Title: Morning's Embrace Part I
Email: lollipop4588yahoo
Rating: R
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor. . .for now
Author's note: I've been wanting to write a long and hopefully engrossing
story for quite awhile now, but have never really had the time to do it.
This is the fist part in the arc that I've been planning recently. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Everything but the story belongs to Professor J.R.R. Tolkien.
Don't sue me cuz you won't get a lot, that I promise you. I'm not rich.
2506 Third Age
The pine scented valley lay basking in the morning's golden blanket of light. The security of Rivendell remains in quiet keeping of the time, oblivious to the harsher beings of Middle-earth that are a constant threat to neighboring lands. Nay, on this morning, on this day, a peaceful tranquility of refuge and hospitality will linger untouched for now. The golden strands of the sun reach down to plunder the Last Homely House, filling the latter with its warmth and affection.
In one chamber only within the Homely House does the morning's arrival provide a nuisance. Lord Glorfindel of Imladris lay intertwined in the satin silk sheets of his divan, his handsome golden tresses spilled lightly across the cushions. His brow furrows as an emerald rimmed eye slowly unveils from behind a sleep-laden lid. He observes the already bothersome intense sunlight shifting through the parting in the drawn curtains and, while revealing floating dust motes suspended in the air, glares into his eye. Brow still furrowed in stubborn denial of daybreak, he slowly shifts to lie on his back. Lifting his arms, he rubs the awkward sleep from his eyes, grunting in disapproval.
"A beautiful morning it is, meleth nîn," a low, silky voice murmurs. The Lord Glorfindel is not alone.
Rising into an upright position from the far side of the bed, the Lord Erestor, steward of Imladris yawns sleepily with a soft smile upon his lips. His auburn locks cascading down his left shoulder, he closes his eyes briefly against the sunlight that assails him. The steward hastily turns his attention to the elf lord lying still upon the bed, the latter gently lowering his hands from his eyes.
Both elves gaze into one another's eyes for an instant before another word is spoken. None need to be. A steady flow of affection radiates between the two, memories of the past evening springing to remembrance. The Lord Glorfindel leisurely lifts a hand and brushes a plait of auburn hair behind his lover's slender tipped ear.
"Do not leave just yet," The golden elf implores to the auburn in a deep groggy voice, "Stay. The morning has but only just arrived. No one will be the wiser should you choose to retire to your own chamber any later." The steward presents a small smile before replying,
"Hir nîn, as much as it would please me to remain here with you, I shudder to think of the consequences should some poor unprepared individual happen to stroll in here, and find me lying with you in your chamber. It would not bode well with me to induce a heart ailment to such a person and it should not bode well with you as well!" The steward chuckles fondly as he lowers his lips against the elf lord's. The golden locked elf responds swiftly by claiming the other in a hungry manner, his lethargy all but forgotten, while reaching his hand up and behind the nape of the steward's neck and pulling him ever closer. Emitting a slight snigger, the steward holds him at bay by gently cupping the other's face and parting his lips from the latter's.
"After all, it was your decision to keep this liaison from prying eyes, was it not, hir nîn?"
Letting a low, playful growl sound from his throat, the Lord Glorfindel insistently pushes the other from him as he replies with a teasing ferocity,
"Be gone then, steward, before I change my mind and ravage you with as much fervor as I did yester evening!"
Hazel eyes widened and pale cheeks flushed a slight shade of crimson as the steward lifted himself hastily from the bed and began to don his apparel that had been quickly cast aside the previous night. He felt eyes roving his form from behind and his cheeks flushed anew.
Glorfindel noticed the rushed manner of the steward as his lover dressed rather quickly. Chuckling in his head, he fondly regarded that the steward had not been quite so bashful the night before.
So eager to cover your lovely form, vana pen? He brushed his thought against the other's mind.
The steward started at the unexpected intrusion of his thoughts and snapped his head around.
"Only eager to make haste, hir nîn. The morning grows aged." He voiced his reply, for he thought it rather discourteous to speak in this intimate way of the mind unless one was talking with close kin or spouse.
The golden crowned elf merely smirked and waved his hand towards the door.
"Be gone then, impatient one!"
Lowering his guarded demeanor slightly before leaving, the steward smiled warmly and softly whispered,
"I shall see you at breakfast, hir nîn." And with that the auburn crowned elf quickly poked his around the corner of the door frame to see if anyone would behold him sneaking shamefacedly out of Lord Glorfindel's bedroom. As soon as his suspicions were held at bay he gave one last lingering gaze to the elf lord and snuck out with the grace and haste of an elf.
The happy thrum from last evening's memory coursed through the Lord Glorfindel's elven veins as he sat up in bed and prepared to ready himself for the new day. After all, the Lord Elrond had requested his presence in his study before they broke their fast and it would not do to keep him waiting.
TBC. . .
2506 Third Age
The pine scented valley lay basking in the morning's golden blanket of light. The security of Rivendell remains in quiet keeping of the time, oblivious to the harsher beings of Middle-earth that are a constant threat to neighboring lands. Nay, on this morning, on this day, a peaceful tranquility of refuge and hospitality will linger untouched for now. The golden strands of the sun reach down to plunder the Last Homely House, filling the latter with its warmth and affection.
In one chamber only within the Homely House does the morning's arrival provide a nuisance. Lord Glorfindel of Imladris lay intertwined in the satin silk sheets of his divan, his handsome golden tresses spilled lightly across the cushions. His brow furrows as an emerald rimmed eye slowly unveils from behind a sleep-laden lid. He observes the already bothersome intense sunlight shifting through the parting in the drawn curtains and, while revealing floating dust motes suspended in the air, glares into his eye. Brow still furrowed in stubborn denial of daybreak, he slowly shifts to lie on his back. Lifting his arms, he rubs the awkward sleep from his eyes, grunting in disapproval.
"A beautiful morning it is, meleth nîn," a low, silky voice murmurs. The Lord Glorfindel is not alone.
Rising into an upright position from the far side of the bed, the Lord Erestor, steward of Imladris yawns sleepily with a soft smile upon his lips. His auburn locks cascading down his left shoulder, he closes his eyes briefly against the sunlight that assails him. The steward hastily turns his attention to the elf lord lying still upon the bed, the latter gently lowering his hands from his eyes.
Both elves gaze into one another's eyes for an instant before another word is spoken. None need to be. A steady flow of affection radiates between the two, memories of the past evening springing to remembrance. The Lord Glorfindel leisurely lifts a hand and brushes a plait of auburn hair behind his lover's slender tipped ear.
"Do not leave just yet," The golden elf implores to the auburn in a deep groggy voice, "Stay. The morning has but only just arrived. No one will be the wiser should you choose to retire to your own chamber any later." The steward presents a small smile before replying,
"Hir nîn, as much as it would please me to remain here with you, I shudder to think of the consequences should some poor unprepared individual happen to stroll in here, and find me lying with you in your chamber. It would not bode well with me to induce a heart ailment to such a person and it should not bode well with you as well!" The steward chuckles fondly as he lowers his lips against the elf lord's. The golden locked elf responds swiftly by claiming the other in a hungry manner, his lethargy all but forgotten, while reaching his hand up and behind the nape of the steward's neck and pulling him ever closer. Emitting a slight snigger, the steward holds him at bay by gently cupping the other's face and parting his lips from the latter's.
"After all, it was your decision to keep this liaison from prying eyes, was it not, hir nîn?"
Letting a low, playful growl sound from his throat, the Lord Glorfindel insistently pushes the other from him as he replies with a teasing ferocity,
"Be gone then, steward, before I change my mind and ravage you with as much fervor as I did yester evening!"
Hazel eyes widened and pale cheeks flushed a slight shade of crimson as the steward lifted himself hastily from the bed and began to don his apparel that had been quickly cast aside the previous night. He felt eyes roving his form from behind and his cheeks flushed anew.
Glorfindel noticed the rushed manner of the steward as his lover dressed rather quickly. Chuckling in his head, he fondly regarded that the steward had not been quite so bashful the night before.
So eager to cover your lovely form, vana pen? He brushed his thought against the other's mind.
The steward started at the unexpected intrusion of his thoughts and snapped his head around.
"Only eager to make haste, hir nîn. The morning grows aged." He voiced his reply, for he thought it rather discourteous to speak in this intimate way of the mind unless one was talking with close kin or spouse.
The golden crowned elf merely smirked and waved his hand towards the door.
"Be gone then, impatient one!"
Lowering his guarded demeanor slightly before leaving, the steward smiled warmly and softly whispered,
"I shall see you at breakfast, hir nîn." And with that the auburn crowned elf quickly poked his around the corner of the door frame to see if anyone would behold him sneaking shamefacedly out of Lord Glorfindel's bedroom. As soon as his suspicions were held at bay he gave one last lingering gaze to the elf lord and snuck out with the grace and haste of an elf.
The happy thrum from last evening's memory coursed through the Lord Glorfindel's elven veins as he sat up in bed and prepared to ready himself for the new day. After all, the Lord Elrond had requested his presence in his study before they broke their fast and it would not do to keep him waiting.
TBC. . .