Something happened that I did not expect. Today Erestor cried.

Perhaps cry isn’t the right word. A few tears fell from his eyes, but they were wiped away quickly. It was still, unexpected.

We had been packing, what was left of the books in the library, and he turned around with a crate in his arms. I had been stacking the scroll cases so they would not roll across the floor. He said it was done, and I asked what. He said it was done, this was the last one. And I came to him and took the box, and noted the tears streaking his face. As soon as the box was out of his hands, he quickly turned and wiped his cheeks with his sleeve.

When I placed the crate near the rest, a heard him sob. Just a short, muffled noise, but it tore at my heart to hear it. I wanted to go to him, to comfort him, to hold him and perhaps even to kiss him. Not in the ways I have imagined before, for my lust for this unattainable beauty has been laid aside, and now I find I love him deeply, and do not think so much of the things I once did, for if only I could bring a truly happy smile to his face, it would be enough.

“Glorfindel?”

Raising his head, Glorfindel closed his journal, keeping his thumb at the page he had left off, for the ink had yet to dry. He placed the quill upon the table, and receiving a frown from Erestor, moved it to rest in the holder above the jar of golden ink. “Can I be of service?”

“The meal is ready.”

Glorfindel nodded. “I shall join you shortly,” he said. As Erestor turned, Glorfindel opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped himself. Erestor, however, turned back expectantly, and Glorfindel pursed his lips.

“Peppers, stuffed with mushrooms, rice, and tomato. Soup and bread. I can see if there is still something from breakfast-“ offered Erestor, but Glorfindel shook his head.

“I shall join you shortly,” he repeated, and Erestor took his leave. Glorfindel opened his journal again; unconsciously sticking his tongue out as he went through the menu he had been presented with. For some time, Glorfindel had looked forward to being in the house with none others save Erestor. After Elrond sailed, few remained in the house, and after the departure of Elladan and Elrohir, only Glorfindel remained with Erestor as the former advisor completed tasks he still needed to finish before journeying to Valinor. The pair had also made vows to Elrond and Celeborn regarding Arwen Undomiel, and did not intend to leave until the vows were fulfilled. In Glorfindel’s mind, he could pretend they were the two great lords of a hidden elven realm, save for the fact they had to do their own laundry, clean their own messes, and make their own meals.

And it was exactly that which he had neglected to think about ahead of time. When the twins and a handful of others still remained, a good-sized meal was prepared twice a day at least, with the most wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. Now, they took turns making supper, and the rest of the meals consisted of things easy enough to cook – toast, sliced potatoes, corn muffins, and the like. There was one very obvious omission to all of their meals.

Erestor did not eat meat. Eggs, cheese, and butter were a few of the exceptions he made to his diet when Glorfindel had first complained that he was not a rabbit. The main rule had held, and as neither would separate from the other now that they were the last two left in Imladris. The only treat Glorfindel had received was when a few of Arwen’s children had come to call. Eldarion and Elodien hunted twice, first bringing back a boar, and then later, ducks and quail. Seven years now it had been, and Glorfindel would have by now gone fishing in the stream that ran in front of the house, if it weren’t for the fact that he had caught Erestor talking to the fish on more than one occasion.

There was another reason Glorfindel did not hurry to get to the kitchen. He could survive the absence of meat in his diet, if only what remained would have been a little less bland. For all his perfection, Erestor was a terrible cook. Often Glorfindel would offer to make meals even if it was not his rotation for it. Erestor’s cooking was edible, but far from delicious, but Glorfindel had not dare make mention of it, even when Erestor once commented that the salt reserves seemed quite low despite the lack of those residing in the last homely house.

Retrieving a bottle of wine before entering the kitchen, he pulled one of the strongest from the cellar, not caring whether it complimented peppers and mushrooms or not. Erestor would have water, Erestor always had water. Wine was rare for him to consume, for the dark elf was an advocate of moderation, and did not see why one would drown the flavor of food with wine.

“If only you could cook,” mumbled Glorfindel to himself as he crossed the hall. Finding the kitchen empty, he followed the breeze that came in from the open doors to the lawn and a table set outside, with food upon it. Erestor was not at the table, rather, he was perched on a railing and faced the west. The sun was readying to set, and gold, red, and violet streaked the sky. “I brought the wine,” said Glorfindel setting the bottle on the table. Erestor nodded, but continued to look at the painted sky.

Removing the cork, Glorfindel sniffed the wine, nodding to himself that it would more than cover the taste of dinner. He thought first to take a glass, but noted it was wasteful if he was the only one drinking, and walked to his companion, testing the wine. Indeed, it was strong, and perhaps a little bitter, but he drank once again when he reached Erestor.

“Where is it from?” questioned the dark elf, tilting up his head to observe the approaching night.

“Rohan,” managed Glorfindel hoarsely, giving a cough. Truly, it was a drink stronger than he had believed, but he drank again, and said in a strained voice, “It’s good.”

Closing his eyes and inhaling the night air, Erestor licked his lips and said, “Is my cooking really that bad?” He glanced to his left and focused his sideways look on Glorfindel, who smiled and scuffed a foot on the ground.

When the twins left and Imladris had emptied, the remaining pair had not stayed merely because they had made promise not to leave until after Arwen’s final fate was known, for they would have been welcomed gladly in Gondor. They stayed to sort out emotions and their personal relationship.

Unbeknownst to Glorfindel and Erestor, when Elrond and Celebrían had bound themselves some three thousand years earlier, they, too, had formed a bond. It was accidental, and not until recent years had they realized what had happened.

- - -

At the very bottom of the tree, Celebrían was aiding Erestor in using more poofy fabric and some curved branches to create an archway that led up the path to the steps of the Great Mallorn. Erestor cringed each time Celebrían stepped close to the threshold.

“It is bad luck if you accidentally go through it before your parents give consent!” hissed the dark haired advisor as Celebrían affixed a handful of flowers to the top of the portal.

“I’ll just go back through the other way.” Retorted Celebrían, carefully keeping under the boughs of the mellyrn so that she did not step in the path of the rain that still fell.

Erestor shook his head as he looked over his masterpiece once again. Though in reality, it was the act of physical bonding that produced the strong bond between two elves, there was a formal ceremony which was performed by many one year prior. In view of family and friends, an elf would pull his future wife beneath an archway, away from her parents on one side and into his arms on the other. It was done as a lovely addition to an announcement of an engagement and exchange of rings of betrothal, and many said it was at this point that the Valar blessed the union and allowed for the bond to begin to slowly form. Either way, Erestor was a romantic at heart, and thought the idea was a lovely one. He felt honored to have been asked to create the ceremonial object beneath the branches of the Great Mallorn for Elrond, even if his lord’s future bride couldn’t seem to stay out of his way.

His ears picked up on faint movement not far away, and he turned his head in the direction. “Celebrían, they’ve returned earlier than expected! Run up to the tree and call for your parents.”

The elleth hurried away, up the stairs. As Elrond approached with two others, Erestor was engaged in conversation with a young elfling that was to be present for the ceremony, the young one known as Rúmil. He paid some attention to what the elfling was telling him, but the rest was reserved for watching the stairs, and hoping that Celebrían, Celeborn, and Galadriel would not be long.

Coming up the path, Glorfindel showed acknowledgment with an overhead wave. All three of the elves approaching were sopping wet, their high leather boots sloshing through the grass. An unexpected downpour had caught them, yet Erestor and Rúmil remained dry, for the branches of the Great Mallorn extended far and protected those beneath it well.

Elrond was a few paces ahead, flanked by Glorfindel and Haldir. Erestor smirked, thinking that the Lord of Rivendell looked more like he was going off to battle than to speak with the parents of his beloved. What gave away that this was not the case were the leafy garlands that were weaved through their hair, and the nervousness Elrond was trying to conceal with a smile.

“You all look as if you’ve run headfirst into a tree,” remarked Erestor when they stopped just before the gateway, trying to ease the tense mood. Glorfindel caught his attention, crooking a finger at Erestor, who narrowed his eyes and frowned. “What?”

“Come here,” insisted Glorfindel, opening up a small sack that was tied to his belt. From within, he produced a number of strands of ivy leaves. Erestor frowned and shook his head.

“Glorfindel, I can’t. Everything is set up, and it’s bad luck to go through the – Fin!” Erestor gasped as his wrist was grabbed and the rest of him pulled through the archway. He stood in front of Glorfindel indignantly as the vines were quickly woven into his dark hair, ignoring Haldir, who was silently laughing at his situation, and Elrond, whose smile was much less nervous than it had been.

“It is worse luck if all the well-wishers do not have their heads adorned with pretty things,” Glorfindel informed him, nudging Erestor back to Rúmil, whose light golden hair had already been fixed with leaves and flowers.

Erestor crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. “That is not at all true. You made that up.”

“Everything is made up. All languages, words, and letters; all stories, songs, and rhymes,” Glorfindel countered. ‘And even if I did make it up, it makes you look even more magnificent.’

At the time, Erestor thought he must have imagined Glorfindel’s final thoughts, for how could he have heard them, and why would his friend have even thought such a thing? The words, he found out later, were not only real, but in Glorfindel’s mind, they were very, very true.

- - -

“I love you,” tried Glorfindel, pulling Erestor from his reverie. Just as Glorfindel’s thoughts were rarely false, neither were his words. Erestor smiled ruefully, patted Glorfindel on the head, and hopped down from the railing.

“Dinner will get cold,” he replied, sitting down in the chair that would face the sunset. “And bad food is always worse when it is not warm.”

For years I have kept private journals, expecting them to remain just that – private. Perhaps this is a mistake, and perhaps I shall regret my decision later. The rest of my journals are already prepared for our journey.

Tonight I came to the conclusion, that if we are ever to hope for a future together, in any capacity, that no longer can I keep anything private. From others, yes, but not from you. It is not fair, though I do not expect reciprocation of my actions. I promise you I will not pursue any further intimacies of a sexual nature, unless you give me leave to do so. I apologize for my actions earlier this evening.

I really do love you.

Glorfindel

- - -

The note was folded around the book that had been propped against Erestor’s door. Entering his quarters, he took them to his bed, leaving the door open. Sitting down, he read the note again, then folded it and placed it on his nightstand. Next, he changed into a pair of light pants for sleeping and took the book with him to his couch. When he read for pleasure, he didn’t sit. He liked to lounge, and lit the lamp on the nearby table before situating himself comfortably.

Flipping through the pages, he recognized Glorfindel’s hand, and the dark ink he had seen on the note. He wondered for a moment if he should go to the other elf to let him know nothing had been done that night to truly upset him. Glorfindel had finally admitted to him that his cooking left much to be desired, and then spent the rest of the meal silent when Erestor had not replied, but Erestor had known as much for some years. There was a very good reason he did not boast culinary skills, for he had none to speak of, and even his beloved books had done nothing to cure this.

Opening the book randomly, Erestor began to read the words of the passage. He knew that Glorfindel made daily notes, but never knew of exactly what he wrote. Much of it was rather dull, for he had been there for what was being written about. He started to look for lines where his name was listed, curious to see how Glorfindel viewed him. He found a section where the writing changed a bit and sat up. The color was the same, and still it was Glorfindel who wrote, but the words were smaller, and the text messier.

- - -

Glorfindel pressed Erestor's wrists to the wall beside his raven-locked head. He knew his long time friend wouldn’t give in to him so easily; no matter how tempting he was to the older elf. Erestor was no elf’s plaything to be used, only to be set aside. But it was not Glorfindel’s intention to set him aside, and he needed to know how to make him believe this.

Long had he yearned to introduce Erestor to sexual delights, but always in his mind that introduction happened within the confines of a serious relationship. Not the illicit affair Erestor thought he was offering. The Noldo’s jaw was set, defiantly mocking him. He was trapped, but then, he allowed himself to be trapped, for he could leave at his own choosing and Glorfindel would not have given chase.

Snapping back to his present situation, Glorfindel moaned as Erestor tilted his hips forward, forcing firmer contact between their arousals. Caught off guard, Glorfindel whimpered, and Erestor smiled triumphantly; he was enjoying this...this utter agony he was putting Glorfindel through, and his own struggle to resist the pleasure he truly wanted.

- - -

Erestor gasped, realizing that he had forgotten to breathe. Unable to believe his eyes, he rubbed them with one hand, and set to reading the passage again. When it hit him that he was really reading what he was reading, he threw the book away from him as if it would burn his hand. It struck the corner of the bed and opened as it fell, the cover facing up as it hit the floor.

Grabbing one of the pillows from the couch, he drew it up to his chest and hugged it to him, wishing it were Glorfindel instead. The pillow was tossed aside next as he fully realized his thought, and he shook his head, getting up to retrieve the book. This proved harder than he had anticipated, for he concluded, as he looked down in front of himself, that he indeed was fully erect. “What is wrong with me?” he wondered out loud, flopping back onto the couch. Looking to the door, Erestor hoped that it was not Glorfindel’s intention to enter or walk past the door anytime soon, for he would have been so completely embarrassed he either would have had to kill him or himself.

After calming himself enough to be able to comfortably pick up the book again, he first went to the door to close and lock it, and then to his couch. The book was left on the cushion as he brought a small bottle of liqueur from the cabinet next to his desk with him. Taking a deep breath as he uncorked the bottle, he drained half the contents of the raspberry-peach concoction and placed the rest of the miruvor aside. “What other naughty thoughts have you written, dear Fin, and why do you want me to read them?”

Erestor paused, repeating himself. “Dear Fin. When did that come about?” Finding he often reasoned things better aloud, and that he enjoyed the sound of his voice, he continued his investigation, speaking when he thought it helpful. He opened the book and read through the passage again. “What are you trying to tell me? That you lust for me? Aye, but I know that, and know that you love me, for I love you. But lust – that is something I am not sure of. At least not yet. You do not wish me to fear you, in that you want me to know your intentions are pure. I want to believe that.” Erestor ran a finger along the page, across words so very personal in some ways it seemed almost sacred that he was reading them now. “I want very much to believe that. And I want very much not to fear, but it is not you that I fear.”

He set to find more of the interludes, and though they were few, Erestor found three others in the journal. The last, he concluded had been written after dinner, but before the journal had been left for him. “We were together in the parlor when you wrote this,” Erestor whispered. “Not more than ten feet from you, and still, I did not know you had such thoughts, so close…”

Shutting the book, Erestor placed it on the table beside him, and lifted up the bottle, drinking the rest. The cordial warmed him thoroughly, for he was not used to taking such amounts of alcohol. Erestor opened the windows to let in the breeze of late autumn, then crawled into his bed, planning to think on things in the morning.

Instead he stayed wide-awake, listening to the leaves rustling across the grass outside. “I don’t lust for him,” he said suddenly, in defense of his uncontrollable actions earlier. “It was an accident. It was only the words, I was unprepared.” But his hand had slipped down under the sheets, loosening the cord of his pants to allow him access. This night, as on so many other cold nights, he did as he had always done before. He took himself in his hand and thought of the most beautiful blonde elf he had ever known. “Mmm… Artanis…” he smiled, shutting his eyes, imagining her as he drew his hand along his hardening shaft. It took mere seconds for him to pant and moan softly, hoping that Glorfindel did not hear the sounds.

Throwing his head back, he cried out suddenly, and his hand ceased as he felt the warmth spread across it. Growling as he gasped for air, he wiped his hand across his thigh, removing it from inside his sleepwear. Sitting up, he drew up his knees and rested his chin on them, arms curled around his legs. “Glorfindel,” he said again, for the name that flowed from his lips as he released was not that of his golden maiden of old, but of the golden lord that was with him in this very house, where they were alone and unbothered by others. “Glorfindel…” Erestor bowed his head and sighed.

Throwing the covers back, he slid out of bed, shut the window, and lit the fire. Wandering into the bathroom, he drew cold water into the tub, stripped and washed himself, and warmed then in front of the fire while rereading the sloppily written passages. So intent upon the words was Erestor, he did not notice that he had been lazily running his free hand along his legs, chest, and stomach until his erection throbbed once again. “Aiya, Glorfindel,” sighed Erestor, rolling to his back as he tossed the book next to himself on the fur he was upon. “What am I to say to you when I do not know what to say to myself?”

The hour was late, but Erestor knew he would not sleep, and so retrieved a fresh set of nightclothes – pants, and a robe that reached just past his waist. Unlike so much of what he wore, these were not black, but blue-violet, and so light to almost have been mistaken for white in the sun. He left the robe untied, picked up the book, and made his way to Glorfindel’s chambers.

Erestor paced back and forth at the door to Glorfindel’s rooms. Twice he had returned to his own quarters, but somehow found his feet bringing him back here each time. Finally turning to face the door, rocking back on his feet, Erestor reached up and knocked sharply on the door, then stepped back and waited.

When there was no reply, and Glorfindel did not come to the door, Erestor pounded once again with his fist, then pressed his ear to the wood to listen. It seemed there was some soft sound coming from within, but he could not tell exactly what. Perhaps Glorfindel was asleep, he reasoned. Waiting until morning was the most practical course of action, but Erestor boldly reached for the handle and turned it toward him, finding the door had been left unlocked.

Pressing it inwards gently, Erestor silently entered the main room and tilted his head to see the bed immediately inside instead of hidden in some back chamber. But then, he had never been in Glorfindel’s rooms before, he reminded himself. The bed before him was empty, and his next surprise was the colors of the room. Deep colors, rich burgundy and forest green greeted him, and midnight blues across the walls. Even in the candlelight that illuminated the room, the darkness was evidently dominant. What was also evident was that Glorfindel was not in this room.

He had for some reason expected to find clutter, but here there was a place for everything, and even what appeared to be a basket of dirty laundry was tucked away in the corner. There was a passage that led further into the chambers, and Erestor followed it, down a narrow corridor that did not go on for long, lined with maps and tapestries of famed battles. There were no weapons adorning the walls, something that he had somehow expected to find.

He came out into a rectangular room, the most surprising feature of all, for it was a library. Looking around, Erestor could not believe he did not know of this collection of tomes. When he began to read the titles, however, he found the books were an assortment of sensual short stories; many books he had thought no longer were in existence. Even more startling were the volumes of erotic poetry, for some were Erestor’s own works. He blushed in spite of the fact no one could see him, and then heard the sounds again.

The final room was splendid as the rest, and Erestor now figured the layout, that the bedroom was on the other side of the far wall. The room he was in was nearly empty, save for Glorfindel and his swords, but the walls were delicately painted with what Erestor assumed were favorite verses of poems and songs of battle with accompanied art. Erestor stood and watched, mesmerized by the dance performed as Glorfindel practiced his art, battling unseen foes as he moved, a sword in each of his hands. One of the invisible enemies caused him to turn in the direction of the door, and the practice swords fell from his hands and clattered to the ground. “Erestor!”

“I apologize. I should have knocked or said something – well, I… I did knock, but then you didn’t hear me, and…” Erestor stepped into the room, ignoring Glorfindel’s appearance, or trying unsuccessfully to. He had quite obviously noticed the way Glorfindel’s chest heaved, for it was easy, as he was practicing with his chest bare. As Glorfindel bent to pick up the swords, Erestor glanced at him, deciding his deep brown leggings were practical, but not the most suitable for receiving guests, and yet, he had a hard time pulling his gaze from them until Glorfindel stood again.

“You don’t have to apologize, Erestor.” Glorfindel moved to the wall and slid open a hidden door. He placed the swords inside before sliding it back once again. “Do you require something of me?”

No longer as brave as he had originally been, Erestor held out the book at arm’s length. “I came to return this to you,” he said rather quickly, and gave it a little shake, as if Glorfindel should take it immediately.

“Oh.” Glorfindel tried to hide his disappointment and curiosity. “Did you…?”

“I finished it. All of it,” added Erestor. He was looking now at the four large mirror panels that were along part of the room.

“Ah.” Taking the book, Glorfindel waited to see if anything more was to be said.

Pointing at the mirrors, Erestor asked, “What are those here for? Forgive me, I’ve not seen anything like it.”

“For practice,” answered Glorfindel. He stepped out of the room, and returned immediately without the book. “So that I can watch what I am doing and see my mistakes.” Erestor nodded, and looked back to Glorfindel, noting that the blonde had been staring at him. “Forgive me,” begged Glorfindel, bowing his head slightly after Erestor’s brow jerked up in askance, “I’ve not seen you in such bright colors in so long. It reminds me of when we were in Gondolin.”

“Oh, but Gondolin was so long ago,” said Erestor, shaking his head. “There is little to compare, save a similar hue.”

“Do not deny my compliments, Erestor, you know your beauty,” laughed Glorfindel, and his eyes widened as the other elf slightly blushed. Erestor was known to take most compliments like the wind, for not only did he think quite highly of himself – and for good reason – Erestor was not known to be shy. But here was Erestor, stepping just out of the way, turning his face from him. “Come, if you do not believe me,” insisted Glorfindel, and he pulled Erestor over to the mirrors with much less protest than he had expected. He was well aware of the fact Erestor did not own a mirror, much less ever use one, and he could not resist showing the dark beauty what he had the honor to see every day.

Glorfindel brought Erestor before one of the center panels, standing behind him. “Your hair could do to be brushed, but the rest of you is flawless,” he said, and one hand strayed from Erestor’s shoulder to tuck back errant hairs behind his ear.

Standing this close, Glorfindel could smell the freshness of Erestor’s recent bath, and wondered how the advisor had come to bathe at this late hour, until he picked up the faintest trace beneath of a second scent. Glorfindel’s hand still hovered next to Erestor’s face, and he experimentally drew the back of his hand down along the other elf’s cheek. Erestor shifted, but not away, for he unexplainably closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Glorfindel’s heart began to beat faster and he leaned nearer and spoke softly into Erestor’s ear. “Stay here. I shall return.”

Not having the chance to respond to the command, Erestor’s eyes fluttered open and he nodded only after Glorfindel had left the room. When the blonde returned, he had with him a softly padded stool and his hairbrush. He brought them to Erestor, placed the stool down, and motioned to it with the brush. “If you will permit me…” he said, and Erestor nodded, sitting down. He had forgotten to comb through his hair after his bath, and was fairly certain that there were some tangles in it by now.

Nothing was said by either at first, as Glorfindel began the work of taming Erestor’s inky black mane. Erestor’s hair flowed down just below his knees, and though it pooled now on the floor, Glorfindel knew that it wouldn’t do to have Erestor stand. Not only did it seem silly, but it was impractical, as Glorfindel did not have Erestor’s height. Therefore, the blonde sometimes had a wave of ebony over his arm as he carefully drew the knots out of the loose strands.

“I never knew you to have a library,” Erestor finally said, and Glorfindel nodded.

“I don’t think of it as a library, really. There’s no organization to it, I do not quite recall the volumes that are contained. Reading room is a better term,” he reasoned.

“I would organize it for you,” offered Erestor, and to this Glorfindel smiled.

“You do not know what is kept in that room.”

Grinning, Erestor chuckled. “Yes, I do. I wrote some of it. Or do you not pay attention to the authors?”

The brushing stopped. “I do not recall seeing your name listed as author for any of them.”

“ ‘A compilation of the House of the Silver Stars’. The house began and ended with me, Glorfindel.”

“Hmm.” The brushing resumed, and Erestor could not tell if Glorfindel smirked because he was pleased, amused, or embarrassed.

“Would you like them organized? I won’t be upset if you don’t want me to go in there anymore.”

“It just seems such an extraordinary task.”

“I wouldn’t mind it. In fact, I would enjoy it.”

Glorfindel ran his hands through the dark hair, checking for any further snarls. “Perhaps, we might make a deal,” he suggested. “You can catalogue to your heart’s content while I practice here, and that will give us means to share conversation during the day. In the evening, while I make our meals, you can read to me from one of your books.”

Erestor crossed his arms and looked slyly at the mirror image of Glorfindel. “You really do detest my cooking, don’t you?”

“That isn’t entirely true,” Glorfindel answered playfully. “I love your cooking when I’m not the one eating it.” He was glad to hear Erestor laugh at this, and smiled himself, his fingers lingering as he drew them through dark tresses. He decided not to further his comments by saying he loved to watch Erestor cook. How the advisor would look, reading over a recipe as he drummed his fingers on the counter, brow furled, apron on, hair drawn back, and just the tip of his tongue protruding from the corner of pouting lips to finish the look of determination. Glorfindel realized his plan would cost him that image, and quickly added, “Perhaps, sometimes, we can make dinner together.”

“You have a deal,” said Erestor with a nod. “How is it coming?” he asked then, for Glorfindel had settled the handle of the brush in his pocket and was now combing through Erestor’s hair with his fingers.

“Perfectly,” Glorfindel whispered, letting the strands fall from his fingertips. He bent his head slowly, watching the eyes in the mirror, and swept the hair back from Erestor’s neck with his hand.

Erestor stood abruptly, just as he had felt Glorfindel’s breath on his bare skin. The stool wobbled a little, and Erestor moved forward to straighten it, but Glorfindel gripped the sides as if he had truly bent to do just that. “I-“ Erestor pulled the escaped strands behind his pointed ears. “Thank you, Glorfindel. I should retire, now, indeed you must be tired, and I have left the fire burning in my room,” he remembered suddenly, a little relieved and yet slightly upset that he truly did have an excuse to leave.

“I am not as tired as I might seem,” said Glorfindel, “but I shall see you in the morning.”

Erestor nodded, leaving the room. Back in the library of sorts, he paused, seeing the book sitting on the chair, and shivered at the memory of reading it. Erestor walked back into the practice room, nearly walking into Glorfindel, who had just retrieved the stool and was about to bring it out of the room. “Sorry,” Erestor said, backing up a few steps, but Glorfindel stayed him, taking hold of his wrist as he set the stool aside with his other hand. Glorfindel let his grip slide to Erestor’s hand while his other arm hid itself behind his own back.

“No, no need, Erestor, I should have been more alert. My mind was on other things.” Glorfindel’s smile was warm, and as his thumb moved in comforting circles against Erestor’s palm, he asked, “Did you forget something?”

“I thought…” Erestor looked down to their joined hands, but did nothing. Meeting Glorifindel’s gaze again, he said, “I thought that perhaps you might like to come to my quarters. I find I am not as tired as I might seem, either,” he offered in explanation.

Glorfindel nodded, leaving Erestor’s hand to slip away. “Allow me to dress again, and I will join you momentary.”

“I had best tend to the fire.” Erestor walked to the doorway, and then stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I look forward to seeing you again soon,” he said, and Glorfindel gave him another nod as he left.

“I love you, too, Erestor,” murmured Glorfindel after he heard the door to his quarters shut.

I wish that I had changed into something else, for when Glorfindel entered, I felt completely indecent in what I had on. Not until he sat down in the seat I offered him by the fire did I realize he was in the colors of his house, dressed as often he had been in Gondolin.

We did not speak for long, finding comfort in the company of each other. The fire warmed us, as did the wine, and I found need to open the window. A fresh breeze drifted through the room, and Glorfindel looked at me as I returned, and though he blamed his shiver on the wind, I knew better from the look in his eyes.

- - -

Erestor dipped his quill into the jar of ink and frowned as he reread the words. Shifting in bed to gain a better position in which to write – as well as a more comfortable position for his sore posterior, Erestor paused to think.

- - -

He never would have guessed that the act of making love would cause one to become quite as famished as he was. Glorfindel kindly offered to prepare a snack and bring it back to the room, if Erestor would consider completing a task for him.

Disappearing into the back rooms, Glorfindel returned with the journal, as well as a quill and a bottle of silvery grey ink. “I record a lot of daily notes, as you know, and sometimes I write fictional stories to pass the time. I would love for you to… document our encounter for… historical purposes,” Glorfindel had told Erestor carefully before peppering his cheeks with kisses and then leaving the room.

- - -

Realizing that in all honesty he could probably skip the small talk, Erestor began to write once again.



His eyes wandered across my body, and I felt his touch as well as if it had been his own hand, my breath catching in my throat as his stare lingered. Abruptly, he turned to look at the fire and spoke. “The hour is late. I should retire.” Glorfindel stood up and nodded toward me. I stood as the next words tumbled from my mouth.

“It would be folly for you to leave,” I said to him. He turned and answered,

“It would be folly for me to stay. Unless you have reason otherwise.”

“There is already a fire burning here,” I quickly said, motioning to the small hearth. “It would be wasteful to start another.”

Glorfindel sat back down and regarded me curiously as I seated myself. “I do need to rest,” he told me carefully.

“Is not my bed large enough for two?” My stomach knotted, and I added, “It would be just like when we would camp beneath the stars in Gondolin with Ecthelion.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” chuckled Glorfindel.

Sighing deeply, I said, “No, I suppose not.” This was becoming more awkward than I had expected, considering the words Glorfindel had shared with me. “Glorfindel, will you spend this night with me?”

Glorfindel did not answer, instead swirling his drink in his glass. Frustrated, I let my fist drop onto the arm of my chair, startling Fin. “Do you know how difficult this is for me?”

“I told you, you didn’t have to do anything if you didn’t want to. I promise you, I shall never take another to my bed, and I will not force you to let me into yours.”

Closing my eyes, I rubbed the bridge of my nose. It was then that I realized how formal this was. Had I ever considered saying anything so intimate to a lover while sitting across the room? Had I thought properly of this, I would have asked him to join me on the furs before the fire instead of the chairs nearby.

In one fluid motion, I was standing and another moment later, knelt before Glorfindel and took his free hand into mine. “Aiya, Fin, you make things so difficult,” I chided, ignoring his sudden look of confusion as he placed his glass aside and curled his other hand around mine. “Too long have I been alone, dear Fin. I wish to be complete, and you are the one who completes me.”

Playing with my fingers, rubbing them in his own hands, he leaned forward as he bent nearer. Something of the old Glorfindel was there in his eyes, the Glorfindel I met in Gondolin, that quiet and reserved elf that I thought had perished long ago. “Would you permit me to kiss you, Erestor?”

My throat constricted upon his request, but I managed to nod my consent to him. Softly our lips met, then slid, parted, and opened. I surprised myself as I let my tongue glide over his, exploring his mouth hungrily and more boldly than I had planned to. I withdrew abruptly, feeling guilty as I saw his wide-eyed stare.

Blushing, I turned my head and swallowed hard as I tried to pull myself up. Instead, Glorfindel moved forward and fell to his own knees on the floor. His hands left mine and found their way to my burning cheeks, and with some trepidation, I looked up into his eyes.

We held that gaze for some time as the wood in the fireplace snapped and spit, rain beginning to run down the high windows, errant drops hitting the floor beneath the open one. I did not expect him to lunge at me as he did, but if he had been slower, I may have turned away once more. His tongue thrust into my mouth, hands sliding back into my hair. I had little choice but to submit, my own fingers wrapping around his shoulders, clawing and kneading as he fed my long hidden hunger.

Neither of us made any attempt to change our position, simply kissing and caressing one another, saying nothing. It was so easy to simply love and be loved, after living so long without love. I jerked slightly when Glorfindel’s hand found its way deep into the folds of my robe and beneath the fabric that covered lower, and he began to pull away. Catching his wrist, I placed his hand back where it had been.

“Touch me, Fin. Help me, please. Satisfy this need I did not know I had.”

“But am I to satisfy your need or are you to satisfy mine?” he asked cryptically. I paused, stopping my hands where they were upon his thighs.

“Are they not one in the same?”

“Dear Erestor, there is a great amount of physical improbability to what you suggest,” he answered with a wink. His hands and lips began to move once more over my clothed body. Drawing his tongue over the curve of my ear to the point, he nipped and asked, “Do you wish to give or to receive?”

That is when the impact of what I was about to partake in finally came to me. When morning came, my soul would be bound – fused forever to Glorfindel’s. I was filled with fear, and with excitement, and could not seem to think.

“Erestor?” Glorfindel drew back and his eyes searched mine as his hand began to slowly stroke the inside of my thigh, letting his hand wander slowly.

“I don’t know, Glorfindel,” I panted truthfully, letting my eyelids droop.

“Tell me how you feel, beautiful Erestor,” purred Glorfindel. He licked my throat, and I bent my head back, encouraging his touch. His fingers gently slid the meager robe from my shoulders, and as it fell to the ground, his hands pushed down the material that hindered him below. “Tell me truly.”

“I burn,” I gasped, digging my fingers into his upper arms as he curled his own around my most private of places. “You have set me on fire, and I burn for you. I wish to be yours. Completely yours.”

“Then I shall have you,” he growled, low and soft, and began to nuzzle at my neck as his hands began the task of removing the rest of my clothing. I found I could do little more than steady myself, hands upon his shoulders, as he kissed my throat and pulled at the sash that had been tied about his own waist, dropping it to the floor. “Erestor…” he whispered against my skin. “My Erestor…”

I shuddered and exploded despite the lack of his physical touch, and blushed a deep crimson this time. There was a sort of dumb look on Glorfindel’s face as he ran his fingers through the silvery discharge that had sprayed upon my skin, as if he needed contact with the proof before believing it. “You are a most sensual elf,” he told me, looking around for something to clean things up.

“Nay, it is you,” I countered, breathing heavily, still holding him within my grasp. “Your words are the perfect intercourse.”

“You only think that because I haven’t had my way with you yet,” he smirked, pulling the sash he had discarded moments ago from the discarded clothing and using it to clean me. He stopped before entirely finishing, and bowed his head, lowering his body down.

I held my breath as his tongue came in contact with my flesh, licking the droplets that had not yet been cleaned from my stomach and thighs. “Fin,” I whimpered as the tip of his tongue flicked out and danced across my skin, panicking now as I began to realize just what I was getting myself into. “Fin…I can’t…It’s just, I don’t…” My protest died as I felt a sudden warmth flood my body. I looked down and beheld such a sight as never I expected. Waves of pleasure overtook my fears, and I rested my hands on his shoulders, head thrown back as he provided such stimulation as I had never known.

The rhythm Glorfindel set was exquisite, and soon my words were nothing more than mewls and whimpers, sounds I never thought myself capable of making. Once more was I erect, and he took me fully into his mouth before letting me go, dragging his teeth lightly across my flesh so that I cried out, cursing, and begging when the sensation ebbed away.

“I think you can,” he purred. “I think you want to,” he pressed. Glorfindel stood and looked down as I lifted my chin, gazing up at him. His smile was warm and lazy as he set his hand upon my head, dragging his fingers back through my hair. “I think you will.”

Before I could answer, he left. His hand was gone from my hair, he from my chambers, and I knelt upon the floor, with nothing more than my own labored breath to hear. Settling back, balancing on the palms of my hands, I knew the choice before me.

His promise was never to bring up the matter again, not unless I had. And I had. Oh, had I ever. Yet, close at it had come, he still gave me the choice. A final means to escape my fate. Our fate. Predestined. I shuddered. I never had a choice, I realized, and yet, through this act of concession on his part, the choice was now clear in my mind.

I stood, and I ached, but it was my soul and not my body that controlled my thoughts now. No longer was I listening to what I thought, but instead, to what I felt. What I knew, and had always somehow known.

- - -

Presently, Glorfindel entered through the open doorway, bringing with him a large steaming plate and a pitcher of cool water. Setting them on a long table that was against the wall, he leaned over to kiss Erestor’s cheek, and then headed into the back rooms, coming back with a pair of drinking glasses. “How is it coming along?” Glorfindel asked, settling down on the bed next to where Erestor was propped up against the pillows. Erestor moved a little more toward the center to give Glorfindel more space and counted the pages he had written in.

“I’ve finished seven pages,” Erestor told him, handing Glorfindel the quill so that it could be placed aside. “What have you brought?”

“I’ve brought you something delicious,” replied Glorfindel. Erestor awaited an answer, and Glorfindel grinned. “Oh, you mean the food…” He reached around to retrieve the snack while Erestor slapped his shoulder. Chuckling, Glorfindel held the plate with one hand and pulled one of the treats from it, a trail of melted cheese clinging to it as he lifted it in front of Erestor’s mouth.

“What are they?” Erestor asked, putting the book aside.

“They’re very good,” answered Glorfindel.

Erestor laughed. “You haven’t a clue!”

“It’s something the Halflings eat, you must trust me! It’s good. Very good,” he corrected.

Leaning forward, Erestor bit into the food he was offered. Hidden under the cheese were buttered mushrooms, slices of pepper, and chunks of tomato on top of bread. “This is very good. Much better than what I did for dinner.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Glorfindel smiled, feeding the rest of that slice to Erestor. “You know, this has been quite a day,” he said, licking his buttery fingers.

“Mmmhmm,” agreed Erestor as he chewed. After swallowing, he said, “Quite an incredible day.”

“I’m sorry about your library,” blurted out Glorfindel. “I know how much work you put into it, and what you had to do to convince Elrond to even build one, which seems so silly considering the hours he used to spend in it. But, it wasn’t his library, it was your library, and I’m sure when we get to Valinor, he’s going to just let you still keep the books where you would like, or, is there a public library in Valinor? I’m sorry, I don’t know some of these things, and I just hate to see you unhappy.”

Erestor picked up one of the cheesy slices of bread and ate it quietly. When he finished, he said, “Today I realized how much I am going to miss Imladris. It isn’t just the books, Fin, it’s the entire place. Everywhere else I lived never seemed quite like home, quite like Valinor. But this house comes close.”

“You’re still going to sail eventually?” asked Glorfindel with worry.

“Oh, yes,” replied Erestor. “In time. But I will miss Imladris.” Sighing, he added, “I think now I may miss it even more.” His eyes had a faraway look, and he closed them as his chin trembled.

Glorfindel put aside the plate and drew his arms around Erestor. “We’re not leaving yet,” he said in a happy and slightly silly voice that immediately became serious. “Please don’t cry, Erestor,” he said, soft and low, “I can’t stand the pain of it.”

“I’m not going to cry, Glorfindel,” Erestor assured him, “though, I think right now, I might be amiable to any of the comforting, holding, and… and kissing that you wrote about earlier.”

“Only kissing?” sighed Glorfindel playfully.

“Comforting and holding were also mentioned.”

This caused Glorfindel to pout. “That appears to be a very limited list of options you’ve given me, Ress.”

“Ress? Who’s Ress?”

“You are, my dear,” stated Glorfindel.

“Since when?”

“If I’m Fin, then you’re Ress,” Glorfindel said matter-of-factly. “Glor-FIN-del, E-RESS-tor.”

“It’s not E-restor, it’s ER-estor,” corrected Erestor pointedly. “Honestly.”

“I’m not calling you Er, that just sounds silly, as does Es. Now, I’ve put a lot of thought into this, and I think Ress suits you.”

“No, Erestor suits me,” argued the darker elf. “It is my name, and what I wish to be called.”

Erestor found himself flat on his back and pinned down a moment later. “I love the sound of your name,” purred Glorfindel after dragging his tongue along Erestor’s jaw. “Even more,” he continued, nipping at the other’s ear, “I love to hear your name on my lips. I think you love to hear your name on my lips even more than I love saying your name,” he flicked his tongue at the tip of Erestor’s ear and whispered, “Erestor – Not, E-res-tor…” Even the incorrect pronunciation made the elf beneath him shudder.

“Now, in the future – in the very near future, I should hope – when we make love, I should like to have something a bit simpler to call you. I could simply say—“ Glorfindel sat up and back a little now that Erestor was temporarily subdued, and taking hold of his lover’s hardening length, continued in a low and seductive voice, “—I could say to you, as you thrust into me, deep within my body, I could call out, ‘Oh, yes, my love, yes!’.” Glorfindel abruptly stopped, and Erestor whined as the touching ceased. “Very impersonal,” Glorfindel explained, pretending to ignore the needful moans. “I could also simply use your entire name. For example,” Glorfindel wrapped his hand around the stiff member, and resuming his manipulation, cried out rather convincingly, “Oh Erestor, by the Valar! Do not stop, Erestor! Do not cease!”

It was not Erestor who paused, but Glorfindel, whose hands were now firmly on either side of Erestor’s waist. Erestor let out a frustrated sob as Glorfindel lowered himself again, so that his lips were almost upon Erestor’s ear as he spoke, and his lover’s erection was pressed between their bodies. “But I think there are enough who call you Erestor, and I would call you something more personal than that. Just as you called out to me, your voice hoarse and strained, crying out to ‘Fin’, telling him to take your flushed, aching, beautiful body, Erestor, I would have something to scream when it is you who has me undone.”

Words tumbled into Erestor’s ear, words of desire, of such passion, though neither had penetrated the other’s body, Glorfindel assaulted Erestor’s mind with such heat, he threw back his head and moaned as he heard them. “Deeper, Ress, yes—Oh! Yes… Take me harder, Ress, take me over the edge, do not stop!” panted Glorfindel, causing himself to be aroused. “I think the name to be perfect, Ress,” growled Glorfindel, and Erestor was barely able to nod.

“Now, Ress,” Glorfindel said, propping himself back up and causing Erestor to become even more frustrated, “I do believe that you have greatly limited my options for the remainder of the evening.”

“Fin…” Erestor whined and blinked his eyes open. “I just had hoped not to be so sore come morning.”

Grinning, Glorfindel had their positions reversed moments later, and winked up at Erestor. “Who said you’d get to have all the fun?” he asked, folding his arms behind his head as he spread his legs further apart. Erestor licked his lips and smiled down at him. “I don’t expect to be sore, Ress,” Glorfindel continued, “I expect to be completely unable to walk in the morning.”

“Is that a challenge?” Erestor inquired.

“Oh, I was quite hoping it would be a promise,” said Glorfindel, conjuring up a very naughty look.

- - -

In the early morning hours, while Glorfindel slept, enfolded in Erestor’s arms, the elder elf recalled the first episode of lovemaking they had shared late that previous evening in the very bed they rested. His body hurt, but it was such a wonderful pain, having exerted himself to exhaustion, but too happy to rest.

Nestled against him, so tired that he had drifted from reverie to sleep, Glorfindel was peacefully relaxed in his arms. Freeing one hand, Erestor used it to lightly touch his newly discovered lover, smiling as Glorfindel cuddled closer and mumbled a few words.

“I love you, too, Fin,” returned Erestor, kissing Glorfindel’s nose before letting his body rest and his mind wander to previous events.

Glorfindel stretched his arms above him and took in the room. He didn’t have any windows in his rooms, but he preferred it that way, for he liked to nap midday and didn’t like the room to be too bright for it. Blinking as he turned to the left, and then to the right, he sat up in panic in the darkness.

“Erestor?” he called out, pulling the tangle of sheets and blankets from his body. There was no answer as he tumbled from the bed and stumbled to the table, fumbling to light a candle. His hands found something else before finding the flint – something flat. Glorfindel picked up the book and flipped through it, squinting at it in the darkness. He smiled when he saw the violet ink and Erestor’s smooth writing, and the notes of what had transpired the previous night.

Letting out a deep sigh, for he had feared for a moment he had only dreamed the encounter, Glorfindel made his way into the washroom. Now that his senses were coming back to him, he realized from the ache in his body that the events that had occurred were most definitely not a dream.

Dressing simply in a pair of loose fitting pants, Glorfindel wandered back through the hallway, hearing humming as he traveled. Entering the library, he found Erestor sitting upon the padded stool, sorting through a stack of books. “Good morning, Wilwarin,” said Glorfindel softly, moving behind Erestor to embrace him.

Erestor smiled, but questioned, “Butterfly?”

“Yes, but you’re more beautiful,” said Glorfindel.

“Why a butterfly?”

“You’ve always reminded me of one,” admitted Glorfindel, rubbing Erestor’s shoulders. “In Gondolin, you were so eager to learn, you were like a caterpillar, eating up all of the knowledge you could find. When I found you again, you had sheltered yourself, built a cocoon. I hoped for many long years that one day you would break out of that shell. After Elrond left, after we learned of this bond we shared, I watched as you slowly began to free yourself, but I did not want to press things. You’ve slowly unfolded your wings through the years we’ve spent together, Wilwarin, I am happy you finally let me teach you to fly.”

“I like flying,” smirked Erestor, his eyes closed and body relaxed at Glorfindel’s touch.

Grinning, Glorfindel crouched down a little more so that he could wrap his arms around Erestor and place his cheek against his lover’s back. “Perhaps another flying lesson can be arranged.”

“Later. I think my wings are going to fall off if you don’t allow me time to rest,” said Erestor. He looked around the desk and asked, “Where do you keep your quills and ink? I must make a few notes before I begin this task.”

Glorfindel strayed one hand down to the bottom desk drawer and opened it, reaching inside without looking. He pulled out a box and casually opened it, then paused.

“Something the matter?” asked Erestor.

“No, nothing, I…” Glorfindel slide his fingers along the feathers, and Erestor looked down to see what was going on. Covering the box swiftly, Glorfindel shied away and stood up, tapping the box with the fingers of one hand.

“What have you got?” wondered Erestor.

“It’s a pen,” said Glorfindel, wishing he hadn’t.

Erestor scratched the side of his neck, perplexed. “Can I use it, then?”

Glorfindel uncovered the box and looked inside again. “Yes, but…”

“But what?”

Covering the box once more, Glorfindel explained, “It’s a bit silly, really. I know that all you use for pens are peacock feathers, I do not recall why but I know there was a reason.”

“I like the weight of them,” said Erestor, following Glorfindel around the room with his eyes.

“There you are,” said Glorfindel, continuing, “Every one I saw you use was black, or dark colored at least. Very solemn and dignified, but always black. Understandably so, the peacock tends to be a bird of that color, or the tail is, at least. However, I happened upon a peacock one day that was golden, a little orangey as well, and he was so kind to drop two feathers for me.” Glorfindel handed the box to Erestor shyly. “I had meant to give it to you before, but the time never came for it, and it always seemed too trivial.”

Erestor pulled the lid off to find a feathered quill made with twin golden peacock feathers. The nib was golden as well, not the steel he was used to using. “You made this,” he stated, taking it from the box. It was lighter than he imagined it could be, and the feathers glittered in the light. “It is remarkably beautiful.”

“I guess you like it, then,” Glorfindel said. He was standing against a bookshelf, looking a little embarrassed and a little proud that his gift was so well received.

“I love it.” Erestor set the quill down on the desk and stood up, approaching Glorfindel. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lifting a hand to stroke Glorfindel’s cheek, Erestor leaned closer and met Glorfindel’s lips, coaxing the younger elf to relax. Just as Glorfindel began to place his hands upon Erestor’s hips, the dark elf took hold of his lover’s wrists and pinned them up above against the shelves of books. “You said something about… flying lessons,” purred Erestor, rubbing himself against Glorfindel in a most sensuous manner before nipping at the bare throat that presented itself.

“Oh… Erestor…” groaned Glorfindel, fighting to kiss his love once more. He was granted this, but only after torture long enough to arouse him. “Flying… falling… I will do whatever you ask of me…” he panted as they broke for air. “Forever. Always.”

Gliding his hands down along muscled arms, Erestor sighed as he embraced the blonde elf and was nuzzled and cuddled in return, tears pricking at his eyes. “I love you, Glorfindel,” said Erestor softly into his lover’s ear as they held one another.

Snuggling closer, Glorfindel whispered, “And I, you, Erestor.”