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Story Notes:
Author's Note: Hello, my name is Hare and I am a hopeless romantic. Seriously, I have exploded the sap-o-meter on this one! You are thusly warned, and I am resolved of any consequences should you choose to read. I am grateful to whoever put together the Elf Fetish website and name generator. Special thanks to Svengalliedhare, my niece and poetess extraordinaire for the songs and poem found within but the eagles and swans are all mine! Though I didn’t plan it this story is connected in a vaguely cosmic parallel universe way to several of my other Erestor/Glorfindel tales. Caveat lector!

Title: Yours For A Song 1/9
Author: Hare (
Fandom: LOTR
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Can I choose to proclaim, rather than disclaim? Hear ye, Hear ye--they are not mine!
Timeline: Present day is Imladris Third Age, years 1973-1975. All flashbacks are in Gondolin First Age, years 505-510.
Warning: AU, angst, sex, kink that some might consider non-con, h/c, romance, sap and cookies…though not necessarily in that order.
Beta: Chaotic_Binky and Erviniae…simply the best.
Dedication: To Chaotic_Binky, Erviniae, and Weepingnaiad…my own archipelago of lovelies (for no writer is an island) who keep my tiny pond of our fandom silly, fun, and refreshingly kinky.
Summary: What happens when Erestor discovers his well ordered, fully planned life is nothing of the sort?

Chapter 1
Imladris, III 1973

A creature of routine he craved the sameness of it all. Mind numbingly average, each day dawned, and with a typical cadence faded into the next. It gave him a queer sense of peace that time marched on unfazed by any occurrence, and he a mere insignificant occupant of this small space in this current Age. Even the steady threat of evil fit into his scheme of what life should be like on Middle Earth.

And so, like most mornings, he leisurely arose, sat in the chair by the window and twirled the plain gold band around his index finger. A circle with no beginning, no end and eternity promised. But then promises rarely answered to reality. He chuckled softly, the sound raspy and desperate. Still his eyes ever strayed to the ring day after day. The token evidence of a love that had once bloomed perfectly and would again, or so he assumed. He kept the ring as his singular recognition of potential optimism, and he knew that he only needed to wait out his obligations before sailing to the waiting arms of his love.

He never removed it except for cleaning, and having just yesterday polished it to perfection it gleamed in the dawning rays of Anor. The fit still perfect after all these centuries. Reluctantly he moved his eyes from the ring, stood and moved toward the mirror. With deft hands, and years of practice, he fondly tied a love knot in a strand of hairs that lay to the right side of his face. He added two golden beads as an anchor to keep it from loosening.

Occasionally, like today, he knelt and reached into the chest at the foot of his bed and removed a well known secret from his past, this too an ever present routine about once per week. Buried underneath a lifetime of gathered memories, deep within and covered by a soft lint cloth, he made sure it never came to harm yet he dared not entertain any thoughts of its use. Long had it been in his possession, long had it lain abandoned. But that did not prevent him from holding it and running his fingers lightly over the inlaid flowers, over the golden sliver in the fretboard, over the strings. The resulting discordance caused him only a brief annoyance, a brief desire to tune it before he returned it to its resting place. Mayhap, someday, he would allow himself use of it once more. But not today.

He stood, stretched and immediately put a hand on the spasming muscles in his back. The nagging memory of an ancient injury presented itself when he attempted too much rigorous activity, and yesterday had been full of dancing and cavorting to celebrate the passing of the shortest day of the year. Today he would pay the price, at least until he found a healer to mix him an elixir. Lord Elrond had tried on many occasions to convince Erestor to allow him to fully heal the old wound, but he always refused. The ache was too important to lose. He needed the reminder. But pain or no pain, he must attend to his pattern of normalcy. This is how he managed life; this is how he survived.

Humming a gay song, he prepared for the day. Mountains of work awaited him, especially now that the Mereth Rhîw jubilation was completed. He voiced an irritated, “tsk” as he recalled the complete, yet accidental, annihilation of several garden benches by an exceptionally rowdy group of ellyn. However, the ground workers always inspected every area after each celebration so he had not added that to his own list.

Lord Elrond remained barricaded with the contingencies from Mirkwood, Lindon, Mithlond and Lothlórien; each group planned on staying until the traveling routes to their homes reopened. He was completely unavailable for consultation, thus Erestor’s duties had escalated to running Imladris. In addition, the ladies Celebrían, Arwen, and Aevar should have left early this morning to arbitrate several disputes with the farmers; a formidable trio who appeared unassuming, but any who knew them would tremble at their combined presence. These ladies would harangue and goad the growers with gracious smiles upon their faces, and would win a multitude of equitable concessions, the outcome a forgone conclusion in his opinion. Unfortunately, in their absence, their obligations also fell to him, so in addition to issuing all decisions he would be responsible for monitoring the schedules of those who maintained the Last Homely House. Furthermore, the festival marking the newest day of the year was three months hence, and the ladies had preparations well underway, though he suspected this would also require his notice.

Erestor opened his door and hesitated before exiting. All the sounds of the day seemed right. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just as he expected. He placed a satisfied smile on his face and began a non-hurried pace onward. Elves scurried to and fro, engaged in the morning cleaning, buckets clanged and the occasional laugh came from within the rooms he passed. Clean smells dominated the air and the floors were slick with water. Gracefully he sauntered down the hallways heading towards his office when he encountered a friendly face.

“A good morn, Gwennuial,” he greeted the young elleth who cared for his quarters.

“And to you, Chief Counselor. Another beautiful day.”


He nodded his head while she continued her polishing of a marble carving of Elbereth. The statue had been rescued from Eregion and the damage lovingly repaired. The sculptor remained unknown but Celebrimbor had certainly crafted the blazing blue jewels set in her eyes. Her arm was raised upward in rendition of her creation of the stars. It had been purposefully placed diagonally to a window so it reflected light for most of the day. He ran a hand softly across her beautiful face, sent up a silent request, and moved on.

Erestor started his descent to the next level along with a large group of junior counselors on their way to tutoring sessions. Their dark robes swished and flapped in the rush of air that preceded a gaggle of screeching students who raced down the stairs to arrive at the tutoring area before their instructors. None of the children heeded the yelled directives to slow down. Erestor and the junior counselors grinned, and one made the obligatory comment about elfling energy and how it is wasted on the young. Erestor scratched his head and wondered what nonsense those younglings had been up to as they were not residents of the Last Homely House and had no business on that floor. He sighed and decided that as long as he heard nothing he would not investigate.

He parted ways from the group with a promise to attend the annual re-enactment of the Awakening beside Cuiviénen, the following week, as it seemed clear Lord Elrond would not be free. He scribbled the date on a note pad using a charcoal writer.

His assistant counselor had invented this clever writing utensil and made it possible to take portable notes without the aid of an ink blotter. Erestor still celebrated the young scribe Berengardh’s decision to leave his brother Pengolodh’s employ. The young elleth had been reluctant to sail with the loremaster to Eressëa and was easily swayed to remain in Lindon. He hated recalling the bitter day he had said goodbye to his beloved brother, but Berengardh had spent much time with Pengolodh and Erestor found early on that sharing stories with her about his brother eased the pain a bit.

“Chief Counselor,” came the call from multiple voices.

He nodded and greeted everyone by name as he continued down the hallway. Satisfaction swelled within him, spurred by the comfort of this everyday routine. Everything in its place.

He continued down the Hall of High Kings with a quick glance at each painting…Finwë, Fëanor, Fingolfin (who had two portraits), Finarfin, Fingon and Maedhros the only high king pictured with another, Turgon, and Gil-galad. He murmured the names of each as he passed and flashed a quick smile of understanding when he passed Fingon and Maedhros. He stopped and straightened their slightly askew portrait. Erestor frequently wondered why he had been compelled to follow Turgon instead of Fingon. He and his brother had argued this point for months before agreeing to reside in the hidden city. He grinned broadly at their fortuitous decision for it had garnered him the love of his life.

Picture straightened, he moved to the end of the corridor where the Lord and Lady resided. Lord Elrond secured his personal seal in his rooms at the end of each day, and Erestor needed it for today’s work.

Before he could enter their rooms a series of ear piercing squalls erupted from behind the door to his immediate right. The twin’s resided there, and from the sounds he deduced they were extremely unhappy. Not to be unexpected, he thought, for this was the first time in their young lives that their Nana was away. He once again reached for the door handle, intending to retrieve the seal and be on his way, when he heard several loud crashes and a cry of dismay from one of the twins’ minders. The screams and cries intensified, faded, and then rose to a crescendo again, over and over as if a chase had ensued.

With a sigh he reluctantly turned from his course and entered the twin’s rooms. He stopped in amazement at the havoc which confronted him. The remains of an uneaten breakfast lay strewn about amidst the broken crockery. Splashes of food decorated one wall and slowly dripped onto the floor. It appeared that fowl eggs and porridge was for fast breaking today, curiously he saw no bread. Several potted plants lay destroyed amongst the food, and dirt covered every inch of the room as if an explosion had occurred. One plant now resided on top of the head of a bust of Tata. A small statuette of Rúmil lay on its side, its quill snapped off and a flowering plant now sprouted from its ear. Erestor delicately picked his way through the carnage, as he only wore slippers that afforded little protection. He could not contain the irritated, “tsk” that issued forth when he stepped on a water soaked rug. Shaking his foot, he hobbled into the bathing room where a loud argument echoed shrilly off the walls.

Cowering in the corner stood the twins, naked and covered with debris, their hair clumped and tangled and slick looking. The foul stench of neem oil emanated from them and Erestor saw the empty bottle near their feet. They clung to each other and shivered. Their faces both scared and angry, and they spoke in harsh voices against the minder who knelt before them foolishly trying to reason with them, while another guarded the only exit from the room. Erestor came up behind the ellith blocking the doorway and softly cleared his throat.

“Problems?” he whispered into her ear.

She turned quickly and hope flared on her face. “Oh, Chief Counselor, please we desperately need your assistance! The twins are distraught over their nana’s departure and refuse to listen to us.”

“Calm yourself, Calenamon. Now that I have arrived we outnumber them.”

He winked at her conspiratorially, and she blushed in response before he continued.

“Stay right where you are should they attempt an escape.”

He moved around Calenamon and stepped into the bathing room.

Erestor took a deep breath and screamed in horror. “My Lady!”

The minder, Restilhul, and both twins jumped and screeched.

He motioned at Restilhul furiously. “Quickly now. Quickly come to me!”

Recovered from her fright, and clearly confused, Restilhul stood and scurried across the room. He pushed her behind him. The twins also took one step towards Erestor, but he pointed an accusing finger at them. They stopped, eyes wide.

“Stay where you are foul beasts,” Erestor spoke with dramatic flair, “I do not know how you broke through the defenses of Imladris, but I shall find out!”

He turned to the ladies. “My ladies it might be best if you close your eyes for I must torture these two orcs. It will not be a pleasant sight.”

Both covered their smiling mouths with one hand and their eyes with the other, they answered, “As you command, Chief Counselor.” He ignored their muffled giggles.

Slowly he turned a glare on the elflings and, showing more bravado than he had expected, they scowled back at him.

He advanced on them menacingly. “You will pay for harming my Lord’s twins AND you shall tell me where you have hidden their bodies. Deny me this information and regret will be your constant companion!”

Erestor charged forward, scooped up the twins, grabbed each by a foot and dangled them over the bathing pool. He groaned lowly when his back cramped from the exertion but maintained a firm hold as they squealed and kicked and squirmed. When his back could take no more he dunked their heads in the water and both went rigid.

Whistling, feigning a lack of concern, he kept them there until Restilhul exclaimed, “Chief Counselor!”

Snapping back to attention, Erestor smiled slyly. “Oh, aye, let us hear if they are ready to confess their crimes.”

The twins sputtered and coughed upon their reemergence. Erestor shook them.

“Speak of your foul deeds monsters. Speak now or I will torture you further.”

They remained stubbornly silent. Keeping his grip on each foot, he freed his index fingers and began tickling. Immediately laughter and screeches filled the bathing chamber. He continued until tears flowed down their cheeks and their flailing increased such that frantic hands hit the water and soaked the front of Erestor’s robe.

With an annoyed, *tsk* he released each foot and the twins slipped fully into the water, while Erestor swiped at his now sodden robe.

The elflings surged up out of the bathing pool still cackling. Erestor took a dramatic step backwards. “Stay where you are evil doers. Do not attempt to exit the water.”

“Erestor it’s me!” cried the twin on the left, “I’m an elf.”

Erestor eyes narrowed. “You are as sly as you are evil, little orc. I do not know how you came upon my name but do not attempt your machinations on me. I am Lord Elrond’s chief counselor!”

They both giggled again.

“No! Look at me! It’s me Melpomaen, but you call me Figgy.”

“Figgy? I call you --?” Erestor pointed to himself and donned a completely virtuous and confused face. “I would never address another elf as Figgy. That is a very unelflike name, and I am extremely proper and upstanding.”

“You are silly, Erestor. How did you get so silly?” questioned the twin on the right.

Erestor answered quickly. “My nana fed me too many cookies.”

“That doesn’t make you silly!” The twins both snorted with laughter.

“Are you sure?” he asked innocently.

“Yes!!” they cried loudly.

The twin on the right stood to his full height. “Look at my belly, Erestor. See my big scar? You saved me, remember?”

Erestor’s mood darkened quickly. He did indeed recall that heart-wrenching day when Faelon fell from a tree onto the large boulder beneath it. The sickening sound of the impact still resonated in his mind.

Shivering from the memory, he fell to his knees, head bowed. “My Lords! Oh, my Lords I do not know how I mistook you for foul, smelly, vile orcs. Can you forgive your humble servant?”

“Yes!” came the immediate reply.

Erestor rose, walked to them, and received two fierce wet hugs.

“I can see it is you, now that all the filth has been washed away. Oh I was so scared, my Lords. How sad would your nana Aevar be when she came home to find you gone? Or your ada Elladan? Or your grandada Elrond, and grandnana Celebrían? Or me?! Tell me how you came to be so dirty?”

“We were bad, Erestor.”

“Bad?” he questioned.

“Yes,” answered Faelon.

“And mean,” added Melpomaen.

And then the two prattled on, retelling exactly how the outer room had become a chaotic mess.

Turning completely somber, Erestor chastised them.

“My Lords, I am so very disappointed. And your parents and grandparents will also be upset. We all expected you would behave, and be kind and helpful to Mistress Restilhul and Mistress Calenamon. If I recall you both promised to be on your best behavior. Yet here it is, the first morning and you have already broken your oaths, oaths you swore upon your specially made replicas of Maia Tilion’s arrows.”

The sniffles and tears started the moment he mentioned his disappointment, and threatened to turn into a full-fledged hysterical outburst when Restilhul called to him.

“Chief Counselor, a word please?”

He left the twins miserable and shivering in their bath to speak to the minders. After a brief meeting with the ladies he returned to them.

“My Lords, wipe your eyes and look at me.”

They responded immediately, and even snapped into a semblance of a military at-ready stance, though it appeared a bit hard to hold while standing in hip-deep water. He lifted his hand to cover a fake cough and a real smile. Their ada Elladan and uncle Elrohir would be pleased to see this. It appeared some of their training had taken hold.

“You are very, very lucky, for your minders love you dearly and have asked me to intercede on your behalf. I offer you terms.”


“Your fate rests in my hands, but I am prepared, at the urgings of Mistresses Restilhul and Calenamon, to offer generous terms to soften your surrender.”

“What?” Clearly he was confusing them both.

Erestor had a running policy to speak to the young lords as if they were adults, thereby forcing a large vocabulary on them in a short period, but his day was already full and time marched on. Today the direct and quick approach would have to suffice.

“You will do as I say, and if you perform your penance to my satisfaction,” Erestor placed heavy emphasis on those last words. “I will speak on your behalf to your ada. Refuse my terms, and I will have no choice but to administer the harshest punishment and turn you over to the Marchwarden.”

“No,” whispered the twins, both cringed backwards their eyes wide with horror.

“Aye.” Erestor stated solemnly, then was forced to turn himself away as a fit of laughter threatened to overcome him. The twins feared their nana’s younger brother, Haldir – a Marchwarden. On the singular occasion of their visit to Lothlórien, Melpomaen and Faelon had born witness to Haldir’s less than respectable manners and actions. His argumentative personality and booming voice sent them running to their parents anytime he appeared. And then, while exploring an area near the edge of Lothlórien, a lone warg had dared too close and they witnessed the Marchwarden’s carnage of the creature. Needless to say, Haldir, who was here in Imladris as a Lothlórien representative, would be horrified to know Erestor had used him as a threat to his young nephews.

Once he regained control of his mirth, Erestor turned around.

“Do you agree?”

“Oh yes, Erestor, we will do whatever you say!” Faelon burst out, and Melpomaen vigorously nodded his agreement.

“Excellent decision, my Lords. Now listen well. First, you will each make a formal apology to the ladies. Think upon this hard, and deliver it with a completely sincere attitude, and I shall consider the deed done. Second, I forbid you food until all the cleaning is done, and I have approved of it. Third, there will be no riding today or tomorrow or the next, but you will still attend to your ponies needs. Finally, I will accompany you when you stand before your ada Lord Elladan and advise him of your behavior.

“Am I clear?”

Two heads somberly nodded their understanding.

“Very good. Out you come then.” He stepped forward and both elflings jumped from the pool into his arms. Erestor placed them on the floor and prodded them over to their minders, who had retrieved some old leggings and quickly dressed them.

He lingered only briefly, to confirm that the young lords did indeed cooperate with the cleaning, before he departed for Lord Elrond’s room and the almost forgotten seal.
Chapter End Notes:
Translations for the entire story.

Ada(r) – Dad, father
Nana(naneth) – Mom, mother
Elda – first born
Fëa(r) – soul, souls
Ellon (ellyn) – male elf, male elves
Elleth (ellith) – female elf, female elves
Hithlain - rope
Mereth Tui – my made up celebration which occurs between March 21st and March 28th. Literally it translates as ‘Festival of the Bud’ (yeah I thought it was funny! Too bad the elves hadn’t invented Doritos. Look out for the swans!), a festival for new life and for the newest year, which begins on March 28th.
Mereth Rhîw – winter solstice festival (I believe Zhie and Malinorne made this one up, thank you!)
Kelvar – living things that move
Anor – the sun
Ithil – the moon
Arda – the world aka Middle Earth
Valinor or Aman – the Undying Lands

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