“Gildor!” Glorfindel grinned as he passed by the open doors of the Hall of Fire, seeing his long-time lover amongst the crowd that Lindir was entertaining. When Gildor did little more than look over, Glorfindel entered and wound an arm around the elder ellon’s waist. “Darling, what are you doing here? We should be packing,” he said, reminding him of the ship that was to leave soon for Valinor.

“Are you going? Sailing West, that is,” questioned Gildor.

Nodding emphatically, Glorfindel said in a more hushed voice, “I thought we had discussed this already. We are to sail when Elrond and Aunt Galadriel leave. You have not forgotten, have you?”

Motioning that they should leave the hall, Gildor walked with Glorfindel to a corridor beneath one of the tall staircases of the homely house. “Fin, I decided weeks ago not to sail. Not yet,” he confirmed for a stunned Glorfindel.

“Well...” Finding he had no argument, he shrugged. “We can stay a little longer, then. I should let Elrond know, in case there are others who could use the space aboard the ship.”

“Fin.” Gildor sighed heavily and shook his head. “Fin, go to Valinor.”

“I can wait for you,” offered Glorfindel sincerely. With a smile, he took hold of his lover’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I love you; I want to sail with you.”

With a half-hearted smile, Gildor pulled his hand from Glorfindel’s grasp and placed it upon the younger’s shoulder. “Glorfindel, we need to end this.”

“What?” Shaking his head negatively as if he had heard wrong, Glorfindel uneasily laughed. “You mean... making these plans to sail that keep falling through?”

“No. You and I. We need to end this. Fin, your love is killing me. I just cannot stand it anymore,” admitted Gildor. “This needs to stop, whatever this is between us.”

“I... I thought it was love,” choked Glorfindel, shocked upon hearing the words spoken to him.

Gildor gathered his thoughts and replied, “The love in this relationship is one-sided. I do not love you. I would care if something happened to you, but less because of some kinship of our souls and more because you happen to be the best fuck I have ever had.”

“You do not mean that,” Glorfindel gasped. “You cannot.”

“What? When I first met you, I knew how good you would feel writhing under me. I knew how much fun it would be to break you in. Oh, and it was good- both times,” he smirked. “But Fin, honestly, what more is there? A few friendly fucks, and a warm bed. Nothing more.”

Saying nothing, Glorfindel clenched his teeth, swallowing hard as tears glistened in his eyes.

“Now what? Are you going to cry now?” Gildor looked away. “Well, it will not work on me, Fin. Go cry to someone who cares.”

“You used me.” Glorfindel’s voice was low as he fought his emotions back.

Gildor shrugged. “Yes.”

“You bastard.” The first tear fell from his eye, and shamefully, Glorfindel pushed his way past Gildor. He wound around the stairs, quickly taking them two at a time with his head bowed, missing the figure standing halfway down and leaning on the banister.

As Gildor was about to head back to the Hall of Fire, he head a familiar voice behind him. “I thought you were better,” said Erestor as he took the rest of the steps slowly. “He has feelings, same as anyone else. You could have been a bit less blunt.”

“He will recover,” answered the wanderer. “What you seem not to understand is, I do not much care.”

Erestor paused as he came within a few paces of Gildor. “You know how much it meant to him to have someone who was like he is. The least you could have done was be gentle.”

Gildor crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you done?”

“Almost.” That was when Erestor drew back his arm and brought his fist up under Gildor’s jaw.

---

“M’lord! M’lord!” Elrond looked up upon hearing the frantic voice of Lindir. “Elrond, you must come- Erestor, and Gildor- fighting, by the main entrance-“ Gulping for air as Elrond hastily stood up from where he was crouched in his closet deciding what to pack, Lindir waved in the general direction of the main stairways. “He is looking very bad, Elrond. I think Erestor means to kill him, and-“

“What? Erestor?” Elrond shook his head and hurried past Lindir, who now followed him. “Erestor has injured Gildor?”

“And badly!” added Lindir. “There is blood everywhere, but I do believe all of it is Gildor’s.”

As the pair came down the stairway, they found a crowd of elves gathered about, watching the fight. Every time Gildor came after Erestor, for neither showed signs of stopping, the blond was either knocked away or shoved into the wall. It appeared that a few early swings had connected with Erestor, but that most of the damage had been done by the counselor.

“Enough!” Elrond battled his way through the crowd, shooing them away. “Everyone, back to your business, now!” As the guests and residents dispersed, Elrond advanced upon Erestor. Gildor was on the floor against the wall, clutching his jaw and groaning. “I do hope you have a damn good explanation.”

Breathing heavily, Erestor looked down at Gildor, then back to Elrond. “His words sent Glorfindel off in tears.”

“And so you retaliated like this?” Elrond thrust his hand in Gildor’s direction. “With violence?”

“M’lord, it- it is a bit more complicated than that,” spoke Melpomaen, who had been not far away and heard the conversation between Erestor and Gildor.

“We will discuss this later,” growled Elrond as he bent down and began to assess Gildor’s injuries. “Erestor, find yourself a healer. I must tend to Gildor’s injuries myself.”

Erestor nodded as he stuck the tip of his tongue out just enough to touch the corner of his mouth. He hissed when he felt a jab of pain from the cut he found here, evident from the irony taste now in his mouth. He was just turning around when he heard Gildor’s muffled voice behind him.

“So... how did you enjoy being whipped by him?”

In a moment, Erestor had turned on his heel. Gildor laughed and coughed and laughed again.

“Were your chivalrous acts worth it now? Tell me, was he worth the pain he put you through?”

“You told Turgon.” Erestor closed his eyes. “You bastard. You were the one.”

“Took you long enough,” answered Gildor.

Sliding past Elrond, Erestor grabbed the front of Gildor’s tunic and yanked him up from the ground, causing him to yelp in pain. “You are lucky I do not have the blood of my kin on my hands, for else I would otherwise have no reason not to kill you with my own hands right now. You had better be on that bloody ship to Valinor.”

“Or else what? Or else you will kill me?” Gildor snickered, grimacing from the pain in his face.

“Oh, no. No. Death would be too kind,” sneered Erestor. “The things I would do to you no one here has the stomach to hear. So as I said – you had better be on that ship so that you need not find out just what happens when I get angry.” Erestor shoved Gildor back, forcing him to hit the wall again before slumping to the floor. “Understood?”

For a moment, Gildor seemed about to object. Looking up with contempt, he said, “I will be on the next ship to Valinor.”

---

It took Erestor hours before he found Glorfindel. The golden elf was on the roof, where he had looked twice before, but not well enough. “How are you?” he asked while sitting down, draping a blanket he had brought around Glorfindel’s shoulders.

“Cold, but...” Glorfindel was hunched forward, rubbing one hand with the other, then switching. “Just a little cold,” he said.

Erestor situated his hand on Glorfindel’s back, rubbing small, fast circles. “Gildor is going west.”

“A little late for that,” Glorfindel said ruefully. He began to rock back and forth a little.

Wrapping his arms around his old friend, Erestor held him tightly. “Glorfindel, please, do not fade over him. I can not bear to think of you fading.”

“No, no, it will not happen,” assured Glorfindel. “He and I, we never bonded. He always told me it was because in case something happened to one of us. We were supposed to bind to one another in Valinor.” Crystal teardrops slid down Glorfindel’s cheeks and he let out a sob. “It hurts,” he cried out. “It hurts so bad!”

“I know. Oh, do I know,” answered Erestor. He drew Glorfindel closer, rocking him now. “I know it does.”

For a while, Erestor comforted Glorfindel upon the roof. He would need to explain later why he had never sought out a healer to care for his injuries, but Erestor knew the pain Glorfindel felt was worse than his own.

“I love you,” said the blond unexpectedly. “You have always been the one I loved. But... I... knew I could never be with you, so I... I thought he...” Weeping into the blanket as he leaned against Erestor, he mumbled, “I wish you could love me.”

“Oh, dear.” Erestor sighed sadly, biting his bottom lip, and wincing immediately. Licking the broken skin again, Erestor then placed his cheek against Glorfindel’ head. “I do love you, Glorfindel, but not in the way you would want. I care about you a lot, but you know I am not that kind of elf.”

“I know,” sniffled Glorfindel. “I am sorry. I should never have said anything.”

“No, I am the one who is sorry,” apologized Erestor, kissing the top of the golden crown. “If only I was not this way, I could love you so easily in the way you want; in the way you need and deserve. I wish I could be what you want, I wish I could be your lover because I would never treat you like he did. But all I can do is be here for you the best I can as your friend.”

Glorfindel nodded, snuggling closer. “Right now, I think I need a friend much more than I need a lover.” And slowly, Glorfindel did not feel so cold.