Erestor paced back and forth at the door to Glorfindel’s rooms. Twice he had returned to his own quarters, but somehow found his feet bringing him back here each time. Finally turning to face the door, rocking back on his feet, Erestor reached up and knocked sharply on the door, then stepped back and waited.
When there was no reply, and Glorfindel did not come to the door, Erestor pounded once again with his fist, then pressed his ear to the wood to listen. It seemed there was some soft sound coming from within, but he could not tell exactly what. Perhaps Glorfindel was asleep, he reasoned. Waiting until morning was the most practical course of action, but Erestor boldly reached for the handle and turned it toward him, finding the door had been left unlocked.
Pressing it inwards gently, Erestor silently entered the main room and tilted his head to see the bed immediately inside instead of hidden in some back chamber. But then, he had never been in Glorfindel’s rooms before, he reminded himself. The bed before him was empty, and his next surprise was the colors of the room. Deep colors, rich burgundy and forest green greeted him, and midnight blues across the walls. Even in the candlelight that illuminated the room, the darkness was evidently dominant. What was also evident was that Glorfindel was not in this room.
He had for some reason expected to find clutter, but here there was a place for everything, and even what appeared to be a basket of dirty laundry was tucked away in the corner. There was a passage that led further into the chambers, and Erestor followed it, down a narrow corridor that did not go on for long, lined with maps and tapestries of famed battles. There were no weapons adorning the walls, something that he had somehow expected to find.
He came out into a rectangular room, the most surprising feature of all, for it was a library. Looking around, Erestor could not believe he did not know of this collection of tomes. When he began to read the titles, however, he found the books were an assortment of sensual short stories; many books he had thought no longer were in existence. Even more startling were the volumes of erotic poetry, for some were Erestor’s own works. He blushed in spite of the fact no one could see him, and then heard the sounds again.
The final room was splendid as the rest, and Erestor now figured the layout, that the bedroom was on the other side of the far wall. The room he was in was nearly empty, save for Glorfindel and his swords, but the walls were delicately painted with what Erestor assumed were favorite verses of poems and songs of battle with accompanied art. Erestor stood and watched, mesmerized by the dance performed as Glorfindel practiced his art, battling unseen foes as he moved, a sword in each of his hands. One of the invisible enemies caused him to turn in the direction of the door, and the practice swords fell from his hands and clattered to the ground. “Erestor!”
“I apologize. I should have knocked or said something – well, I… I did knock, but then you didn’t hear me, and…” Erestor stepped into the room, ignoring Glorfindel’s appearance, or trying unsuccessfully to. He had quite obviously noticed the way Glorfindel’s chest heaved, for it was easy, as he was practicing with his chest bare. As Glorfindel bent to pick up the swords, Erestor glanced at him, deciding his deep brown leggings were practical, but not the most suitable for receiving guests, and yet, he had a hard time pulling his gaze from them until Glorfindel stood again.
“You don’t have to apologize, Erestor.” Glorfindel moved to the wall and slid open a hidden door. He placed the swords inside before sliding it back once again. “Do you require something of me?”
No longer as brave as he had originally been, Erestor held out the book at arm’s length. “I came to return this to you,” he said rather quickly, and gave it a little shake, as if Glorfindel should take it immediately.
“Oh.” Glorfindel tried to hide his disappointment and curiosity. “Did you…?”
“I finished it. All of it,” added Erestor. He was looking now at the four large mirror panels that were along part of the room.
“Ah.” Taking the book, Glorfindel waited to see if anything more was to be said.
Pointing at the mirrors, Erestor asked, “What are those here for? Forgive me, I’ve not seen anything like it.”
“For practice,” answered Glorfindel. He stepped out of the room, and returned immediately without the book. “So that I can watch what I am doing and see my mistakes.” Erestor nodded, and looked back to Glorfindel, noting that the blonde had been staring at him. “Forgive me,” begged Glorfindel, bowing his head slightly after Erestor’s brow jerked up in askance, “I’ve not seen you in such bright colors in so long. It reminds me of when we were in Gondolin.”
“Oh, but Gondolin was so long ago,” said Erestor, shaking his head. “There is little to compare, save a similar hue.”
“Do not deny my compliments, Erestor, you know your beauty,” laughed Glorfindel, and his eyes widened as the other elf slightly blushed. Erestor was known to take most compliments like the wind, for not only did he think quite highly of himself – and for good reason – Erestor was not known to be shy. But here was Erestor, stepping just out of the way, turning his face from him. “Come, if you do not believe me,” insisted Glorfindel, and he pulled Erestor over to the mirrors with much less protest than he had expected. He was well aware of the fact Erestor did not own a mirror, much less ever use one, and he could not resist showing the dark beauty what he had the honor to see every day.
Glorfindel brought Erestor before one of the center panels, standing behind him. “Your hair could do to be brushed, but the rest of you is flawless,” he said, and one hand strayed from Erestor’s shoulder to tuck back errant hairs behind his ear.
Standing this close, Glorfindel could smell the freshness of Erestor’s recent bath, and wondered how the advisor had come to bathe at this late hour, until he picked up the faintest trace beneath of a second scent. Glorfindel’s hand still hovered next to Erestor’s face, and he experimentally drew the back of his hand down along the other elf’s cheek. Erestor shifted, but not away, for he unexplainably closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Glorfindel’s heart began to beat faster and he leaned nearer and spoke softly into Erestor’s ear. “Stay here. I shall return.”
Not having the chance to respond to the command, Erestor’s eyes fluttered open and he nodded only after Glorfindel had left the room. When the blonde returned, he had with him a softly padded stool and his hairbrush. He brought them to Erestor, placed the stool down, and motioned to it with the brush. “If you will permit me…” he said, and Erestor nodded, sitting down. He had forgotten to comb through his hair after his bath, and was fairly certain that there were some tangles in it by now.
Nothing was said by either at first, as Glorfindel began the work of taming Erestor’s inky black mane. Erestor’s hair flowed down just below his knees, and though it pooled now on the floor, Glorfindel knew that it wouldn’t do to have Erestor stand. Not only did it seem silly, but it was impractical, as Glorfindel did not have Erestor’s height. Therefore, the blonde sometimes had a wave of ebony over his arm as he carefully drew the knots out of the loose strands.
“I never knew you to have a library,” Erestor finally said, and Glorfindel nodded.
“I don’t think of it as a library, really. There’s no organization to it, I do not quite recall the volumes that are contained. Reading room is a better term,” he reasoned.
“I would organize it for you,” offered Erestor, and to this Glorfindel smiled.
“You do not know what is kept in that room.”
Grinning, Erestor chuckled. “Yes, I do. I wrote some of it. Or do you not pay attention to the authors?”
The brushing stopped. “I do not recall seeing your name listed as author for any of them.”
“ ‘A compilation of the House of the Silver Stars’. The house began and ended with me, Glorfindel.”
“Hmm.” The brushing resumed, and Erestor could not tell if Glorfindel smirked because he was pleased, amused, or embarrassed.
“Would you like them organized? I won’t be upset if you don’t want me to go in there anymore.”
“It just seems such an extraordinary task.”
“I wouldn’t mind it. In fact, I would enjoy it.”
Glorfindel ran his hands through the dark hair, checking for any further snarls. “Perhaps, we might make a deal,” he suggested. “You can catalogue to your heart’s content while I practice here, and that will give us means to share conversation during the day. In the evening, while I make our meals, you can read to me from one of your books.”
Erestor crossed his arms and looked slyly at the mirror image of Glorfindel. “You really do detest my cooking, don’t you?”
“That isn’t entirely true,” Glorfindel answered playfully. “I love your cooking when I’m not the one eating it.” He was glad to hear Erestor laugh at this, and smiled himself, his fingers lingering as he drew them through dark tresses. He decided not to further his comments by saying he loved to watch Erestor cook. How the advisor would look, reading over a recipe as he drummed his fingers on the counter, brow furled, apron on, hair drawn back, and just the tip of his tongue protruding from the corner of pouting lips to finish the look of determination. Glorfindel realized his plan would cost him that image, and quickly added, “Perhaps, sometimes, we can make dinner together.”
“You have a deal,” said Erestor with a nod. “How is it coming?” he asked then, for Glorfindel had settled the handle of the brush in his pocket and was now combing through Erestor’s hair with his fingers.
“Perfectly,” Glorfindel whispered, letting the strands fall from his fingertips. He bent his head slowly, watching the eyes in the mirror, and swept the hair back from Erestor’s neck with his hand.
Erestor stood abruptly, just as he had felt Glorfindel’s breath on his bare skin. The stool wobbled a little, and Erestor moved forward to straighten it, but Glorfindel gripped the sides as if he had truly bent to do just that. “I-“ Erestor pulled the escaped strands behind his pointed ears. “Thank you, Glorfindel. I should retire, now, indeed you must be tired, and I have left the fire burning in my room,” he remembered suddenly, a little relieved and yet slightly upset that he truly did have an excuse to leave.
“I am not as tired as I might seem,” said Glorfindel, “but I shall see you in the morning.”
Erestor nodded, leaving the room. Back in the library of sorts, he paused, seeing the book sitting on the chair, and shivered at the memory of reading it. Erestor walked back into the practice room, nearly walking into Glorfindel, who had just retrieved the stool and was about to bring it out of the room. “Sorry,” Erestor said, backing up a few steps, but Glorfindel stayed him, taking hold of his wrist as he set the stool aside with his other hand. Glorfindel let his grip slide to Erestor’s hand while his other arm hid itself behind his own back.
“No, no need, Erestor, I should have been more alert. My mind was on other things.” Glorfindel’s smile was warm, and as his thumb moved in comforting circles against Erestor’s palm, he asked, “Did you forget something?”
“I thought…” Erestor looked down to their joined hands, but did nothing. Meeting Glorifindel’s gaze again, he said, “I thought that perhaps you might like to come to my quarters. I find I am not as tired as I might seem, either,” he offered in explanation.
Glorfindel nodded, leaving Erestor’s hand to slip away. “Allow me to dress again, and I will join you momentary.”
“I had best tend to the fire.” Erestor walked to the doorway, and then stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I look forward to seeing you again soon,” he said, and Glorfindel gave him another nod as he left.
“I love you, too, Erestor,” murmured Glorfindel after he heard the door to his quarters shut.
