Characters: Erestor, Glorfindel, Elrond, OC's

Rating: R (see warnings)

Warnings: Language, bigotry, AU

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings or its characters. I make no money from this fiction.

Summary: I…I thought I was the only one.


"Where do you think you're going, queer?"

Erestor stilled, holding his books close to his chest as if they could protect him from the pain he knew was coming.

"I'm just trying to get to class…" Erestor said demurely, trying to be as uninteresting as possible. Maybe then they would go away. Just walking from home to the Last Homely House to attend classes with Lord Elrond had become a daily torture since he and his fellow classmates had grown to the awkward age of not-quite child and not-quite adult. The age where youths defined themselves, their states of being, and slowly evolved into what they would one day become.

Erestor, over the course of inept puberty and gangly adolescence, had discovered he was attracted not the opposite sex but to his own. And then, he had made the ultimate mistake of shyly flirting with one of the young warriors he was schooled with.

The fallout had been extraordinary.

Since that day, Erestor had been taunted and habitually beaten by the other boys. Now, nearly at their majorities, the boys had yet to cease their constant badgering of the much smaller scholar. To add insult to injury, Erestor was the only male in his age group to become a scholar instead of a warrior, leaving him vulnerable to any attack made by the others.

One of the other boys grabbed Erestor's books from his hands and began going through them. Disgusted, he threw them in the dirt one by one. "Just the kind of stuff I would expect a little pussy-boy like you to read."

"Lord Elrond assigned them to me…" the dark-haired boy said defensively.

Erestor's neatly braided hair was grabbed by the larger boy, and his face turned up the meet the glaring visage above him. Corchvorn. The staunchest adversary Erestor faced. The ring-leader of the gang that constantly harassed him. "Are you trying to tell me that a great warrior like Lord Elrond reads that kind of crap? He probably didn't want to offend your tender sensibilities with something a little more meaty. Wouldn't want to the little queer boy crying like a girl if he read anything violent." The other boys laughed as Erestor was flung onto his knees.

"You going to the ball tomorrow night, sweetheart? Got a hot date?"

Erestor gathered his courage. He wouldn't give in to their taunting. It only made it worse. "I don't intent on going to the ball," he replied. And really, he didn't. The ball had several purposes, the least of which was to simply provide entertainment. It was a chance to display one's wealth in the richly designed costumes and jewelry. It was a chance to show off one's offspring, how beautiful they were, how marriageable. It was a chance to flaunt relations and lucrative betrothals.

Erestor had none of these. He was not betrothed, and neither would he be. News of his affliction had traveled fast after the initial blowup among the youths. It had taken no time for his classmates to tell their parents, who talked to their peers. He was an outcast. Different. Tainted.

A sharp laugh. "I bet not. What girl would want to go with you? You're prettier than they are."

"He looks like a girl today," commented one of the other boys who reached down to pull on Erestor's dark tresses. "You like men so much you're turning into a girl!" The other boys laughed again.

"I am not a girl!" Erestor ground out. His resolve to not react to their petty taunting was rapidly disintegrating.

"You're not, huh? Well, we'll just have to take a peak under those pretty robes to see if you're telling the truth."

Frightened, Erestor tried to twist out of the steel grasp he had found himself in only to be pinned to the ground as hands started tearing away his robes.

"No! Please don't! Please!" His robes fell away, and his shirt came shortly after. "Stop!"

"Children!" Came a deep voice, belonging not to a boys, but to a fully grown male.

The pillaging hands disappeared and the young men slowly backed away from the nearly bare Erestor. The young darkling was trying his best to cover his naked chest with the remnants of his shirt. Luckily, they had not yet gotten to his leggings when the elder had arrived. He hung his head in shamed embarrassment, tears falling unbidden down his cheeks.

The other boys had automatically formed a line, just as they had been taught on the training field. Erestor's savior glared at the assembled younglings.

"Just what were you doing?" he asked softly.

"We thought we would see whether or not he was truly male. We had our doubts," said Corchvorn with a self-satisfied air. He smirked at the elder conspiratorially, as if the older elf were in on an inside joke only they knew.

"Excuse me?" the older elf asked incredulously.

"He likes cock so much we thought the little faggot might actually be a female, considering how pretty he is. We just thought we would take a little look…" was as far as he got before he was slapped across the face.

"I will not tolerate such foul language from my troops. Nor will I tolerate such bigotry. Where did you learn this filth?"

The shocked and outraged boy stared at Glorfindel in anger. "My Ada says that…"

"Your Ada is a fool if he has filled your head with such nonsense. I will see you all on the training grounds before dawn tomorrow for your punishment. If you or your parents disapprove of my methods or beliefs, then you can feel free to withdraw yourselves from the training program and join the scribes. You are dismissed."

The young men walked away, utterly confused and terribly upset by their commander's words. They had been doing such things for years now, and no one had deemed to stopp them. In fact, their treatment of Erestor had been applauded by their parents. Unclean they had called the young elf. Unnatural, freak, faggot were words that had frequently been used to describe Erestor. Such disgusting habits were not those of good warriors, they had been told by their fathers. These behaviors were the mark of a weak ellon not worthy of becoming a warrior. The youths did not understand what they had done wrong.

The elder elf bent down and helped a still shaking Erestor to his feet. He picked up the books scattered about the ground as well as the remains of the younger elf's clothing.

"How often does this happen?" he asked with concern.

"Often enough," whispered Erestor who had hidden his face behind the hair that had fallen from its braids.

"I'm sorry that this seems to be a repeat occurrence. If I had known I would have put a stop to it before not." He unhooked his light cloak of office and draped it about the young elf's shoulders.

"Thank you, my Lord….?" Erestor hesitated, not knowing any of the guards as he spent his time holed up in the library.

"Glorfindel," said the elder elf gently.

Erestor sucked in a breath and started trembling minutely. This was one of the greatest warriors of all time, a legend….a very, very masculine elf. If anything, he should have been disgusted by Erestor and his unnatural preferences. The dark elf had never seen the Seneschal before, and admittedly he had never wanted to, fearing the ridicule he would receive from a warrior of his status.

"I….I'm v-very s-sorry for taking u-up y-your time, my Lord Glorfindel. I will just…"

"Wait," Glorfindel said as he put his hand on the fleeing youth's shoulder. He turned Erestor around and lifted his chin to examine his face.

Erestor looked into deep, cerulean eyes and became wholly embarrassed as he felt his body respond to the older elf. He flushed hotly in utter humiliation.

Glorfindel touched his face and brushed back long, inky black hair. "You have quite a few scratches and cuts. You should have these seen to," he said with a touch of worry.

"I'll be fine," Erestor protested.

"No. I insist you get these treated." Erestor hung his head again. Glorfindel's eyes brightened in sudden understanding. "You do not want anyone to know."

"Please. Just let it go. I'll be healed in a couple of days. Just like always…"

"I will do everything I can to make certain this never happens again. I promise, young one." Erestor looked dubious of such outrageous words, but he didn't have much time to contemplate them. The blond helped the youth to his feet and helped him wrap the cloak around him to cover his partial nudity. "Let's get you cleaned up…?" Glorfindel ended his sentence with a questioning air, looking at the darkling expectantly.

"Oh," Erestor startled a little, fluttering his hands. "Erestor. My name is Erestor."

"Erestor. What a beautiful name."

The darkling blushed heavily at the compliment and cast his gaze downward.

"Now here," Glorfindel tutted, tilting the small, triangular face upward again with a large, sword-calloused hand. "What's that all about?"

"I-it's j-just that, um. Well, I guess…I," Erestor stuttered.

Glorfindel smiled indulgently. "Never you mind," he said. "Now come, into the House and we'll treat your wounds."

Glorfindel pulled the much smaller elf alongside of him as he made his way to his rooms. Erestor was terribly torn. On one hand, Glorfindel was acting very chivalrous and polite. On the other…Glorfindel was the physical embodiment of everything Erestor would never be and the role model for all the boys that ritualistically ridiculed him. What if they had learned any of their horrible insults from this ultimate warrior of warriors?

Frightened but conditioned to do as his elders bid him, Erestor padded beside Glorfindel into the tastefully decorated and neatly cleaned halls of the high ranking elves in the Valley. Glorfindel would have a suite of rooms fit to his ranking, Erestor knew, and the Seneschal was of nearly equal status with Lord Elrond. Erestor gulped and clutched the impromptu covering closer to his chest.

They stopped in front of a dark wood door. Glorfindel unlocked it with a heavy metal key pulled from his pocket and ushered the smaller elf inside.

Glorfindel sat Erestor on a stool next to an ornate and obviously antique vanity, and he busied himself finding his ointments and cleaning necessities. He also dug a soft, well-worn shirt from his wardrobe and handed it to the boy who immediately put it on. It was much too large for his small frame, but at least hit gave him decent covering.

"Why don't you tell me what happened from the beginning," suggested the warrior as he began to gently clean the abrasions on Erestor's pale face. Slowly, the youth related the day's events as he was systematically cleaned, pausing to hiss now and again as the stinging herbs were used on a particularly deep wound.

"Why does Elrond not take care of this? Surely he would not stand for the other boy's actions."

"I've never told him," Erestor said, looking away.

"Why?"

"I…I didn't want him to make me leave. I could never be a warrior. I just want to be a scribe, maybe a councilor. I was afraid he wouldn't want someone like me in his household if he knew I was a…" his voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper, "unclean queer."

Large hands once again cupped his chin and made him look into blindingly brilliant eyes.

"I never want to hear that from you again. There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing."

"But my parents said…"

Blue eyes widened incredulously. "Your parents are telling you such nonsense, too?" A dark head nodded a miniscule amount. "What has this world come to?" he questioned no one in particular.

Glorfindel knelt in front of the young elf and looked into his dark chocolate eyes. "I know that you do not believe me," the warrior began, "but I swear there is nothing wrong with being attracted to your own sex. Lord Elrond would verify my words if you were to ask. Just because you have a rare preference does not mean that you are unnatural or unclean. You are simply rare, unique, and beautiful." He smiled at the completely dumb-struck face on the small elf in front of him.

"You…" Erestor blushed deeply and cleared his throat. "You think I am beautiful?" he asked in small, hopeful voice.

Glorfindel laughed. "I assume you have not gained your majority?"

Confused by the odd question, Erestor nodded. "Not quite yet, my lord."

"Hmm," Glorfindel smirked through pursed lips. "Well, it is safe to say that if you had, I would forthrightly ask for permission to court you."

If possible, Erestor's eyes widened farther. "You're…you're…"

"I'm the same as you, young one."

Erestor's breath shuddered and his eyes filled with tears. "I thought I was the only one."

"Not the only one," Glorfindel said with a smile. "We are by no means plentiful in number, but there are more than you would expect."

Erestor sat for a moment digesting this information. He looked at the handsome warrior and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind, "Would you go to the ball with me?" Erestor paused for a moment, with eyes wide and expression shocked. Had he really just said that? "I'm so, so sorry. Oh, dear Valar I'm so stupid."

Glorfindel smiled at the flustered youth and shushed his babbling with a gentle finger on his lips. "You are not stupid, and there is no reason to be sorry. I would gladly go to ball with you."

A smile that grabbed Glorfindel's heart lit the youth's breathtaking face. "Truly?"

"Truly. I will come by your house before the ball to retrieve you. I look forward to seeing you again."

"I…I look forward to that as well, my lord," Erestor mumbled shyly.

"None of this lord nonsense," Glorfindel admonished. "Please, call me Glorfindel."

Erestor nodded and put a slender hand to his cheek as if it would steady his rapidly spinning world. He could feel the heat in his cheeks against his anxiety cold hands.

They didn't tarry much longer in the older elf's rooms. They day was getting on, and Erestor was sorely late for classes the same as Glorfindel was severely belated delivering a short report to the council.

The warrior led the still beaming Erestor to the library and left the young scribe to his daily lessons after one more question. "Erestor? How old are you?"

Erestor smiled at the elf that had changed his whole life in the space of one morning. "Forty-nine. I'll be fifty in six months," were his parting words.

As Glorfindel purposefully strode down the halls towards the council chambers and Lord Elrond's private offices, a litany of patience and anxiousness battled within his mind. Granted, six months was a very short time in the grand scheme of an elven lifespan, but to one in the first throws of attraction it seemed an eternity.

However, despite his feelings on the matter, the ball was only the following evening. Plans needed to be made and carried out in short order. He would make the evening into everything Erestor had ever dreamed of, the boy deserved that much. Erestor would be wooed and romanced and courted as Glorfindel saw fit.

And truly, he could be very fit indeed.

TBC