Title: In short

Author Name: noldoparma
Contact Email:waywardheaven@gmail.com
Beta Name: starrial- (all remaining mistake are mine)
Main Characters: Haldir/Erestor, Glorfindel
Rating: G to N16
Genre(s): Slash
Word Count: 3,259 (I got carried away - and if you’ll like please take drabble 12, 17, 22.)
Summary: Snapshots of a romance
Original Request:

Here's what Red Lasbelin likes to read about:

Who are your three favorite characters? Glorfindel, Haldir, Erestor

What are your three favorite pairings? Haldir/Elrond, Erestor/Haldir, Mel/Lindir

Which other three characters would it be fun to see written about?

Gil-galad, Gildor, Glorfindel

What's your favorite color? garnet red

List three nouns: orchid, knife, music

List three any three words that are not nouns: colourless, lonely, hope

What are your three favorite places in Middle-earth? Imladris, Harad, Lorien

Do you like to read het? not in this exchange, please - no

Do you like to read slash? yes

Do you like to read gen-fic? yes

What ratings do you prefer? G to R - nothing above please.

What do you NOT want to read about? cirdan, thranduil, leggie,

excessive fluff, rape, bdsm, incest, twincest, mpreg, any sort of

golden light, soul meeting bonding ceremony

 

Erestor stretched his neck muscles as he stumbled out from behind his desk. He had been pouring over the insurmountable mountain of missives and treaties on his desk since dawn broke, and his muscles did not appear ready to forgive him. Not that his diligence at self-torture had made much of a dent in his never-ending pile of work, the advisor grumbled as hi cast a mournful look at the work he had left.

Valar, dwarves should never, bloody never, write in the elven script.

Erestor massaged his temples and fought the urge to toss the offending letters into the fire. Sliding the oak panel just behind his table aside, he walked out into his balcony and sighed in relief at the chill of wintry fresh air. For the umpteenth time, he said a little prayer of thanks for Galdor and his marvelous team of architects for miraculously building a balcony against hard stone. Some days, the sun and the fresh air were all that kept him sane.

Tapping his fingers over the stone banister, he relished in the frost brushing off his fingers. Winter was his favourite season – even before I met him, Erestor mused as he indulged in how clean and refreshed the valley looked against the pristine blue sky.

Rather like the blue in his eyes, really, Erestor thought before his consciousness shrieked in abject horror. Elbereth, I sound like a love-sick elfling just past his majority!

Slapping his forehead, he glared at the sky with brief reproach even as he said, to no one in particular, “Right. I am love-sick, but I don’t have to be a blooming elfling.”

1.

It was a rare sight indeed. The famed Lorien marchwardens had never strayed far from their realm- they had not even accompanied their lady Celebrian when she married Elrond Half-Elven and it was clear that none of them was any pleased to be in Imladris even now. Fifteen impassive faces, with their shoulders tensed and their fingers already tapping dangerously on their bow strings, glared at their unfortunate hosts.

Why did we agree to Galadriel’s plan again?!

Erestor sighed with some sympathy for Elrond. He was beginning to understand why Galadriel had been this eager to have her guards “thawed”.

2.

We cannot have our best soldiers hiding in the comfort of the mallorn trees, Haldir.

The words were still ringing in his ears and about the only reason why he had not snapped at Elrond and his Imladris escort. Not that he was deceived by Galadriel’s ploy – he did not think it was any coincidence that all the elves in the delegation had refused to entertain her attempts at matchmaking.

Was it my fault that she never considered that I favour ellon? Seriously, just because my brothers prefer their elleth…

Haldir grumbled, just as Elrond raised his voice, “Mae tolen!”

3.

Erestor cursed under his breath as he answered his Lord’s summons and slipped out from the comfort of curtains and shadows. Bowing curtly at Elrond, he replied crossly, “Milord.”

Elrond ignored the barely veiled animosity and gestured at Erestor saying, “And this is my trusted advisor, Erestor. You’ll find that with both he and Glorfindel at the helm, I am pretty much only the Lord in name.”

“Surely you jest, milord,” Erestor bit out as he looked up to regard the strangers more closely for the first time. He very immediately wished he had not.

Valar, he is so beautiful.

4.

Haldir was immensely grateful that he had spent the last millennium keeping his face straight at the Lady Galadriel’s many plots and devices, because he doubted very much that he would be as composed had he been a lesser elf.

Erestor, Haldir imagined the word rolling off his tongue, as he regarded the exotic advisor. He always had a soft spot for brunettes, but Elbereth, hair as black as midnight.

“Le suilon.”

Haldir nearly jolted at the soft, solemn voice. Automatically raising his hand to his heart, he replied with the decorum the marchwardens were famed for, “Mae govannen.”

5.

“What in the holy name of Elbereth were you thinking?!” Erestor scowled at Glorfindel.

“He was right – it is strange that the advisor to the Lord of Imladris does not attend formal dinner,” Glorfindel whistle merrily. It had only been a week since the Lothlorien delegation arrived and it was already highly obvious to anyone who knew Erestor that a proper matchmaking intervention was highly necessary. “Especially when we have guests.”

“I did not even attend the welcome dinner when Thranduil was here.”

“You protested harder then,” Glorfindel grinned and wriggled his eyebrows at his oldest friend.

Erestor grimaced.

6.

“I am not that obvious.”

“Sure, you are not,” Glorfindel said tongue in cheek. “I haven’t seen you on the training fields since the battle at Dagorlad. Not even to deliver inventory reports.”

Erestor protested, “I always hand-deliver those.”

“That you do, but never to my office, because to quote a renowned advisor, ‘The stench is an offense to elven sensibilities’. Obviously Lorien folks smell better. Must be the mallorn trees.”

“Shut up.”

“He is prettier with the daggers in hand, isn’t he?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Sorry. Forget pretty, he’s gorgeous.”

“Glorfindel. Shut up.”

7.

Haldir struggled to swallow his mouthful of wine as he caught sight of Erestor walking into the Hall. Elbereth, he was a vision in the deep scarlet robes… He stared transfixed as the advisor made his way to the main table, his eyes taking in the intricate braids, the ruby glinting from the left ear, the shifting folds of the robes…

“Haldir, you’re drooling.”

Haldir looked away briefly to glare at Gavreth. “I am not that obvious.”

“Please, captain mine, if you were any more obvious, you’ll have a banner waving and a full orchestra playing whenever he walks by.”

8.

Adar, when I do see you on the white shores, remind me to thank you for being a chess fanatic. At least I won’t be a complete idiot at this.

Haldir sent a quick prayer of thanks, as he arranged his pieces. A game of chess had been his only excuse to escape from the dreary dinner to the comfortable confines of Erestor’s rooms. A tad too comfortable, but he would live.

Just as he reached for more pieces his fingers brushed against Erestor’s and he gasped involuntarily. Swallowing a breath, he smiled uncertainly at Erestor.

I’m an idiot.

9.

“I take it that you did not regret dinner,” Glorfindel grinned evilly at Erestor. “Or the walk thereafter. Or the company in your rooms after that.”

Erestor gave up ignoring the seneschal and glowered at Glorfindel. Glorfindel smirked knowingly.

“We talked. Get what’s left of your Balrog-chewed brain out of the gutter!”

“You talked,” Glorfindel replied skeptically. “About what? The stratagems of ancient battles?”

“I’ll have you know, he is more intelligent and well-read than half of you blighted oafs in our own barracks are, and a brilliant chess master at that.”

“And of course you are not infatuated?”

10.

“What do you mean, nothing happened?” Gavreth exclaimed.

Haldir scowled at his second in command. “Exactly that.”

“Valar, you’ve spent every night in his chamber for three turns of the moon! What’s wrong with the two of you?”

“I do not jump into bed with every ellon I find attractive,” Haldir said philosophically. “We’re still getting to know each other.”

“Right, because you need to really need to know his life story through three millennia before it is right to sleep with him.”

“Yes, why not?”

“I have news for you, Haldir. You are not infatuated – you’re in love.”

11.

“I’m in love?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Lindir remarked as he restrung his harp. “Yes, you are, my dear Erestor. When in doubt, trust a minstrel. That’s all we do every day. We talk about love.”

“That was rhetorical, Lindir,” Erestor sighed. “I am rather old for love, am I not?”

Lindir rolled his eyes. “Do not make me tell you Cirdan’s love stories. It will give us both nightmares.”

“Cirdan is not that much older than I am.”

“You stopped looking your age two millennia ago.”

“Fortunately.”

“Erestor, after the first thousand years, most elves stop counting.”

12.

Erestor marveled at how their hands felt against each other’s. He had never thought his hands small, and he most certainly never thought they could be smooth even though he had given up the sword nearly five hundred years ago.

“Feels strange doesn’t it?” Haldir asked softly, breaking Erestor’s train of thought.

Looking up, Erestor frowned and asked, “Strange?”

“Feels like I’m holding the entire age of Aman.”

“I am not that old!” Erestor protested indignantly.

Haldir grinned, “Old enough.”

“Insolent pup,” Erestor sniffed.

Removing his hand from Erestor, Haldir cupped Erestor’s face, leant in and whispered, “Craddle robber.”

13.



“Remind me never to call you old again,” Haldir struggled to catch his breath as he leant heavily against the wall.

Erestor merely raised his water bottle briefly in acknowledgement before pouring more water down his throat. He knew his muscles would be paying for his benighted pride for the next few days but it was worth it.

“Where on earth did you learn to fight like that?” Haldir asked, envy clear in his voice.

Erestor slumped against the door frame and answered groggily, “Lorien.”

“You trained in Lothlorien?!”

“No, with Lorien.”

“The Valar?!”

“Yes.”

“Sorry, Erestor. You are old.”

14.

“You are leaving?” Erestor asked calmly.

Haldir’s eyes did not leave Erestor’s face, even as he strapped his daggers to his calves and pulled on his gloves. Giving his bow string an experimental thug, he said, “On first light.”

“Shouldn’t be long now,” Erestor said, turning away to look at the rest of the regiment, who were all preparing to ride out.

Haldir raised his hand to caress Erestor’s cheek and said quietly, “This is my job.”

“I know,” Erestor replied softly. “It was my job bringing your delegation from Lorien.”

“I can take care of myself, and more besides.”

15.

“Have no fear, my friend,” Glorfindel said cheerfully as he slapped Erestor on the back and swung himself onto Asfaloth. “I’ll watch his back.”

“If you are not too busy watching Gavreth’s, you mean,” Erestor rolled his eyes. “I’ll be thankful if you do not try to blunder into the enemies’ lair this time.”

“I’ll have you know that I do not blunder anywhere. That was a calculated move. How else do you expect us to wipe those darn orcs out?” Glorfindel snorted, as he adjusted his travel pack on his saddle.

“That’s not what Gildor said.”

“He obviously lied”

16.

“Watch his back, my dainty foot,” Erestor snorted, as he tossed a peeled apple at Glorfindel. “If he hadn’t been watching yours, you’d have been skewered.”

“I would have caught that myself,” Glorfindel grumbled and bit into the fruit, glaring balefully at Haldir.

The Lorien captain shrugged, “To be fair, he would have if he had not been concentrating on getting my second-in-command away from the troll.”

Glorfindel ignored Erestor. Wincing at the pain in his shoulder, he raised his hand to his heart and said softly to Haldir, “Hannon le.”

“No, I should be thanking you for my friend.”

17.

Erestor gasped and arched his back off the mattress, as he felt Haldir’s warm breaths against his skin. Raising his hands, he dug his fingers into his lover’s loose braids and protested, “For Elbereth’s sake, stop torturing me.”

Haldir smirked and dipped his head down to suckle at a swollen nipple, causing Erestor to throw his head back and collapse against the pillows once more.

“Patience is supposed to come with age,” Haldir mused as he moved to the other nipple.

“Let’s see how patient you are when you’ve gone without for the last, I don’t know, few hundred years.”

18.

“Does it still hurt?” Haldir asked with concern as Erestor curled under the blanket.

“Let me put a battering ram into you and we shall see if you have any more silly questions,” Erestor mumbled crossly.

“I should be flattered.”

“Don’t be.”

“Sorry, I did lose control.” Haldir apologized, as he leant down to kiss Erestor’s ear.

“Understatement,” Erestor grumbled, and pulled the blanket closer.

“Can’t help it – the thought of you staying celibate for quite so long was, well, enticing.”

“Remind me to introduce you to the concept of a monastery if we are ever in a human settlement.”

19.

Melpomaen looked at his supervisor with concern, but he was not suicidal enough to go near Erestor. The last time a poor librarian was within arm’s length when Erestor was reading a letter from Mirkwood, Elrond had to personally deliver new garments and his apologies on his advisor’s behalf.

It did seem that Erestor was in another one of his fits. All the signs were there: the widened eyes, the arched eyebrow (THE arched eyebrow), the trembling fingers and the occasional, exaggerated blink.

Oh dear, Melpomaen thought as he moved further away.

Meanwhile…

Haldir should never write poetry, Erestor thought.

20.

Haldir folded the letter carefully and placed it in his pouch. Finding a comfortable spot among the branches, he leant back and wondered again how he could remain both the captain of Lorien’s guards and Erestor’s lover. Once he had thought that he could find his lifetime’s worth of contentment just being among the mallorn trees – now, his happiness came in shorts and spurts, only when the emissary from Imladris arrived.

“Lonely isn’t it?”

Haldir didn’t look up – only one elf could have crept up on him.

“You would know.”

“I do,” Gavreth said, settling down beside his captain.

21.

“Lorien and Imladris are too far apart for joint patrols to be practical! We’ll thin our own defences,” Erestor frowned. “If anything, an alliance with the dwarves is in order.”

“We’ll be thankful that the dwarves do not raid our own patrols,” Glorfindel snorted. “Lorien is still the closest realm.”

“Greenwood?”

“NO!” Both Elrond and Glorfindel replied immediately.

“Remember Thranduil. Be afraid, be very afraid,” Glorfindel continued. “Lorien, Erestor. We can’t keep fighting alone. We are stealthy hunters; they are better trackers – perfect match.”

“Right, and no vested interests?” Erestor grumbled.

“Erestor?” Elrond grinned. “I approve of vested interests.”

22.

Erestor looked at the silver flute he was twirling between his fingers. He had not played a flute since he lost the last of his kin in the fall of Gondolin. Biting his bottom-lip as he removed the last seal on his tightly kept memories, he allowed the haunting strains of Ecthelion’s flute to echo through his mind. Images of death and fading hope flooded his consciousness – the march of the House of Fountain, the massacre of his kin and kith, the mournful funeral dirge the last few lonely flutes and pipes played on the banks of Sirion, the slow slip into insanity and the painful climb back…

Erestor hurt. He had not thought of those dark days in many a decade – he had nearly forgotten the low, somber requiem. Twirling the flute faster, he fought against the tears just behind his eyelashes. Valar, why have I lived when they are gone?

He hated the flute – he knew that, he had not allowed any in his presence, and for that reason alone, he stayed away from dinners. Why had he picked up this one, he asked himself bitterly, as he grasped it tightly, with the full intention to destroy it.

“Because, meleth, new memories can be made.”

Erestor’s grip relaxed, if only marginally. Haldir’s voice, Haldir’s tune, Haldir’s love ran soothingly over his memories.

“Grieve, meleth, and then rejoice with me.”

Erestor’s fingers trembled, as tears ran uncontrollably down his cheeks. He had not the strength for two millennia – where could he find it now?

“For me, love. Think of me – and when you next see me, play a duet with me. It will mean the world to me.”

Elbereth, Erestor prayed desperately. Lifting the flute gingerly to his lips, he played the first notes.

And Imladris fell silent.

23.

Haldir could hear Galadriel sniggering a few hundred miles away, and stifled a groan. Valar, I’ll never live this down. Did it matter that he was hardly the only one eager to get to Imladris? Of course he knew there were orc camps along the way – what did she think he had spent the last millennium guarding against?

Not that the full host of Mordor could not stop him.

Looking up from the tracks at Gavreth, Haldir remarked, “The tracks are only about three days old.”

Gavreth’s eyes lit up. “I suppose it’s our duty to catch up with them?”

24.

“You know, Haldir, maybe we should slow down,” Gavreth mused, even as he kept apace his captain.

“I suppose. It is quite tiring,” Haldir replied philosophically. He ignored the brief flashes of hope and relief among his men.

“They are however less than a day away,” Gavreth continued.

Knowing exactly what Gavreth was hinting at, Haldir pretended to contemplate the situation before turning to the delegation to shout, “We’ll rest the moment one of us gets his dagger into one of these bloody bastards of Mordor! I’m not about to have an entire Lothlorien contingent losing to a bunch of orcs.”

25.

“Just one last time, please,” Lindir pleaded, the hunger evident in his eyes.

“And for the last time, no!” Erestor snapped as he gathered his letters. His temper had been short recently, and the latest missives from the dwarfs were not about to make it any better.

“Valar, gifts like yours are meant to be shared with lesser beings! It’s selfish otherwise,” Lindir pouted. “Just a ditty! Pretty please?”

Erestor ignored him, and looked up at his scribe instead. Tearing the seal off the first missive, he growled, “Melpomaen?”

“Milord?” Melpomaen replied uncertainly.

“Do you want your husband alive?”


Haldir did not bother with the niceties the moment he dismounted. Throwing his reins to the nearest stablehand, he muttered a quick apology to his horse before running hurriedly up the steps to Imladris’ halls. Running into a similarly anxious Glorfindel, he managed a grin and a passing remark without breaking step, “Be gentle. We already had a hard ride.”

Glorfindel grinned in response. “Right. His office. Letters from the dwarves, so you are forewarned.”

Haldir acknowledged Glorfindel with a nonchalant wave of his hand, even as he started running faster towards his destination. Ignoring every elf along the way, including a startled Lindir and a blushing Melpomaen, he dashed to his lover’s office and swung the door open. Surprised by the empty room, he saw the crumbled pieces of parchment on Erestor’s table and was quick to remember where Erestor would be at these trying moments.

Pushing the sliding door open quietly, he stepped out into the balcony and was beyond elated to see the one elf he had spent endless days and nights thinking of and thinking about sleeping peacefully on the wooden bench. He paused for a moment, his hand still on the sliding panel, and just smiled contentedly at his lover, until at last he could take it no longer and walked quietly to Erestor with a stealth worthy of a Lorien marchwarden.

Just as he was about to kneel down beside the bench, however, Erestor woke up abruptly, immediately alert. Haldir grinned when he saw Erestor blinked a couple of times, and he knelt down anyway and gently kissed the lips he had missed.

“I’m home!”