While the rest of the world was in turmoil, quiet evenings were still spent in one haven of elvendom. In a darkened smoke room in the House of the Hammer of Wrath, five great Elf-lords sat and listened as a sixth caressed his fingertips over the delicate strings of his harp. Glasses of fine wine and refreshing liqueurs were served by a silent servant who otherwise stood unnoticed in a corner. Conversation came between songs, and as the notes faded away, it was Ecthelion who spoke first.

“I am torn between a desire to stay and a need to leave,” he admitted as he sat a little sleepily in a chair and barely held onto his glass. “If I stay overlong, there will be consequences.”

“If I allow you to stay overlong, there will be consequences,” said Rog with a chuckle. “With work tomorrow to be done, I have no doubt that someone’s wife shall knock upon the door in due time.”

“And happily, I will not be to blame for it,” announced Glorfindel with an impish smirk. He had finished half a bottle of wine on his own, and was being more brazen than usual.

Salgant strummed a cord, which brought all eyes upon him, and then said, “I have only the time for one final song. I have an errand come morning which cannot wait.”

“An errand? That sounds dreadful,” said Duilin. “What dullery awaits you which is unfit for your squire to tend to?”

“A dispute among two neighboring families in my jurisdiction,” said Salgant with great annoyance. “One man claims he loaned a large sum of money to another and has signed proof of the deal, and that no return has been given though the money is due. The other claims that he was unaware of the repayment date, and poor harvests on the land he has purchased have led to this unfortunate outcome. He was not intending to withhold the funds, he simply does not have them. I must judge the claims myself and define a suitable outcome.”

“It sounds like a true misunderstanding,” said Egalmoth. “Furthermore, a harsh lesson not to loan to a neighbor what may not be repaid, for the friendship of greater worth may be lost.”

Salgant tested a few notes on his instrument. “I am doubtful that there ever was a friendship to be lost. The accuser has long been known to offer loans of great amounts in exchange for greater returns. The borrowers often find themselves repaying double or triple the original amount.” He moved his hands away from the strings and settled back in his chair. “Until this matter is settled, I doubt I shall be able to play.”

“Tomorrow will be here sooner than you expect,” said Rog. “Off and away, the lot of you now, and Glorfindel be a good fellow and mind Ecthelion on his way home.”

“It will be an honor and privilege,” teased Glorfindel as he saluted Rog and handed his empty goblet to the servant. He touched Salgant’s shoulder on his way towards Ecthelion. “Let me know if you need ideas on how to deal with debtors. I have some experience,” he said with a wink.

Salgant rolled his eyes. “I have not the interest in that, Lord Glorfindel. I intend to settle this in a most dignified manner.”

“I just thought I would offer,” said Glorfindel. He might have added more, but Ecthelion was walking, or rather, attempting to walk to the door, and was tottering about most alarmingly. “Excuse me; I need to see to it that the Lord of the Fountain does not spill himself onto the lawn. Good evening, gentlemen.”



- - -



The next morning, Glorfindel awoke early, for he, too, had business of his own to attend to. On his way to the House of the Tree, he found himself turning off his usual path that would take him through the districts that Egalmoth and Rog lorded over and into the borderlands between Salgant’s and Duilin’s regions. The land to either side of the path sloped downward, and from the path, it gave one a good vantage point to see either area.

Midweek was typically mundane, and Glorfindel hoped to catch Salgant returning from his task. A bit of gossip was a welcome way to pass the time. Salgant was easy enough to spot, and his portly figure was soon in Glorfindel’s sight. The blond approached lazily, as if he were only just by accident passing through, and he saw as he came closer that the dispute was far from settled.

“He should have read the contract before it was signed,” stated a man who was standing beside Salgant. His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes darkened angrily. “He knew the amount was due in full in two year’s time. To be neighborly, I did not demand interest – as I normally would,” he pointed out, stabbing a finger at some words in the contract.

“Yes, I see that,” said Salgant as he smoothed out the papers. “The trouble is, your neighbor has no funds to speak of. Clearly, you are uninterested in the land, or else you would have taken that instead.”

“I am not in the business of having my money spent on things I do not want!”

“Certainly not,” agreed Salgant. “The trouble is, there is nothing else of value that he owns. He has no money, and the land, as it turns out, is unsuitable.”

“I was tricked into buying it,” said the other man, his dark hair pulled back from his face, his eyes rimmed with lack of sleep. “I was told I would harvest corn and potatoes; all it bears are weeds. I could not even grow enough food to support my own family – all of my savings went to seeing to our needs.”

“Which brings us again to my solution,” said the first man. “You tell me you can get the money if I give you two years more. What proof do I have of that? I need something in goodwill. Your youngest son is not yet married – give him to me in the meantime. For two years I will treat him like my son. When you repay me, he will be returned. If, in two years you have not, I get to keep him until he works the money off.”

It was now that Salgant noticed Glorfindel nearby, and nodded in greeting, which Glorfindel returned, but neither said anything, and the newcomer was not noticed by the feuding families.

“How can I know you would not sell him as a servant?” demanded the second. “No, no, that is out of the question. I only borrowed two hundred silver from you, a large sum, yes, but not equal to my son. Perhaps if I had borrowed five hundred or a thousand, but it was only two hundred.”

“I need something,” demanded the first. “Besides, it was my wife who told me you told your wife you had considered sending your boy into temporary servitude in order to collect a little money and so that you would have one less mouth to feed.”

Salgant raised a brow as the second man looked away. “Is that true? Speak to me – you have both sworn an oath not to lie.”

“It is true – but I have been desperate,” he exclaimed. “Do not think I would want to do this – I have very few options. I am but a humble farmer,” he added as he fell to his knees and groveled before Salgant. “It is not what a father would want to do, but there are so few options for me!”

Until now he had remained silent, but Glorfindel approached quietly until he was standing beside the man on the ground. “Get up,” he commanded firmly, and the man did so, shaking as he did. “How much do you owe your neighbor?”

Glorfindel was rewarded with an eye roll from Salgant as the man stuttered the amount, and watched as Glorfindel took three gold pieces from a pouch. “With interest,” he said as he held them out to the neighbor. “Take them. It is the best and only offer you will get.” When the gold was pocketed, Glorfindel waved him off. “Now go, and leave your neighbor be.”

When the man had taken his leave and gone back to his own house, Glorfindel turned to the shivering man beside him. “There is a plot of land for sale down the road. The asking price is four hundred and thirty silver pieces. I think you might talk them down to three hundred and seventy. Still, if they ask the entire amount, you will be able to pay it.” He emptied his purse, which contained five more gold pieces and ten silver. “Hold out your hand.”

“Sir... no... I cannot...”

Glorfindel took hold of one of the man’s wrists and lifted it up. “Open your hand.” The man did so, and Glorfindel deposited the money. “Close it.” Hand shaking more violently than his body, the man did as he was told.

“My lord... I cannot thank you enough... I shall forever be—“

“Where is your son?”

The man blinked. “He is... inside with his mother.” Immediately, he tried to return the money to Glorfindel. “Please, sir, I am a simple farmer, but it is family that matters to me the most, and—“

“Bring him here.”

To refuse a Lord of Gondolin anything was a crime with a stiff punishment, and this man obviously was unwilling to face that consequence. He hurried into his house and began to argue with someone inside.

“Glorfindel... as I mentioned yesterday... your methods are... unconventional,” said Salgant. “I think...”

“How old is he, Salgant?”

The harper shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “Forty-something. Forty-eight at the most, but probably less.”

Glorfindel patted Salgant on the cheek. “Then you have nothing to fret about, my friend. I only play with adults.”

A moment later, the man returned with the aforementioned son with him. “Here he is, your lordship.”

“Does he have a name?” asked Glorfindel.

“I named him Erestor,” said the farmer, “on account of his desires to be left alone all the time.”

Glorfindel eyed the boy up and circled around him in inspection. “Erestor, what sorts of books do you like to read?”

“I do not know, sir. I have never read a book, or anything else.”

“Farmers, Glorfindel,” Salgant reminded him quietly. “They only learn what they need to know.”

“That was why they did not understand the contract,” countered Glorfindel pointedly. He turned his attention back to the boy. “Can you count?”

“Count?”

“Do you know your numbers?”

Erestor frowned. “I know one and two and three, sir.”

“Good. And after those?”

“Four and five.”

“And?”

“And... one and two and three again?” Erestor held out a hand, and moved a finger with each word. “One and two and three and four and five. Same on this hand, too.”

“What happened to six?”

“Six?”

Glorfindel sighed slightly and rubbed his chin, then changed the topic. “Erestor, I just gave your father a great deal of money and paid off his debts. I have one more thing I would like to do. I would like to take you to my household, where you will be tutored in mathematics and grammar, and taught how to live and act as a gentleman. Your father is worried that you are not interested, and would rather stay here and work in the fields.” Glorfindel took a step closer and addressed Erestor directly. “Which would you rather do – and remember, it is unlawful for you to lie to me.”

“I hate being a farmer,” answered Erestor without a moment’s hesitation. “My older brothers love plowing and planting and harvesting, but I hate it. I would do anything if it meant never farming again.”

The man bowed his head in defeat and placed his hand on Erestor’s shoulder. “Go with Lord Glorfindel, son. He can give you a better life – a life I can never give you.”

Erestor hesitated. “Can I still visit them?” he asked tentatively.

“Of course, but you must apply yourself to your lessons. Visits will need to be brief,” said Glorfindel sternly. When he said the uncertainty in Erestor’s eyes, he shrugged. “Nevermind, then. I am sure there are other lads who would jump at the chance.”

“No, no, please, sir, I will come with you!” Erestor grasped his father’s hand for a moment. “Tell mother good-bye for me and I will see her again soon.”

“Nonsense. It will be some time before I have business here, and it would be improper for you to come alone. Hurry back into the house and tell her your farewells yourself; I will wait.” Glorfindel shooed the boy away and stood outside with Salgant and the boy’s father.

Awkwardly, the man finally said to Glorfindel, “Please, sir, I know what you intend – not now, but some day. I know that the rumors are indeed true. I beg you, sir... do not make him do anything... unnatural.”

Glorfindel frowned at the implications. “Nothing happens in my house that is not consensual. When he reaches his majority, doors will open for him. Whether he decides to step through them is for him to decide – not you nor I.”

“Now what are you going to do with him?” The question was posed by Ecthelion, who on this night was not as drunk as he often was this late in the evening. “He will finally be fifty as of tomorrow—“

“Fifty-two,” corrected Glorfindel.

Ecthelion looked confused. “You told me he was forty-one when he arrived.”

“I told you that, but he was actually forty-three. I did not want you to think that I lacked self-control, which obviously, you believe I do,” said Glorfindel. They were in Glorfindel’s private den where the best liquor of the house was kept, though only Ecthelion was drinking. “He is fifty-two now, and yes, Ecthelion, still a virgin.”

“Well, at fifty-two, I hardly care what he is,” he replied. “I suppose the nasty whispers that you only decided to mentor him so that he might be added to your collection later were completely false.”

“Erestor is old enough to make his own choices.”

“You dart around the questions well,” commended Ecthelion with a raise of his glass. “So, when do you intend to introduce him to society so that he might go courting?”

“Never.” Glorfindel leaned back, his hands threaded together behind his head, and he looked up at the ceiling. “When I first laid eyes upon him, I was sure that had he been of age I might have made different terms. Now, I know I want him, but I want him to come to me. Not because I ask it of him – but because he desires it.”

“Just how do you expect that to occur?”

“Oh...” Glorfindel smiled and tilted his head back down to look at Ecthelion. “I have my ways.”



- - -



There were many rooms in the great House of the Golden Flower, and many doors and locks to keep those rooms from being seen by the casual guest. Even Erestor, who had lived here now for nearly a decade, had not seen all of the rooms in the house. Now and then, he might notice a door ajar, and sometimes curiosity would get to him and he might press his ear upon it or look through the keyhole, but always he worried about being caught. He never had been, so the consequences were unclear, and yet he continued to sneak peeks into places he was not invited.

Tonight, as he went from his room to the library, he found that the path he normally took was blocked due to a spill on the carpet by a clumsy maid. He would never know that it was completely staged. “Oh, young master Erestor, I am so sorry,” said the maid with a polite curtsey. “You cannot come this way; your slippers will be soiled! Where are you going to?”

“The library. I can step around it,” he offered, but the maid blocked the way with her hands outstretched.

“No, no, we must not take the chance! I know a different route – take those stairs down, and the go left. You will find another set of stairs that will take you up and around this mess.”

Erestor was not terribly fond of the basement – he often heard odd noises there, and swore that there had to be a hidden dungeon (every parent in Gondolin warned their children that each lord had a dungeon in his basement for punishing bad children – some of the parents even believed their own tale). He intended to hurry through to his destination so as not to learn the truth, but one of those doors that was usually closed was open. Instead of being slightly open or halfway open, it was all the way open, and Erestor crept towards it slowly.

He paused when he heard voices and sound coming from within, but only for a second. He vowed that he would only take a peek, just a little glimpse, and then be on his way. That was not how it turned out.

A glance turned to a stare as he gawked in the doorway. First, he had no idea how so many people had gone unnoticed by him in the house – he guessed over fifty from what he initially saw. Most noticeably, most were naked or in some state of undress. He had little fear of anyone in the room noticing him or hearing him, for they were all very much concentrating on what they were doing.

One section of the wall across the room was decorated with a variety of paddles, whips, riding crops, and other devices that looked to have seen their fair share of use. Another section of wall was decorated with three people, each of them standing with their legs spread out, and their arms as well. Their wrists were attached to metal cuffs that dangled from chains embedded in the wall. All three were blindfolded. Standing nearby and moving between the three lazily was a masked person whose task it was to attach rings and clips and weighs or to tighten or move what was already attached. The three were gagged as well, and could only squirm or make muffled noises as the time passed and they were each tended to in turn.

There were six people bolted to the floor, their wrists and ankles held immobile by mithril cuffs. They were on their hands and knees, with their faces hidden by masks. A small stool that was long but not wide was positioned under the stomach of each, keeping their rear elevated. Behind each one was a long rod on a beam that came up from the floor, and the rods were angled in such a way as to penetrate them from behind. Erestor watched as another masked person stood behind the group and pulled back a lever that came up from the floor. The rods all simultaneously moved forward, and in synch six groans came from that part of the room. The person at the lever pushed it forward again, and the rods slid back out. At varying times, the lever was pulled and pushed, those bolted to the ground at the mercy of their tormentor, who decided at one point to pull the lever and lock it with a bolt. He then went to the wall and selected a flogger, which he used at his leisure on those on the ground.

It was what was at the center of the room that was most eye-catching. Built in the middle of everything else was a carousel like one might see during the days leading up to Tarnin Austa. Instead of carved wooden horses to ride on with mules pulling the ride around, each space on the carousel was held by a person. Some were made up to look like horses, with tails inserted to flow down and hair swept back like manes. Others were different creatures: wolves, eagles, deer, bears, and cats. The poles were still present to keep them in place, but one came up for each from the floor, anchoring them all, while only some contended with a pole above them, lips firmly wrapped around end of the hard length. It was up to a group of eight men – all clad only in hoods to cover their head – to keep the carousel moving, and the makeshift animals upon it moving up and down as they went. They were at the center, pushing the giant device around and around and around and it altogether was making Erestor’s head spin.

“Erestor? Are you lost?”

The sound of his benevolent master awoke Erestor from his curiosity, and he stepped away from the doorway, startled and ashamed. “I... uh... I was on my way to the library...”

“Were you?” Glorfindel approached from nowhere, having awaited unseen in the shadows for the proper moment, and set a hand upon his shoulder. “It appears you are lost. This is not the library.”

Erestor blushed. “I know.”

Instead of scolding him or leading him away, Glorfindel kept his hand on Erestor’s shoulder and began to walk to the room. This caused Erestor to walk beside him, past the doorway and right into the room this time. “Perhaps you might learn something here not found in books. Do you know where you are standing?”

“Not really.” Erestor attempted to keep his eyes upon the ground modestly, but found himself ever looking at something or someone as his fidgeting hands found their way into his pockets.

“Give it a guess. There will be no penalty if you are wrong.”

Erestor swallowed hard. They were in the basement, there were devious devices spread about the room, and the lack of windows and abundance of chains put one word in his mind. “Is this your dungeon?”

Glorfindel smiled. “I never really think of it in that manner, but many others do. This is my... sanctuary. These,” he said as they passed by one of the people chained to the floor and patted their hooded head, “are my pets. Temporarily.”

“Where do you keep them when they are not here?” asked Erestor, for he had no recollection of so many people staying at the house all at once.

“I believe they go home, wherever that happens to be for each of them.” Glorfindel took the flogger from one of the participants, and flicked it across the back of someone suspended from the ceiling. He then turned it around and used the hard handle to tease the puckered opening of the chained one’s backside. “Come. Let us find that library you were looking for.” Glorfindel led the way back out of the room, taking a long, scenic path that brought them between and very close to a number of moaning, writhing bodies, strapped or chained in place, at the mercy of their masters. By the time they were in the hallway, Erestor’s face was colored crimson, but Glorfindel did not remark upon it.

The library was exactly where it always was, the directions given by the maid accurate. Erestor lit numerous candles and placed them in the area he intended to do his reading. Glorfindel took a seat upon a large leather chair near to the lit fireplace – odd, for the library was deserted (as Glorfindel had requested of his staff, knowing Erestor’s daily habits). He watched as Erestor nervously selected a few items from the shelves and brought them to the table. As he was about to sit down, Glorfindel spoke. “Come, sit with me, Erestor.”

The young elf nearly dropped the books he held. “Yes, sir.” He set them down carefully and then came over to the fireplace. There was another chair opposite to where Glorfindel sat, and Erestor lowered himself down onto the edge of the seat.

Glorfindel waited a little while. He watched Erestor out of the corner of his eye. Erestor stared at the fire, perhaps afraid to look at Glorfindel, perhaps embarrassed, or maybe it was a little of both. Finally, Glorfindel spoke. “A long time ago, when Gondolin was founded, crime was much too common. It was petty, really. A theft here, vandalism there, a fight now and again, but all together they added up. Turgon was not willing to have his kingdom sullied by such nonsense, and so he appointed his most trusted friends as captains, to be lords over smaller parts of the whole. We each had our own way of dealing with the nuisances. Some built stocks, still in use today. Others constructed prisons, which have since been increased in size as the population has risen. Yet a few more preferred fines as a penalty.”

Now and then, Erestor would look up at Glorfindel as he listened to the story. “What would have happened to my father if he had been unable to pay his debt?”

“Well, now, that was not stealing. Your father entered into a bad agreement. Lord Salgant attempted to mediate the best way he could.”

“What would have happened to him?” Erestor’s gaze was intent. “I was a child when it happened, but no longer. I was, in a way, part of the bargain that released him, was I not?”

Uncertain how to answer, Glorfindel said nothing.

“I think I am old enough to know now what would have happened. If he had been unable to pay, what would have happened to him?” asked Erestor again.

Glorfindel sighed. “Lord Salgant prefers monetary penalties. When those cannot be imposed, the debtor is bound into servitude, either to the ruling lord or to the person that he owes the debt to.”

“My father would have become a slave.”

“Until his debts were paid, yes.”

“And that is the system you prefer, is it not?” Erestor looked away, back to the fire.

“Not exactly. I think everyone deserves to make their own decisions. I offer a choice. If someone is found guilty of a crime, they can either be put to work in the mines for a duration determined by the severity of the crime committed, or they can spend one day and night in my room downstairs.” Glorfindel tilted his head in an attempt to catch Erestor’s gaze again. When he did, he added, “Not everyone is from my fiefdom. If someone owes a debt or can bargain their way out of their punishment through a forfeiture of funds, I provide the funds to those who do not have the ability to do so on their own, in exchange for time spent here.”

There was one question on Erestor’s mind, and he seemed uncomfortable about asking it. Eventually, he did. “Why?”

“I gain great pleasure from watching what goes on in that room,” admitted Glorfindel. “There is a balcony which you likely did not see that can only be entered through my private rooms. I stand and I watch... but no one would ever indulge me of that freely. It is all much too... intense. However, if the choice is between enduring public humiliation, and a swift, private punishment that guarantees at least some amount of pleasure and nearly complete anonymity, which would you choose?”

“I think I would choose never to have to make the choice,” answered Erestor.

Glorfindel smiled. “And perhaps you shall never need to answer the question.” He took then from his pocket a small key kept on a chain and held it out to Erestor. “This key will unlock two doors – the door you entered in the basement, and the gate that locks away the restricted collection of books and scrolls here in the library. I give you permission to unlock both doors freely, as you wish.” He stood up as soon as Erestor took the key. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day. Good afternoon, Erestor.” He began to leave, but suddenly turned back. “Oh, and one thing more. Happy begetting day, Erestor. Fifty-two, if I am counting correctly.”

Erestor swallowed hard and the tinge crept across his cheeks once more. “This year, I am forty-nine.”

The elf lord came to a dead stop at the door. “Certainly not. We celebrated your fiftieth birthday two years ago.”

“I lied about my age so that you would not treat me like a child.” Erestor squirmed in his seat. “I was going to tell you eventually, but it never came up.”

Glorfindel’s entire demeanor changed, from open and inviting friend to angry guardian, and he immediately marched over to Erestor, whose face drained of all color as he shuddered in his seat. A hand was held out. “The key.” Erestor placed it in Glorfindel’s palm, which suddenly snapped shut. “You can have this back one year from now. Until then, I forbid you to return to the basement.” He shoved the key back into his pocket as he went and looked over his shoulder when he reached the door. “Happy forty-ninth begetting day, Erestor.”

There was no knock on the door, but Glorfindel heard it open and close again. He looked up from the book he was reading and waited for his unexpected guest to announce their presence. It was not long before someone peered around the corner. “I was unable to sleep,” explained Erestor. “I knew that you often stay up late. The maid let me in.”

Glorfindel set his book down. “It must be the excitement of your impending majority. The crier called out two hours to mid-night not long ago; only a little longer, and I can wish you a happy begetting day.”

“I should like to have you be the first to do so.” Erestor smiled and sat down on a square leather stool located across the room from Glorfindel. If Glorfindel had doubts last year about Erestor’s age, they were now put to rest. Over the last year, the gangly lad that still had the lingering awkward movements of adolescence was a graceful adult. His arms and legs were more muscular now, and his voice had deepened to a rich tenor, with laughter that came as rumbled chuckles instead of the muffled snickers of youth. As much as a part of Glorfindel might have missed the innocence of his unplanned ward, the changes were very welcomed.

Glorfindel leaned back and admired Erestor’s form now. He had not seen fit to put on a shirt or shoes when he left his room, so he was wearing only a loose pair of pants meant for sleeping. “I suppose you shall want the key back that I took away from you last year. That is, if you truly are fifty tomorrow?” He winked.

“I will be,” promised Erestor, and then came that chuckle. He sobered a few moments later. “However... I have a confession to make to you, sir.” Glorfindel eyed up Erestor curiously. “I have little need for the key. I managed to convince your librarians to allow me access to the hidden vault of books behind the desk. I suppose you never told anyone else my true age, because I went to them the very next day and asked admittance based on the fact that I was ‘fifty-two’, and they acquiesced.”

A shake of Glorfindel’s head made Erestor smirk. “I assume you found a way into the basement as well,” Glorfindel gently accused.

“No. You forbid that to me, and I followed your orders.”

Glorfindel nodded, seeming to understand. “Then if you have no use for the key, it is because you have no interest in the room downstairs.”

“On the contrary...” Erestor stood up and walked to a table that contained an array of treats in jars and on plates beneath crystal covers. He lifted lids to peer inside, but took nothing. “I came here tonight so that you could show me that room again, since I do not possess a key.”

“Not until midnight, and then you would be disappointed. Everyone has returned home for the evening and there will be no one there for three days.” Glorfindel faintly heard the crier in the distance announce that all was well at the eleventh hour.

“We would be there. You and I.” Erestor had moved around the table so that his back was to Glorfindel, so he looked over his shoulder now, one hands sliding across the polished surface of the tabletop. “Let us be honest about it. You showed me that room last year, hoping I would come to you like this.”

Glorfindel said nothing.

Erestor slowly began to walk towards Glorfindel. “Your sanctuary... has been all I can think about between every other thought I have,” he admitted, his hands raised so that fingertips brushed his temples, eyes closed in concentration. “It continuously haunts me in an unexplainable way. I remember fleeting images... and... I need you to take me there.”

“I will take you after midnight,” said Glorfindel firmly.

“What difference will an hour make? What if I promise not to touch anything?” Erestor approached Glorfindel, and knelt down before him. “Please, sir. Let me see the room again.”

Glorfindel resisted the urge to reach out for Erestor, whose slightly parted lips seemed to beckon to him, whether knowingly or not. The words of the crier were fresh in his mind, and Glorfindel held the key out to Erestor. “Do you remember how to get there?”

“In the basement. First door at the bottom of the stairs.” Erestor stood up and smiled. “Will you meet me there at midnight?”

“I might.” Glorfindel shooed Erestor away and waited for a length of time he felt was the better part of a quarter hour before he wandered to a set of doors that were hidden behind a velvet curtain. He slipped behind and slid the latch that kept them locked, and then stepped down onto the indoor balcony that allowed him to see the entirety of the room in the basement. As he suspected, Erestor was there already. There was only a small amount of light from the candle that Erestor held as he slowly walked around and inspected the different items, only looking, never touching.

Glorfindel cleared his throat to make his presence known, and Erestor smiled and gave a little wave. “Miss me already?”

“I was worried it might be too dark. There are many things that you might trip over.” Glorfindel crouched down and set to lighting a torch that was attached at the side of the balcony rail, and then lit one at the opposite side. It helped a lot more than the single flame of the candle, but left the room relatively dim.

As Erestor walked all around the room and looked at the various devices from every angle for several minutes each, Glorfindel kept a careful watch on him. The last year had been awkward. Glorfindel insisted on two additional private tutors to keep a distance from the boy... no, no longer a boy, he reminded himself. That was the problem, really. When he had first seen Erestor, Glorfindel could tell that the lad would grow up to be a fine figured man, but even his expectations had been exceeded. Now, he had a momentary hesitation, with the prize so close at hand.

“I have noticed,” said Erestor, bringing Glorfindel back to the present situation, “that the majority of the items are made out of one of two materials. Mithril,” he said, motioning to a pile of chain, “and leather.” He waved another hand towards the floggers on the wall. “So, which is your preference?”

“My preference? I would prefer that choice be up to the one who will be most impacted,” said Glorfindel.

Erestor picked up the end of the chain, despite the promise not to touch. Glorfindel wagered it was only a few minutes until midnight anyhow. He watched as Erestor ran the links through his fingers and frowned. “Too hard and cold and bulky,” he assessed. He retrieved a leather strap that was discarded on a bench. He set the candle down and began to wrap the leather around one of his wrists. Glorfindel held his breath as he watched the scene below. “Much better,” called out Erestor. “I like the texture.. and the sounds of it, the aching as it stretches...”

Glorfindel let out his breath as a soft moan, and strained to hear a faint sound in the distance. He concentrated as he heard it again – the street crier, calling out for midnight and all being well. Glorfindel vowed that it would be very soon as he unhooked a small gate at the side of the balcony. A narrow stairway led down to the ground, and Glorfindel took some of the stairs two at a time on his way to the ground. An amused Erestor stood by, watching him. “And you thought I was being impatient.”

“You are doing it wrong.” Glorfindel unwound the leather from Erestor’s hand and tossed it aside. From his waist, he unfastened his own belt and slid it from his waist. “You have to start with the end, like this,” he said, and he took the end without the buckle and began to wrap it slowly around Erestor’s right wrist, leaving a hand span of the end loose from the wrapping. “Now, through here. Raise your arm,” he instructed, and Erestor did so. There was a metal hoop hanging down from the ceiling, and Glorfindel threaded the buckle end through. He pulled it out, then took hold of Erestor’s other arm and held it above his head. “Not too tightly... the leather will do that on its own every time you struggle.” Glorfindel left just enough length so that the two ends could be buckled back together, creating a firm hold around Erestor’s wrists.

Immediately, Erestor tugged to test the strength of the bond, and groaned when he heard and felt the leather tightening snug against his skin. Glorfindel moved a few feet away where a crank was wound by hand that lifted the ring, and Erestor, a little higher, so that Erestor was partially dangling, partially on the tips of his toes, his arms stretched high above his head.

Glorfindel appraised his work momentarily before he came back and took a firm hold of the dark hair of Erestor’s head by the hair and pulled back. “This is but a taste of what you will find in this room, if you stay here long enough.” He roughly kissed Erestor, and the frustration of a year spent unexpectedly celibate poured out. Erestor returned the kiss hungrily, all the beautiful inexperience rushing forward, made up by extreme enthusiasm and uncontrollable lust. “Happy begetting day,” were the only words Glorfindel managed to utter between kisses.

When the knocking refused to cease, Glorfindel finally answered the door. It was thrown open so that the metal of the knob struck the brick furiously. Barefoot, Glorfindel stood with one hand upon his hip and the other arm against the doorway. In that hand he loosely held a soft leather flogger. It was black with a blue leather thong wrapped tightly around the handle. Against Glorfindel in the background, golden hair damp from exertion, white linen shirt clinging to his pale skin, the lengths of leather swung prominently. “Lord Ecthelion?”

“Lord Glorfindel.” Ecthelion made a quick sweep with his eyes of what he could see of the room, but much at either side was hidden from him. “You were not present at the King’s Council this afternoon.”

“I sent a page to deliver word that I would not be present. Did they not arrive?” Glorfindel nonchalantly draped the flogger around his shoulders.

“I wanted to be sure that you were well. The only other time you have missed council was when you broke your leg several years ago.” Ecthelion tried to discretely glance around Glorfindel. “Are there people you need to get back to in there?”

Glorfindel smiled calmly. “Just one.”

Ecthelion searched Glorfindel’s eyes to try to guess the answer. “I shall take my leave, then. Is Erestor upstairs? I should like to wish him a belated begetting day, if he is available.”

“He is a little tied up at the moment. Perhaps you would care to come back later?” There was a fair amount of twinkle in Glorfindel’s eyes and Ecthelion smirked in amusement.

“You certainly do have your ways.” Ecthelion shook his head. “Perhaps you will be kind enough to pass along my regards to him.”

“Of course. It will be a pleasure. Good evening, Lord Ecthelion.”

Ecthelion bowed his head slightly, and stepped away from the door as Glorfindel closed it, and carefully locked it once again. He sauntered back to an area that was hidden from Ecthelion’s view at the door, where the lone guest of the room tonight had waited for Glorfindel to return. He was perfectly still; in the exact position he had been left in – due entirely to the fact that he was bound tightly in place.

With his knees on a leather pad on the floor, his legs were spread out behind him, and forced away from each other by a long metal bar. At each end of the bar, a leather cuff encircled an ankle and held it firmly in place. His arms were bound together behind his back – each had been buckled into a long leather glove that spanned nearly to his shoulders, and did not allow elbows or wrists to bend, and these were tethered together with a thin rope that wove back and forth from rings found down the length of the gloves. A wide collar of hardened leather was fastened around his neck, extending his chin forward and making it impossible for him to move his head around. To cushion his chin and the front of his shoulders, there was a soft pillow on the top of a pillar. The sides of the collar had been chained to the top of the pillar and held his head in place. A gag was in his mouth, tied behind his head, placed there momentarily when the knock came upon the door.

“It seems Lord Ecthelion’s visit has made me lose count,” said Glorfindel as he walked to a rope that dangled from the ceiling. “I suppose we shall have to start over again.” He pulled upon the rope slowly, and the pulley it was attached to overhead moved slightly. At the other end, it came back down and was attached to the metal loop between Erestor’s bound wrists. From behind the gag, a muffled sound let Glorfindel know that the device was having the desired effect. He stopped when Erestor let out a strained moan that almost sounded painful, and then gave a tiny extra tug to elicit a muted gasp, before he tied off the rope.

This now left Erestor’s posterior exposed, which was already stinging from their earlier play. Only a bit of the red tint remained from the birthday spanking he had been receiving, and Glorfindel began by gently rubbing the area. “I have an extra treat to try this time,” he said as he moved away.

Under the walls that held the supple devices of pleasure and pain were lidded tables with latches on the front. Glorfindel flipped open the latched of the nearest one and looked through the contents that were inside. His hands moved along the smooth instruments, some of them long and lean, others short and bumpy, and yet others were of a more curious design. He finally selected one and then went to another table. This one contained many corked vials and jars of creams, and he selected a thin vial from those before him. A little of the oil was dribbled on the chosen item as he returned, the rest was reserved for Erestor. “I almost chose lavender, but for one’s majority, something special is needed. If I have picked the correct one, it is ginger.” Glorfindel raised it to his nostrils and breathed in deeply. “Aye, I have picked the correct one.”

“Hold this for a moment,” he instructed, for of the few things still mobile, Erestor’s leather gloved hands retained some dexterity. The phallus that was brought over was placed in Erestor’s hands, and Glorfindel made sure to close Erestor’s fingers tightly around the object so that he could feel it. “This is much nicer than the short little plug we used up there yesterday,” he promised. Oil dribbled sparingly down the cleft of Erestor’s backside, some swallowed up by the puckered opening, some running down and across his hard length. As a precautionary measure to keep him from climaxing too soon (as he happened many times the previous day), a device made of leather and metal rings had been fastened on Erestor before anything else.

To keep him from thrusting in midair as the excitement built, there was a ring on the device that was held to a ring on the floor by a short chain. In essence, he was stuck as a thick finger covered in oil poked as his entrance, swirled around, and then slowly pierced his body. He was able to shake a little and cry out against the gag as the sensation coursed through him, but was unable to do more than that. The finger slid out, and then in again, and repeated the motion numerous times until it was easily gliding back and forth. It was removed, oil was added, and a second finger joined the first. The initial penetration brought forth the same reaction once again, until both fingers together were able to easily traverse the passage.

“Time for the main event.” Glorfindel took the phallus from Erestor’s hands. “This is one of my favorites, because the length is the same as my own.” He used the rest of the oil to lubricate the item, and then slowly began to insert it into Erestor.

The phallus had a slight curve to it, and was not one width the entire length, but rather it bulged and receded multiple times. At the base, it bulged on the inside and flared outwards on the outside to create a secure plug that could be easily removed but would be almost flush against the skin. Once properly situated, Glorfindel reached forward and untied the gag. “Now, just as before, I expect you to keep count. If you miss a number, we will begin again. Are you ready?”

“Yes, master,” groaned Erestor. The flogger came across his ass, thirty separate strips of soft leather, biting and stinging in harmony. “One,” he gasped, and before the word was fully said, he was struck again. “Two!”

“Shh... do not get so excited yet,” warned Glorfindel in a soft, drawling voice. He rubbed the freshly reddened flesh as he spoke. “We still have forty-eight more to go. If you are a very good boy, you will get to count all the way up, and all the way back down again.”

“Yes, master,” gasped Erestor as the flogger hit again. “Three... four... five...”

“And after five... what comes then?”

“Six,” answered Erestor.

“Six it is.” Glorfindel swung his arm back and slashed the flogger against Erestor’s skin harshly.

That night was the first that Erestor spent in Glorfindel’s bed. Too tired to stand, Erestor nearly fell over as he tried to steady himself after Glorfindel untied the many ropes and unlocked the various chains. He ended up on the floor after slipping on a small white puddle produced by their play. Glorfindel nearly laughed about it, but one look at the embarrassment in Erestor’s eyes told him it would not be appreciated. Instead, he helped Erestor to sit on the pillar they had used earlier, and then located the clothes Erestor had worn on his way from his own room to this one. Glorfindel tossed the items one at a time up onto the balcony before he returned to aid Erestor to his feet.

“I am only going for a moment or two,” he explained after he managed to get Erestor up the stairs and Erestor (along with Erestor’s clothing) into his suite. “There should be a servant in the hallway somewhere, and I will have them bring us some food.”

“Are you hungry?” asked Erestor

“Not really, but I thought you might be.”

Erestor shook his head. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and beckoned Glorfindel closer with a crooked finger. “I have a better idea on how to use our time.” He pulled Glorfindel down onto the bed with him once the blond was close enough.

There was still a great deal of exploration for them – for Erestor, at least, whose learning was greatly accelerated by Glorfindel’s guidance, but whose practical knowledge still led to the occasional fumbled exchange. Eventually, however, he managed to execute an odd yet successful oral technique that Glorfindel was grateful for, having not climaxed when they were in the basement room.

When they decided to rest for the night, there were no winsome words exchanged, nor gentle and playful snuggles that led to cozy spooning. Instead, they quite comfortably managed to find positions beside one another, and almost as an afterthought, Glorfindel draped an arm over Erestor possessively. It lasted only a minute. “Are you going to do that all night?”

“Does it bother you?”

“A little. Here, see, what if you were me?” Erestor flopped an arm of his own over Glorfindel, perhaps a little overdramatically, and waited before he asked, “Do you think you can sleep like that?”

Glorfindel adjusted and readjusted and shoved Erestor’s arm off of his chest. “Not really. Point taken. Sleep well.”

“Good night.” Erestor rolled over onto his side, his back displayed to Glorfindel, who stared up at the ceiling.

Another thought occurred to the elf lord, and he moved one leg so that it overlapped one of Erestor’s ankles. “What about that? Does that bother you?”

Erestor nudged Glorfindel’s foot away with his own. “Yes. Yes, it does. Can we.. make a rule?”

“What is that?”

“No ‘master stuff’ in the bedroom. I feel like I should be indulging you anyhow, but it is going to annoy me if you keep dumping your limbs onto me.”

Glorfindel laughed. “The bedroom is bondage-free.”

“Well, now, let us not get too hasty,” said Erestor as he turned over onto his other side. “If you want to tie me to the bedposts or bring me to bed on a leash, I might enjoy it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. But not tonight. See this?” Erestor ran his fingers along the skin under his eyes. Even in the dim light of the room, Glorfindel could see the dark skin from fatigue. “This means I need a nap.”

“You are off the hook for tonight. Or, off the leash, I should say. Good night,” added Glorfindel. He looked over when he did not receive a reply, and found it was because Erestor had already fallen soundly asleep.

Glorfindel ‘accidentally’ let his arm drape over Erestor’s shoulder before he fell asleep.

“Come with me.”

Erestor had been sitting on the main counter in the library, reading a raunchy novel out loud to the two blushing librarians who were on duty. Glorfindel’s appearance did nothing to faze him, but the younger assistant librarian scrambled to appear busy with his transcriptions, while the head librarian grabbed a bunch of books in her arms and scurried off into the stacks (dropping two along the way) to put them back on the shelves.

Erestor slid off of his perch and flicked out a handkerchief that had been tucked up his sleeve and used it to mark his place in the book. He placed it on the desk in front of the assistant and whispered a few words into the flushed-faced librarian’s ear before he sauntered up to Glorfindel. “Not even evening, yet, m’lord.”

“Wicked boy. Follow me.” Glorfindel waited until they were beyond the doors before he said, “So this is what you do in your free time.”

“I enjoy knowledge.”

“I meant the corruption of my library staff,” he corrected.

Erestor smiled. “They hardly need my help. I have found librarians to be among the most lecherous and lascivious minded folk.”

“Really?” Glorfindel’s voice was incredulous. “They are so proper, so polite—“

“So they put on a good front. The thing about librarians is that they know everything, and I mean everything.” Erestor gave Glorfindel a sideways glance. “Everything,” he repeated.

Glorfindel processed this comment. “Maybe we should invite them into the basement.”

“Interesting idea.” Erestor paused beside Glorfindel as the footmen at the main entrance pushed the doors open for them. “Should I change into better shoes for travel?”

“We are riding to our destination. Time is of the essence. I will have someone bring your riding boots and horse to meet us there.” Glorfindel waved a page over from the steps and gave these instructions to the lad before he hurriedly led the way to his own mount, already saddled and pawing the ground anxiously.

“Same horse?” Erestor gave the creature a wary look. “Are you certain you will not overexert her, carrying both of us?”

“She will be fine. This is my warhorse. She is used to being fully armored.”

As Erestor watched Glorfindel mount, he called up to him, “Try this, then. How is it going to look – both of us riding on the same horse?”

“I see horses carrying two people often,” said Glorfindel.

“A parent and a child. A man and a woman.” Erestor crossed his arms over his chest. “There are some things I refuse to indulge you.” This comment was given quietly, and made Glorfindel bristle. “Punish me for my insolence later, but I will ride my own horse wherever it is that we are going.”

“Fine,” replied Glorfindel tersely. The page was already leading another horse from the stable, and Glorfindel gave a sharp whistle. The boy ran over, leading the horse. “You will need to go without your boots, though.”

“Fine.” Erestor mounted quickly and pulled up beside Glorfindel. He leaned over to the sour-faced Elf-lord and said for only him to hear. “Behind closed doors, you can strike me, whip me, and sodomize me to your heart’s content, master, but in public, I will ride my own horse.”

“You are really asking for it when we return home,” answered Glorfindel just as quietly as he reached over and rubbed the neck of Erestor’s mount. His hand slid down to grasp a leather strap of the reins. Glorfindel discretely wound it around the closer of Erestor’s wrists. “You would enjoy it too much. A better punishment would be to leave you tied up for the night.” Glorfindel looked over to the page nearby. “Bring Erestor’s boots to the tower.”

Erestor suddenly looked worried. “Why are we going to the tower?”

“If we were riding the same horse, I would have the time to tell you. I guess now you will find out when we get there.” Glorfindel started off down the path, and Erestor hesitantly trailed after him.



* * *

As soon as they had reached the Tower of Turgon, their horses were whisked away by efficient members of the staff and they were ushered inside. Glorfindel led the way through the tall palace, with Erestor keeping just a few steps behind. When they reached the throne room, Glorfindel paused at the door. “When you are presented to the king, bow low, one leg back, knee to the floor.”

“I know how,” Erestor assured him. “The tutors you provided made sure I would not make a fool of myself in these sorts of situations.” Nonetheless, Erestor’s palms were moist with sweat, and he wiped them as discretely as possible on the sides of his trousers. “I wish you would have allowed me to change my shoes.”

“He will not notice,” said Glorfindel. He nodded to the herald at the doorway, who gave a nod to a pair a few feet away. They raised their horns to their lips and blasted out a short fanfare as Glorfindel and Erestor began to walk up the aisle towards the three thrones.

“His Lordship Captain Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, and his associate.”

“Is that what you are telling them I am?” muttered Erestor as they continued to the front. Glorfindel said nothing, and bowed first as he reached the bottom step of the platform that contained the thrones. Turgon sat upon the middle seat, while Idril was to his left. The chair to his right where his sister typically sat was vacant at the moment. Erestor followed Glorfindel’s lead, and then stepped off to the side with him. There were six banners hanging on either side of the chamber, and they moved to an area of the court that was adorned in gold and green.

Turgon stood up, his crown heavy on his brow, his staff held in his right hand. “Now that we are all here,” he announced, “we can proceed with the matter at hand.” Around the room were various members of the nobility and of high-rank. Most notably, all of the captains of Gondolin were present. “As most of you have been made aware, my sister is to take a leave of absence and will need an escort to accompany her. I have appointed three whom I love and trust as much as I do my own family. In choosing them, they must make official their intentions for the stewardship of their houses in their absence.”

Idril joined her father. In lieu of a queen, Turgon relied on his sister and daughter to actively participate in the tasks his wife would have otherwise. The princess placed a hand upon the staff her father held and called out, “The Kingdom of Gondolin calls forth the House of the Fountain. Lord Ecthelion, you have been chosen to escort Princess Aredhel into the wilderness. Who shall lead your house in your stead?”

Ecthelion came forward, and beside him a lady often present in the court. He bowed, while she curtseyed, and he said, “It is my honor to serve my king and my country in whatever way my king sees fit. In my absence, the House of the Fountain shall be overseen by Galadwen, Lady of the Fountain.”

“Your choice has been noted and approved.” This came from the king himself, after which the same question was posed to Egalmoth.

The Lord of the Heavenly Arch came forth, and presented his son Egaldir to the king for consideration. When there was an uncertain pause, Egalmoth added, “He has been trained as a fine warrior, and possesses much wisdom despite his young age.”

“So noted. Your choice is approved,” said the king.

Now Idril’s next words jolted Erestor out of his confused stupor. “The Kingdom of Gondolin calls forth the House of the Golden Flower. Lord Glorfindel, you have been chosen to lead the escort of Princess Aredhel. Who shall lead your house in your stead?”

“There is no honor greater than to serve my king. My absence from my house will go unnoticed, for the House of the Golden Flower shall be overseen in my stead by Erestor of the House of the Harp.” Glorfindel gave Erestor a look that meant for him to join him, and dumbfoundedly he did, and nearly forgot to bow to the king again.

The king’s eyes scrutinized the pair before him. “It is a strange choice for one to allow someone of another house to oversee their own.”

“It is not so strange if the person chosen is the Lord’s own consort.”

This comment received more than a few raised brows and gasps of surprise. Galadwen, for her part, fainted, and had she not been standing beside her husband might have crumpled to the floor. Turgon blinked, and then walked down the steps and stood directly before Erestor, though he addressed Glorfindel. “A male consort.”

“Indeed, he is. If he were not male, a marriage would be much more convenient and much less questioned,” responded Glorfindel.

“And if this choice is denied? Whom shall you choose?”

Glorfindel did not even flinch. “No one. If this choice is unsuitable, then your trust in me is in question, and I shall be forced to step down from my position.”

Turgon shifted his gaze to Glorfindel. “My permission is given conditionally, upon an interview privately with your consort.”

“As you wish,” said Glorfindel. He bowed, and backed away, back into his area of the court.

Idril stepped down from the platform and bowed her head toward Erestor. “Please, follow me.”

And so Erestor stood in a strange room that he had chanced to have been in twice before. It was a rather unpleasant experience to be there again, and he found himself pacing awkwardly trying not to get too near the antiquities lining the walls.

After some time the door opened and King Turgon walked in. Erestor could see that behind the king, both Idril and Glorfindel were standing in the hall, but they were blocked from his view when the door closed. Turgon assessed the young man, looking him from head to toe, and he walked across the room to acquire a glass, into which he poured a healthy amount of cognac. He swirled the contents and eyed up the young man again. “So it is from the House of the Harp that you hail?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Your highness.” Erestor wiped his palms again against his trousers, quite ill at ease at the scrutiny that he was receiving.

Turgon came closer to him again. He stared directly into Erestor’s eyes and asked a question that Erestor had hoped to avoid. “Have you and I met before?”

“We have, your highness.” It seemed that honesty would be the best solution in this situation, no matter how difficult the answers would be.

Turgon nodded. “I thought so. Your father is a farmer, is he not?”

“He is, your highness.” Erestor twisted his fingers nervously.

“I seem to recall a rather unfortunate series of incidents,” said Turgon before he sipped his drink. Erestor looked down to the floor. “There was a farmer in Salgant’s jurisdiction – quite a crafty man – who had a flare for stunts questionable in their ethic morals. As I recall, he had a son who was very good at helping him with these exploits. You are that boy, are you not?”

“I was,” said Erestor carefully, “but that was many years ago.”

Turgon smiled. “Many years ago for a child, perhaps. Not so long ago, I think.” He took a seat but did not offer one to Erestor, and continued to stare at the man before him. “As I recall, your father schemed quite often, and put you at the forefront at times when he was caught.”

Erestor was nervous, and flinched a bit. “Is it not right to punish the one who does the wrongful deed?”

“Aye, that might be true,” agreed Turgon. “But when the deed is done per the instruction of someone else it seems rather cruel to place the blame upon one so young. I know you only spent a day in the dungeon the first time, but the second you were in the stocks for a week. Those were the times you were caught. I wonder what else you might have done that you were never accused and found guilty of.”

Erestor swallowed hard. “After the second time, he stopped making me help him. He went back to being a farmer. I beg you to believe me. He is now, as we speak, tending fields in the south. He grows carrots and squash and raises pigs.”

“A good thing he has. As hard as the farmer’s life is, the convict’s life is harder.” Turgon shook his head. “No parent should make their child do as he was making you, not even once. No one should be doing what you were doing. Thievery, impersonation, forgery, and deceit.” Turgon rubbed his chin. “I remember when we caught you the second time. I knew you could not have planned it all out on your own, but when I asked you to reveal the mastermind, you refused. You were so very loyal to your father – it is what kept me from issuing a harsher punishment. Yet, any respect I might have had for your father disappeared in that instant, without even knowing who he was. It was disgraceful to think he would let his son take the full blame for what happened.”

“I was the one who did it, your highness,” said Erestor in his defense.

Turgon nodded in agreement. “So you were. That leads me to my primary concern. You have already paid penance for your past, but I am highly concerned as to how a farm boy ended up the consort of a captain. What mischief are you into now? Be honest with me – if someone else has put you up to this, I shall spare you any blame.”

Erestor was taken aback. “I.. I...”

“Was it your father? Or someone else?”

“No one,” Erestor finally blurted out. “No one has done anything wrong, unless it was my father for using his poor judgment to take a loan from someone he should not have.” And now Erestor explained the tale to the king, for despite the attempt to shield Erestor from the truth of the entire matter, he was able to piece it all back together from the accounts of his brothers, and knew a very accurate accounting. When all was said of this, Erestor added, “It was not my intention for this to happen, but it was Lord Glorfindel’s desire. For all he had done for me, it seemed a small price to pay. Now I am in my seventies, and we have lain together for over twenty years, and I do not wish to remember a time when it was not this way.”

“Yet he waits until today for this to become public,” mused Turgon.

“Your highness, if the rumors of your brother are true, then you should understand more so than most what a difficult situation it is for Glorfindel and I. We have been discrete, and I do not know what possessed him to make such an announcement today. In fact, he refused to tell me the purpose of our errand here, and it was when he made his announcement that I myself learned of his intention.” Erestor paused, and hesitated, and added, “Until today, he had never stated that I was essentially his equal.”

Turgon sat back and closed his eyes. “I am inclined to believe you, Erestor. I am still troubled by your past, and by the nagging feeling that this might very well be some ploy. Be aware of the fact that I will be watching you, and should I have cause to suspect something ill-natured, I will have you arrested immediately.”

“There will be no need for that, your highness,” said Erestor.

“I should hope there will not be, for your sake, and for the sake of Lord Glorfindel. The other concern that I have is in regards to your current house affiliation. If you are to see to Lord Glorfindel’s house in his absence, then you should rightfully be a member of his House.”

Erestor sunk down on a padded bench, despite the strict protocol that he should not have. One hand pressed to his stomach, which began to churn uneasily. “I am being forced to give up affiliation to my house?”

“It is not appropriate for a member of one house to oversee the dealings of another. You need not transfer your loyalty, but if you do not, then I am unable to grant Lord Glorfindel’s request,” said Turgon simply. “You have said it yourself – he thinks you to be his equal. If that is true, all should be equal, and that includes being a part of the same house.”

There was a long pause as Erestor sat and considered his options. Turgon poured himself another drink, and brought a glass to Erestor as well. “Here. Drink this.”

Erestor complied, not wishing to upset the king. He coughed a little and grimaced as the liquid burned his throat. It only made his stomach worse. “I beg your pardon, your highness.”

“If it should make a difference in your decision,” said Turgon, “I consider the House of the Golden Flower to be far more prestigious than the House of the Harp. You have already managed to rise to a station most can only be born into; this would be a very advantageous change. Of course, if you are not particularly serious about the entire thing, I can see how you might not want to make such a significant change.”

When the door opened, Glorfindel was pacing in the hall and Idril was sitting in a chair, warily watching him. Erestor stepped out, and beckoned Glorfindel into the room. He stayed Glorfindel at the door, and said to him, “From this moment on, you shall know me as Erestor of the Golden Flower, if you are to permit it.”

Glorfindel, pleasantly surprised, tried not to appear too elated as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

As Overseer, Erestor found the title was more than simply ceremonial in nature. In Glorfindel’s place, he was expected to do everything that Glorfindel had. Luckily, Erestor was a fast learner, and had a temperament well-suited for the position. With Glorfindel gone, it gave Erestor something to concentrate on, for it was only with Glorfindel gone that he realized how attached he had become to the Elvenlord.

He still made time to see his family now and then, often taking them some provisions or a small purse of coins. His father had managed to spend away the money he had received years early when Erestor had left, and the farm continued to decline despite the hard work of Erestor’s brothers and their wives. This afternoon, he had been given a message from Salgant, that not only did Erestor’s family have need of supplies, his father was also digging himself back into debt. A sack of coins was carefully and secretly placed into the saddlebag of Erestor’s horse, and he rode off near dusk to visit his family’s home.

His second-oldest brother greeted him before he reached the door. He leaned upon a shovel, and wiped his arm across his brow to chase off the droplets of sweat. “Hail, little brother! What news do you bring?”

Erestor slowed his horse and swung his leg gracefully around to dismount from the grey mare he had been riding. He patted her on the side of the neck; his hands gloved up to the elbows in black leather that matched the pants, boots, and jacket that he wore as well. Only his shirt was white; a stark contrast to the rest of his outfit. A gold chain was around his neck, a gleaming opal set at the center. He pushed his hair, pulled back in a ponytail, over his shoulder as he approached. “Good evening, Lindir. Is father here?”

Lindir shook his head. “I have not seen him since this morning.” He lowered his voice. “We find him in the gambling houses more and more often. Mother is frantic about what to do. Two days ago, he was supposed to go to market to bring feed for the chickens; instead, he spent it on horse races.”

At this time, Erestor went back to his horse and removed the bag he had brought. “Here. Feed the chickens before they are too thin to even be slaughtered. Perhaps I should have given you or Saeldir the money the other times I have come.”

“You know that we would have to tell him,” said Lindir. “He would want to know where things came from.”

“So tell him, but do not tell him how much you have received,” said Erestor. He held the bag out. “Give him half. Hide the rest, and use it slowly.” He paused. “I have brought you all that I have. Until Glorfindel returns, it will be difficult for me to obtain more money. I can, but it will be slow and difficult.”

Lindir took hold of the sack. “Where did you find such wealth?” he asked in amazement when he looked into the bag to find not copper or silver, but golden coins within.

“I earned it. Every bit of it.” Erestor took a step away so that Lindir could not easily hand the pouch back to him. “I have found I have a knack for writing.”

“What do you write?” asked Lindir as he pulled one of the coins from the purse and tied up the rest in the pouch again.

“Anything. Mostly I write poetry, but I have written letters and ballads and even someone’s wedding vows.”

“Ballads?” Lindir looked thoughtful. “There is a singing competition I want to enter, but I fear if I use a known piece, someone else might sing it, too. Would you write something for me?”

“Absolutely,” promised Erestor. The sun had full set, and Erestor rocked back and forth on his heels. “I should go. I have yet to eat supper.”

“I would invite you in, but mother has only prepared enough for us,” said Lindir apologetically.

Erestor shook his head. “If I come in, she will insist I stay. I cannot do that; she always insist I eat her portion...” Erestor swallowed back his emotions. “I need to go.” He reached out and touched Lindir’s elbow. “I will write that song for you by next week,” he vowed, and then he quickly mounted his horse and pulled the reins back towards the House of the Golden Flower.

Lindir raised his arm in farewell, and hurried toward the house as the bell rang for dinner. Erestor willed himself not to turn around. He stared forward as the horse trotted away from the farm and down to the path that would lead him home.

“Hail, Erestor.”

Erestor tugged the reins and looked about. A lady in a pale blue cloak that hooded her face rode forward on a pure while horse and stopped beside Erestor. The hood was lowered, and Lady Idril was revealed. “I am glad to confirm that father’s fears were unfounded.”

“What fears were those, your highness?” asked Erestor.

“He has seen you bringing money often to your family since Glorfindel’s departure. Someone suggested that perhaps you were slowly raiding the treasury, and thus he sent me to follow you.” She tilted her head at the angered look on Erestor’s face. “Please, do not hate my father for his scrutiny. You must understand it. He loves Glorfindel like a brother.”

Erestor retained the stern look, but his features loosened slowly as he made the decision that, had he been in the reverse position, he would be as questioning of the situation. “You can let his majesty know that there is nothing to fear. I am now without any further funding of my own, and the journeys here will be sparse.”

Idril sadly smiled. “I apologize. I am certain you are sore, but my father did not truly believe it himself. Is that not shown by the fact I am the one watching you, instead of a guard?”

Erestor shrugged in response.

“Come. I heard that you have yet to eat. I am to dine with my father. Your return with me will show him my favor with you.” She motioned to the path that they should take, and Erestor slowly gave a nod after a long thought.

When they arrived, King Turgon looked pleasantly surprised to see Erestor standing alongside his daughter, and they were both welcomed into the private quarters of Turgon at the top of his tower. Dinner was served upon a silver tray, succulent slices of duck with a brandied sauce and vegetables that were steamed at the fire. There was a mint crème trifle for dessert, and glasses of wine at the fire to follow.

As Erestor found himself sleepily listening to tales that Turgon told, Idril sat on her rocking chair and stitched flowers upon a quilt she and her ladies-in-waiting were making. At first mention of Glorfindel, Erestor felt the yearning he had since the lord’s departure, and Idril sighed sadly. “I do miss him so,” she said. “As much as I miss Aunt Aredhel.”

“They will return soon enough,” Turgon assured his daughter.

“I know, but still.” Idril set her work aside and stared into the fire. “I miss him dearly. The first thing I shall do is throw my arms around him and hug him fiercely! And then, I think I shall bake him his favorite cake.”

Her sorrow was too familiar for Erestor, and in his hazy jealousy he vowed to keep an eye on the pair when Glorfindel returned, for his mind began to recall times when they would walk alone, or share a private joke, or even that Glorfindel had kissed Idril’s cheek on more than one occasion. When his sudden silence and sour mood was questioned, Erestor blamed it on fatigue and excused himself, but came no more to Turgon’s tower until Glorfindel’s return.

Months passed, and then the grim reality: Four left Gondolin, but only three riders returned. Erestor stood atop the tower with a small group which included the King, Idril, Egaldir, and Galadwen, who stood furthest away from Erestor. He had become used to the behavior – in most cases, he was either he was ignored, or looked upon with pity. Even his own parents and his eldest brother acted much as others in the realm did. His mind wandered back to his most recent encounter with his family, for while two of the riders were still too far away to be identified, one of them had unmistakable yellow hair, and this put Erestor at ease.

Following his daily tasks, Erestor found he had several hours of free time before a meeting that was scheduled with the house staff. He decided to ride to his family’s house, and see about the well-being of the family and the chickens, which had been a concern in his mind since his last visit. He brought with him a scroll with the song written for Lindir. While he knew his brother would be unable to read the words on the page, the fact that the song had been written out just for him would not be lost on Lindir.

It was Saeldir who met Erestor when he dismounted and came to the door. “Good day, Erestor. What brings you here?”

“Need I have a reason for a visit to my family?” Erestor smiled, but slowly it faded when his brother did not react in any way. “I came to deliver a song to Lindir. Is he free?”

“He is working in the fields.” Saeldir looked Erestor up and down, his distaste obvious. “I doubt he has time to see you today.”

“Might you give it to him?” asked Erestor. He held out the scroll, but Saeldir did not look interested in taking it. “I could return later...”

“I do not think that would be wise. Father will be home in a little while.”

Erestor looked confused. “Why is that unwise? I would like to see father. It has been much too long—“

“For good reason.” Saeldir lowered his voice. “Is it not embarrassing enough for him that you parade yourself around as you do, that you feel you need to present yourself to him as the whore of the Golden Flower?”

Without a thought, Erestor let his hand fly across Saeldir’s face. The older brother retaliated with a punch that took Erestor to the ground and left blood streaming from his nose. In shock, Erestor scrambled up from the ground and held his hand to his face, the blood flowing down and staining his shirt. The scroll rolled off and flew away on a gust of wind, bouncing down the dusty path.

“You need to go now.” Saeldir backed into the house and slammed the door shut.

Erestor reached up and touched the bridge of his nose. It still smarted, but the break was mended. He pushed aside these thoughts as a trio now joined them on the top of the tower, bowing in unison to the king before them.

Turgon looked first to the bowed head of Egalmoth, then to Glorfindel, and finally to Ecthelion. “What ill has befallen my sister?”

Ecthelion bowed his head. “We have failed you, my lord. She stole away from us during a time of battle. When we stopped our fighting, none of us could determine her whereabouts. She had secreted away, covering her tracks and her trail. It left her lost from us, and we searched and tarried as long as we dared before we returned.” None of the three dared to look at Turgon, and he sighed, not in anger, but in exasperation. He placed his hand upon Ecthelion’s shoulder and said, “One is lost, perhaps only for a time, but three whom I love as my own brothers have returned.” He embraced each of his captains in turn, and then Idril did as well, the last of hers saved for Glorfindel, to whom she clung the longest, before she followed her father back down to his own quarters.

The homecoming was happy, yet bittersweet, between the others upon the top of the tower. While Egalmoth patted his son upon the back and Ecthelion drew his wife into an embrace, Glorfindel approached Erestor carefully, having taken note of the hurt in the younger man’s eyes. “Perhaps we should go someplace private,” suggested Glorfindel.

Erestor nodded darkly, and they walked quietly back down the tower. When Glorfindel reached an empty corridor, he pulled Erestor aside and faced him. “Tell me, now – what have I done in my absence to vex you so?”

“Nothing in your absence. Twas right before my eyes.” As Erestor made an attempt to continue forward, his arm was grabbed at the bicep and held firm by Glorfindel. Though Erestor had grown and possessed an imposing figure, it was Glorfindel who was the larger and stronger, and he held firmly. Erestor gave one tug in an attempt to be freed, but the hold that Glorfindel on him had a different effect, and he moaned softly at the remembrance of their time spent in the sanctuary of Glorfindel’s dungeon.

Glorfindel nearly smirked, but his confusion made him hold this back. He leaned closer. “What is your fucking problem with me? Do you wish it had been Aredhel to ride in through the gates rather than I?”

“Nay...” Erestor pressed his chest up against Glorfindel’s. He attempted to glare, but his resolve was failing fast. “I am jealous of your maiden.”

“My maiden?” Glorfindel shook his head. “Are you drunk? Did you not hear the proclamation I made in the midst of Turgon’s court before I left?”

“Indeed, but I only have just recently realized that I am not the only person to hold your heart.”

“And who, pray tell, is this maiden of whom you speak?” questioned Glorfindel.

Erestor pouted. “Idril.”

“My niece?”

“Your... niece?” Erestor blinked. “Your—“

“Niece,” repeated Glorfindel. “My sister was her mother.” He let go of Erestor’s arm. “Her father – King Turgon – is my brother-in-law.”

“Oh.” Erestor looked at the ground sheepishly. “Oh.”

Glorfindel used a single finger to tilt Erestor’s chin up. “You were jealous.”

“I was.”

“I like that.” He leaned in and they kissed, immediately hungry for one another. After several moments, Glorfindel looked around and saw a corner of the room, concealed by thick draperies that hung from the ceiling and were tied back to one side. He reached down and cupped his palm around the bulge in Erestor’s tight pants, the same leather ones he had favored since Glorfindel’s abrupt departure. “Come with me,” he growled, and he half-led, half-dragged Erestor to that corner. The rope that held back the drapes was untied, and they were hidden away in the corner from any who might pass (though the noise from the moans and groans might have made more than a few maids wonder if there was a ghost in the room).

The rope was not cast aside, but held by Glorfindel as he took in the surroundings. There was a wooden chair with a padded leather seat hidden there with them, and he looked to Erestor with a grin. “Are you feeling adventurous?”

“I am not sure if adventurous is the word, but I know what I want right now.” Erestor pulled Glorfindel to him, and as they kissed, his hand worked its way down Glorfindel’s trousers. As he began to massage the hardened length he found, Glorfindel worked to remove the clothing that Erestor wore, the rope slung over one shoulder.

When the leather belt was in his hands, Glorfindel turned Erestor around and pushed him to the wall. In a second, he had yanked Erestor’s pants down to his knees, and gave him a half dozen slaps with the belt. Just as Erestor began to fall into rhythm and lean back towards the strikes, Glorfindel dropped the belt to the floor and continued to strip the remaining clothes from his young lover. “I hope you want it rough,” growled Glorfindel, “because that is what you are going to get.”

Erestor lowered himself to kneel before Glorfindel in one fluid motion. The belt was removed from the blond’s waist, and his breeches dropped down to the floor, followed by the loincloth he wore. Erestor stretched his tongue out and drew it from the tip of Glorfindel’s erection all the way to the root before he drew it halfway into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks, while his left hand curled fingers around the base and pumped it slowly. As he drew back, he looked up and said, “I just want you to give it to me.” He lapped the tip, in case there was any misunderstanding, and then stood up just as gracefully as he had gone down.

Glorfindel unfastened his jerkin, and next removed his shirt, until they were both standing naked before one another. “Turn around.” Erestor spun around on his heel, faced to the wall once more. Glorfindel moved around to face Erestor again, and he had with him the rope, which he used to tie around one of Erestor’s wrists. The chair was pushed up against Erestor’s legs, and Glorfindel crouched down and wove the loose end of the rope around the legs of the front of the chair. Slowly, he pulled it, further and further, until Erestor was forced to bend at the waist over the chair, his legs spreading out to better his balance.

The rope was wound around the leg and Erestor’s wrist as soon as they were in contact with each other. Glorfindel took hold of Erestor’s other wrist in short order, and tied it to the other front leg. When Glorfindel stood back, he found Erestor just as he had imagined – his legs were spread widely, leaving his rear end beautifully exposed. The crown of Erestor’s head rested on the pad of the chair, and he could see through the slats behind him, to where Glorfindel would be standing. Glorfindel ran his hand along Erestor’s back, and gave a smack to his ass. “Enjoy the view,” he said as he picked up one of the discarded belts and used it to give Erestor a few more swats before he spit into his hand and used it to slicken the tight passage that was presented.

Spying one of the leather gloves in the clothing strewn in their small space, Glorfindel picked one up and pulled it onto his hand with only a bit of resistance. One finger slid in rather easily, and the sensation pulled from Erestor a sound louder than Glorfindel wished to be emitted from their hidden haven. “Hush...” he warned. He found amid the clothing debris a shirt (whose, it did not matter) and wadded up the sleeve. “Bite on this. We will have time for your noise in good time, but not here.”

Glorfindel returned to where he had been, and glanced for a moment down at Erestor. The bound Elf’s eyes were keenly upon the happenings going on behind him, and Glorfindel made a show of slowly pulling his gloved fingers out and pushing them in after displaying how many he was about to insert. Muffled groans continued to be issued forth, and finally Glorfindel answered the frustrated sounds that he was hearing as he spat again into his palm and then plunged his length deep into Erestor’s needy body.

As Glorfindel delivered thrust after thrust, seen almost perfectly by Erestor each time as his body was eagerly invaded, he held firm to Erestor’s hips. A few times, the chair moved slightly across the floor, causing a few readjustments in Erestor’s footing. Glorfindel felt his body tighten in anticipation of release, and he leaned forward, arms circling around Erestor. Blindly, he felt his way, and when his fingers located the nub on either side of Erestor’s chest, he began to pinch and squeeze them, not only with the tips of his fingers, but with his nails as well. It created a biting sensation, and went right to Erestor’s groin, which had been pressed firmly against the back of the chair. As Glorfindel grunted and reached his climax, the full feeling that Erestor felt coupled with the sight of being fully filled worked him into a frenzy. He rubbed at the wooden back of the chair in frustration, but this was stopped after a few seconds when Glorfindel took Erestor’s erection firmly in his hand and helped him to finish, silvery fluid running down his fist.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” whispered Erestor once they had cleaned up each other and the area they had taken over.

Glorfindel shrugged. “Let them listen.” He stole a kiss and added, “I want them to know that you belong to me.”