable pain, and if we agree on anything this evening let it be that our love remains intact.”
Erestor, still shaking, gripped Glorfindel’s hand tightly. “Aye, it is agreed that our love is still present.”
Gazing up into Erestor’s eyes, he went on. “You are a most welcome sight. However, no matter your original intentions, Erestor, this night I will take only one sacrifice from you.”
Standing suddenly, Glorfindel swooped up Erestor’s last remaining black robe, wiped his soiled hands upon it, and dashed it into the fiery hearth. He continued to his wardrobe and removed a blue over robe.
Turning to Erestor, he smiled.“ Black does not suit you, Erestor, and ever since my return I have desired to rid you of those robes. My favorite color for you has always been ocean blue. It reflects who you are, on the surface alternating between calm and turbulent, with faithful steady currents beneath and mysteries in your depths.”
A grateful Erestor donned the robe and his mood soared when he heard Glorfindel’s words and a change in music heralded a change of atmosphere inside the room. A soft gentle beat accompanied by a low sensual voice wafted through the night and Erestor once again found Glorfindel kneeling at his feet.
“Dance with me, Erestor.” Glorfindel reverently kissed the back of his hand, then stood, and beckoned him to follow.
Erestor did not hesitate in accepting the invitation and threw himself into Glorfindel’s outstretched arms. He was home as the arms wrapped around him, pulled him close, and he relaxed in the embrace. They danced in silence as their past sloughed off and became meaningless, at least to Erestor, and his mind turned to their future.
He began to speak but Glorfindel shushed him with a kiss. “Nay, Erestor. Say nothing. We shall have no promises between us as we have been through too much, my love. I know not whether we can stand the test of time, and I know you agree. We are both, if nothing else, usually practical.”
Erestor felt his heart breaking into pieces, and as he numbly nodded his head in agreement Glorfindel continued.
“Let us have one night together. We shall dance and love and if it is only for this evening it will be enough, for we are in disagreement no longer.”
At a loss for words, Erestor sobbed against Glorfindel’s shoulder. Sorrow at Glorfindel’s bleak outlook of their future threatened his resolve.
Gripping Glorfindel tight he pressed closer, merging them until he felt as if they were one. As they continued to move together, Erestor wiped his tears away and silently vowed that his resolve would never crumble. Sometime soon in the bright light of day their love would be publicly declared.
And then, he would invite Glorfindel to another dance - a dance that would last for eternity.
The End.
Parmasambe
Library of Imladris
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.