“Let’s stop here!”

“What?”

“LETS. STOP HERE!!!!”

“OH! YES, I AGREE, THERE AREN’T MANY DEER!”

“NO!!! LET’S! STOP! HERE!!”

“OH!” Glorfindel tugged Asfaloth’s nose into line with Haldir’s bay. “Where?”

He pointed to a cottage in the distance. “Shelter!”

Both elves cautiously urged their mounts in the direction of the hovel. Elves weren’t the most welcome of beings in this part of Rohan, and one never knew of one was about to get an arrow through the eye.

“Looks abandoned!” Haldir declared.

“Aye, let us shelter the horses in the stable…if it can be called one…”

The building in question was roughly built, swaying in the harsh wind of the storm. After a few soft words of praise and a thorough rub-down, the two elves ran to the cottage, finding that yes, it was indeed abandoned.

No word passed between them as they went about making the place inhabitable, sweeping out the corpses of anorexic rodents and vacant webs, their inhabitants having long evacuated. Haldir apologized to no one and broke a chair, using the splintered wood and moth-eaten covering to start a fire. Soon, wood crackled and popped merrily in the fire pit.

Glorfindel gathered a few pots, filling them with snow and hanging them over the fire to melt. “At least these have not rusted with time.”

Haldir nodded and looked up, then blinked. “What are you doing?”

Glorfindel tugged his shirt off. “Undressing. My clothes are wet and highly uncomfortable.”

Haldir snorted, but followed suit. “So, we are to sit about naked until our clothes dry?”

Off came Glorfindel’s breeches, making a sucking noise as they parted from his skin. “Do you have any better ideas? Perhaps we should ask that ragtag pack of Easterlings for our clothing back?”

Haldir sighed. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Captain.”

“So is fatalism, Marchwarden, but I was not going to be rude…” Groaning as his muscles protested first the long ride and then the bitter cold, Glorfindel stretched out on the floor. “Oh, blessed Valar, that feels wonderful.”

Haldir sighed and hung his breeches over the open window, attempting to dry them and cut some of the fierce wind. He finally stretched out, using his cloak – his wonderfully dry cloak – as a pillow. “Mmmm…aye, it does feel niiiiiiiiiiceee!!! Ow ow ow….” He gasped, curling up and grabbing for his foot.

Glorfindel jumped to his feet immediately. “What??? What happened, what is wrong, where are you hurt??” He looked at Haldir whimpering on the floor. “Haldir?”

“Cramp,” he gritted out, rubbing furiously at the arch of his foot.

Glorfindel winced in sympathy and sat down, pulling the offending foot away from Haldir’s grasp and rubbing his knuckle up the spasming arch.

Haldir panted and groaned, alternately trying to shove his foot in to the knuckle and pull away. “Augh…”

Glorfindel hooked his toes around the water pouch, pulling it over to Haldir. “Take a drink. You are probably dehydrating.”

Haldir snagged the water bag and took a swig, shuddering as the icy water hit his palate. “Gah, that almost makes me feel cold…” He sighed as the cramp in his foot eased, leaving behind an annoying – but tolerable – soreness. “Thank you.” He tried to pull his foot away, blinking when Glorfindel refused to release it. “Glorfindel, the spasm has eased. You may release my foot now.”

Glorfindel smiled. “Nay, it has eased, but we need to relax the muscle completely to prevent it from returning.”

Haldir snorted. “Days of almost non-stop riding, bitter cold, unpleasant storms, followed by weak heat…combined with our currently precarious safety, you expect even one muscle in my body to relax?”

Glorfindel smiled. “Oh, I’m certain we can come up with some way of relaxing overworked, mistreated muscles.”

“I defy you to.”

“Accepted.” He smirked and leaned in, running his teeth along the high instep.

“GLORFINDEL!” Haldir shrieked almost girlishly, attempting to yank his foot away.

Glorfindel had an innocent expression on his face. “What? I was attempting to relax you.”

“You most certainly were not! You nearly bit my foot.”

“Oh, stop, I did not. I simply ran my teeth across it.” His teeth were soon replaced by an agile tongue, squirming from heel to the divot between primary and index toes.

Haldir squirmed uncomfortably. “Regardless, that is MY foot you are molesting.”

Glorfindel’s brow arched at the hard evidence of Haldir’s true opinion. “Who said anything about molestation?”

“Well, aren’t you???”

“Nay, I am just helping you relax.”

Haldir snorted and flopped back down onto the floor. “Absolutely horrible liar.”

Glorfindel chuckled and returned to his task, nibbling the pad of Haldir’s big toe, then moving down and around to the next…and the next…and the next.

Haldir sighed and purred quietly, no longer even making a pretense of disapproval. He scowled when the wicked tongue pulled away, then groaned in bliss when strong fingers dug themselves into the tight muscles of his ankle and calf. “Ohh, aye…mmm…”

Glorfindel’s brow arched at the positively lewd sounds coming from the normally quite stiff Marchwarden… though he was still quite…stiff…

He flipped Haldir onto his stomach and continued the massaging of his calf muscles. Soon both legs were completely limp, their owner humming blissfully.

Haldir floated in ecstasy, completely uncaring of the fact that they were in the middle of potentially hostile territory, trapped in a broken down hut by a snow storm, no clothes other than the wet ones keeping out the worst of the wind, exhausted horses, and not even still possessing the scrolls which were the entire purpose of their excursion. Overall, the mission was a complete failure, but as long as Glorfindel’s fingers continued with their lovely massaging, Haldir didn’t give a fat damn. Ohhhh, and now they were moving UP….

Glorfindel chuckled again as Haldir squirmed happily. He straddled the Silvan’s thighs, digging his fingers into rock hard muscles that he could have no doubt bounced pebbles off of. Or rocks…or other, more delightful things that bounced… He shook his head, massaging a pair of hard, well-toned glutes with vigor. Though, if Haldir kept up with those lovely noises, Glorfindel was sure that Haldir’s backside would not be the only hard muscles to contend with.

Haldir squirmed again, finally stretching out into a shamelessly sybaritic sprawl, legs and arms splayed in all directions. He groaned low when Glorfindel’s fingers traveled upwards along the steps of his spine. “Ohhh, you are goooood at this, Captain.”

Glorfindel beamed. “Aye, I used to do this for my Nana. She suffered from frequent headaches and soreness from an injury from her elflinghood. I became quite talented in it, so I pursued the activity further. I’m skilled in various forms of massage, including deep tissue and heated stones.

Haldir hummed, not really listening.

Shaking his head, Glorfindel massaged along shoulders and biceps. He gradually made his way down Haldir’s arms, carefully stroking and rubbing wrists, palms and fingers. He snorted as his companion began to snore softly. “Won’t be able to relax, will you? Hmph.”

He stood, shaking out his hair and reaching for his boots, now dry and warmed from the fire. He grumbled and clomped out into the snow to check the horses. Honestly, why did everyone think he was such a loose, immoral being? Even the most innocent of touches brought accusations of perversion and sexual desire.

He really wasn’t that interested in sex. It was pleasant, of course, but everyone’s thoughts seemed bent toward it. Even fair Haldir, with whom he had hoped to be himself and without pretention or the constant teasing, accused him of molesting his foot. His FOOT, for Valar’s sake! Not that Haldir’s feet weren’t molestation worthy. On the contrary, they were quite lovely. Long, slender, and obviously well cared for. It had been a great source of amusement when, on several occasions during their journey, they’d had to stop so that Haldir could change his boots or tend to the mysterious pebbles that somehow found their way into his soles…and just as mysteriously disappeared when Glorfindel bent to check them. It was his opinion that Haldir was the one with the foot fetish. Not that he didn’t have a reason. Oh no. If Glorfindel had been born with beautiful feet like Haldir’s, he’d have a bit of a fetish as well.

He nuzzled Asfaloth’s ears, chuckling as the horse mouthed his long, shining hair. “Aye, you are beautiful too, silly creature. And so vain…” He reached into his hip pouch, pulling out a pair of apples and offering one to the white Meara.

He sighed when Asfaloth ignored the offered fruit, instead trying to hunt down the one behind Glorfindel’s back. “Nay, greedy beast, share.” He shook his head at the air puffed at him innocently. “Riiight, best intentions from the start, aye?”

He offered the other apple to Haldir’s bay filly. “Aye, you are a pretty little girl, aren’t you? Don’t let this old nag boss you around. A bat of your pretty lashes, and he’ll be putty beneath your hooves.” He winced at the yank to his hair. “Don’t tell him I said that, aye? He gets grumpy.”

The bay whickered her laughter and munched the apple in contentment. While the white horse WAS rather bossy, his master was quite a friendly Two-Leg, and if he had more of this yummy fruit…

Glorfindel rubbed the two horses down with sweet weeds, refilled the troughs with fresh snow to melt for water, covered them with warm – if a bit holey – blankets, and slogged back to the hut.

Haldir scowled as the breeze from Glorfindel’s entrance nearly blew out the fire. “I hope you brought fire wood. We’re almost out of furniture to burn.”

“Nay. As you could see when we came in, there’s not a tree, living or dead, for miles. Hence why this area of the Gap is called the flatlands.”

“So what should we do to ward off frostbite? What can we do to crea – oh, nevermind!” Haldir huffed and searched for extra blankets. “Oh, this situation just keeps improving. There are no blankets other than the ones we’ve already burned. Now what?”

Glorfindel shrugged. “Tis not nearly as cold as it was crossing the Helcaraxё. If you wish to use our cloaks, I am more than capable of doing without.”

Haldir snorted, then sighed and bundled. If the stubborn Noldo wanted to freeze, who was he to deny him?

He watched Glorfindel’s back, noting gooseflesh prickling along the finely honed muscles. He muttered a curse, stood, and walked over, draping half of the cloak over his companion’s shoulders. “Here. We can share them, since you insist on being stubborn.”

Glorfindel blinked, then dragged Haldir onto his lap and wrapped the cloaks around them both.

Haldir blinked, thought about protesting the intimate position, then sighed and settled. It really wasn’t worth it. After all, Glorfindel had already sucked on his toes, and their current position wrapped in the cloaks had made them quite toasty warm…pleasant, even. Haldir’s eyes began to droop.

Glorfindel leaned against a table leg and decided to let Haldir sleep. The Marchwarden was obviously unused to this sort of strenuous activity. While it was evident that Haldir kept himself in shape, swinging from tree-top to tree-top was not quite the same as spending long, hard hours on horseback and fully armed for orc attacks. Different muscles were involved, different tactics had to be used in order to keep one’s body limber and warm.

He highly doubted Haldir had any worries about being limber. No, Silvan elves were the acrobats, the gymnasts who flew from one tree to another with seemingly no fear at all.

His companion certainly WAS beautiful, too. Long, muscled legs more suited to sprinting than riding horseback met slender hips, a muscled chest, and broad shoulders capable of carrying the weight of the world. Or so Haldir’s eyes occasionally hinted. Eyes that begged affection one moment and promised the most heinous retribution the very next.

Indeed, Haldir o’ Lorien was beautiful…and utterly off limits, from what he’d heard. Stories flew about the Marchwarden and his Lord, though verification of those rumors was difficult to come by. Truth be told, some of the rumors he’d heard were completely unfounded, or so he thought. Rather than the trollop he’d been made out to be, Glorfindel had found Haldir to be clever, witty, and loyal to a fault when it came to family and duty. Quite frankly, Glorfindel often wondered why Haldir had not taken a wife or husband. Perhaps he was contented with his life as it had turned out. Perhaps he was just waiting for the right Elf to come along and sweep him off his branch. Perhaps there was a secret tragedy in Haldir’s past that made him so distant and unable to love another… Perhaps Glorfindel had read entirely too many of those risqué scrolls the Lady of Imladris kept in the very back of the Library… Either way, Haldir was unattainable. Utterly off limits.

He smiled as Haldir mumbled, tucking his head under his chin. Well…maybe not UTTERLY...