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keilissTitle: A Place of Future Dreams - 3/3
Author: keiliss
Betas: ilye_elf, red_lasbelin
Rating: pg-13
Pairing: Erestor/Elf (cast = Gildor, Erestor, Glorfindel)
Timeline: T.A. 1100+
Website: Braided Light
Disclaimer: not mine, I just play with them
Summary: fireworks, rain and a flock of sheep. Or - finding love in unlikely places
Originally for the JingleBells in June swap.
The thunder had faded to a distant rumble with occasional shimmers of light across the sky to the east, but the wind had increased and the rain was relentless. Glorfindel stood in the entrance watching tree boughs slash air, their shapes stark against the night dark sky. What could be seen of the landscape was uniformly wet, cold and miserable.
Behind him the fire burnt bright and steady, bathing everything in a golden glow. Elrohir still slept, his head in Erestor’s lap. More sheep had found their way inside and their body heat helped draw the ice from the air. Central to this unlikely scene was Erestor, sitting straight and still, his hair clinging wetly about his shoulders. He was gazing into the flames, apparently lost in thought.
Glorfindel came back to crouch beside the fire, holding his hands out to it for warmth. “Anything else I can do? Fire’s built up; sheep seem to be keeping their distance…” He gestured towards Elrohir. “He’s still asleep?”
“Oh, yes… yes he is.” Erestor seemed to come back from a far place, starting and looking around vaguely when Glorfindel spoke to him. “I hope he stays like that till help comes. It shouldn’t take Gildor long to get back to the House. In fact he should already be there. He has a wonderful sense of direction.”
“Hmph.”
The snort received no response. After a minute the warrior’s eyes returned to Elrohir. “Is he still shivering?”
“A bit. He’s chilled through - his clothes were drenched.”
“He’s not the only one who got soaked,” Glorfindel pointed out. “Nothing I can do about wet clothing, but I can dry your hair off a little if you’d like?”
Erestor put a hand to his head and grimaced. “It feels like I dipped it in a bucket of water,” he acknowledged. “And it’s ice cold.”
Glorfindel went to retrieve his cloak which he had left hanging from a nail in the roof beam above the entrance. “You need to get up and walk around a little. It’ll warm you up. Elrohir will be all right next to the fire. We’re here to watch him.””
“I don’t like the idea of him lying with his head on the ground,” the seneschal admitted softly. “I know he probably won’t wake to notice it, but it feels… wrong.”
The reborn Elf thought a moment, then patted at his tunic, considering. “This isn’t too wet. If I take it off and fold it into a pillow of sorts, would that be all right?
Erestor shot him a startled look. “You can’t take your tunic off. You’ll freeze.”
Glorfindel grinned briefly, but the humour failed to touch his eyes. “I’m wearing an undershirt. Besides, this is not cold, Erestor. I have experienced ‘cold’, as has Gildor. This is merely unpleasant.”
The seneschal was momentarily puzzled, then his face cleared. “You both crossed the Ice,” he remembered. “Yes, I suppose this can’t compare.”
“Not really, no.” Glorfindel tugged damp cloth up and over his head, then rolled the tunic deftly and placed it a short distance from Erestor. “Right, let’s move him. Just slide him off your lap… that’s right…”
Elrohir murmured softly as they eased him to lie with his head cushioned by the improvised pillow but he failed to wake. His breathing seemed normal; he appeared exhausted, not unconscious. The lump on his head was more pronounced but, as best Erestor could tell, there was no other damage. However, neither he nor Glorfindel had the healer’s gift for sensing injury by touch, so a proper examination would have to wait till later.
Finally free to move, Erestor rose stiffly, stretching and yawning expansively.
“It’s been a long day?” Glorfindel agreed sympathetically.
“Long enough. First the fire and now this. My legs feel almost numb from kneeling like that.”
“Do you have any idea what happened back at the House?” Glorfindel moved up behind him as he spoke, the cloak slung over his arm. He hooked Erestor’s hair back into a single wet, black fall and squeezed gently, trying to remove excess water. “What did Elladan tell you? I only heard the end.”
“They wanted to surprise their parents when they arrived home. A joint effort - Arwen found the fireworks, Elladan brought them back up to the House, and Elrohir was charged with storing them safely. He glanced up at Glorfindel over his shoulder. “Something evidently went wrong.”
Amber-gold eyes shimmered in the soft light. Glorfindel’s breath caught; they had never been this close before. Fair, very clear skin with a dusting of freckles across nose and cheekbones. Thick, dark lashes, a sweet, well-defined mouth, that dimple... Hastily he turned Erestor back to face the fire and wrapped the cloak loosely about the tangled curls.
“Horribly wrong, yes. He’s probably lucky to be alive,” he said, belatedly resuming the conversation. “Right. Let’s see what I can do here.” Placing his hands firmly on Erestor's head, he began to rub vigorously. ‘Skull like a kitten,’ he thought distractedly. ‘Fine boned, delicate.’ He would have to be careful not to be too rough…
“When you’re finished, I’ll do the same for you,” Erestor said, interrupting his thoughts. The words came unsteadily as his head jerked under the warrior’s ministrations.
Glorfindel pulled himself together and redoubled his efforts. “Thank you. This shouldn’t take too long.”
“Does it look as bad as it feels?” Erestor asked ruefully. Even without a mirror, he could see his hair presented an unruly frazzle. Not for the first time, he wished it was straight.
Glorfindel chuckled. “I like it. I wouldn’t mind having curls.”
Erestor considered the idea and shook his head. “I can’t picture it. Yours is nice and wavy, but actual curls – somehow I think not. “
Currently the hair for which Glorfindel was named hung to his hips in a darkened, straggling mane. Erestor took the cloak and stood, waiting, until Glorfindel eventually followed his thoughts. “Would it be easier if I sat?” he asked. “Not that you’re short or anything, but…”
“… but you are over-tall,” Erestor agreed in satisfied tones. “Yes, that would be easier. I always thought the Elves of Gondolin were small-built and slender – or so I heard as a child. Stories, probably,” he added with a hasty glance up at his tall, broad-shouldered companion.
Grinning, the Elf from Gondolin tried unsuccessfully to look offended before bending to check on Elrohir, who lay curled on his side with his cheek resting on one hand. His breathing was regular and he was snoring softly. Apparently satisfied, Glorfindel moved round the fire to sit with his back to the entrance. “Many of us were tall,” he informed Erestor. “My friend Ecthelion was half a head again taller than I. Though I suppose King Turgon was – quite short. All right if I sit here?” he added.
The dark head nodded briefly. “Yes, that’s fine. So a children’s tale then, short, willowy Elves in Gondolin?” He came to kneel up behind Glorfindel as he spoke and started carefully gathering the mass of golden hair back over his shoulders. It twined round his fingers, clinging like spiderweb. “It’s not really all that wet,” he said judiciously. “I’ll just give it a quick rub. There’s a lot of it but it’s very fine – probably why it seems to dry faster than mine.”
He could hear his voice going on and on… He knew he was making a fool of himself but seemed unable to stop. Taking a breath, he set to rubbing. He wondered distantly if the reborn Elf would also, like him, find the sensation somehow – exciting. Almost arousing. He had never been this close to Glorfindel before, had never realised how big the warrior was, how – solid. Erestor compressed his lips and tried to focus on the task at hand.
“You’ve known Gildor a long time, haven’t you?” Glorfindel asked softly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
Erestor's hands slowed. “Since Lindon,” he confirmed. “He used to visit there more often than he does here. I got to know him well. Afterwards – after the War, I mean – everyone I knew was either going back over the Sea or coming here. The person I had imagined I would spend my life with - died. I felt very lost. Then Gildor invited me to travel with his people for a time.” He paused, adding with a half laugh. “That ‘time’ turned into night on six hundred years.”
“And then you came to Imladris?”
Erestor nodded, then realised Glorfindel couldn’t see him. “My company passed through here several times a year. And I’ve known Elrond for ages – from Balar days. Each time he’d ask if I was ready yet to settle down. Finally I was.”
Glorfindel nodded. “Mourning takes its own time. And so Gildor keeps visiting you now you’ve living here? That’s – a good friend.”
Erestor began carefully trying to separate the more obvious knots his attempts had created. “Gildor visits Elrond as he always has, to report. We just – pass the time when he happens to be here. That’s all.”
“If you say so,” Glorfindel responded dryly. “He spends far more time with you than he ever does with Elrond. He follows you around like a…”
“What absolute nonsense,” Erestor snapped. He felt his cheeks flaming and was glad the reborn Elf had his back to him. “I have no idea where your dislike for him comes from. You barely know him, but…”
“Not dislike, exactly, no,” Glorfindel contradicted him, unruffled. “And hardly the first time we’ve met, either. I remember him from Tirion. He hasn’t changed much.”
His tone suggested that this was not necessarily a good thing.
“You knew one another in Tirion?” Erestor asked in amazement. “Neither of you has ever said anything…”
Glorfindel was watching two large and elderly-looking sheep jostle one another for a place against the wall. “We weren’t well acquainted,” he said after a moment by way of explanation. “We moved in different circles.”
“And yet you don’t like him?” Erestor frowned. “Isn’t that a little – biased?”
“Let’s just say I knew him by reputation. And I knew at least one young girl who was a victim of his penchant for casual flirtations.”
“That,” Erestor pointed out severely, “Was thousands of years ago. People change…”
“Not that I’ve noticed. What else was he doing with you but flirting?”
“Glorfindel that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” Erestor said crossly, laying aside the cloak. “He does no such thing. We’re old friends, he always talks to me like that. Your imagination is a wondrous thing…”
“You protest too much,” Glorfindel retorted coolly over his shoulder. Turning, his eyes serious, he studied the dark-haired Elf. Then, almost casually, he slung an arm around the seneschal’s waist and pulled him into his lap. Placing a firm hand under Erestor's chin, he tipped his face upwards and kissed him.
It was neither a timid nor a tentative sort of kiss. There was a brush of lips, then the warrior drew back, his eyes on Erestor's mouth. As the seneschal drew breath to speak, Glorfindel bent and claimed him, his tongue passing slickly along the inner side of a full lower lip before delving deep within. Arms tightening, he slid a hand behind the dark head, cupping it and keeping it steady while his tongue tasted and savoured, sliding warmly against Erestor's own, teasing, pressing, finally engaging.
Erestor placed a hand against his chest and pushed – but not very hard. For a minute he kept absolutely still, not believing what was happening, and then warmth slowly crept over him, a sweet tingling sensation the like of which he had not felt for the longest time. Slowly his hand moved seemingly of its own volition; from chest to shoulder, from shoulder beneath damp hair to the back of Glorfindel’s neck. Closing his eyes he returned the kiss, slowly at first, and then with increasing fervour.
The moment ended when a restless sheep wandered over just as Glorfindel slid a warm hand under Erestor's still-damp tunic. The first cautious touch coincided with an exploratory nibble to the seneschal’s calf, causing him to jerk away with a startled yelp. Glorfindel snatched his hand back as though stung. Spotting the cause of the problem, he leapt to his feet, uttering a curse Erestor made a mental note to ask him to repeat later. Slowly.
Having fully intimidated the renegade sheep into rejoining the flock huddled on the opposite side of the shelter, Glorfindel returned and sank back down beside Erestor, who was still chuckling at his fury. He looked an invitation, and the seneschal moved smiling back into his embrace, reclining across his lap with his head against Glorfindel’s shoulder much as he had been sitting earlier. He reached up to play with a lock of golden hair, watching the warrior silently, amber eyes solemn beneath dark lashes.
“You taste like summer,” Glorfindel said quietly after a while, his voice no louder than the crackle of the fire, the patter of the rain. “I have wanted to kiss you for the longest time…”
He traced a finger across Erestor's cheekbone and up to follow the line of his eyebrow. A touch to the tip of his nose evinced a small smile, but still no words. Glorfindel finally shook his shoulder lightly. “Say something. Come, you’re making me nervous.”
“For once in my life, I think I’m too flabbergasted to know what to say,” Erestor admitted on a gust of laughter. “Though I suppose we can hardly just sit here in silence. Perhaps you need to kiss me again while I’m trying to think of something to talk about?” The smile faded and his eyes searched Glorfindel’s face, serious. “Kiss me again. Please?”
The fire was starting to burn low. Erestor made careful work of positioning the last two pieces of wood while Glorfindel checked on Elrohir, making sure he was breathing evenly and that he was warm. The slide of muscle beneath the blonde Elf’s thin cotton undershirt caught Erestor's eye, and he smiled spontaneously. Glorfindel chose that moment to look in his direction and his lips curved in reply.
“It’s just somehow – right – isn’t it?” the warrior asked. “The setting? Small, intimate, the fire holds back the dark, the light softens everything, makes the banal beautiful. Even the sheep…” He grinned, straightening up. “Even the sheep add ambiance.”
He returned to sit behind Erestor, watching him nudge and adjust the wood, add twigs to the flames. "You do that well," he remarked, running a finger lightly down the seneschal’s back as he spoke.
Erestor glanced over his shoulder at him, smiled. "Years of practice."
Finished, he brushed his hands off and shuffled back to lean against Glorfindel. "I can't light a fire the way Gildor does," he explained. "He has the Gift, he can hold his hand over wood and warm it. But once it's lit, I can keep it going well enough. You learn that in the Companies. Fire is important; it holds back the creatures that walk in the dark."
Glorfindel stroked the unruly dark curls aside and pressed a soft kiss to Erestor's neck. "I remember that from the road to Gondolin," he said. "To begin with we lit fires every night and sat close around them. Then when we reached the mountains we received the order that there were to be no more fires, nothing to give away our position. The nights were... very dark. We doubled the watch, although no one wanted to admit it was because there were no fires. We crossed the Ice without any such aids after all, we remembered times before there were either sun or moon. Darkness should not have given us pause."
Erestor rested his head back against the reborn Elf's broad shoulder and listened to the husky voice reminiscing close beside his ear. Outside the wind still raged and the rain came in occasional drifts that sounded almost like handfuls of small stones striking the ground. Inside there was a tiny, self-contained world the like of which he had not shared for a very long time. He turned his head and kissed Glorfindel, aiming for his cheek and finding his jawline instead. He was hugged in return.
"I was born in Nargothrond," he said, unsure if he had ever mentioned this before. "All of that was before my time, another world, but I heard of it from my family. My parents were amongst those who followed Fingolfin across to Middle-earth."
Glorfindel nodded. "Long way from Nargothrond to being a member of one of the wandering companies," he ventured, approaching the main question in his mind from a tangent.
Erestor laughed briefly and nodded. "Perhaps, yes. I spent time with one of the early companies after - after Nargothrond fell. Those few of us who survived did the best we could. I was lucky, they took me in for a while, long enough for me to travel with them to the coast to join Cirdan's people. From there to Balar, from Balar to Lindon."
"And from Lindon back into the wild."
Erestor nodded and settled his head against Glorfindel's, their cheeks touching. One of the sheep wandered too close to the fire and they made shooing noises before turning to exchange smiles.
"And from that to Imladris," the seneschal finished more cheerfully. "A checkered life, but most of us born in the First Age can claim the same. Some more than others," he added after a moment's thought.
The circuitous route worked less well than the Elf from Gondolin had hoped. He decided on the direct approach. "You and Gildor...?"
Erestor pulled away from him and turned to sit so that they faced one another. "You keep implying something there," he said, frowning. "In fact there is nothing to imply. Gildor gave me a place to heal and his friendship. Nothing more. I know he has a reputation for casual involvements, but I assure you I was not one such."
Glorfindel shook his head, his hands closing lightly over the seneschal's upper arms. "I never meant to imply that," he said quietly, his eyes meeting Erestor's with sincerity. "I just picked up an - atmosphere - between you and wanted to make sure I wasn't intruding on something with... well... this."
"This?" Erestor quirked an eyebrow, managing to keep a serious expression on his face. "And 'this' would be...?"
Silence between them, punctuated by a shoal of rain.
"I don't know," Glorfindel finally admitted. "A beginning of some kind? For us both?"
Erestor looked down, his stillness a tangible thing. When he looked up his face was grave and vulnerable in the half light. "There has to be a new thing eventually, doesn't there?" he asked uncertainly. "Eventually. Not an end to memories or anything, just... something new?"
Somewhere not far away, horses could be heard and sounds that might belong to a cart. Gildor’s impeccable timing, Glorfindel thought. Ignoring them, he drew Erestor against him and held him gently. "Something new," he agreed, a hand to the seneschal’s cheek. “Not an end, just... different memories to add to the ones we bring with us from our past? Nothing done in a rush, either. Just an agreement to see where the road will lead us. Will that answer for you?"
Erestor had plainly heard the horses, too. His eyes flickered to the entrance, then returned to study Glorfindel’s face. Finally he nodded. "That answers, yes." A smile tugged at his lips. "No commitment - what happens, happen. I like that. Do you think we have time to seal it with a kiss before they arrive?"
Something new, somewhere beyond loss and sorrow. A place of hope and future dreams. Taking Erestor's face between his hands, Glorfindel smiled down into his eyes. "Sounds like an excellent idea to me.”
Caedion - son of the land
Níngabel - leaping waters
Cyllon - bearer
Berianir - protecting
Onnenad - born again
Author: keiliss
Betas: ilye_elf, red_lasbelin
Rating: pg-13
Pairing: Erestor/Elf (cast = Gildor, Erestor, Glorfindel)
Timeline: T.A. 1100+
Website: Braided Light
Disclaimer: not mine, I just play with them
Summary: fireworks, rain and a flock of sheep. Or - finding love in unlikely places
Originally for the JingleBells in June swap.
A Place of Future Dreams
Part Three
The thunder had faded to a distant rumble with occasional shimmers of light across the sky to the east, but the wind had increased and the rain was relentless. Glorfindel stood in the entrance watching tree boughs slash air, their shapes stark against the night dark sky. What could be seen of the landscape was uniformly wet, cold and miserable.
Behind him the fire burnt bright and steady, bathing everything in a golden glow. Elrohir still slept, his head in Erestor’s lap. More sheep had found their way inside and their body heat helped draw the ice from the air. Central to this unlikely scene was Erestor, sitting straight and still, his hair clinging wetly about his shoulders. He was gazing into the flames, apparently lost in thought.
Glorfindel came back to crouch beside the fire, holding his hands out to it for warmth. “Anything else I can do? Fire’s built up; sheep seem to be keeping their distance…” He gestured towards Elrohir. “He’s still asleep?”
“Oh, yes… yes he is.” Erestor seemed to come back from a far place, starting and looking around vaguely when Glorfindel spoke to him. “I hope he stays like that till help comes. It shouldn’t take Gildor long to get back to the House. In fact he should already be there. He has a wonderful sense of direction.”
“Hmph.”
The snort received no response. After a minute the warrior’s eyes returned to Elrohir. “Is he still shivering?”
“A bit. He’s chilled through - his clothes were drenched.”
“He’s not the only one who got soaked,” Glorfindel pointed out. “Nothing I can do about wet clothing, but I can dry your hair off a little if you’d like?”
Erestor put a hand to his head and grimaced. “It feels like I dipped it in a bucket of water,” he acknowledged. “And it’s ice cold.”
Glorfindel went to retrieve his cloak which he had left hanging from a nail in the roof beam above the entrance. “You need to get up and walk around a little. It’ll warm you up. Elrohir will be all right next to the fire. We’re here to watch him.””
“I don’t like the idea of him lying with his head on the ground,” the seneschal admitted softly. “I know he probably won’t wake to notice it, but it feels… wrong.”
The reborn Elf thought a moment, then patted at his tunic, considering. “This isn’t too wet. If I take it off and fold it into a pillow of sorts, would that be all right?
Erestor shot him a startled look. “You can’t take your tunic off. You’ll freeze.”
Glorfindel grinned briefly, but the humour failed to touch his eyes. “I’m wearing an undershirt. Besides, this is not cold, Erestor. I have experienced ‘cold’, as has Gildor. This is merely unpleasant.”
The seneschal was momentarily puzzled, then his face cleared. “You both crossed the Ice,” he remembered. “Yes, I suppose this can’t compare.”
“Not really, no.” Glorfindel tugged damp cloth up and over his head, then rolled the tunic deftly and placed it a short distance from Erestor. “Right, let’s move him. Just slide him off your lap… that’s right…”
Elrohir murmured softly as they eased him to lie with his head cushioned by the improvised pillow but he failed to wake. His breathing seemed normal; he appeared exhausted, not unconscious. The lump on his head was more pronounced but, as best Erestor could tell, there was no other damage. However, neither he nor Glorfindel had the healer’s gift for sensing injury by touch, so a proper examination would have to wait till later.
Finally free to move, Erestor rose stiffly, stretching and yawning expansively.
“It’s been a long day?” Glorfindel agreed sympathetically.
“Long enough. First the fire and now this. My legs feel almost numb from kneeling like that.”
“Do you have any idea what happened back at the House?” Glorfindel moved up behind him as he spoke, the cloak slung over his arm. He hooked Erestor’s hair back into a single wet, black fall and squeezed gently, trying to remove excess water. “What did Elladan tell you? I only heard the end.”
“They wanted to surprise their parents when they arrived home. A joint effort - Arwen found the fireworks, Elladan brought them back up to the House, and Elrohir was charged with storing them safely. He glanced up at Glorfindel over his shoulder. “Something evidently went wrong.”
Amber-gold eyes shimmered in the soft light. Glorfindel’s breath caught; they had never been this close before. Fair, very clear skin with a dusting of freckles across nose and cheekbones. Thick, dark lashes, a sweet, well-defined mouth, that dimple... Hastily he turned Erestor back to face the fire and wrapped the cloak loosely about the tangled curls.
“Horribly wrong, yes. He’s probably lucky to be alive,” he said, belatedly resuming the conversation. “Right. Let’s see what I can do here.” Placing his hands firmly on Erestor's head, he began to rub vigorously. ‘Skull like a kitten,’ he thought distractedly. ‘Fine boned, delicate.’ He would have to be careful not to be too rough…
“When you’re finished, I’ll do the same for you,” Erestor said, interrupting his thoughts. The words came unsteadily as his head jerked under the warrior’s ministrations.
Glorfindel pulled himself together and redoubled his efforts. “Thank you. This shouldn’t take too long.”
=====
“Does it look as bad as it feels?” Erestor asked ruefully. Even without a mirror, he could see his hair presented an unruly frazzle. Not for the first time, he wished it was straight.
Glorfindel chuckled. “I like it. I wouldn’t mind having curls.”
Erestor considered the idea and shook his head. “I can’t picture it. Yours is nice and wavy, but actual curls – somehow I think not. “
Currently the hair for which Glorfindel was named hung to his hips in a darkened, straggling mane. Erestor took the cloak and stood, waiting, until Glorfindel eventually followed his thoughts. “Would it be easier if I sat?” he asked. “Not that you’re short or anything, but…”
“… but you are over-tall,” Erestor agreed in satisfied tones. “Yes, that would be easier. I always thought the Elves of Gondolin were small-built and slender – or so I heard as a child. Stories, probably,” he added with a hasty glance up at his tall, broad-shouldered companion.
Grinning, the Elf from Gondolin tried unsuccessfully to look offended before bending to check on Elrohir, who lay curled on his side with his cheek resting on one hand. His breathing was regular and he was snoring softly. Apparently satisfied, Glorfindel moved round the fire to sit with his back to the entrance. “Many of us were tall,” he informed Erestor. “My friend Ecthelion was half a head again taller than I. Though I suppose King Turgon was – quite short. All right if I sit here?” he added.
The dark head nodded briefly. “Yes, that’s fine. So a children’s tale then, short, willowy Elves in Gondolin?” He came to kneel up behind Glorfindel as he spoke and started carefully gathering the mass of golden hair back over his shoulders. It twined round his fingers, clinging like spiderweb. “It’s not really all that wet,” he said judiciously. “I’ll just give it a quick rub. There’s a lot of it but it’s very fine – probably why it seems to dry faster than mine.”
He could hear his voice going on and on… He knew he was making a fool of himself but seemed unable to stop. Taking a breath, he set to rubbing. He wondered distantly if the reborn Elf would also, like him, find the sensation somehow – exciting. Almost arousing. He had never been this close to Glorfindel before, had never realised how big the warrior was, how – solid. Erestor compressed his lips and tried to focus on the task at hand.
“You’ve known Gildor a long time, haven’t you?” Glorfindel asked softly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
Erestor's hands slowed. “Since Lindon,” he confirmed. “He used to visit there more often than he does here. I got to know him well. Afterwards – after the War, I mean – everyone I knew was either going back over the Sea or coming here. The person I had imagined I would spend my life with - died. I felt very lost. Then Gildor invited me to travel with his people for a time.” He paused, adding with a half laugh. “That ‘time’ turned into night on six hundred years.”
“And then you came to Imladris?”
Erestor nodded, then realised Glorfindel couldn’t see him. “My company passed through here several times a year. And I’ve known Elrond for ages – from Balar days. Each time he’d ask if I was ready yet to settle down. Finally I was.”
Glorfindel nodded. “Mourning takes its own time. And so Gildor keeps visiting you now you’ve living here? That’s – a good friend.”
Erestor began carefully trying to separate the more obvious knots his attempts had created. “Gildor visits Elrond as he always has, to report. We just – pass the time when he happens to be here. That’s all.”
“If you say so,” Glorfindel responded dryly. “He spends far more time with you than he ever does with Elrond. He follows you around like a…”
“What absolute nonsense,” Erestor snapped. He felt his cheeks flaming and was glad the reborn Elf had his back to him. “I have no idea where your dislike for him comes from. You barely know him, but…”
“Not dislike, exactly, no,” Glorfindel contradicted him, unruffled. “And hardly the first time we’ve met, either. I remember him from Tirion. He hasn’t changed much.”
His tone suggested that this was not necessarily a good thing.
“You knew one another in Tirion?” Erestor asked in amazement. “Neither of you has ever said anything…”
Glorfindel was watching two large and elderly-looking sheep jostle one another for a place against the wall. “We weren’t well acquainted,” he said after a moment by way of explanation. “We moved in different circles.”
“And yet you don’t like him?” Erestor frowned. “Isn’t that a little – biased?”
“Let’s just say I knew him by reputation. And I knew at least one young girl who was a victim of his penchant for casual flirtations.”
“That,” Erestor pointed out severely, “Was thousands of years ago. People change…”
“Not that I’ve noticed. What else was he doing with you but flirting?”
“Glorfindel that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” Erestor said crossly, laying aside the cloak. “He does no such thing. We’re old friends, he always talks to me like that. Your imagination is a wondrous thing…”
“You protest too much,” Glorfindel retorted coolly over his shoulder. Turning, his eyes serious, he studied the dark-haired Elf. Then, almost casually, he slung an arm around the seneschal’s waist and pulled him into his lap. Placing a firm hand under Erestor's chin, he tipped his face upwards and kissed him.
It was neither a timid nor a tentative sort of kiss. There was a brush of lips, then the warrior drew back, his eyes on Erestor's mouth. As the seneschal drew breath to speak, Glorfindel bent and claimed him, his tongue passing slickly along the inner side of a full lower lip before delving deep within. Arms tightening, he slid a hand behind the dark head, cupping it and keeping it steady while his tongue tasted and savoured, sliding warmly against Erestor's own, teasing, pressing, finally engaging.
Erestor placed a hand against his chest and pushed – but not very hard. For a minute he kept absolutely still, not believing what was happening, and then warmth slowly crept over him, a sweet tingling sensation the like of which he had not felt for the longest time. Slowly his hand moved seemingly of its own volition; from chest to shoulder, from shoulder beneath damp hair to the back of Glorfindel’s neck. Closing his eyes he returned the kiss, slowly at first, and then with increasing fervour.
The moment ended when a restless sheep wandered over just as Glorfindel slid a warm hand under Erestor's still-damp tunic. The first cautious touch coincided with an exploratory nibble to the seneschal’s calf, causing him to jerk away with a startled yelp. Glorfindel snatched his hand back as though stung. Spotting the cause of the problem, he leapt to his feet, uttering a curse Erestor made a mental note to ask him to repeat later. Slowly.
Having fully intimidated the renegade sheep into rejoining the flock huddled on the opposite side of the shelter, Glorfindel returned and sank back down beside Erestor, who was still chuckling at his fury. He looked an invitation, and the seneschal moved smiling back into his embrace, reclining across his lap with his head against Glorfindel’s shoulder much as he had been sitting earlier. He reached up to play with a lock of golden hair, watching the warrior silently, amber eyes solemn beneath dark lashes.
“You taste like summer,” Glorfindel said quietly after a while, his voice no louder than the crackle of the fire, the patter of the rain. “I have wanted to kiss you for the longest time…”
He traced a finger across Erestor's cheekbone and up to follow the line of his eyebrow. A touch to the tip of his nose evinced a small smile, but still no words. Glorfindel finally shook his shoulder lightly. “Say something. Come, you’re making me nervous.”
“For once in my life, I think I’m too flabbergasted to know what to say,” Erestor admitted on a gust of laughter. “Though I suppose we can hardly just sit here in silence. Perhaps you need to kiss me again while I’m trying to think of something to talk about?” The smile faded and his eyes searched Glorfindel’s face, serious. “Kiss me again. Please?”
=====
The fire was starting to burn low. Erestor made careful work of positioning the last two pieces of wood while Glorfindel checked on Elrohir, making sure he was breathing evenly and that he was warm. The slide of muscle beneath the blonde Elf’s thin cotton undershirt caught Erestor's eye, and he smiled spontaneously. Glorfindel chose that moment to look in his direction and his lips curved in reply.
“It’s just somehow – right – isn’t it?” the warrior asked. “The setting? Small, intimate, the fire holds back the dark, the light softens everything, makes the banal beautiful. Even the sheep…” He grinned, straightening up. “Even the sheep add ambiance.”
He returned to sit behind Erestor, watching him nudge and adjust the wood, add twigs to the flames. "You do that well," he remarked, running a finger lightly down the seneschal’s back as he spoke.
Erestor glanced over his shoulder at him, smiled. "Years of practice."
Finished, he brushed his hands off and shuffled back to lean against Glorfindel. "I can't light a fire the way Gildor does," he explained. "He has the Gift, he can hold his hand over wood and warm it. But once it's lit, I can keep it going well enough. You learn that in the Companies. Fire is important; it holds back the creatures that walk in the dark."
Glorfindel stroked the unruly dark curls aside and pressed a soft kiss to Erestor's neck. "I remember that from the road to Gondolin," he said. "To begin with we lit fires every night and sat close around them. Then when we reached the mountains we received the order that there were to be no more fires, nothing to give away our position. The nights were... very dark. We doubled the watch, although no one wanted to admit it was because there were no fires. We crossed the Ice without any such aids after all, we remembered times before there were either sun or moon. Darkness should not have given us pause."
Erestor rested his head back against the reborn Elf's broad shoulder and listened to the husky voice reminiscing close beside his ear. Outside the wind still raged and the rain came in occasional drifts that sounded almost like handfuls of small stones striking the ground. Inside there was a tiny, self-contained world the like of which he had not shared for a very long time. He turned his head and kissed Glorfindel, aiming for his cheek and finding his jawline instead. He was hugged in return.
"I was born in Nargothrond," he said, unsure if he had ever mentioned this before. "All of that was before my time, another world, but I heard of it from my family. My parents were amongst those who followed Fingolfin across to Middle-earth."
Glorfindel nodded. "Long way from Nargothrond to being a member of one of the wandering companies," he ventured, approaching the main question in his mind from a tangent.
Erestor laughed briefly and nodded. "Perhaps, yes. I spent time with one of the early companies after - after Nargothrond fell. Those few of us who survived did the best we could. I was lucky, they took me in for a while, long enough for me to travel with them to the coast to join Cirdan's people. From there to Balar, from Balar to Lindon."
"And from Lindon back into the wild."
Erestor nodded and settled his head against Glorfindel's, their cheeks touching. One of the sheep wandered too close to the fire and they made shooing noises before turning to exchange smiles.
"And from that to Imladris," the seneschal finished more cheerfully. "A checkered life, but most of us born in the First Age can claim the same. Some more than others," he added after a moment's thought.
The circuitous route worked less well than the Elf from Gondolin had hoped. He decided on the direct approach. "You and Gildor...?"
Erestor pulled away from him and turned to sit so that they faced one another. "You keep implying something there," he said, frowning. "In fact there is nothing to imply. Gildor gave me a place to heal and his friendship. Nothing more. I know he has a reputation for casual involvements, but I assure you I was not one such."
Glorfindel shook his head, his hands closing lightly over the seneschal's upper arms. "I never meant to imply that," he said quietly, his eyes meeting Erestor's with sincerity. "I just picked up an - atmosphere - between you and wanted to make sure I wasn't intruding on something with... well... this."
"This?" Erestor quirked an eyebrow, managing to keep a serious expression on his face. "And 'this' would be...?"
Silence between them, punctuated by a shoal of rain.
"I don't know," Glorfindel finally admitted. "A beginning of some kind? For us both?"
Erestor looked down, his stillness a tangible thing. When he looked up his face was grave and vulnerable in the half light. "There has to be a new thing eventually, doesn't there?" he asked uncertainly. "Eventually. Not an end to memories or anything, just... something new?"
Somewhere not far away, horses could be heard and sounds that might belong to a cart. Gildor’s impeccable timing, Glorfindel thought. Ignoring them, he drew Erestor against him and held him gently. "Something new," he agreed, a hand to the seneschal’s cheek. “Not an end, just... different memories to add to the ones we bring with us from our past? Nothing done in a rush, either. Just an agreement to see where the road will lead us. Will that answer for you?"
Erestor had plainly heard the horses, too. His eyes flickered to the entrance, then returned to study Glorfindel’s face. Finally he nodded. "That answers, yes." A smile tugged at his lips. "No commitment - what happens, happen. I like that. Do you think we have time to seal it with a kiss before they arrive?"
Something new, somewhere beyond loss and sorrow. A place of hope and future dreams. Taking Erestor's face between his hands, Glorfindel smiled down into his eyes. "Sounds like an excellent idea to me.”
&&&&&
Caedion - son of the land
Níngabel - leaping waters
Cyllon - bearer
Berianir - protecting
Onnenad - born again
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Date: 2007-07-05 16:31 (UTC)Lovely story, dear. And lovely ending.
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Date: 2007-07-05 17:49 (UTC)Hope all is well with you m'dear.
Hugs
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Date: 2007-07-05 17:56 (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-05 23:20 (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-06 01:58 (UTC)*hugs*
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Date: 2007-07-07 00:44 (UTC)Thank you so much for commenting. *hugs*
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Date: 2007-07-07 00:46 (UTC)Hate it when they sulk.
Thanks so much for reading, and for all the great feedback.
*hugs*
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Date: 2007-07-07 00:48 (UTC)It was great to get your email - I'll answer it this evening and explain why I was so slow getting back to you. Missed you :).
*hugs*
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Date: 2007-07-07 00:51 (UTC)Thanks for reading - I'm happy you enjoyed it *hugs*
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Date: 2007-07-07 01:45 (UTC)Thank you for this lovely, three part review, dear. Your comments are, as always, wonderfully insightful and immensely encouraging. I've also spent time comparing the contrast between the two fics - well fic and ficlet, really - and I'm not sure which I think would be truer to their nature as I see these elves. Strangely, I suspect Winter's End might be the more probable for someone who had grown as accustomed to being alone as had Erestor. Sometimes we need to be shaken out of our comfort zone. Still, a fire, a huge storm, getting soaked to the skin, and sharing a shelter with a flock of sheep might well be sufficient to do that, too *grins*.
Save for a nagging cold, I'm well - hope all is as it should be with you, too. You owe me an email :)
*hugs*
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Date: 2007-07-12 05:31 (UTC)I was rooting for Glory, I admit. But an outtake or what if might not go amiss...
Loved this -
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Date: 2007-07-12 20:31 (UTC)Thank you for all your help with this fic,dear. It owes a lot to your eye and sense of rightness.
*hugs*
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Date: 2007-09-13 02:59 (UTC)Alright. Enough about hair. One might think I had some sort of fetish... :D
So... what I find myself curious about is Elrohir. Does he regain his memory? And why is he obsessed with Balrogs?
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Date: 2007-09-13 21:10 (UTC)LOL!!
Oh, I have half of part four written, Ilye stopped me by pointing out I would need to write another ten pages to finish it off and I was out of time... But it's there. Arwen just wandered over to Erestor.... This fic grabbed hold of me and forced me to keep writing, and I've been hiding from it ever since. Now look what you've done - you've made me think about it again :|
Seriously - thanks so much for commenting. Glad you liked it - and the curls, glad you liked the curls. Erestor now has the hair I always wanted.
I'll be posting a fic that includes Laslech in the cast within the next few days. Just thought I'd mention it. Not to sound desperate for readers or anything...
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Date: 2007-09-14 03:27 (UTC)And Double-Yay!!! Laslech!!!! I just love Elrond and his puppy. Definately keeping an eye out for that!
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Date: 2007-09-19 01:24 (UTC)Elrond and his dog - and Gil and Elrond's dog - have been posted. Finally.
I've always wondered - why do you have two ljs? Just curious.
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Date: 2007-09-19 01:52 (UTC)And that is the long of it. :D
Now, I am off to read your Elrond and puppy story!! Yay!!