Title: Dance With Me (7/13)
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way imaginable nor am I profiting from this story.
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times.
Warning: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape (part 11)
Beta: Ophelialaughs & Ezimachia – The perfect 1-2 beta-punch! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Three lives, two elves, one love.
Lindon - Second Age
Erestor’s chin hit his desk with resounding force, and woke him from the deep slumber which had claimed him. Rubbing the painful nodule that quickly formed, he assessed that the damage, though throbbing and achy, was minimal. He lifted his head while forcing the sleep from his eyes only to be faced with the smoky brown orbs of his king.
Stumbling to rise, he gasped out, “My liege! How may I assist you?” Smoothing out his robe and hair, Erestor hastily executed a formal bow.
Erestor shifted uncomfortably under Gil-galad’s inscrutable gaze. He dared not utter another word as protocol forbade speaking before ones liege. In a sleep-fogged haste, while trying to hide his lapse in work, he had trampled horribly on proper decorum.
“Erestor, please sit, relax, and release that terrified look from your face. I am no orc, merely your king. You hold to formalities like one born in the First Age.” The high king smiled knowingly at Erestor, and that grin made him squirm further.
“As you wish. I see you have this morning’s notes in your hands.” Erestor attempted a change of topic. “I do apologize, but I have not finished scribing them as of yet.”
“Aye. It did seem that you were otherwise occupied.”
Erestor lowered his gaze at that statement.
“It is of no consequence, Erestor. No one but yourself requires you to behave perfectly.” Gil-galad stood to leave, placing the notes back on the desk.“ However, in light of what I have witnessed I must concur that my cousin is correct in his worry about your health. You are ordered to the healers this time tomorrow. I will inform Elrond of this command and you can expect him to meet you there. Is this understood?”
“Absolutely, my liege.”
“Excellent. I look forward to reading your notes on our meeting. They are always most enlightening. Good day.”
“And a fine day to you.” A bedraggled Erestor finally let his guard down as the high king left his small office. This was what he had hoped to avoid. Not only had his lord questioned him, but it was obvious from Gil-galad’s words that he and Elrond had discussed him. The thought made him uncomfortable. Thinking, he decided, was something better left to others, and so he sat down to finish writing out the notes. This task was always slow and tedious, and he barely finished the transcription before the day transferred to the next.
Drained, he lumbered off to his chambers. His exhaustion evident as his elvish eyes closed, and he slipped into a restless slumber…
Gondolin - First Age
The hidden city swelled with excitement. Once more they had reaped a successful harvest and King Turgon proclaimed a celebration in order. Baskets of grain, conspicuously displayed on every doorstep. gave evidence to the bounty of this year’s harvest and the excesses received. Shouts of praise to Ilúvatar resounded through the streets, thanking him for this blessing on their city.
Peering out his window, Erestor happily found himself caught up in the gaiety, still he knew well that Ilúvatar would just as soon see them starve as feed them. He silently thanked all those who had worked so hard to ensure success in surviving the harsh conditions here. Though surrounded by attractive and breath-taking scenery, beauty was not always a precursor to kindness, and Gondolin with its lofty towers and shining streets, would be little more than a memory if its inhabitants were not fed. The creator had seen fit to confound his creatures with beautiful and sometimes deadly lessons.
He longed to spend this rare day of leisure with Glorfindel, but they had just managed a precarious peace. Their friendship appeared to have survived yet they were both loathe to move back to a more physical nature. He dreamed often of holding and caressing Glorfindel, but they were not yet on an even keel, so he shied away from spending much time alone with him.
Today he had decided to spend an entire day lounging in his own quarters, a place where he ultimately found all pretense could be dropped. Frequently the brunt of jokes regarding his fastidious and pragmatic nature, he would simply smile and think of his room. Those who taunted him would be thoroughly surprised to view the havoc that always resided here. Clothing was thrown haphazardly throughout the small space. Old dishes littered the tops of his table and desk, and papers important or not perched precariously atop any area of the desk not already inhabitated by dirty crockery. Books - some open, some closed and notched by a mark - were stacked high in all available space. The maids, after years of fruitless chastisement, refused to enter his rooms, and had demanded he set his dirty clothing and dishes outside the door when he needed their service.
They also insisted he remove his wall hangings, and he utterly rejected those pleas. The only decorations he displayed were odd bones collected when he first entered the valley. As his duties required, he had been present when the valley’s earth was first tilled. Bleached white bones had shone out through the dark organic-filled earth, and piqued his curiosity. Painstakingly, he pieced some of the bones together, only to be awed at the creatures these bones hinted at. Fins, tails and ragged teeth told the tale of a long dried up body of water that once filled this valley and of the struggle for life in that water. He had hoped, and continued to hope, that these long dead creatures did not portend the same fate for the soon-to-be inhabitants of the valley.
As with most things, his fascination quickly dulled as work took more of his time, but only after he had glued and mounted many of the ancient skeletons.
The day stretched to night, and he prepared to pick up his companion for the feast and ball at the palace. A harvest celebration certainly called for something appropriately festive, so he settled on a deep green tunic, light over robe and matching leggings stitched with golden threads. The threading a perfect mate to the glowing golden locks that adorned the elf he most longed to spend this evening with, but alas they would be mere acquaintances at the gathering.
Erestor had decided that King Turgon spent more time looking in his general direction since that unfortunate meeting with Maeglin. Glorfindel, consistently stubborn, refused to give the matter any further thought. He simply declared his personal life off limits to any commands from his lord and king. Erestor, on the other hand, knew it was much easier to declare such things when one was held in such high esteem no matter their proclivity, while it was another matter when one was simply a common worker who had risen in the ranks. Glorfindel had heartily laughed at such a notion and declared Erestor to be anything but common.
Erestor had accepted the comment with good grace and the subject was not discussed any further. He was willing to shy away from any topic that might impede their progress and they had fallen back into the light teasing banter so typical during their friendship. This was a welcome relief for Erestor, and he knew their next step was to take this mood and build upon it, though both were reluctant to return to a physical relationship. Still, he was content to let matters lie since they came close to losing their friendship, and he continued to blame his own lack of will when it came to desiring Glorfindel. This was better. This was easier.
Treading the familiar hallways, Erestor stopped in front of the entrance to Ecthelion’s suite, shifting from foot to foot, and he tapped an ongoing staccato beat on the door. His gay mood dampened only slightly as he reflected on how much he truly loathed most public festivities. His childhood had not included training for dances or music or any form of art, as his kin were of a stoic lot. Surviving took more of their time than it obviously had for the elves who forayed to Valinor. These elves planned parties at a moment’s notice and found any happy occasion an excuse for another, so he had attempted to learn every dance. Unfortunately his social skills, like his fighting skills, never rose above a blandly mediocre level, making him less than popular with the ellith he had courted. He learned quickly that they preferred presence on the dance floor over smart conversation when a celebration was in full swing.
Vespula responded to his incessant knocking, looking harried but resplendent in her silver gown. She wore her hair expertly coiffed in the latest style, which reminded Erestor of a sea animal he once saw dead on shore, its body a bloated sail and its extremities a mass of tangled tentacles. Tendrils of her dark hair hung down the sides of her face and the back of her head, while the top was piled high with layer upon layers of curls. Tiny delicate pearls twinkled out from her raven locks. Stifling a snigger, he took her hand and reverently kissed the back.
“My lady, you are lovely as usual, and you will be pleased to know there is no wind this eve,” he added wickedly.
“Another blessing, as I have toiled for the entire afternoon to get this just so. I would be loathe to have it blown down immediately upon leaving our house.”
“True, though I am more concerned that any wind might grab hold of your hair and lift you straight to Ilúvatar himself!”
“Erestor! It has been a tedious afternoon with all our assistants absent as they make their own preparations for the gala, and I am in no mood for your antics!”
Properly chastised, he immediately placed a look of contrition on his face. “Where is the lovely Limithil?”
Erestor had promised to accompany his lord’s eldest daughter to the celebration as she was not old enough to accept a true dating companion, yet too old to stay home with a sitter.
“She is ready and has been waiting for you to appear.” Vespula leaned in and whispered conspiratorially into his ear. “She has been nervously pacing her room excited to present herself to you and see your reaction.”
Immediately suspicious, Erestor laughed nervously. “My lady, please convince me she is not harboring some secret attraction! I am merely providing a service. Surely she understands!”
Vespula laughed. “Ah, Erestor, it is fitting that you have found love with an ellon as you do not understand ellith at all.”
“Love! No one has mentioned love! And it is a well known fact that no ellon understands an elleth.”
“Maybe it is time someone did speak of love.” Patting his hand and shaking her head in defeat, Vespula left the room to collect her daughter.
Erestor moved around the room unable to stand still. Surely, his lord’s daughter did not harbor awkward feelings for him, but his discussion with Vespula did nothing to ease his mind.
The rustling of skirts heralded the arrival of his date, and he placed a wide smile on his face and readied himself to compliment the young elleth, who as it turned out, had transformed into an absolutely breathtaking beauty since he last saw her. Quickly, he understood Ecthelion’s concern and request for a more mature companion for Limithil. Erestor knew he would have his hands full properly chaperoning his charge this evening.
“Limithil, my lady. Your beauty is overpowering, pen dithen. I will be the envy of all ellyn this evening!”
“Erestor, your tongue is as silver as ever!” Limithil said with fondness in her voice, and graciously accepted his bent-knee kiss to the back of her hand.
With a quick good-bye to Vespula, Erestor directed Limithil out the door, eager to be on his way. The two, protector and charge, hurried off with Limithil chattering madly about the upcoming ball. She had no interest in the feast, unlike Erestor’s stomach, but was fascinated by the opportunity to meet all the young ellyn from the prominent houses. Erestor was in turn fascinated and relieved by her intrigue with young Lindir, a very pleasant and courteous, if shy, ellon who also happened to be a cousin to Glorfindel. It appeared both elves, young and old, would have their eyes trained on the contingent representing the house of the Golden Flower.
A cacophony of sounds and a plethora of smells greeted the pair as they strolled into the palace. Everywhere elves bustled to and fro, taking in all the sights and greeting old friends. The palace was ablaze in light from candelabras and lanterns, and the smells of scented candles competed with the mouth-watering aroma of grilled meats and baking desserts. The halls and rooms were adorned with pumpkins and sheaves of wheat and barley, vines still heavy with sweet globes of fruit were draped over tables, and a carpet of rose blossoms were scattered in the hallways. The two trees had been creatively lit with the colors of autumn.
Erestor nearly fainted from shock when he beheld buffet tables groaning from the weight of the food. They were laden with every imaginable kind of meat, dishes, and baked delights. He dampened down his pragmatism and refused to fret over how much of their stock had been depleted to create this banquet. Instead he allowed himself to be caught up in the wonder of his charge as she gaped at the prepared feast with all thoughts of young ellon temporarily abandoned in the face of the kingly spread.
Erestor used her moment of silence to scan the large room and search for a head of golden locks, which he easily spotted in a sea of ebony. Erestor’s heart raced at the mere sight. Glorfindel, it appeared, was happily holding court with a gaggle of ellith and ellyn, obviously recounting some tale of his bravery. His rapt adherents sighed and laughed at each line as Glorfindel wove his spell of magic over the captivated audience even as he also surveyed the room. It was not long before blue eyes fixed on him and for that moment, amid the shrill sounds of gaiety, no one else existed. A relaxed smile past between them, and Glorfindel, not missing a beat, finished his story with a flourish.
Glorfindel soon quit his assembly and slowly mingled his way over to Limithil and Erestor. Erestor chuckled as he drew near. Glorfindel, ever a creature of habit, balanced a handful of dried figs nestled close to his body so as not to lose any should he be jostled. He happily munched them as he approached.
“My lady, Limithil. Well met, pen dithen. You are positively radiant this evening although you do realize your reputation is permanently tainted from showing up with this rogue!”
“Glorfindel, my lord.” She gave a quick curtsy. “Then why did you not save me thus? I might have been accompanied by a golden rogue, and hence my reputation would have suffered less.”
“She is Vespula’s child, Glorfindel. You should know better than to attempt matching wits with someone of superior intellect.”
Glorfindel shoved a fig in Erestor’s mouth. “Have a fig, Erestor. I know how you crave the taste, and it will help us all rest our ears from your annoying patter!”
Grabbing Limithil’s arm, Glorfindel steered her over to a large group of ellith where he quickly deposited her.
Erestor struggled to follow, but was detained by many who wished to thank him for his part in the successful harvest, and then restrained by Glorfindel on his way back.
“I am her guardian for the evening, Glorfindel!”
“You know that she is perfectly safe and surely has no desire to be squelched in her fun by two old and boring elves. Let her be. We will watch her from a distance.”
And that they did, as they partook of the bountiful meal and again later when they moved into the dancing hall where the young ellyn and ellith eyed each other warily across the crowded room. Having not grown up with many elves his own age, Erestor had always wondered why elflings always seemed to form large packs. Tonight, it appeared, they assembled as a safety measure. He was pleased to see Limithil at the back, well away from the watchful eyes of the ellyn. Glorfindel, however, decided she would not hide from him and strode over to her for the first dance.
Erestor, with a bottle of wine, made his way to an empty table. He spent the evening watching Glorfindel, envious of every elleth with whom he danced. Glorfindel’s warrior-large frame encircled his partner’s as he gracefully guided each around he floor. His face alight with pure joy as he whirled them through the various steps.
Erestor’s mood was exactly opposite. Envy clouded his joy and he railed against the forces, including his king, which had shoved his relationship with Glorfindel into secrecy. It was he who should be twirling with his lover, not some anonymous elleth. He should not be idly sitting here slowly succumbing to the affects of the wine.
While sulking in this piteous state, he failed to notice when Glorfindel left the dance floor and moved to his side. Erestor felt a hand on his shoulder. A hand which slipped slowly down his back as Glorfindel knelt beside his chair.
Glorfindel’s face, once alive and happy, reflected concern as he perceived Erestor’s misery. His hand moved from Erestor’s back to his face, gently stroking a reddened cheek. “Erestor. Dance with me.”
“You know this is not possible, Glorfindel. It is severely frowned upon, and we would be punished in some way. I cannot.”
“We have spoken of this before and agreed that our liege’s edict is unfair and a trifling with matters he should have no say in. Let us break down this barrier together. Dance with me.”
“Stop this torture! Nay, I am leaving. Please see to Limithil.”
Erestor bleary-eyed, shoved away from Glorfindel and pushed his way through the throng of elves as he escaped into the night…
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.