Erestor was rooted in place, staring at the bedroom on the west end of the shared rooms. Glorfindel finally sighed and patted the pillow that was still on the couch. “I can sleep here and you can have the bedroom.”
“No,” Erestor countered immediately. “I can stay out here on the couch. All of your things are in that bedroom anyhow.”
A long silence followed, which was interrupted by Glorfindel saying, “I promise not to get any of my ‘queer germs’ on you if we share the bed.”
“You know I have no phobias about such things. I just thought it would be incredibly rude to assume...” Erestor turned his head toward the other bedroom as the sounds of passion rose up. “I guess sneaking in there to grab my nightclothes will be out of the question.”
“I would not suggest it.”
Erestor poured a glass of wine and walked toward the empty bedroom. “Do you mind very much if I retire?”
The moaning in the adjoining room became louder. Glorfindel grabbed the pillow from the couch and picked up the open bottle of wine on his way, entering into the room first. The candles were still lit, but they were nearing the end of their wicks, so Glorfindel lit new ones as he listened to Erestor blowing out the rest that were in the main area.
He ventured a look out the window, gazing across the city. The party had not stopped though the hosts had left long hours ago. A group of harpers led by Salgant were playing upon the dais with a handful of flautists from Ecthelion’s house dancing gaily in their midst. The happenings in the gardens could be seen by anyone looking from this point, including a pair of ellyn who looked quite nervous as they sat on a bench almost beneath an elm tree, holding hands with one another. A sudden queasiness hit Glorfindel’s stomach: there was no place secret in the hidden city. The floor above was the king’s own and his penthouse had windows aimed in every direction. Nothing secret, nothing safe.
In his mind, he ran through all of his encounters with Gildor. Outside of the city, those would have been unseen by Turgon. In his rooms or Gildor’s guest chamber, Glorfindel doubted Turgon could snoop. Once in the stable... but from this vantage, Glorfindel could not see through the roof of the building, and it was unlikely Turgon’s sight could be that much better. It would explain how the king knew of their transgressions, but Glorfindel drew a blank trying to think of when it might have been.
Deciding to take his mind from it, Glorfindel engrossed himself once more with the book. He was sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, when Erestor entered. “I tried to enter undetected to get my things, but I was assaulted with this.” He held up a dainty pink slipper.
Glorfindel snorted. “Add it to the sea of shoes in the closet,” he suggested, pointing to the door while still reading. “At least it is good to know they are not helpless creatures,” he added, pushing his glasses back into place.
“I did manage to rescue this, though.” Erestor triumphantly held up a stack of papers bound by blue cording. He tossed it onto the empty half of the bed before going to the closet and opening the door. “My goodness gracious, just how cold does she expect her feet to be?”
Shrugging, Glorfindel muttered, “Ellyth,” as an answer. His eyes wandered to the item that had joined him on the mattress, and found it was a manuscript for a play. Then he froze, his breathing shallow. Past Erestor, in the midst of the shoes in the closet, the pillowcase he had thrown in earlier was visible. Whether the stains of his seed were or not, Glorfindel could not tell, and he hoped Erestor could not, either.
“Quite. Enough shoes for the entire city, perhaps.” Erestor threw the slipper in to join its mates and shut the door before any others could topple out. Realizing he had left his glass of wine in the other room, Erestor simply picked up the bottle Glorfindel brought in and drank from it. “The auditions are in two weeks, but for me, I was told it was merely a formality and more to decide who gets a line or two and who is in the chorus.”
“There is singing? A musical?” Glorfindel set aside his book as Erestor sat down on the bed.
“Not exactly. Just a play with a few songs in it. Seven songs, seven characters...” Erestor turned back the cover and displayed the title to Glorfindel.
“ ‘The Seven Sons of Fire’.”
“They want me to play Maglor.”
“Interesting. I thought they all had red hair.”
“A general misconception. The eldest and youngest did; the middle child looked like Finwe, black hair and all. The rest had brown hair with varying degrees of red highlights, except for Celegorm, who was blond, and honestly, I always had to wonder if he was really Feanor's son or if--" Erestor caught the thought Glorfindel was having and interrupted himself. “Oh... well, maybe we are just supposed to wear wigs.”
Glorfindel tried to imagine Erestor with red hair, and gave up because he knew it would make him break into a fit of laughter. “So, you will be singing?”
“One song, I forget the name of it. The play is fantastic, though, really well written.” Flipping through it, Erestor added, “I hardly have any lines, but I get to be on the stage a lot.”
“No one starts with a lead role,” offered Glorfindel. “Give it a year and I am sure people will be packing the house to see your performances.”
“I just hope I do not make a fool of myself.”
“No, you have nothing to worry about. You control the floor when you are in council; how difficult can it be on stage?” Glorfindel smiled, and nudged Erestor until the smile was returned. “Tomorrow, I want to hear everything about how you were accepted into the guild and what Rog said about you leaving and anything else I have missed.”
“Yes, we should get some sleep. I do not think Tauniel or Aranel will let us miss the gift opening tomorrow.”
“Tauniel and Aranel probably would allow us to miss it. Meleth, not a chance.” Glorfindel set his spectacles on the table a stretched his arms over his head, eliciting a yawn as he did so. “Do you want this side of the bed or is that side alright?”
“Does not matter.” Erestor turned down the sheets, and turned his back as he undressed. Glorfindel watched every movement as the fabric slipped onto the floor. Erestor stepped out of his pants, the toned muscles of his thighs and calves tightening slightly, making Glorfindel swallow hard but silently. As Erestor turned to crawl into bed, Glorfindel quickly looked away. “Go on, it is too hot to wear anything to bed,” coaxed Erestor. The thin sheet covered only to his hips, and just barely as he leaned back against the pillows. “So odd.”
“What?” asked Glorfindel as he removed his shirt, keeping his back to Erestor.
“One of your pillows it missing the cover. It is one of those things I doubt Meleth would have missed when she set up the room.”
Drops of sweat formed on Glorfindel’s brow. “Oh?” he busied himself with his leggings and tried to be as casual as he could.
“Yes, but here, I will just move the one in back in front of the other.”
Glorfindel listened as this was done. He bent down to collect up his clothing, using the opportunity to wipe his brow. “Thank you,” he said, taking the clothing to the basket at the door. His walk back was slightly awkward, for now he was facing Erestor and hoped that even while nude he could hide his emotions from his companion.
They settled in for the night without further discussion, and the candles were extinguished. Faint humming from the harps below made it into the room from time to time.
It was after the sounds began to die down that Erestor asked quietly if Glorfindel was still awake. “Just a little,” replied the blond, though his eyes were staring at the ceiling and no dreams were tempting him.
“I just considered... well, with it being such a night as it is... and you were not with us earlier to find release.”
Whether Erestor suspected, knew, or was just being kind, Glorfindel did not yet know. He did not answer the lingering question, but instead said, “I am fine.”
“Yes, but it hardly seems fair to you.”
“Well, I doubt I can obtain the ladies’ interest now, nor would I want to. So unless you were planning to offer a hand in the matter...” Glorfindel trailed off, his voice bitter.
Erestor was quiet, and then said, “I meant, it would not offend me, if you... if you ever had to take care of matters, as it were, with me in the room. I am sorry that I am not of any help otherwise, but I did not want you to think you had to suffer.”
“Ah.” At first, Glorfindel had the urge to smack his friend with the pillow, and shout at him just what had previously transpired, but he held his tongue. Remembering his own words earlier to Erestor about the play, he fashioned them now for his personal use: Start slowly, Glorfindel, he may well come around. Never could you imagine him sharing a bed; perhaps a day will come to share a spirit as well. This Glorfindel took comfort in, unsure if the words were his own. “I may take you up on that offer.”
“Well, I never would have said it if I did not mean it.”
Glorfindel’s hand slid down under the sheet. He felt his limp sexuality, the head soft as he curled his fingers around the shaft. Twice he stoked his hand up, then stopped. Was this really what he wanted? No. Was this what he needed? No. Tears welled up in his eyes and a miserable sob burst forth.
“Glorfindel?” Erestor sat up with genuine concern. “Are you hurt?”
He had thrown an arm over his eyes, though the tears could not be stopped. “I just... I do not want sex... I just... I just want someone to touch me. I need someone to hold me. I... I hate being alone,” he balled, feeling ashamed of his breakdown. He felt strong arms pulling him up, cradling him against a firm chest, but his mind was no longer envisioning thoughts of sensual pleasures. Instead, he felt the warmth and invitation of a friend, the gentle calming upon his soul as he was rocked and held.
Glorfindel clung to Erestor, matting the dark hair with precious tears. He could blame this upon his father, his past, his failed relationship, but he could not bring himself to name the true cause. ‘I love you’ seemed so far away, and so he sniffled until his eyes were red and dry and his hiccupping interrupted his apologies.
“Shh... it is alright. Nothing here to hurt you anymore.” Erestor brought them back into a supine position on the bed. It was breezier now, and he pulled the sheet up to cover them both before pulling Glorfindel onto his side and against him. He kept his arms around the exhausted blond elf, and kissed the top of his head. “I can do this for you at least, Glorfindel. You need to rest. Sleep; I will protect you.”
A little nod against Erestor was all Glorfindel managed before Irmo intervened. Sleep took him quickly, and he awoke the next morning, still in Erestor’s arms.
