Rhîw, Imladris, 3019 T.A.
After a moment’s pause in the corridor, Erestor strode into the room without knocking. He had been invited after all. After setting down the wine and tray of snacks on the side table, the dark elf determined to find his host since he was nowhere to be seen. Noting all the places the golden elf was not, he finally wandered into the bedroom and there, standing on the balcony in bare feet and shirtless, was the one elf that he had desired for too long.
Briefly, he hesitated as his thoughts threatened to overwhelm him and prevent him from enjoying the evening, so he shoved all considerations aside and walked out to the balcony. As he pressed against the bare back and wrapped his arms around his soon-to-be lover, he felt him tremble.
“You are practically frozen, mellon nín, come in from here and let me warm you by the fire.”
The golden elf turned and azure blue eyes gazed intently at Erestor. “Aye. I must have gotten lost in thought and did not realize how long I had been standing here.”
He allowed the advisor to pull him into his rooms and moved to sit before the fire, where Erestor pulled a soft woolen blanket over him.
Erestor fidgeted, being more nervous than he would admit, as his conscience tried to get his attention. Once again he tamped it down and set about to build up the fire until it was crackling and warming the room nicely. The action had calmed him a bit and kept him from thinking too long on what he intended. When he began to open the wine, he was surprised as strong arms encircled him and lips caressed his neck.
“Why are you really here, Erestor?” Those whispered words brushed passed his ear and made him shiver.
Erestor turned and, after handing a glass of wine to his companion, took a sip before answering. “I have long desired you, and I am certain that emotion is returned. Was I mistaken?”
The question was facetious. Erestor knew without a doubt that Thranduil wanted him and had for far longer than he had been aware of his own feelings toward the king.
As his host moved away and leaned casually against the back of the sofa, his long, lean legs crossed at the ankle, the heady rush of purely physical need shot through Erestor. The blond arched his back to stretch, knowing full well the effect he conveyed as the mithril ring on his chest glinted in the light.
“Nay, you know I have long wanted you, but why now? What changed that you can be here, in this room with me, when you would not dare even half a century past? I need to know the truth, Erestor. Especially now.”
The golden elf was nothing if not patient. He had waited over three and a half millennia for this one, he could wait a little longer to ensure that this was right, and no further hurt and misunderstandings occurred.
Erestor’s eyes drifted from the hard body posed before him as he moved to sit on the sofa. Once he was comfortably ensconced in the large pillows, he lifted his eyes to the blond.
“You know the answer, but since you seem to want to hear it from my lips… You were my lord’s lover, and before that I was involved myself. It was not the right time.”
The blond turned and stared intently into unfathomable brown eyes before snorting. “I have not shared your lord’s bed for more centuries than I can count, how could that have been a consideration?”
He shook his head as he easily lifted his legs and turned to slide down the back of the sofa into the voluminous pillows, one of which he picked up and tossed at Erestor.
Erestor had to smile at the king’s antics. He revealed a playful nature that was usually hidden behind a cool, arrogant facade. “He loved you… and yet does. That is why I could not.”
Hope flared, but Thranduil squashed it. That boat had sailed millennia ago. “If he yet does, as you say, then I return to my initial question, why now? Why are you here?”
“I finally know the difference between love and desire.”
Erestor’s voice had lowered, becoming husky and deep, sending shock waves down the king’s spine. “I desire you and I need to know… We have been held back countless times through the ages and enough is enough. Elrond loves you, whether you believe it or not. After today, I doubt you return his feelings, so my desire won out.”
As he was speaking, the dark elf moved slowly closer, until his lips were a hair’s breadth from Thranduil’s. And I want no regrets holding me back on the morrow.
Thranduil’s eyes closed as Erestor’s words opened long festering wounds. He could not bear to listen and refused to hear. Instead he took a deep breath and whispered back, “Please… let it just be us here. We have been constrained by others for too long.”
Heavy lidded azure eyes were darkened with desire as their lips finally crashed together, desperate moans the only sounds for long moments, until, at last, Erestor sat back. It was not enough for Thranduil and only served to further fan the flames. He growled and pulled Erestor against him, plundering the warm cavern as he tangled hands in the loose black silk of his hair, keeping the advisor from pulling away again.
“Glorfindel. You startled me. I had no idea you were back.”
Elrond turned, his eyes bleary from staring into nothingness for too long, and looked up at his golden friend.
Glorfindel was stunned at how quickly the old pain had run roughshod over his friend and lord, making his normally sparkling grey eyes dull and lifeless.
“Something told me I was needed here more than out on patrol, so I returned early. Elrond, there is nothing more to see out there. Come inside so we can talk.”
It was surprisingly easy to convince his lord to come in. Glorfindel could not recall Elrond ever being this compliant. He shook his head sadly at that thought.
Wine was poured, the fire stoked higher, but no more words were spoken, and the silence stretched until Glorfindel could no longer keep quiet. “Do not shut me out. Lindir told me what was said. Talk to me, meldir.”
The wine and Glorfindel’s plea had an effect and finally loosed Elrond’s tongue. “He accused me of deliberately sending his son to die… said it was obvious what I was doing, because I refused to send my own.” The hurt from that accusation was palpable. “It is not true, is it? I would never do such a thing simply for revenge… would I?” Elrond’s words were hesitant and unsure.
Glorfindel cursed under his breath because he did not have an easy answer for a shattered relationship that was never discussed, never mourned, and thus never truly over. Thranduil had ridden into Imladris alone and in a few day’s time had reduced Elrond to an uncertain, insecure elf needing reassurance.
“I will not justify that question with an answer. He is angry and scared. Legolas is all he has now. Words were just his means of making you hurt as he does. This was a blow he was unprepared for and he lashed out at a very convenient target… you.”
Elrond’s eyes turned inward, envisioning something, as he spoke quietly. “It was not supposed to happen this way.”
He turned suddenly lucid eyes toward the blond. “I had dreamt of what I would say, what he would say, and then… we would forgive each other and start again. This definitely makes that almost impossible.”
Glorfindel stood, taking Elrond’s empty glass and setting it aside. He then pulled his friend to stand and embraced him. “Come. Enough of this. You must talk to him. Tonight.”
Their kisses were desperate and soon Erestor was completely naked, lying atop Thranduil’s still partially clad form. The dark elf marveled at how fast the king worked because he did not recall his clothes coming off.
“You move too fast, your highness.”
The king chuckled before answering. “When you desire something for over three millennia, it is easy to get carried away.”
The sofa was narrow and made movements difficult, but neither elf wanted to stop the heated kisses and caresses long enough to move this encounter to the bedroom. Erestor awkwardly tried to loosen Thranduil’s leggings, leaning up with one knee between the king’s thighs, while the other leg was pressed to the floor. He fumbled and the laces knotted, causing a low growl in his throat. “Damn!” Instantly the king traded positions with Erestor. He stood and managed to strip his breeches off without untying them. The sight was like an erotic dance and Erestor hardened further.
Once completely bare, Thranduil stood over Erestor and lightly stroked himself. “You like what you see?”
Erestor groaned and reached up, demanding, “Enough teasing. I want you… now!”
The king eagerly complied as Erestor’s desires and his own were one and the same. He laid himself over Erestor, aligning their bodies in a sweaty, heated dance, their cocks rubbing together as lips, tongue, and teeth tangled. Thranduil was too close, so he slowed and lifted himself up on his forearms. He gazed down at the gorgeous, wanton creature beneath him, with long dark strands clinging to his bare skin. “Stay. Do not move a muscle.”
Chocolate eyes watched the king’s arse as he walked to the bathroom. Erestor dropped back to the sofa, his heart thudding in his ears, lust finally masking his conscience. His world had narrowed to the incandescent heat he felt when near Thranduil. As he waited for the king to return, the dark elf touched himself, sliding a hand over his aching shaft, while the other pulled at his nipples, the dual sensations forced his eyes closed and pulled a groan from his lips. Suddenly those lips were seized and plundered.
“You are so much more than the cold, aloof advisor so many believe you to be. Such a sensuous creature, my dark beauty. Let me bring you to the heights of pleasure few have known.”
Elrond’s steps grew more hesitant the closer he and Glorfindel drew to the king’s guest chambers. He walked slowly as though to his execution rather than to a much needed talk with a former lover. In exasperation, Glorfindel urged him forward and pressed him to quicken his pace. The golden elf had been away on patrol and wanted to see his lover as well as a bath and his bed soonest.
When Elrond hesitated before knocking upon Thranduil’s door, Glorfindel reached over his shoulder and rapped loudly and hard. The door had not been latched and creaked slowly opened. They glanced at each other and hesitantly stepped into the room, Glorfindel pushing his lord before him.
The scene that greeted Elrond’s eyes stunned him. It was a stinging rebuke that his former lover, who had only been in Imladris for a few days, had already found another to share his bed.
“Thranduil?”
Suddenly realizing that he had barged in uninvited and had no claim on the king, Elrond began to back up, but ran into a hard wall of muscle, Glorfindel. When he turned to look at his friend, he saw that the blond was white as a sheet, his eyes widened in horror, and then he heard the name on Glorfindel’s lips.
“Res?”
Thranduil was so caught up in the tight heat he had not heard the knock or the footsteps, but his name registered and he looked up over the back of the sofa to meet mithril grey eyes. When the king stopped thrusting and lifted up, Erestor pushed himself onto his elbows and immediately stiffened. A soft gasp passed his lips, “Fin?” and then an exhalation as he collapsed back to the sofa, “Gods.”
The king looked down at Erestor in confusion and then back up in time to see Glorfindel hastily leave the room followed quickly by Elrond. Being no fool, Thranduil quickly surmised that Glorfindel was Erestor’s lover. He extricated himself from the dark elf who was limp and quiet with his arm thrown over his eyes, the only indication that he was awake was the soft shuddering of his chest and the barely audible stream of curses flowing from his lips. “Damndamndamn… naynaynay.”
Thranduil stood, curses passing his own lips as well. He had not wanted anyone to be hurt and definitely had not desired for Elrond to see him this way. He reached for his leggings and pulled them on. As he was about to tend to Erestor and talk about the extent of the damage, the door slammed open and there stood Elrond, nostrils flaring, his fury pulsing around him as he directed the full force of his anger at Thranduil.
“You! You Valar-accursed bastard! Get out of my realm now! This instant! Or I shall have you dragged to the border!” The half-elf turned to leave, the door knob in his hand when he remembered Erestor.
“And you, you had better get out of these chambers and crawl back to Glorfindel to try to repair the damage you have done or you will find yourself following that son of a warg, exiled from here!”
The resounding crack as the door was slammed and the wood split from the impact echoed into the eerie silence of the room. Two stunned ellyn stared after Elrond, blinking, their mouths agape, the only sound in the room their harsh breathing.
Thranduil turned away from the battered door to look at his friend and almost lover. Erestor fared poorly, his face ashen, eyes wild, his breathing shallow and too fast. The king pulled him to stand and embraced him, rubbing soothing circles on his back.
“Shhh. We will work through this.”
Suddenly Erestor stiffened and tore away from Thranduil’s arms. He began to frantically search the room for his clothes.
“I must go! I have to explain. Gods! I cannot lose him!”
Thranduil barred Erestor from further movement and grabbed his friend’s face with both hands.
“Look at me, mellon nín. Do not compound your error by showing up smelling like sex and another. He already had his eyes forced to see, do not add other senses to the betrayal. Let me draw you a bath and we will talk. Surely together we can devise a plan for you to win back Glorfindel?”
Thranduil joined Erestor in the bath and helped to bathe his friend. While washing Erestor’s long black hair, the king became lost in his own tangled emotions. He was still furious that Elrond had chosen Legolas for the quest, but he also felt guilt for the venom he publicly spewed at his former lover. And, then this whole sordid affair with Erestor simply added fuel to the fire. How dare Elrond act as though it was entirely Thranduil’s fault, as though the king dragged a protesting Erestor to his bed? All of that, coupled with a near all consuming, yet completely hopeless, desire for the Peredhel, had Thranduil tied in knots.
“Ouch!” The outcry tore Thranduil out of his musings and he realized his hands had expressed his emotions rather painfully.
“Erestor, forgive me, mellon nín. I believe I got carried away.”
The king gentled his touches and massaged the dark elf’s scalp.
“What a pair we are. We waited over three damned millennia to act on our desires and we still made a complete mess of everything.”
Thranduil began laughing and the more he thought about the entire situation, the harder he chuckled. Erestor just stared, in shock, afraid that the king had finally lost his mind.
When Thranduil realized that Erestor was looking at him as though he were a lunatic, he stopped laughing and dabbed at his eyes.
“Forgive me. If I do not find humor in this situation, I believe despair would engulf me.”
The king pulled the dark elf against him, wrapping his arms about the lean torso in a comforting gesture.
“Now, please explain to me why you chose now to warm my bed? What were you thinking?”
Erestor stiffened but finally gave in to the embrace and leant back against the blond elf, relaxing until Thranduil spoke. His heart, his conscience, his brain, and now his friend all berated him. What had he been thinking? He tried to pull away, but Thranduil was strong and had him well and truly pinned.
“You will not run from me, Erestor. If you are to regain your lover, I need to know why.”
Ducking his head, Erestor finally answered, his voice grief laden. “I had to know if what I felt with Glorfindel was real. Even Gil had not made me feel the way I do when I am with him… was with him.” He amended, on a strangled cry.
“Shhh. It is not over yet. Do not lose hope.” Thranduil soothed. There had to be more to be said, but he would wait for Erestor to get it out.
“You… you were the unanswered question. The one regret. From the first, there was always something, some attraction between you and I. I know you felt it, too.”
Thranduil nodded but did not interrupt. He and Erestor had settled for being just friends as various impediments continually sprang up between them.
“You could not know, but Glorfindel and I have been on and off for the last few centuries. He feared the ultimate commitment and I was quite content with the variety our situation provided. I thought we were happy that way, until the Ringbearer came.”
Erestor was growing increasingly agitated and Thranduil tried to hold him still and soothe him, but the dark elf turned, dark eyes staring intently at the king. “I could have lost him to the Nine!”
He stopped to breathe for a moment, taking great shuddering inhalations until he calmed. His voice steadier, he continued. “I knew then that I wanted to bind with him, to give him all I am and all I have. I was going to ask when he returned from patrol in a week’s time…”
Thranduil rested his forehead against Erestor’s, his voice quiet and laced with pain for his friend. “Oh, Gods, Erestor. And I showed up here unexpectedly, and reminded you. I became a last test, one final unanswered question to sweep away while your lover was out on patrol?”
The king was unsure if he should be angry or hurt. Choosing to ignore his own feelings, he still had to know. “So… even though it was a disaster, did you find what you sought?”
The choked sob was more than enough answer for the king. He gathered Erestor into a tight embrace and let him cry.
Elrond’s intense rage flared brightly, but by the time he reached his rooms it spluttered and faded into bone deep misery. The ever present ache whenever he thought of the Sinda king was no longer merely part of the background, melding with all his other grief. Now that pain was throbbing intensely once again as his barely mended heart shattered anew. Even though he knew Glorfindel needed him, his own sorrow was too fresh and raw for him to help another. As he drained yet another glass of Dorwinion, he heard a light knock on the door.
“Enter.”
When Elrond turned, the last person he expected to see stood before him. With his eyes narrowed and his voice snarling, he demanded, “Thranduil. I thought you would be gone by now. Surely you do not wish to suffer the humiliation of being dragged from here?”
Though his heart thudded in his chest at the sight of his former lover, Elrond was beyond discussion or pleas.
Thranduil stood proudly, unable to crawl or even to say the words his heart demanded, but he would at least apologize for his public behavior. With his voice laced with regret, he attempted to repair the latest damage.
“Elrond. Please pardon my accusations and outburst. I well know Legolas’ skill, and your reasons were sound for choosing him.”
Closing his eyes so that he did not have to look upon the much loved face, the king began to tread upon thin ice, hoping that he could at least gain forgiveness for Erestor. “As for… what you saw… I only ask for compassion and understanding for Erestor. He does not deserve your ire and I fear he will need your support.”
When he opened his eyes, mithril grey were boring holes through him. “Why do you not seek clemency for yourself? Because you know that you deserve it not?”
Instantly Elrond’s accusations tore into Thranduil and his old anger engulfed him.
“I need not justify my actions! You damned stubborn half-elf! I have no lover and knew nothing of those two! So do not dare accuse me! Unlike you, I honor my commitments!”
As the two elf-lords stared, their breathing harsh, both faces closed by hurt and anger, the oppressive silence engulfed them. Thranduil clenched his fists to keep from shaking Elrond, to keep from begging. His heart screamed, ‘I was the one wronged! The one left for a political alliance!”
Finally Elrond broke the heavy stillness. “I know you do not love me and likely never have… you proved that… before. But to do this? To bed my dearest friend just for spite? I did not think you were so low. Just leave. Go. Be out of here in the morning and never darken my halls again.” The weight of his words ripped apart what little composure he had left and he hastily turned away.
“Go!” he shouted, without turning.
Thranduil saw and felt Elrond’s anguish, but his own hurt and pride would not allow him to reach out. His fury drained away, leaving him bereft. This time it was not his choice to leave, but he was going, knowing he would never return. The king did not have the strength to slam the door, instead he shut it silently behind him, closing off his heart.
Erestor hissed as Thranduil dabbed the ice pack carefully against his swollen eye.
“Shhh. This will help. Hold it there.”
Thranduil examined the bruised and tear stained face and cursed silently to himself. What had he done? He stood and poured two large glasses of miruvor and returned, to hand one to Erestor.
“Drink this. It will take the edge off the pain.”
Erestor shook his head, but downed the cordial nonetheless. “He hates me and will never forgive me.” His voice broke as more sobs threatened. “What will I do?”
With a heavy sigh, Thranduil sat next to his friend and gathered him in his arms. Erestor needed the comfort.
“Write to him, explain everything. If he knows you well, he will eventually come to see reason and understand. Leave with me. Give him some space and time, perhaps no more than a lunar cycle? Glorfindel will come around. You will see.”
Translations:
adar – father
aranen – my king
ernilen – my prince
hannon le – I thank you
Iavas – early autumn
iôn – son
Laer – summer
meldir – friend (m)
meleth – love
mellon nín – my friend
naneth – mother
Rhîw – winter
tôren – my brother