Later that evening, Gildor came to Glorfindel’s rooms. He did not knock, but instead used his own key to open the door. His lover was on the bed on his stomach, propped up by his elbows, reading through the letters that had been brought for him. Glorfindel tipped his spectacles down further and peered over them to look up at Gildor. “Good evening.”
“Good evening? Hardly – you are still dressed.” While Glorfindel’s feet were bare, he was still wearing pants and his shirt was open but still hanging from his shoulders. Gildor kicked the door closed and sauntered over to the bed. “Come now, sweetcheeks, you are not sore at me for something, are you?”
“Reading letters intended for others is very low – even for you.” Glorfindel flipped over the current page he was skimming. “You might fool Elrond into thinking it was an accident, but I am certain that the seal was not as conveniently broken as you have so stated.”
“To be fair, accident or not, is it not something of concern to learn that your chief councilor is a possible traitor?” Gildor shook his head sadly. “This could be something serious.”
“It might also be a misunderstanding.” Glorfindel removed his glasses and shook them accusingly at Gildor. “When the mail was delivered, it was not ten minutes before he came to Elrond and I and admitted to us that he was still holding citizenship in Mirkwood. He never thought it was an issue, as he still takes orders from Elrond, and he sees it much as when Elrond was here and yet was Herald to Lindon. He asked honestly to spend an extended vacation in Mirkwood in order to vote there. He covered nothing up.”
“Nothing that you know about. There could be more to the story than what he admits,” suggested Gildor.
Glorfindel unfolded his glasses and settled them back on his nose. “This discussion is over.”
“Oh?” Gildor reached down and grabbed the spectacles away. “Why do you get to decide when it is over?”
“Because you are in my rooms, in my house.” Glorfindel grabbed for his glasses, but only managed to grip Gildor’s wrist. “Inglorion, I am not interested in your antics this evening. Give that back to me.”
Gildor saw Glorfindel make a move with his other hand and was able to capture Glorfindel’s wrist with his free hand. “Well, a fine mess this is. I suppose, since we are in a jam, we have nothing to do but speak more on the topic of Erestor. Did it seem, when he came to you earlier, that he was sincerely ill, or was that a lie as well?”
“Shut up and give my glasses back to me.” Glorfindel attempted to twist away, but in his position he was unable to gain the upper hand in the matter. “You are an ass.”
“How rude. What a way to talk to your beloved.” Gildor clicked his tongue at his lover, and then with one final yank managed to free himself of Glorfindel’s grasp. “Or is it that I am upsetting you talking about him this way?” Gildor twirled the spectacles around by one of the wire stems. “Twelve years is a long time to be apart. Tell me, how did you spend the years alone?”
“Accusing me now?” Glorfindel rolled over onto his back and rubbed his right wrist. It still showed faint marks where Gildor had held him tightly. “Why not leave me alone and go find a stable boy to sodomize, you prick.” Glorfindel pulled the drawer of his nightstand out and removed his spare pair of glasses from within a soft cloth.
Gildor tossed the glasses onto the foot of the bed, where they bounced off and hit the rug on the floor. “Maybe I shall.” He turned to leave.
“Leave your key.”
Gildor looked over his shoulder with a wily smirk. “Make me.”
* * *
From Glorfindel’s room, Gildor navigated his way through the gardens on a meandering path until he reached the stables. Many of the stalls housed the horses belonging to the inhabitants and visitors of the realm, though Gildor’s company tended to keep their horses and pack animals in the open air. The horses and goats were used to it, and the other animals they had, the tigers and other exotics, had cages in covered wooden carts where they slept.
Gildor’s mount typically had the honor of staying in the stables, with the exception of the oliphant. He strolled to the stall that his current pet was being kept in. She was nibbling at the feed she had been given, and while it was of fine quality, it was still lesser than she was used to being given by her master. “Poor thing. No one seems to understand how fragile you are.” Gildor wandered to the end of the aisle, where a fat cat sat on the top of one of the barrels of feed. “Good evening, sweetie.” Gildor scratched the cat’s head and under his chin.
The grey tom rolled and stretched out his legs, begging silently for more attention. “Oh, alright, then.” Gildor sat down on one of the lower barrels and appeased the feline for a bit. “Let me see... what do I have here for you...” He pulled a small brightly colored ball from his pocket and bounced it once on the ground. The cat flipped over, shining eyes focused on the object. “Would you like this, kitty?” Gildor bounced it again, and the cat swiped his paw out to try to bat the ball. “I wonder if you fetch.”
The ball was thrown, and the cat bounded away from his perch. Another cat, this one an orange tabby, darted out from a stall when the ball went by. A moment later, an elf in that same stall peered around the gate and watched the cat run off.
“No worries, Erestor. I am sure you are concerned that your pussy will not return – certainly, it is the only one you have had for a while – but fear not, she will be back.” Gildor removed the lid from the vacated barrel and examined the feed that was kept inside. “Is it usual for you to abuse your animals with such low-grade food?”
“There is nothing wrong with the horse feed, and you know it.” Erestor leaned on the gate, watching Gildor as he investigated the other barrels. “You may have noticed, we tend not to keep or breed rare animals whose needs would be better suited in a natural environment.
Gildor wandered over to the stall that Erestor was in. Two of the councilor’s prized race horses were munching on their dinner. “I think I know what is best for my horse.”
“Yes, I suppose that would make sense. No one believed she could be a real unicorn.”
“Oh, she is,” confirmed Gildor. “My purity is not to be questioned in the matter, obviously.”
Erestor narrowed his eyes. “I am doubtful of that,” said Erestor. “Your purity is always in question. Everyone is suspecting she is a horse whose head you have attached a horn to.”
Without answering directly, Gildor left Erestor standing where he was and went to the stall where his mount was being kept. He clicked his tongue to get her attention, and when she trotted over, he opened the gate and led her back to Erestor. Reaching up, Gildor coaxed the horse to bow her head. “Go ahead. Try to pull it off.”
“I would never harm an animal in such a cruel way,” Erestor warned. “The fact you have even suggested such a thing is horrific.”
“See for yourself, then. She is very real, I assure you.” Gildor pushed the unicorn’s mane away from her horn. “Though she may not have been born with it, there is no doubt she grew it on her own.”
“Fine, I will believe you that it is real,” said Erestor. “Do you drug her so that she allows you to ride her? What is your secret?”
Gildor laughed. “Secret? There is no secret. The answer is simple.” Gildor handed the end of the leather strap that was fastened as a collar around her neck to Erestor, and then left the stables. Erestor waited a few minutes, looking around the stalls, expecting some sign. As he began to examine the unicorn, he heard someone return.
Whoever it was did not make the horses happy. Stallions reared and mares whinnied and screamed. Asfaloth jumped his gate and galloped around the corner, stopping only when Erestor called to him, but doing so rather timidly. He took off again when Gildor rounded the corner, holding a flaming torch in his hand.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Erestor let go of the collar immediately. He placed both hands on the top of the gate and jumped over onto the other side, stumbling a bit. Age had a way of catching up to Elves sometimes. He yanked away the torch and held it away from Gildor. “You could burn this whole building down if you are not careful, not to mention, you have succeeded in scaring all of the animals!”
“I think your shouting is doing more damage,” remarked Gildor, for the commotion was getting worse now. “But I did so to prove my point.” He motioned towards the unicorn, who was standing perfectly still.
“You could have just said she was blind!” Erestor marched the torch to a bucket of water and shoved the lit end down into the liquid. It spit and hissed and a great plume of smoke rushed up towards him. “Why must you be so difficult?”
“Why must you be so nosy?” Gildor went back to the feed barrels and selected some from the one he deemed best. “Be sure to tell the boy that she should be exclusively be fed from this mix,” instructed Gildor.
“Tell him yourself,” sneered Erestor, who was trying to persuade Asfaloth out of a corner and back to his stall.
“I have not the time,” called out Gildor. “Since I know you will not allow any precious animal to go uncared for, I leave this task to you. Do not tell the stable boy if you like, but it will result in her extreme unhappiness. She may well starve herself.” Gildor led his mount back to her pen and then turned about and gave Erestor a condescending look, hands upon his hips. “If I were not so intent upon pleasuring your dear seneschal for a third time this evening, bringing him to the very pinnacle of ecstacy, listening to him utter my name from blissfully swollen lips before I plunge back into them, I would do it myself.” He smirked and then left the stables.
Erestor seethed and rubbed his temples, wearily taking upon himself the task of calming the animals and returning Asfaloth to his stall. After all this was over, he wrote a brief note to the stable hands regarding the care of Gildor’s unicorn, but signed it with Gildor’s name. Then he went to the unicorn’s stall. He clicked the same way that Gildor had to gain her attention, and she trotted to him. “Would you like to run, my beauty? Far out in the pastures, where the grass is soft and you can go for miles without me pulling on your reigns?” The unicorn snorted and nudged her head against his shoulder. “What care have you, to be on a midnight ride? There are no shadows to scare you.”
A special saddle hung on the wall with the rest of her tack, but Erestor opted for none of this. He even unbuckled the collar and left it to drape over the gate of her stall. “Come with me, little one. Let us enjoy the evening air together.” He stepped aside her and mounted the unicorn in one swift move. Something seemed to suddenly click for her – something made more of instinct than memory. For her, Erestor ‘felt’ right, more so than Gildor ever had. She tossed her head and walked a few paces forward with high steps. “Yes, I doubted he was a virgin,” murmured Erestor into the horse’s ear. “I may be no innocent myself, but at least I have kept that virtue intact.” He guided her out of the stable slowly and down to the promised pastures. “Now go, and fear not, I shall keep you safe. Forward!”
The unicorn raced across the fields, picking up speed as she realized that Erestor was true to his word. She pranced and trotted and did as she pleased, and even jumped imaginary hurdles now and again as they went along. Two hours later with dew stuck to her hooves and mane tangled delightedly, she finally came to a halt in the midst of a patch of lilies. “Good girl,” commended Erestor. “Shall we return?” The unicorn snorted in agreement.
When Erestor stabled the horse again, she was quite awake and spirited. He brushed out her mane and gave her a good rubbing down, while she nickered and snuffled and generally chattered on and on about her adventure in her own equine way. Erestor yawned and stretched, worn out from his ride and sore from jumping the gate earlier. He rubbed his chin as a sinister plan hatched in his mind, and opened the gate of the stall. “What about one more little adventure before bed?”
* * *
Gildor whistled his way up the stairs from the Hall of Fire. He returned to the house from the stable and meant only to stop in for a moment to see if Glorfindel had gone there after their fight. Instead, he was dragged (not unwillingly) into a conversation about the oddities of genealogy. When the music began, he politely offered to dance a few tunes with some of the ladies who had come without partners, and followed this by taking the stage himself for a few songs.
He left with a bottle of red wine and two glasses, and stopped in the kitchen to gather strawberries, a bowl of sugar, and a large slice of cheesecake. When he reached Glorfindel’s room, he had to set the tray on the floor of the hall while he unlocked the door. “Oh, lover... are you in there?”
“Mmmhhhhnnn... go away...”
Gildor chuckled softly to himself and bent down to pick up the tray. “I brought your favorite.”
“Cheesecake will not dig you out of your hole.”
“Not that, silly, me.” Gildor kicked the door closed behind him, and in the near darkness managed to set the tray on the table near the bed. There was always a single candle lit at the bedside. “Cheesecake with strawberries.” He picked up one of the small, ripe berries and bit off just the tip of it. “Mmm... want some?”
“I want to sleep.” Glorfindel yanked one of his many pillows over and covered his head with it.
Gildor sat down on the edge of the bed and slid a hand under the covers. “I came to apologize. I know that you and Erestor have been friends for a very long time, and I should be more sensitive to that. You need to accept that he and I will never be best of friends, but I shall try to tolerate him for your sake.” He touched Glorfindel’s leg and ran his fingers along the blond’s thigh. “Forgive me?”
Slowly, Glorfindel removed the pillow and sat up in bed. “Where is the cheesecake?”
“Right there. I brought wine, too.” Gildor took hold of the bottle, which was already uncorked, and poured half a glass for each of them. “Cheers.”
“I guess I can call a truce for cheesecake.” Glorfindel reached for the plate, but Gildor pulled it away.
With a cheeky smirk, Gildor knelt on the bed between Glorfindel’s legs and scooped a bite of cheesecake onto the fork. He lifted it to his own lips and placed it in his mouth, then set the fork on the plate leaned forward to use his hand to pull Glorfindel into a long kiss. When it was over, it was Glorfindel who was swallowing the cheesecake. “More?”
Glorfindel licked his lips. He had two meetings the next morning, mathematics lessons with Estel, a roster to schedule, and several other items of business to attend to. He had a feeling he would be calling in favors from Lindir to cancel his obligations and fulfill the rest for him before the sun rose. “Mmm... please...”
* * *
Erestor shut the gate as the unicorn clip-clopped in. “I think I will leave the two of you alone for a little while. Get to know each other better.” He almost thought that Asfaloth winked at him as he walked away.
* * *
Once the cheesecake and strawberries were gone, leaving only the wine in their wake, Gildor found a way to get out of his clothes and into the bed. He was now nuzzling his way down Glorfindel’s body, and Glorfindel was in the middle of a purr when he suddenly waved a hand towards the door. “Did you lock it?”
“Of course I did.” Gildor could not actually remember if he had or not, but he was not about to stop to check. Instead, he quickly moved to align his tongue with Glorfindel’s hardening erection. It took two licks to firm it up, and he was coaxing Glorfindel onto his hands and knees soon after.
“Still mad at me?” Gildor reached around Glorfindel’s hip and ghosted his fingers up and down the length. “Want me to leave?”
“I will be mad if you do.” Glorfindel moved Gildor’s fingers so that they were gripping him tighter. “Twelve years... long time...”
“Guess we need to make up for lost time.” Gildor fumbled for the drawer of the nightstand, and tossed the spare pair of glasses out onto the floor in order to get to the back where some other items, including oil, were kept. “Arch that back of yours.” He gave Glorfindel’s ass a playful slap and Glorfindel presented his backside after a momentary twitch from the unexpected contact. His cleft was liberally lubricated, and Glorfindel felt one of Gildor’s fingers exploring up and down the slick path. “Nice...” Gildor slicked his own length, and then rubbed it up and down along the tight crack. It was long ago established that Glorfindel did not wish Gildor to penetrate him until their wedding night (if ever that happened), but nearly anything else was fair game.
“Faster,” begged Glorfindel, nearly whining.
Gildor sped the movement of his hips, but with a growl Glorfindel reached back and took hold of Gildor’s hand. “Oh, that,” chuckled Gildor. He pumped his hand faster. “Clench your ass for me, honey.” Glorfindel did as told, and Gildor groaned at the increased pressure felt on his cock. “Oh, yes. Just like that.” He thrust against Glorfindel over and over until finally he felt his release.
The thick fluid spurted out, and slid down Glorfindel’s cleft. Gildor slid two fingers up and down through the moist path he had left, and then targeted Glorfindel’s entrance. The double digits swirled around and penetrated just beyond the clenching muscle. “Do you still have the gift I gave you last time I was here?”
Glorfindel groaned and rose up slightly. “In the drawer,” he managed to say, and gave a grunt when Gildor pulled away.
“You must use it. I see it is out of the box.”
“The box would not fit in the drawer,” drawled Glorfindel, but his cheeks were bright for the truth in fact was that he often used the item that had one day twelve years ago been given to him in a wooden box that was wrapped in blue paper with a white ribbon.
It was just shy of the length of Gildor’s penis when fully erect, and was forged smooth, but with bumps and curves that made each use a different sort of pleasurable experience. Gildor used the slippery mix of his own discharge and most of the remaining oil to coat the device before pressing it against Glorfindel. “How far do you usually insert it?”
Now panting heavily, Glorfindel swallowed to moisten his dry throat. “About half way.”
Gildor began to pierce Glorfindel with the implement. “Ever try going all the way before?”
“I thought.. about..” Glorfindel closed his eyes and whimpered. “Too.. too fast..”
“Mmm, no, no, no, not too fast at all,” crooned Gildor as he slid the device almost completely out of his lover’s body. He turned it slowly in his fingers, nothing more than the tip penetrating, while he used his other hand to stroke his own reawakening body. “You are just far too tight. You need to relax. Close your eyes. Slow your breath. Breathe out. Breathe in.” Fingers continued to manipulate, twisting it, keeping it just past the clenching of muscle that was slowly relaxing. “Good. Good boy. Breathe out.. and in… and out.. and..” Gildor let go of his own erection and picked up the oil, pouring what little was left of the oil over the device. “And.. in,” he growled, thrusting the entire length in as Glorfindel sucked in air and then howled into the pillows.
* * *
Erestor returned to the stable and peered into Asfaloth’s stall. “I see you have welcomed our new friend to Rivendell.” Both the large white stallion and the unicorn were nestled together in the back of the stall. It was evident from the state of the stall and from their closeness that something more than a simple welcoming had occurred. “Maybe I will just come back in the morning,” suggested Erestor to himself. He took one last quick look over his shoulder and smiled. “Remember, if anyone asks, she wandered out of her stall and you had no choice but to take her to yours for the night.” Erestor thought he saw Asfaloth wink at him in the darkness.
* * *
“You look so good when you are sated,” whispered Gildor. He brushed aside an errant golden curl that had fallen across Glorfindel’s face. “If we had not just...” He waggled his brows.
Glorfindel leaned closer and began to kiss Gildor sweetly upon the lips until Gildor returned the favor. His feet began to caress Gildor’s, and one of them rose up to stroke his lover’s calf. “We still have a few hours before morning.”
“We need more oil.”
“Check the drawer. I should have more in the back.”
Gildor kissed Glorfindel’s nose, and then crawled over Glorfindel to reach the drawer. He found what he was looking for, and pulled out the stopper. “Can I put out the candle, honey?”
Glorfindel sat up and frowned, but did not answer.
“Never mind. Sorry I asked; that was wrong of me.” Gildor set the bottle of oil onto the nightstand, returned to where he had been and started to search the blankets for the metal phallus they were using earlier. “Where did that thing go?”
A moment and a groan later, Glorfindel was handing it to Gildor. When he was given a questioning look, Glorfindel answered with a meek, “You never took it out.”
Gildor grinned. “Shall we trade roles this time?” He positioned himself on his hands and knees after giving the phallus back to Glorfindel. Glorfindel smiled and reached for the oil, and as a second thought, blew out the candle.
