*** Second Age After the Fall of Eregion ***
The sun rises,
The sun sets
And the earth turns
While love is found
And lost
And found again.
But you I will love eternally.
***
Chapter Nine
Glorfindel walked down the hill deep in thought. Erestor seemed – brittle. He wondered about that, and the comment about ‘nobles and the likes of me.’ Was it indeed thus in Imladris, and he had not seen it? He did not know Erestor’s background. He shook his head, refusing to believe Erestor was right. There must be some other reason for Elrond’s orders.
Uneasily he pondered. When Elrond had said to Glorfindel that the pair was ill-matched, he had accepted this as a straightforward assessment, true so far as it went. Certainly they differed vastly in character, not just origins. Erestor painstaking but hapless, caring and giving; Lindir assured, capable, obsessive when taken up with his primary love, music, and somewhat given to heedlessness.
He did not want to learn that Elrond was tainted by moribund custom. It mattered to him, for reasons he did not want to inspect too closely. But he would find out soon enough. He would not leave Erestor to his plight. He would deal with Elrond; Erestor and Lindir would have to sort out the rest as best they could.
***
Glorfindel awaited the right moment to tackle his lord and found it a couple of days later when they were enjoying a lull in their morning together with hours of work already behind them, Glorfindel’s personal report just delivered, and their shared breakfast over. He stretched out his legs to show he was not going to rush off anytime soon.
“How is Erestor?”
“Erestor? Much too quiet…” Elrond moodily shoved his notes aside, uncomfortable over the topic but concerned. “And not best pleased with me for bringing him back here when he was not ready to return.”
“I think it is rather more than that, Elrond. He misses Lindir.”
“Misses Lindir? What do you mean?”
“Nothing complicated. Two elves, courting, missing each other when parted. Since when do you forbid elves their free choice in relationships?” Glorfindel was not sure if he was more angry or puzzled.
“What?” Elrond, astonished, belatedly remembered to close his mouth.
“According to Erestor, you told Lindir to stay away from him, and you said to Erestor that you viewed Lindir’s attentions most unfavourably. You had best never interfere in one of *my* affairs in like manner.” Glorfindel tried to imagine his reaction if someone told him who he was allowed to sleep with. Turgon had never quite dared, much as he would have liked to. What Glorfindel had done behind closed doors was none of anyone else’s business. If Elrond tried to dictate to *him*, the whole of the valley would know about it. His temper emerged rarely, but when it did, he did not hold back.
Elrond blinked at his suddenly formidable and unfamiliar Captain. Glorfindel – pleasant, well-spoken, co-operative, old-fashioned, a little reserved – was almost *lowering* at him. Elrond was glad at this moment he was not a balrog – a novel thought, not one that had inspired him before. ‘He really is most impressive…’ Elrond let that thought fade, inappropriate as it was to be lusting after his Gondolin revenant, however appealing. He smiled uncertainly, hugely distracted by wondering what affairs Glorfindel had been having. He tried to remember who he had seen with Glorfindel lately. No-one came to mind. If Glorfindel had a lover, they had managed miracles of discretion. Everyone would want to know about it. *He* certainly did…
He completely missed what Glorfindel said next but could not resist prying a little. “I did not know you were – involved – with anyone?”
“That’s beside the point, my lord. And you are changing the subject.” Glorfindel felt flustered, not having expected any such direct question.
Was Glorfindel *blushing*? Surely not. Curiosity piqued, Elrond could not resist. “Glorfindel?”
He was definitely blushing now.
Glorfindel ignored him with dignity. “*Did* you part them because of their birth, Elrond? Surely they are fit to choose for themselves what will suit them? You can have no objection.”
“You know it was not I who parted them, Captain. Lindir managed that all by himself, when he conveniently failed to mention a fiancé and drove Erestor away.” Warning bells were ringing but Elrond was fascinated by the prospect of Glorfindel embarrassed. He wanted to pursue it further and never mind Lindir. He tried to concentrate. “What do you mean, because of their birth?” It had taken a long time for Erestor to believe Elrond would want him working so closely with him, and there had been mention then of his unsuitably ignoble origins.
“Erestor cited that as your objection. I was hoping he is mistaken…” Glorfindel had no wish to be bound to another Turgon, who had made – and broken – marriages and dictated social mores as he pleased.
“Lindir had been pestering him. I needed Erestor back here and did not want him upset. It had nothing to do with anyone’s birth.” Bewildered, Elrond tried to remember what he had said to Erestor amidst his growing dismay.
“Elrond! They were *lovers*, and you *parted* them. Erestor thought it on the grounds of his parentage.” Glorfindel spoke definitely without room for argument.
Wholly shocked out of distraction, Elrond stared at him. “What? He did not tell me. And Lindir said nothing. He had been such a nuisance and I could not do without Erestor…” He remembered Lindir repeatedly trying to speak, while Elrond, angry and at his wit’s end, had silenced him peremptorily. With a sinking feeling, the events of the last few weeks took on a vastly different complexion. Blankly he said, “What have I done?”
“Cocked up right royally, I’d say.” Glorfindel deliberately adopted the crude and forceful barracks language to get Elrond’s full attention and then continued, bracingly practical, “So it’s time to sort it out. Wouldn’t you say?”
“How did you find all this out? He barely talks to me.” Elrond had a variety of sensations, all horrible, chasing round in his stomach.
“I asked him. Cornered him and asked him outright and he told me.”
He stared at Glorfindel. “I must talk to him.”
“Yes, you must.”
“Now, do you think?”
“Why not? You can hardly make things worse. And at the moment we know where he is.” They could hear the sound of murmuring voices and feet moving around in the adjacent rooms. “Finding him later could be more difficult.” He was not quite sure how far Erestor’s wheeled and railed platform would carry him before it fell apart, but was resigned to having to look for him again when it did. Meanwhile, he got up and went to call Erestor in.
***
“Erestor, ah – thank you for joining us.”
Erestor immediately looked deeply suspicious and Elrond cursed himself for the too formal beginning but forged on. “Glorfindel is worried about you, as am I. I was wondering what was happening between you and Lindir?”
“Nothing.” Erestor looked at one and then the other, drawing himself up very straight. “Nothing is happening between us. Why?”
“But Glorfindel is right? He says you were – reconciled.”
Erestor nodded, curtly. “But your orders have been obeyed.” He shrugged, humiliated by this questioning.
“In other words, you and Lindir were happily mending things between you, and then I dragged you away from your bucolic haven, banned your association, and silenced Lindir’s protests – aye, Erestor, he did argue, and I overrode him. I thought he had been *annoying* you. And I wanted you back…” He had been selfish, and he knew it.
Erestor stared at him in silence. Elrond stared back. A world of hurt lay between them.
Elrond swallowed and carried on quietly. “I thought that you were avoiding Imladris because of him. So I gave him strictest orders to leave you in peace - he was all set to protest and then suddenly looked stricken when I spoke of you being upset. At the time, I was pleased that he was going to co-operate.” He sighed. Lindir’s reaction had not been selfish disappointment and fear of the threatened disgrace, but concern and worry for Erestor.
“Did he have cause to wonder if you were distressed over something? Enough for him to do as I said, despite your reconciliation?” he asked gently, knowing he trespassed into an affair he had already interfered disastrously with. But Erestor looked angry and pent-up with feelings he was unlikely, by past experience, to express to Elrond unless prompted. And there had already been too much of misunderstanding and silence of late.
“I do not see that is any of your business,” came the expected answer. Erestor was taken by surprise and had no desire to say anything at all about his feelings. Especially to Elrond. “You told me we should not associate. We have not done so. And now you ask about my feelings?” This interview felt too much like a tribunal, with Glorfindel looking on, having obviously gone to Elrond, and with Elrond behind his desk asking questions.
Elrond became aware he was not expressing himself well. “Erestor, my apologies. Glorfindel has rather turned things on their heads for me. He says you think I interfered because of your parentage.”
Erestor frowned. Glorfindel stirred restlessly, and Elrond speeded up as best he could. “I wanted to try and put things right with you. You deserve an apology – more than that – but Erestor, why would you not tell me that I was so very mistaken?”
Erestor shrugged, not really willing to turn friendly and amenable in such a short space of time, and still rather confused about what had been happening. “You chose to separate us. I can hardly serve you as I promised and then ignore your orders. And there was no point saying anything. If you felt that strongly, you were hardly going to change your mind.” He added dourly, “It was up to Lindir, anyway.”
This was rather obscure to both the others. Elrond glanced at Glorfindel, whose turn it was to shrug in puzzlement. “Up to Lindir?” ventured Elrond.
Erestor weighed them both up for a moment. Seeing their genuine concern, he answered shortly, “Lindir would have ignored the ban if it mattered enough to him. He went along with you.” He shrugged. This came far too close to his deeper unhappiness with Lindir and he had no wish to continue. “Can I go? Have we finished here, my lord?”
“Wait, Erestor. Wait a moment.”
“My lord?”
“Promise me – promise me that next time I do something so utterly stupid you *will* tell me. I swear I thought he had been bothering you.”
Silence. Then, “If he was bothering me, don’t you think I could have dealt with him myself? You left me thinking you did not permit his interest.” In a moment of candour, he added, “I have been very *angry* with you, my lord.”
Elrond eyed him sadly. “I am incredibly sorry for being so selfish and haling you back here before you came of you own volition. I rode roughshod over you both and I truly do apologise. But Erestor, whatever someone taught you, regarding your place and others’ rank, is not true here. You do yourself, and me, a disservice to persist in those beliefs. I have said it before: I do not share them. It is time for you to believe me.”
Elrond had touched on this before a few times, less emphatically. Erestor had always taken it as a polite platitude. To take him seriously in this egalitarian view was – different than the experience of his tavern youth in Eregion, where local lords and noble clientele had not been inclined to mind their manners toward the pot-boy. He had learned the hard way never to presume above his station. He looked instinctively at Glorfindel, who nodded.
“And do not mistake formal ways for snobbery, either,” Glorfindel added, perceptively aware of his own manners and their effect. He had not yet learned more carefree ways. Turgon had maintained a strict code of conduct. “This is a very different world for me.” He slid a look sideways at Elrond, wondering if he had mistaken the subtle tell-tales of interest.
“Yes, it must be,” said Erestor, though he could not really imagine what it must be like for Glorfindel.
Elrond shook his head. “Erestor, take the day off. Do something pleasant. Take tomorrow off. I’ll cope. And no more evenings here alone, or wherever you’ve been avoiding people. Please make sure you join us tonight.”
Both the others took on an odd expression while he spoke, but Elrond thought he had questioned Erestor enough for one morning.
***
The hall of fire was crowded that night. Elrond got up when Erestor arrived. “Well, Erestor. You came then.”
“My lord.”
Erestor was still not that pleased with him, concluded Elrond but he persevered. “I’m glad to see you back here.” His assistant gave him a conventional courtesy in reply, but was looking over at the musicians’ corner. “Erestor.”
No answer.
“Erestor!”
“What? Oh, sorry. What were you saying? Something about…?”
Elrond shook his head. How could he have been so wrong? Clearly he would have to mend his ways and become far more nosy if he wanted to keep up with what was going on in the romantic stakes. Erestor would be good for nothing until he had spoken to Lindir. “Come on. Let’s get you two talking again, shall we?”
“Interfering again, my lord?” muttered Glorfindel disapprovingly. Elrond frowned at him. So did Erestor, who thought it a very good idea that he talk to Lindir. He wanted to find out exactly why Lindir had heeded Elrond’s orders. Then he wanted to make him pay for it.
Elrond walked him over to Lindir, and began to offer an inadequate explanation, carefully rehearsed. “It seems I owe you both an apology…” He need not have gone to the trouble. His words trailed off. Neither one was wasting the least attention on him.
Lindir had eyes only for Erestor. He got to his feet immediately and excused himself to the other musicians. “Erestor?”
Erestor looked about at the crowded hall. “Not here.” Absently, he said “Thank you, my lord,” by way of dismissal to Elrond, and led Lindir outside.
***
Elrond made his way back to Glorfindel, who poured him another miruvor and toasted him with a smile. He watched the crowd for a while and then said, conversationally, “I saw a funny thing today, you know.”
Glorfindel, immediately on his guard at that tone of voice, said blandly, “Oh? What would that be?”
Elrond cast him an appraising look. “You have been speaking to Erestor recently, have you not? After work? I rather think you know exactly what I saw…”
“If you want me to guess, I could of course. Come, Elrond, do not be so mysterious.” Glorfindel gave nothing away and made sure not to grin. He had not thought for one moment Erestor would keep his secret. Or even try to.
“Up on the hill, where the forest track opens out for the logging carts – Erestor had Gaerlin dragging him along in some sort of half-cart. The wheels were enormous. Going fast, too. Gaerlin seemed to be in considerable danger once they headed downhill again, but I could not see. But Erestor has survived – perhaps Gaerlin has been as lucky.” Erestor had seemed, even from Elrond’s distant vantage at the bottom of the hill, exhilarated and Gaerlin’s tail had been flagged in the wind, his neck arched, legs stretched out in what frankly seemed a dangerous pace. “You knew what he was up to, I suppose?”
Glorfindel gave in. “Some sort of two-wheeled assembly, yes. And Gaerlin seemed happy, or I would have put a stop to it. Erestor would do nothing to distress that horse, as you well know. I expect he made some sort of brakes, he’d not overlook that. And the carpenter is a sensible elf. Very good at his work. He’d make all sound and check it was safe.”
“You think? This *is* Erestor we are talking about. He can be very charming…” Elrond pondered the advantages of such a vehicle, the persuadability of carpenters, and Erestor’s ingenuity. Clearly he had not been in an accident, at least. “I think we should have a good look at the thing. It might have its uses.” And we must inspect its brakes, he added to himself, for Gaerlin’s sake if not Erestor’s.
“You can ask him, but I do not think you are meant to know about it. You are definitely not in good odour at the moment.”
“Oh, I expect he will be in a far better mood with me in the morning, you’ll see.” Elrond grinned.
“Elrond…” Glorfindel tailed off, his moment of courage waning.
“Yes, Glorfindel?” Grey eyes looked at him, thoughtful, kind, grey eyes that Glorfindel never tired of.
“Have I imagined it? Might you possibly like to share such a morning with me?” There. He had said it. He was not a warrior for nothing. He was proud of his courage, even while still uncertain of Elrond’s answer. He enjoyed but never quite believed the permissive and happy nature of Imladris compared to his previous home, so curtailed and proscribed by correctness and custom.
Elrond’s eyes lit up, and from his slowly spreading smile, Glorfindel knew he had not been mistaken. All thought of Erestor, and strange carts, was forgotten.
***
The small seating area Erestor found off the corridor gave them privacy. Lindir looked at him quizzically. “How have you been, Erestor? Elrond said I was to stay away from you, but I looked for chances to run into you… You’ve barely been in sight, these last weeks. You look – lovely in those clothes.” Tactless to say ‘pale,’ or ‘thinner.’ He doubted he was looking his best, either. He knew he had been drinking too much. Yet neither music nor drink had drowned his desire to seek out Erestor. Relief welled up in him to be speaking at last, to be in the same room and on their own. Surely a promising sign. He moved a little closer.
“Elrond told me you would not be speaking to me. And you haven’t,” said Erestor flatly.
They looked at each other across the weeks of misunderstanding since Erestor’s return.
“Elrond forbade it, most strictly.” He was about to go on and explain why he had gone along with the edict, but Erestor went on talking in a measured fashion Lindir did not find encouraging.
“I was summoned today for a talk. Apparently Lothvaen was a little overloaded in my absence, therefore Elrond came the lord and master in reclaiming me for his offices. On rescinding my leave of absence, he thought he should keep you away from me, because you had made yourself such a nuisance. So he reasoned. It seems all he needed to do was give the order and you obeyed.”
“But I thought it was at your behest,” Lindir protested, managing to get a word in.
Sombrely, Erestor said, “And I thought you agreed with him. Why would I have asked him to part us, Lindir? You had ample display of my feelings. Or did you need further assurances? I cannot imagine what more you could have wanted as demonstration.” Bitterness tinged the accusation, after the weeks of shame at being discarded after such play as Lindir had made with him. “I thought he disapproved. I assumed all these weeks you cared too little to disagree with him. Or – that you were of the same mind as him, having had your pleasure of me.”
“Disapproved? Elrond?” His father, certainly might have been ferociously opposed for any number of reasons, but anyone less like his father than Elrond, Lindir could not imagine, and as for Elrond interfering – other than for Erestor’s sake – he could not credit that Erestor would think so. “Why would he disapprove? Why would I agree if he did? You’re his assistant, and an excellent one at that. It was chaos here while you were away. Lothvaen was tearing his hair out, nearly in tears at times, and when you got back he drank himself silly with relief for two whole days.”
Frankly diverted, Erestor said, “Is *that* where he went? I could not find him anywhere! I was looking for him to help me unravel his – creative – accounting and other dealings. He never drinks!”
“Well, he did that day and the next. And now I recall, he did have a terrible hangover, yes.”
A little silence fell as Erestor tried not to feel too much satisfaction that Lothvaen had paid in some small way for the havoc he had wrought in Erestor’s papers. Twice-over he had cost Erestor, for being brought back to such misery, and by messing things up in his office. Erestor remembered who he was confronting and shook himself, wiping the smile from his mouth.
“Well, then, kindly explain why you went along with Elrond’s decree? I thought it very convenient for you. You got what you wanted from me and then found your freedom handed you on a platter.”
“Erestor! Elrond parted us, not I. Why so cold?”
“You obeyed him all too enthusiastically. Maybe it suited you very well.”
“Oh, please.” Disbelief and frustration etched his words more starkly than he had intended. “For that matter I did not see *you* disobeying him, either.”
In the short, hard silence that followed, Lindir looked at Erestor curiously. “Why was that, Erestor? It was words from your own mouth that convinced *me* to go along with him. You had told me yourself you still hated me, that your feelings had not changed. Repeatedly. So when Elrond spoke of your distress, I feared I had been overbearing and you had asked it of him as a condition of your return. But you? If you are standing here telling me it was not your doing, why did *you* go along with it?”
Erestor’s eyes flew to his and then as quickly away.
So. There was some reason, and not one Erestor wanted to reveal. Lindir had no inclination to be angry. His supposition had been wrong. He felt glad. He wanted to know what was going on in Erestor’s head. And hope was welling up in him. He edged a step nearer. Erestor almost made to move away.
“Oh no, Erestor. Come back here.”
The modulation of the Harper’s command was perfectly pitched to influence its target.
Erestor frowned and stood still.
Lindir closed the last distance between them, close enough to touch. “It was not your idea. It was not your request. So why did you not defy him? Not because you were scared of him.”
Dark eyes flashed at him scornfully, and then fell away. Was that not the exact truth? Not scared of Elrond, but scared to assert himself across the divides of birth? “I…” He would not admit this. He stopped.
“What, Erestor? Why did you not argue with him?”
Lindir’s voice really did cast spells. Erestor found himself answering the soft words. “You are the son of a great lord, high-born – we have little in common. I thought Elrond reasoned that it was best curtailed between us on those grounds. I could not gainsay him. And when you obeyed him I thought you were of like mind, or were easily led and had little objection – or that you had got all you wanted in our brief liaison.”
Lindir sighed. Not at all flattering. And the comment about being easily led cut sharply. But Erestor had touched on reservations about rank before, he remembered, and cursed himself for not addressing them overtly and firmly then. “Well, you warned me your feelings hadn’t changed – and you really don’t think much of me, do you? But if you think I would object to your birth, you must be confusing me with my father.”
Lindir’s hand could just reach Erestor without an effort. It hovered with intent, as Lindir murmured, “May I? Truly Erestor, you are all I could want – and you are so very lovely…”
It was true, notwithstanding his recent weight-loss. Erestor was all cream, gold and green shot with red, in a baggy shirt, gathered trousers and sleeveless tunic. Made of light silk, the clothes billowed as he moved, the effect enhanced by the semi-precious jade set in gold at his wrist and neck, which picked out the green in the variegated cloth.
Erestor fought a battle with pride, fear and hurt, and old prejudices. He had come to the end of reproaches and arguments to find his accusations defused, his anger unwarranted. A brief flare of the unhappiness of the past few weeks reignited his resentment at the thought of giving in. Only to die a death, as Lindir, sensing the very real hurt that Erestor had been through, even if his thoughts had been mistaken, tried to break down that last barrier.
“I am sorry I listened to him. I knew no better. I did not want to intrude against your wishes.” Lindir’s hands came to rest on Erestor’s shoulders.
He was not made for grudges. One last token shot and he would call honour satisfied. “You weren’t even that good at being a nuisance… I fended you off easily enough all those weeks.”
Lindir snorted with a surprised laugh and made to draw Erestor into an embrace. He heard Erestor give a long sigh, part mock exasperation, partly an easing of the shock and hurt carried for weeks, and felt him relax at last against him. Briefly Lindir allowed the familiar dip of Erestor’s head, before he used a hand at Erestor’s jaw to correct the evasion.
The hot eyes remained lowered as Erestor turned his head to kiss the fingers of the hand that held him, kiss the palm – Erestor set his own hand over Lindir’s to hold it. He kissed it a third time while Lindir stood stock-still, letting him do as he chose, each kiss bridging more of the chasm grown up between them, bestowed as pardon, pledge and plea in equal measure – sentiments Erestor would never admit to in words. Erestor’s eyes finally rose to Lindir’s as he placed a fourth kiss on the backs of Lindir’s fingers, all invitation.
“What would you, my Harper Lord? You have a performance to attend tonight?”
As if released from a spell by Erestor’s words, Lindir kissed him, barely hearing the question. Just as he had found before, Erestor played the willing recipient, which was more of a come-on than any groping hands or hot words. Lindir held him close when they paused to find once more the floor beneath their feet, recall the need to breathe – and to meet the obligations of the mundane world.
Lindir sighed. “A performance, yes. But afterwards…”
“Afterwards,” agreed Erestor. He slid away, brushing lips over Lindir’s cheek. “I might not hate you quite so much. Just so you know.”
He left the door open behind him, leaving Lindir laughing soundlessly as Erestor walked away, filled with most welcome thoughts of that delectable arse stripped of silk and linen. Tonight…
***
Back in the hall Lindir took up his place to provide the background, along with the others, to someone’s new song. It received a warm welcome. Lindir played his own lakeside composition, and then, looking at Erestor, launched into a shorter piece altogether. The hall fell silent as he sang, gradually deepening the intensity of his delivery as he spun the simple lyrics with the more intricate accompaniment.
Anor eria
Anor thinna
Ar amar pada.
Meleth onnen
Ar fîr
Ar onnen ad.
Er le melithon an uir.
Erestor, listening with the rest, soon averted his eyes and buried his nose in his glass.
Glorfindel beside him snorted. “I see you sorted that out then.”
Erestor, so far successfully controlling an incipient blush, utterly lost the battle. Elrond, pretending nothing of significance was going on, smothered a smile.
More than a few good-natured grins fell Erestor’s way when he left the hall later, and the odd sotto voce comment. He made a dignified exit, smiling back and answering blithely as if the innuendos entirely passed him by.
***
Lindir rose, stretched, and bade the last performers good night. It was late despite the large crowd still gathered. Erestor would be asleep in all likelihood. Well, there was always the morning. He trod the quieter halls and passages, slipped in through Erestor’s door, and undressed by feel alone. The open window invited in the little light of night, enough to silhouette the bed and the raised line of a sleeping body. He smiled. Naked, he slipped between the sheets. Naked, moved closer to the back limned in moonlight. Gently he laid an arm over Erestor and heard him murmur in his sleep.
He lay there, content to let the day’s events settle into glad memory: new songs offered and well received, his own and others’, Elrond’s recanting, Erestor’s smile and those four chaste kisses. Followed by a fifth, not so chaste… His body reacted to the thought in hard response where he had only been half-aroused all evening. He sighed softly and let his hand creep down and find Erestor’s backside, gently closing there on a promise.
He wiggled closer, trapping hand and prick where they were more than happy to be pressed.
Time passed.
“Lecher,” said Erestor eventually.
“Hmm mm,” said Lindir. “You’re awake, then?”
“I am now. You try sleeping with a rod poking up your arse…”
“Not yet it’s not. Later,” promised Lindir, enjoying the freedom to move a little deeper between Erestor’s legs. He squeezed his hand tighter letting his thumb stray, and was rewarded by Erestor moving into his hold on an audible breath. “You like?” asked Lindir, not expecting an answer. He got up on his side, pressed Erestor forwards to lie face down. Then he ran his hand down his left leg, and found it bare.
“Where is your safeguard?” He felt Erestor tense under his resting hand. “Na na, let me fetch it for you.”
“On the side there,” Erestor turned his cheek to answer him, watching the shape that was Lindir move around the bed.
Lindir found it in the dark, and ran his hands down Erestor’s back and sides, down his legs. He kissed him between the shoulder blades, kneading whatever came easily to hand, ran his fingers up the nape of his neck, through the obscuring fall of hair, eliciting a shiver. Erestor sighed and relaxed heavily into the bedding. After a while of spoiling him, Lindir pulled him gently onto his back.
“Do you need to sit up for me to do this?”
“No.” Erestor reached to take it from him. Lindir swung it out of his reach.
“Let me?”
Erestor lay back on the pillows, watching as Lindir bent close, hair as yet left loose, to nuzzle his way all round Erestor’s body. Definitely nuzzle. Or nose, thought Erestor. Or lick. “Agh!” He made to remove himself from what tickled. Hands held him still.
“What?”
“That tickled. Stop it.”
The silence and stillness was Lindir grinning to himself. “What tickled? This?”
“Aghh, stop it!”
“Or this?” Irritated hands batted at him on a laugh, which Lindir ignored. His next kiss quieted Erestor and had him squirming in a very different way. “Now…” he let him go. “How does this go?” From memory he laid the padding around the back of Erestor’s knee, led the straps through their buckles on the outside and smoothed the guarding tongues of leather over the metal. He tucked them in. “Tight enough?”
“Yes,” said Erestor in the dark.
“Lie down.”
It could have been an order. Erestor did not mind. Not at all. But he reached up for a kiss first, hand cupping Lindir’s neck, pulling him nearer.
Lindir, sitting on the bed beside him, leaned down into the kiss, using Erestor’s hair to hold him back against the pillows, one hand either side of his head. In the same low voice Lindir repeated right in Erestor’s ear, “I said, lie down.”
Erestor looked up into shadow rimmed with silver, enjoying the anticipation of hands holding him pinned and what Lindir apparently intended.
“There. Turn over.” Strong hands encouraged him once more onto his front. Once more they travelled his body. Lindir’s heart was pounding. One more question. “Erestor, is this what you want?”
A long, long quiet. Lying beside him on the bed, Lindir let his hand ghost down Erestor’s shoulder right the way to his thigh. Gently he stroked him, and waited to hear what his answer was to be.
Erestor turned his head, rose enough to reach his lips to Lindir’s chest and kiss there fiercely, as if the question had been a permission that released him from quiescence, and thence sought his mouth, as a parched traveller would latch on to a pitcher of water. Lindir held him, kissed him back as gently as he had caressed him, letting Erestor have outlet for the passion that was driving him hand in hand with a deep desire for this closeness. They had each been nursing hurts on their own for too long. Both felt this coming together held out the promise of healing; both wanted that consummation as much as any pleasure. The kiss softened and slowed. And stopped.
The answer when it came was quiet as the night. “Yes.”
Lindir kissed him, held him, laid him down, busied his hands. “Damn.”
“What now?” Erestor lifted his arse to encourage him to continue, impatient of further delay.
“Where’s that oil of yours?”
“Shelf under the washstand.”
Lindir had the distinct impression Erestor would not have cared right now if he didn’t use any, and remembered with pleasure their last night together and Erestor’s equally cavalier – and erotic – methods then.
He, however, was larger than Erestor and had no intention of being hurried past this step. After all, there was always tomorrow and an encore to consider…
Cakes of soap, spare linens and the promised bottle, heavy and redolent, were all stored under the heavy wooden counter. Lindir retrieved the smeary flagon.
A quantity of oil later, fingers besmirched, Erestor’s every movement speaking of what he wanted, Lindir was satisfied. He patted Erestor on the bottom. “You’ll do. Pillows, please.” Erestor grumbled and handed him one. “Up.” Another one under his shin. Lindir thought it would do. He lay close, searching out Erestor’s mouth for a another kiss.
In the end it was a quiet business, intense, all teasing forgotten. Neither spoke. Lindir found a hand clutched in the pillows and twined his fingers into Erestor’s, who clasped back to the point of hurting. Lindir welcomed that communication, just as he relished the feel of their skin moving one against the other where his chest moved along Erestor’s back, his loins rubbing Erestor’s arse with every breathless shove. When he was close he lifted himself, found Erestor’s other wrist, held that too down into the covers, and paused. Kissed Erestor’s neck. Kissed his back. Let Erestor push himself up – and then remembered. “No, you don’t. Lie down. I promise not to tease.”
He withdrew all the way, just to watch and feel and hear Erestor as he pressed home. Set a hard pace, listened to Erestor’s breathing. When he heard him muffling louder cries into the pillows, he pulled him onto his side, and using his hands, one on Erestor’s prick, the other on his chest, holding him tight, face buried in his neck, pushed hard. Buried deep he dealt a few hard strokes with his hand. Out again and back in. A few more tight strokes of Erestor’s erection.
Erestor was crying out, moving as much as Lindir’s hold on one hip and his body at Erestor’s back permitted.
Lindir muffled his cries with a hand over his mouth.
“Hey!” He slapped Erestor’s leg. “No biting! I have to play with this hand tomorrow.”
He felt Erestor kiss his palm and rest his head in surrender on Lindir’s arm. Lindir took them both the rest of the way, hard desire driving him repeatedly into the hot welcome of the body beside him. No more finesse. Erestor saying his name, the Valar’s, and other incoherent near blasphemies on a rising whisper of petition until he came. Lindir kissed his temple, set him on his front again and took his own pleasure to its conclusion with an immense proprietorial feeling of satisfaction. Erestor was limp and willing under him, muscles twitching around him, everything he had pictured and wanted. Utterly, bewitchingly gorgeous. And all his.
He laughed afterwards, and pulled Erestor into his arms, finding his mouth to kiss him hard over Erestor’s muffled protests at being disturbed when he was very nearly asleep once more. Erestor muttered something and turned over in the crook of Lindir’s embrace. Placed a kiss where he was cradled before subsiding bonelessly.
“You alone, Erestor. You alone. So long as the sun rises and the earth turns, and beyond.” Lindir murmured the words of his song as a benediction on them both, while Erestor fell asleep once more, this time in Lindir’s arms. The Harper recalled the image of a smiling face rippling in deep waters. Feeling blessed and content, he slept.
End of Chapter Nine
End of story
Translation (Sindarin)
Anor eria
Anor thinna
Ar amar pada.
Meleth onnen
Ar fîr
Ar onnen ad.
Er le melithon an uir.
The sun rises
The sun fades
And the earth walks a path.
Love is born
And dies
And is born again.
You alone I will love eternally.
Arvellon - royal friend (Real Elvish)
Gaerlin - copper-red gleam (Elf-fetish)
Parmasambe
Library of Imladris
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