Title: Moonlight Sonata
Author: Hare (email@example.com)
Disclaimer: Amateur at work here. No profit has been gained and no infringement of copyright is intended. No need to roll over, Beethoven!
Timeline: First Age through Third Age
Warning: Graphic sex, mild angst, a few schmoopy romantic lines
Beta: Ezimachia – perfect from the toes up!
Summary: Sonata – a composition for (one or) two instruments, typically in three (or four) movements in contrasted forms (and keys).
Authors Note: For Elohir’s birthday. She presented the perfect opportunity to expand on an existing drabble-ish thing and make it a vehicle for gratuitous up-against-the-wall-sex. Many thanks to Zhie for inspiring the initial drabble-ishness and to Ervy for the wonderful icon partially responsible for the wall-sex scene!
In the dazzling light of Ithil’s fullness, the glistening seed of his lover gleams from the cloth. His head spins rhapsodically and his body hums pleasantly at the events of this day. Yet, he sits captivated, staring at the bathing flannel. As the rays dance, his lover’s essence sparks brilliant as if Anor has risen and now lights the room.
Seated upon the rough edge of an unfamiliar bathing pool, he squirms in discomfort with the same nagging ache that pulled him from his dreams. No matter that he has given himself many times before, each liaison ends the same – sitting alone, contemplating and dreading the open and vulnerable feelings, and fighting the sentiments that war within him. The pain always comes. Yet this time is different and his stomach flutters nervously as he thinks on it.
He rhythmically clenches and unclenches his stretched opening. A delicious soreness flares with each movement causing a brief smile in contrast to his frightening emotions. This lover has in one long afternoon knocked him from his aloof perch of feigned self-confident disinterest. If only he could close off the agitation that comes with giving himself to another, even to one he has desired and known for many years.
First Movement: An Adagio in Gondolin
Their first unremarkable meeting in a gloomy library of the House of the Tree figured prominently in his memory. Erestor tended the sparse holding of books and scrolls which was much smaller than those of other Houses and rarely visited by anyone. It seemed that tomes regarding flowers, plants, crops, and shrubbery held little appeal for those residing in the hidden realm. Mostly unknown, however, was that Erestor had spent a lifetime gathering and bargaining for some of the rarest and daring books available, a small collection of great quality and his source of never ending pride.
He knew little of Lord Glorfindel except that he was a powerful leader of his own House and a recluse who surrounded himself with a few close friends. Smiles graced his face infrequently, sadness seemed to cling to his being, and a stern self-restraint guided his appetites. So mysterious yet his love of books was well documented. In every counsel meeting, it was said he dominated decisions based on his wealth of knowledge and reasoning skills. On occasion, even the inflexible King Turgon was known to temper his stubborn mind based on Lord Glorfindel’s persuasive arguments.
Lord Glorfindel had spent years roaming from House to House digesting every tome available, but Erestor had not much thought about him visiting the House of the Tree library.
Until that day Lord Glorfindel had obviously combed through every library but that of the House of the Tree. His curiosity for all things written had eventually forced him into Erestor’s domain. Erestor fretted nervously as his visitor searched through the books and was most satisfied when the first look of surprise graced Glorfindel’s face, for now he knew. He stood amongst a collection of the most satisfying and most sought after books in the realm. That look of pleasure made Erestor’s heart race for here, at last, was a fellow bibliophile.
Day after day, Glorfindel returned. He strode into the room, gave a brief nod of acknowledgment to Erestor, pulled his current book from the shelf, and sat down for a long afternoon of reading. To his great surprise, Glorfindel approached him after completing the first book and invited him to discuss the story. For hours they debated the merits presented within. The pure intellectual delight bolstered his position and he grew bold reining the reticent lord into more adventurous topics. Gradually his estimation of this mysterious elf grew.
The day following their first discussion, Glorfindel appeared again, chose a new scroll and began what would become their routine. He never spoke until the tome was complete, yet when done Glorfindel drew Erestor into an examination of every nuance of the author’s message. Charmed by his enthusiasm, Erestor responded in kind, completely losing hours of work and personal time in the library with Glorfindel.
He told no one of his daily interactions with Glorfindel for his closest friends concentrated on the physical attractions of life and this was the bond that held them all together. Erestor though, ever loud and boisterous, and the first to boldly experiment found his lustful ways waning.
Until, one fateful day, he found himself in a place of grave danger. Erestor regarded Glorfindel with new eyes…eyes that scrutinized every inch of his powerful intoxicating body. The perfect skin the lyrical voice…it was most alluring. Erestor spent hours watching him absently licking a finger to turn a page. Eventually, he panicked when he realized that Glorfindel would someday read the last of the library’s books and their engagements would end.
Soon after, on a night when Ithil full in the sky waxed and waned obscured by slow moving clouds, were his fears realized. The Fall of Gondolin forever ended their exclusive meetings.
Or so he thought…
Second Movement: An Allegro in Lindon
Another evening, a different age, yet Ithil remained constant and spilled its radiance through the inky sky as a cavalcade of merriment rolled into Lindon. Erestor, dull and lack witted, frowned at the procession and readied to voice his displeasure to the nearest elf. Frivolity like this had never been seen in the city. There was too much pain and death surrounding them and Erestor upheld this mantle of soberness with introspective pride. His days and evenings were filled with work or catering to his family. They were his responsibility since that horrible night when his ada had separated him from the battle and sent him to find his nana and sisters in the caves and to evacuate them from the city. The last word to his ada was a solemn promise to keep them safe. Any merriment once felt had been lost with Gondolin and the subsequent sorrow which hounded the elves through the Second Age.
And so it was with shocked expressions that the residents lined the streets, Erestor amongst them, still and unsmiling, until a multitude of gleeful shouts broke the stony gloom. Unable to contain his curiosity Erestor rose to his toes and scanned the road…unprepared for the vision that confronted him.
He reeled back and moved quickly away from the crowd shaking his head and trembling. Such a thing of beauty no longer belonged in this desperate place. And surely it was not possible. No one came back from the Halls of Waiting to Middle Earth, ever. A trick of the eyes it must be and he had no time for games as there was much work to be completed. This short jaunt to view silly cavorting and foolishness had put him behind schedule for besides overseeing the city’s library he had recently been promoted as counselor to the Herald.
But finishing his duties was not to be that evening, for mere hours later the doors to the library flung open and in strode Glorfindel. Rubbing eager hands together and sporting a gleeful smile on his face, Glorfindel proclaimed, “Oh, how I have missed reading!”
Loudly he shouted his mirth while moving through the aisles stroking the books and occasionally kissing them. Erestor, horrified by this show of unlordly behavior, stalked after Glorfindel admonishing him to restrain himself.
When his words finally seemed to penetrate Glorfindel’s enthusiasm, he stopped dead at the end of a long deserted aisle. Erestor felt a moment of panic at this isolation. And when the wild eyes made contact with his he saw the flash of recognition. He cringed when Glorfindel strode towards him, and went rigid with fear when pulled into a warm embrace. Finally released, Glorfindel held him at arm’s length and raked his eyes over every inch of Erestor’s body. An awed expression graced his face.
“Erestor.” His name flowed so musically from Glorfindel’s lips. Yet he managed to retain some figment of decorum and responded in kind.
“Lord? Nay, no more. That elf is gone. Captain? Aye, occasionally but only from those I will command. My parents gifted me a wonderful name and it is my wish to hear it spoken singularly without title. No more am I a lord and only rarely will I be a captain but always I am Glorfindel.”
Glorfindel had indeed returned changed. True to his word, no one now referred to him as lord. He was simply Glorfindel. But in truth, there was nothing simple about Glorfindel. His daily antics fueled the gossip nooks. The once quiet and mysterious elf he had known in Gondolin no longer existed. Nay, in his stead the Valar had returned a boisterous and gregarious elf that only physically resembled Glorfindel. No longer shirking the masses this Glorfindel commanded crowds by sheer force of personality, one who insisted on changing the way everyone in Lindon lived.
Unhappy with this new ever bright Glorfindel, Erestor raged each time Glorfindel sought him out. His fury increased with each of Glorfindel’s intrusion into his duty-filled life. Each day there were invitations for pleasurable activities or casual reading. Casual reading! The idea horrified Erestor and he chastised him loudly and publicly for even suggesting such things. Yet Glorfindel never rebuked him and quite frequently he caught Glorfindel quietly regarding him with a sad smile on his face.
The uproar Glorfindel caused in the counseling chambers defied belief. Upon taking over his commander duties he asserted that the soldiers engaged in too many training exercises and needed more personal time. The resulting outbursts to this pronouncement held them all in chambers for three straight days until the High King, admittedly worn down by Glorfindel’s persistence, ceased the arguments. Granted full control of Lindon’s troops, Glorfindel’s outrageous changes in instruction began. The soldiers were all placed in dancing classes (to inspire greater balance, Glorfindel had insisted), and strategy planning (so all can understand orders especially those that will take their life, Glorfindel had insisted) and Erestor regularly gazed out upon fields and fields of gleefully determined soldiers engaged in some kind of game involving a ball and kicking it between posts.
And when Glorfindel was not crusading havoc amongst the counselors it was because of his tardiness. For some infuriating reason, the High King and his Herald always sent Erestor to fetch him.
Erestor would stalk through the halls looking for Glorfindel and there was never a pattern to where he would be found. Some days Erestor would come upon him in the baths chatting and soaking. Always innocently declaring that he had lost track of the time yet still he would linger before following. Once he had found Glorfindel hiding behind a tree watching two of the house cats mate. Other times he might find Glorfindel on the ground flat on his belly gazing at some life form or watching a flower grow.
Elflings worshiped Glorfindel and followed him everywhere like little rats scurrying after a walking treat. He dreaded the times he found Glorfindel amongst the little ones for when he approached they would taunt him. One bratling had even dared kick him while he dragged Glorfindel away.
But the absolute worst of times occurred when Glorfindel seemed happy but introspective. It was then that a tender and odd mood would surround him. On one particular occasion, Erestor had found him flat on his back gazing at the clouds and lazily outlining their shape with an extended finger. Reluctantly Glorfindel agreed to attend counsel but only if Erestor would assist in his rising from the ground. He had straightened his arms upwards toward Erestor and waited…expecting his request to be fulfilled. Erestor had turned and walked away assuming he would be followed but soon realized his error. Exasperated he pivoted, returned, and with one great pull Erestor had an arm full of Glorfindel. Warm lips had touched his ear and before the whispered, “thank you” registered in his mind, Glorfindel had run a gentle hand across his face and walked away.
The moment Erestor heard of the High King’s plan to separate off a population with the Herald as their leader he had rejoiced. For Glorfindel, returned by the Valar, was sworn to the protection of the Herald and would certainly leave Lindon. Finally Erestor would be rid of him!
Or so he thought…
Third Movement: An Agitato in Imladris
Another evening when Ithil waned gibbous, the Herald approached him with an undeniable honor. The offer to become his chief counselor, an unquestionable temptation, presented such a provocative scenario promising days filled with duties and challenges, Erestor could not resist.
But the years between the establishment of Imladris and the War of the Last Alliance had been frenetic and he frequently moved between realms…until the battle took him completely away for twelve excruciating years.
After the war, he returned to Imladris weary and heart sore. Nothing had changed. Pain and death continued to be a never ending plague on their existence. The only difference was Glorfindel. Beaten down and subdued, he now roamed Imladris sullen and gloomy.
Erestor was surprised at how this shift saddened him. By rights, he always expected that Glorfindel should be as contemplative and tame as he. He had considered his behavior unseemly and embarrassing yet now he intensely missed Glorfindel’s frivolity. It seemed all of Imladris yearned for the reborn Glorfindel almost as if their continued existence depended on his re-emergence.
Inspiration occurred one day while Erestor rooted around an old trunk. Amongst the clutter of his belongings lay the long forgotten book, “Chatterings.” The last book he and Glorfindel had read together. The same book Erestor carried with him the day Gondolin fell for they had scheduled a meeting later that night intending a long session of discussions. The book he knew Glorfindel adored for its irreverent topics were astounding.
Day after day, Erestor left “Chatterings” on the small table beside Glorfindel’s regular reading chair and each day he failed to appear. Months fell away as Erestor followed the same routine, and he despaired for he knew not how to tempt Glorfindel back into the library.
Assistance came from a surprising source, and he could not contain his astonishment when, on a warm summer day, his nana arrived accompanied by Glorfindel. They entered arm in arm, strolled through the aisles of scrolls, before heading for his favorite reading area. Erestor held his breath when he saw Glorfindel’s startled reaction but released his apprehension when Glorfindel turned and they shared their first smile in millennia. Erestor bowed his head and acknowledged the moment. Not welcomed was the nagging flare of desire that burst through him before he stomped it out.
After that glorious afternoon, Glorfindel slowly fell back into his lively character and once more Erestor’s greatest challenge became the ever charming the ever delightful Glorfindel. Erestor came to regret the change he wrought as the bane of his existence took to spending an immoderate amount of time with his nana! He doted on her, escorted her to dances, walked her through the gardens, painted with her, and accepted meals at her home. Constantly under foot any time Erestor attempted to visit with her, Glorfindel daily tried his patience. Rumors finally spurred him into action for they concerned talk of the relationship between Glorfindel and his nana.
Erestor confronted her and they argued viciously for his rapier like tongue and stubbornness was inherited from this seemingly demure elf. Nevertheless he made it clear that she was his responsibility. His nana laughed at his pronouncements and assured him that she was quite capable of managing her own affairs and then brutally admonished him for questioning her love for his ada. She assured him that her bond with his ada was still strong and she only waited her return to Valinor until sure he and his sisters were safe and happy. This had always been his parent’s promise to each other.
Erestor felt the sting of guilt when she spoke these words for he was convinced she delayed her journey to Valinor because of him as his sisters had all married well and established their own families. But while he quietly contemplated this thought, his nana expounded on Glorfindel’s virtues. Finally, she ran out of flattering words and declared that not only would she continue to see Glorfindel but would paint him a lovely picture.
For years he endured this horror until he decided upon a plan to tempt fate and meddle with one of Glorfindel’s relatives. Let Glorfindel experience what it was like to have one’s kin dallied with.
Salfineth, Glorfindel’s pretty cousin, had recently started frequenting the library. She caught his attention from the start with her light blonde hair and tempting blue eyes. Each afternoon she sat demurely reading the same pages over and over. Yet he saw her sly looks continually circling the room.
At Glorfindel’s usual arrival time, Erestor nonchalantly seated himself next to Salfineth and idly ran a finger over her small hand. A shocked expression was her only response and before he had a chance to speak, a strong hand grabbed him under the arm, propelled him up out of the chair, and from the library.
Swiftly Glorfindel dragged him along, Erestor’s hand gripped in an iron fist. He wrestled in Glorfindel’s vice but could not squirm free, and Glorfindel refused to look at him or acknowledge his outraged shouts to be released. The fear set in when Erestor realized he was about to be hauled into Glorfindel’s private chambers.
With dizzying speed, Erestor was confined in the rooms and shoved up against the nearest wall, pinned there by the gleam of mad merriment shining from Glorfindel.
A smile, slightly provocative, lit Glorfindel’s face. “You fool! She is in love with Melpomaen!”
Confused by the intimacy of Glorfindel pressing against him and the danger this represented, Erestor answered with a shaky voice.
“Aye and it is of no concern to either of us for you are mine.” The rightness of those words whispered into his ear sent an erotic shiver through him.
“Do not play coy with me, Erestor. From the start you belonged to me and the years I spent with nothing but my life’s reflections revealed this truth.”
Had Glorfindel somehow construed a bizarre courtship ritual based on their constant bickering? The strong tongue digging into his ear and the questing hands roughly pulling off his tunic adversely affected his ability to reason.
Glorfindel spun him around and crowded him forward into the wall before plastering his hot body against him. Stunned and held by the hard embrace, Erestor found his cheek pressed firmly into an ornate frame surrounding a painting. The contact knocked it from the nail, and he immediately caught it with both hands holding it in place. It was the picture his nana had painted for Glorfindel, a sweet picturesque scene of an innocent blond elfling playing amongst a meadow of golden flowers. Wide-eyed he stared incredulous at the coincidence. That innocent elfing no longer existed.
Hands tore at his waistband and shoved his leggings down until they bunched around his ankles. And then a wet finger slid into him as Glorfindel’s words poured molten into his ear.
“I own this.”
Erestor jolted forward, his vision completely filled by the pure face of the picture elfling while his body had received a second slick finger. Even on the battlefield, with the stink of death suffocating him, he had never been as frightened as he was this moment. Cold fear and hot desire warred within him. He shakily exhaled before answering.
He meant it to come out as a question but the fingers inside him and antithetical painting dominating his sight fled his thoughts. The risings of a hysterical giggle bubbled within him in tempo with Glorfindel’s wicked chuckle.
Heated breath fanned across his neck and down his back as Glorfindel’s fingers left his body. Hands stroked his buttocks before grasping them tight and pulling them apart. Two large thumbs sunk deep into him, pressed him open, and exposed him. When Glorfindel’s talented tongue burned against his sensitized flesh a moan escaped him and he fought to push back against it. Strong hands kept him in place even as Glorfindel’s wicked teasing tongue probed him again and again. He squirmed and gasped but nothing would increase Glorfindel’s pace until finally the pressure on his buttocks increased and he was spread wide apart. Something much larger took the place of Glorfindel’s tongue and blistering heat once more inflamed the back of his neck.
Erestor clinched his teeth and bore the searing burn as the large cock worked into him. He had forsaken the delights of the body for too long and Glorfindel’s preparations were insufficient for the bulk that now tore at him.
“Relax.” Glorfindel’s tongue swiped at the tip of his ear.
With no time to adjust the onslaught began and Erestor cried out as Glorfindel powerfully thrust hard into him. The pain quickly bowed before physical pleasure which sparked vehemently through him, alive and powerful. Each push forced him up on his toes and his face pressed repeatedly into the picture frame filling his sight with the vision of the innocently painted elfling. The entire situation was complete madness! And when finally his hysteria could no longer be contained he spat out a sharp peal of laughter which swiftly turned to gasps as Glorfindel increased the force of his attack clearly announcing his displeasure at Erestor’s irreverence to his prowess.
His arousal was rammed painfully into the wall with each push until Glorfindel’s large blunt hand roughly grabbed it and began to knead it, cushioning him. Dizzyingly fast, sweet and desperate their bodies slapped together as he was filled repeatedly. Erestor was set on fire by Glorfindel’s touch, and the emotions, new and intense could not be ignored. His pleading groans split the silence while Glorfindel grunted against his shoulder. And then words heralding exclusiveness and adoration spilled from Glorfindel’s lips and filled the air around them. They caressed Erestor with their promises of a future surrounded by love until all thought fled and bliss pulsed through him.
Dazed and pliable, he was tenderly turned from the wall still clinging to the painting. His heart raced and thudded against his chest as he opened his eyes to gaze at Glorfindel who lifted gentle hands which removed the painting from his grip, and then combed through his sweat slicked hair. The touch thrilled Erestor and tamed the emotions that raged within him.
The fearless glint in Glorfindel’s eyes heralded his bold pronouncement.
“You have lost your joy for life, Erestor. And there is so much to celebrate.”
“I have.” His response was automatic for he had no defense to Glorfindel’s statement.
“Aye. And tonight we begin that journey, of joy and celebration, together. Come to bed.”
They collapsed in a wild tangle of arms and legs and the sweet seduction that followed left Erestor exhausted. Their spirited lust turned to gentle fondling and open wet-mouthed kisses full of promise devoured him. His hands, full of a naked and aroused Glorfindel, with deliberate slowness explored his new lover. And when, once more, their passion was slacked he fell to slumber in the tight circle of Glorfindel’s arms.
He touches the side of his face still indented from being pressed incessantly against the picture frame. As his eyes involuntarily drift upward he sees his lover is also outlined by the light of the Ithil, but he sleeps on. He is calm and relaxed, and no cares or worries disturb his slumber. Glorfindel is not afraid to love him; to take him as he is, for underneath Glorfindel’s sometime arrogant manners and easy jocularity, it seems there hides a fëa seeking a home for itself.
Drawn to Glorfindel, he can stay away no longer. Limping slightly, he slowly makes his way back to the warmth of his lover. Crawling carefully onto the bed, he dares move closer and curls his entire body around the larger sturdy frame, cuddling him protectively, resting his cheek on Glorfindel’s long blond hair.
A strange fluttering stirs in his gut, and he feels helpless yet happy at the same time. As he drifts to sleep, on the verge of a dream, a flitting thought nudges at the edge of his consciousness. Perhaps now, with Glorfindel, he might find the strength to finally surrender his heart.