Title: Changes, part 4 of 4
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer2000@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Paring: Haldir/Gildor; Elrond/Celeborn/Galadriel; Galadriel/Inwë
Summary: In which Elrond and Celeborn learn about true submission, and Haldir
learns . . . oh, a lot. This is a continuation of Unspoken and Revelations, so read them first or prepare to be really confused.
Feedback: I live for it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, at all, period. It's very sad.
Warning: Het content and BDSM.
Archiving: OLAS and anyone else who wants it, just let me know.
A/N: This one is for Ithilessar, a faithful reviewer and one blessed with a mind as warped as my own (a rare gift). Enjoy . . . I did!
Glorfindel had possibly never been embarrassed. It didn't go with his personality, which usually found amusement in situations that upset and confused others. However, he strongly suspected that he was embarrassed now. After disposing of the two guards who had been standing watch over the corridor to Elrond's bedroom, he had very quietly snuck through the wardrobe and cracked the portal leading into the inner sanctum. He had immediately wished he had not. Perhaps Erestor had been right after all, and this was better left within the family. Of course, he pretty much was family, and would be so formally as soon as he and Elrohir bonded. That thought did not particularly reassure him at the moment, however.
Elrond and Celeborn, two of the most powerful elves in Arda, were suspended from one of the heavy oak beams that comprised the ceiling of the bedroom, the rope that bound their hands drooping enough to allow their toes to just touch the ground but not to get any purchase on it. They were bound and gagged, but not blindfolded, and were as nude as the day they were born. Glorfindel seriously doubted Galadriel's ability to cause their predicament alone, and the only other elf in sight was the languid blond she had called Inwe, who was reclining on the bed toying with the edge of her pale sash. He could only assume, then, that the two rather large Noldor he'd just surprised had had something to do with it, although how they could have overcome both Elrond and Celeborn was a mystery.
Galadriel was surveying the two with a slight smile on her face, her riding crop still held loosely in one small hand. "There are going to be some changes," she was saying softly, as she slowly circled them, the lacy train of her gown trailing gracefully behind her. "I can see that I have been . . . remiss . . . in allowing you so much latitude," she commented to her husband, while her crop traced lightly up his inner thigh. "I did not realise that you enjoyed submission quite so much." Glorfindel winced as the coarse leather whip was dragged roughly over Celeborn's most delicate area, several times. The Lord of Lorien said nothing, but his narrowed eyes followed his wife's dainty figure with a dangerous glint in them. Glorfindel was suddenly extremely glad that he wasn't Galadriel, and only wished the powerful Eldar would take their quarrel beyond the borders of Imladris and keep it there.
"And you," Galadriel continued, turning her attention to Elrond, "need to learn about the concept of ownership," and she stroked her long fingernails down his exposed chest, leaving a trail of deep pink ridges behind them, "private property," and the dainty little hand dropped further, grabbing his balls, "POSSESSION," and squeezed--hard, judging by the sudden widening of Elrond's eyes and the choking gasp that could be heard from behind the gag.
"But these are not difficult concepts," she remarked, moving a few feet away to regard them coolly, "and you have had many years to learn them. I can only assume, therefore, that you need something to act as a reminder, if any of this conversation should . . . slip your minds . . . in the future. Inwe . . . " The blond on the bed smiled, showing genuine feeling for the first time, as her eager eyes roamed over Galadriel's lace clad body.
"That potion you drank earlier should start to work anytime," Galadriel told her two victims, while she joined her handmaiden on Elrond's large bed. "It's effects are fairly mild if you don't become . . . aroused . . . for any reason," she said innocently, as Inwe began kissing her long, white neck. "Of course, if you do," and Inwe slowly worked the lace off one shoulder, baring a well-shaped breast to her ministrations, "you will rather feel as if you are about to explode from lust, but will not be able to find relief, no matter what steps you take." Glorfindel thought he saw an almost smug look pass between Elrond and Celeborn at that, but was too preoccupied to wonder about it.
"Oh, and I should warn you," Galadriel noted, as if in afterthought, "the effects will last at least several days." Her two prisoners began to thrash around at that, both suddenly looking truly appalled, but Glorfindel had ceased to concern himself with them. Inwe stood in order to drop her gown to the floor and, he noticed appreciatively, these modern maidens did not bother with undergarments. "Of course, that's only if you become aroused, " Galadriel commented, as Inwe crawled across the huge bed towards her, a fevered look in her golden eyes.
It was all horribly embarrassing, and Glorfindel strongly suspected that he was blushing, although, having never done so before he couldn't be sure. It was truly terrible, just too utterly awful . . . he began looking around for a stool as standing for the whole show was probably going to get tiring.
* * *
Gildor could hear the rain dancing on the roof of the cabin; could feel the heat generated from the nearby fire; and smell the mingled scents of damp clothing, wet horse and lingering wafts of the soup they'd had for lunch. He tried to concentrate on one or any of these things to somehow block out the form hovering above him, but it was impossible. Haldir was looking him over, probably deciding on what torture to inflict next, and Gildor didn't like the speculative gleam in those beautiful eyes. It's all right, he told himself, for something like the thousandth time that day, he never has to know. Just be calm and everything will be all right. That happy little theory had lasted for less time than it took Haldir to remove his clothes; having that perfect body, either sheened with water or warm and pink from the fire, walking about completely unconcerned about its nudity, had quickly informed Gildor that he had made a serious mistake. I should have walked back to Imladris in the rain and left him here, he thought in desperation, as Haldir continued to study him, all the while running a light hand over his body. Oh, why didn't he just get it over with?
"Tell me if I do anything you don't like," Haldir whispered, lowering his head to catch Gildor's lips in a soft kiss. He was rather surprised at the tenderness of the action, as he had assumed, once Haldir had his permission to continue, that he would no longer have any reason to be gentle. But he was, and the sensation was almost too much for Gildor. Haldir was going to find out his secret; his reactions would betray him. He knew he should just try to enjoy himself--this was, after all, what he had longed for, ever since he first saw Haldir of Lorien while on a mission for Elrond centuries before. He had been captivated then by his beauty, and impressed by his skill and fearlessness as he led Gildor and three other Imladris spies through perilous mountain passes filled with every type of danger. At first it had been admiration, then fascination, and, by the end of the trip, Gildor had known his heart was lost. He had also known that he was a fool, for Haldir of Lorien would never love someone like him. Indeed, the fact that Haldir had not even remembered him when they met again had not surprised Gildor in the least.
Haldir's mouth left his and traced a trail of kisses down his neck to his chest, where he proceeded to finish the work he had begun before of sensual exploration. Gildor knew this all meant nothing to Haldir, just an afternoon's entertainment before he rode away, back to the many lovers he had in Lorien. And Gildor knew all about them, knew all about him, for he had made it his business to know. Even while telling himself that he was only feeding his obsession, he nonetheless had made a point of learning everything possible about the Lorien guard. What he discovered had just made him more miserable, however, as it became even more obvious that Haldir could never be his. The object of his affections was not only beautiful and accomplished, but came from a prominent and wealthy family, one that made Gildor's look even more insignificant than it usually did. The number of his lovers had also made it obvious that this elf took pretty much whoever he chose; Gildor, who was trained to miss little, had strong suspicions that even the Lord of Imladris himself had not been beyond Haldir's reach.
Of course, he thought, as his lover's attentions trailed lower, he had known that he might be able to manage such a tryst as this, for although Haldir was usually discerning in his tastes, contriving some sort of snare was not beyond Gildor's abilities. He had almost laughed when the storm had become too harsh to allow them to return to the house that morning, as just such a fantasy had played so often in his mind as to make the reality almost familiar. Well, maybe sans the horse.
But he had not arranged it, and had not wanted or intended for it to happen. He had followed Haldir that morning simply out of a wish to keep him in sight as long as possible, as stupidly infatuated as he knew that proved him to be. Nothing could have been further from his mind than this scenario, as it was everything he so much needed to avoid.
He could not keep himself from groaning as Haldir's questing mouth finally dropped to his straining shaft, and the wicked elf slowly dragged his tongue along its length, his breath feeling cool against the heated flesh. Elbereth! He did NOT want this!
He had planned it all so carefully, dressing in his oldest clothes, even some which he used on missions when he needed to pass as human, something his bulkier build would allow if he was only seen at a distance or heavily cloaked. He had just returned from a particularly arduous assignment, but learning that Haldir was at Imladris for some reason, he had refrained from getting his hair trimmed or otherwise attempting to improve his bedraggled appearance. He had worn no jewelry--not that he owned much anyway--and had bought the ugliest robe he could find for the party, but even then, he had only dared to approach the object of his fascination when Haldir was obviously staggeringly drunk.
All he had wanted, Gildor thought as Haldir moved on to nuzzling his scrotum, was a chance to talk to him, to be with him, and perhaps to keep him from ending up face down in the punch bowl. He had originally not planned to approach him at all, but he saw Haldir's face when Elrond left the ball early and did not return and his eyes as they followed Celeborn's retreating figure and he realised the truth. Gildor had only wanted to offer some measure of comfort, to do something to wipe that look of hurt and betrayal off that beautiful face. He had relied on Haldir not finding him alluring, and therefore not making any advances--or, if he did, as had proven to be the case, being too drunk to act on them. Still, it had been stupid, and he had made things even worse by giving into temptation and returning to his room the next morning.
Haldir was making thought difficult as, apparently finishing his inspection of Gildor's charms to his satisfaction, he suddenly swallowed him whole. The rush of sensation was unlike anything he had felt before, or wanted to feel now. It was bliss, it was ecstasy . . . it was certain to make his heartbreak that much worse when Haldir rejected him. He had always known that, and had carefully avoided doing anything that would put him in this position. But oh, it was glorious, so much better than his dreams, and if this was all he could ever have, after so much longing, so much waiting, then let it be enough . . .
* * *
Haldir could tell the moment his careful attentions FINALLY broke through the wall that Gildor had, for some reason, built around himself. He had begun to doubt if the elf was ever going to give into sensation and just enjoy what they were doing. Haldir had known partners like him before--they thought too much, analyzed too much, and didn't feel enough. But, he was glad to see that his attention to detail finally overcame that little problem, and Gildor lost himself in passion as he came.
Now came the more . . . delicate task. If his suspicions were correct--and although Haldir had trouble believing that any adult elf was completely innocent, it was the only explanation that seemed to fit the facts--then he needed to be careful. Which presented a problem, he realised, as his companion pulled him into a heated kiss. Haldir returned it with some enthusiasm, but part of his mind stayed on the problem at hand, or, rather, on what was not at hand. If Gildor was truly inexperienced, then doing without some sort of lubricant was not even a possibility, and Haldir's had been in his luggage which was now roaming around the Valar knew where on that dratted excuse for a horse. He somehow seriously doubted that Gildor had anything with him, and therein lay the difficulty. Relaxing into his partner's arms, Haldir spared a glance out the window. The rain had finally slacked off, and even a little weak sunlight had started to show through.
Kissing his companion lightly once more, Haldir jumped to his feet for a better look. Yes, the sun was definitely out and the ground, although be speckled with puddles, was
easily firm enough for riding. Maybe that voyeuristic horse of Gildor's, which had been watching them with interest for some time, would finally come in handy. Fingering his companion's clothes, Haldir found them to be almost dry, and tossed them to him, laughing at his surprised expression.
"Come, gwador," he told him, searching about for his own leggings, "I promised myself to do this properly, and that requires certain . . . advantages . . . that only Imladris can provide. We ride!"
"But . . . but if we can leave, then why do you . . . ," Gildor broke off, looking suddenly shy again. "That is, I will understand if you don't want . . . "
Haldir felt somehow strange as he looked into Gildor's miserable brown eyes. How ridiculous, that he should think that Haldir of Lorien would fail to finish what he'd started! Although, come to think of it, he wasn't exactly sure what that was. Some piece of his mind that still had a grip on reality after the convoluted emotions of this very strange day, now spoke up. Perhaps you should just end it here. Ride back to the house, get another horse, and go as far down the road to Lorien as you can before night catches you. Then you won't have to deal with what those big brown eyes are telling you. You won't have to think about what you're going to do saddled with a ragtag elf who probably won't even share your . . . personal habits. You can just walk away now and deem it one of those things. Nothing actually happened. Nothing has to happen, and, obviously from his expression, Gildor fully expected that to be the case. He looked as if his world had just ended, as he turned away from Haldir's contemplative expression and slowly began to get dressed.
Haldir felt rather like he had at the foot of Elrond's stairs--Elbereth, was it only a week or so ago?--when he had thought his world was about to change. Why did these things always sneak up on him like this? It was becoming a bit wearing on the nerves. Stepping across the few feet that separated them, he put his arms around Gildor, who stood shivering even in the heat of the fire. "Come, gwador, would you reject me now that my half hour is up? I thought I had done a better job than that!"
"Then you still want me?" Gildor sounded very unsure, and it bothered Haldir.
Turning the reluctant elf around to face him, Haldir put a gentle but firm hand under his chin, forcing him to look up. He learned rather more from that gaze than from a hundred conversations, and he smiled to see it. "Ride back with me," he told him softly, "and I'll show you how much."
* * *
Elrohir was bored, very bored. He had awoken sometime after mid-day, well rested and excited at the thought of his first day as a true adult. He had no particular plans made, but ruled out a picnic as soon as he noticed the overcast sky. Oh, well, it didn't really matter what they did; as long as he was with Glorfindel, he would be happy.
Noticing that his lover was absent from their bed, he assumed he was up and about his duties, probably helping Erestor get the party mess sorted out, he thought fondly. Dressing quickly, he'd gone in search of his elusive mate. Although he encountered a number of sleepy elves, as most of the house seemed to be just starting to emerge from their chambers, Glorfindel was nowhere in sight. Everyone seemed sluggish and most appeared hung over from the night before, so that Elrohir soon found his long-anticipated day to be a serious disappointment. The only elves he saw who looked lively were that Lorien guard and Gildor, one of his father's agents, who passed him going up the stairs at a run, but they did not look inclined to stop for a bit of conversation.
He finally ran across Erestor in the upstairs corridor, who seemed somewhat more flustered than usual. "Robes, bandages, towels . . . handcuffs?," Elrohir poked about in the large basket Erestor was carrying in his chubby arms. "And what, pray tell, is this?," he inquired, genuinely curious, as he drew out a long piece of braided leather with several narrower pieces branching off from it.
"Give me that!," Erestor jerked it out of his hands and stuffed it back in the bundle, before throwing a towel over top of the whole intriguing collection. "Just tidying up some loose ends, Elrohir," he said briskly, then hurried off in the direction of the stairs. Strange . . . they were already on the top floor. Where could he be going? There was nothing up there that he knew of except a few old storage rooms. Elrohir sighed and shrugged it off, going back to his fruitless search. His first day as a genuine adult, he thought morosely, and nothing at all interesting was happening. He wished everyone around here would learn to have a little more fun . . .
Drifting outside, he found his grandmother in the final stages of leave taking. He made his farewells, rather ashamed not to even remember her presence at the party the night before; he obviously needed to cut back on the dinner wine! Luckily, Galadriel didn't seem offended, just wished him happiness and invited him to visit her soon in the Golden Wood. He liked the sound of that, and, finally catching sight of his lover emerging from the house, had a sudden vision of him spread out amongst the mallorn's golden leaves.
"I seem to be missing two of my servants," Galadriel was informing Glorfindel, while drawing on her riding gloves. "Camthalion and Elros." She lifted a delicate blond eyebrow. "You wouldn't have seen them, by any chance?"
"No, my Lady," Glorfindel replied while assisting her to mount, "but I shall endeavour to locate them and send them on to Lorien."
"See that you do." Her eyes strayed to the rooftop of the house, "and in good condition, seneschal." With no audible command, her stallion turned and, with a great leap, sped off, the party of Galadrim rushing to keep up.
"Well, now what?," Elrohir commented, turning into Glorfindel's embrace. "The party was wonderful, but I've been SO bored today. What do you think we can do about that?"
Glorfindel smiled down at him, an expression that was interrupted by a huge yawn. "Truth be told, little one, I am a bit . . . tired . . . at present."
Elrohir laughed, dragging him toward the stairs, "Oh, really, Glorfindel! You need more excitement in your life. Lucky you have me . . . all these old elves are rubbing off on you! Why, look at Ada and Antada, they even retired early from the party and yet they are still asleep! I'm not going to let you turn into an old fogey like them," he leaned up for a quick kiss, "you are much too beautiful."
To his surprise, Glorfindel lifted him into a tight embrace and spun him around, right on the front steps of Imladris, while laughing uproariously for some reason. "Yes, my dearest Elrohir, I shall strongly endeavour NOT to follow your father's example," he said, once he'd gotten himself under control. "Nonetheless," and he smiled tenderly down at his fresh-faced young lover, "I am sure we can find some way of improving your day." Arms about each other's waists, they walked up the stairs and into the house.
The End
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer2000@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Paring: Haldir/Gildor; Elrond/Celeborn/Galadriel; Galadriel/Inwë
Summary: In which Elrond and Celeborn learn about true submission, and Haldir
learns . . . oh, a lot. This is a continuation of Unspoken and Revelations, so read them first or prepare to be really confused.
Feedback: I live for it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, at all, period. It's very sad.
Warning: Het content and BDSM.
Archiving: OLAS and anyone else who wants it, just let me know.
A/N: This one is for Ithilessar, a faithful reviewer and one blessed with a mind as warped as my own (a rare gift). Enjoy . . . I did!
Glorfindel had possibly never been embarrassed. It didn't go with his personality, which usually found amusement in situations that upset and confused others. However, he strongly suspected that he was embarrassed now. After disposing of the two guards who had been standing watch over the corridor to Elrond's bedroom, he had very quietly snuck through the wardrobe and cracked the portal leading into the inner sanctum. He had immediately wished he had not. Perhaps Erestor had been right after all, and this was better left within the family. Of course, he pretty much was family, and would be so formally as soon as he and Elrohir bonded. That thought did not particularly reassure him at the moment, however.
Elrond and Celeborn, two of the most powerful elves in Arda, were suspended from one of the heavy oak beams that comprised the ceiling of the bedroom, the rope that bound their hands drooping enough to allow their toes to just touch the ground but not to get any purchase on it. They were bound and gagged, but not blindfolded, and were as nude as the day they were born. Glorfindel seriously doubted Galadriel's ability to cause their predicament alone, and the only other elf in sight was the languid blond she had called Inwe, who was reclining on the bed toying with the edge of her pale sash. He could only assume, then, that the two rather large Noldor he'd just surprised had had something to do with it, although how they could have overcome both Elrond and Celeborn was a mystery.
Galadriel was surveying the two with a slight smile on her face, her riding crop still held loosely in one small hand. "There are going to be some changes," she was saying softly, as she slowly circled them, the lacy train of her gown trailing gracefully behind her. "I can see that I have been . . . remiss . . . in allowing you so much latitude," she commented to her husband, while her crop traced lightly up his inner thigh. "I did not realise that you enjoyed submission quite so much." Glorfindel winced as the coarse leather whip was dragged roughly over Celeborn's most delicate area, several times. The Lord of Lorien said nothing, but his narrowed eyes followed his wife's dainty figure with a dangerous glint in them. Glorfindel was suddenly extremely glad that he wasn't Galadriel, and only wished the powerful Eldar would take their quarrel beyond the borders of Imladris and keep it there.
"And you," Galadriel continued, turning her attention to Elrond, "need to learn about the concept of ownership," and she stroked her long fingernails down his exposed chest, leaving a trail of deep pink ridges behind them, "private property," and the dainty little hand dropped further, grabbing his balls, "POSSESSION," and squeezed--hard, judging by the sudden widening of Elrond's eyes and the choking gasp that could be heard from behind the gag.
"But these are not difficult concepts," she remarked, moving a few feet away to regard them coolly, "and you have had many years to learn them. I can only assume, therefore, that you need something to act as a reminder, if any of this conversation should . . . slip your minds . . . in the future. Inwe . . . " The blond on the bed smiled, showing genuine feeling for the first time, as her eager eyes roamed over Galadriel's lace clad body.
"That potion you drank earlier should start to work anytime," Galadriel told her two victims, while she joined her handmaiden on Elrond's large bed. "It's effects are fairly mild if you don't become . . . aroused . . . for any reason," she said innocently, as Inwe began kissing her long, white neck. "Of course, if you do," and Inwe slowly worked the lace off one shoulder, baring a well-shaped breast to her ministrations, "you will rather feel as if you are about to explode from lust, but will not be able to find relief, no matter what steps you take." Glorfindel thought he saw an almost smug look pass between Elrond and Celeborn at that, but was too preoccupied to wonder about it.
"Oh, and I should warn you," Galadriel noted, as if in afterthought, "the effects will last at least several days." Her two prisoners began to thrash around at that, both suddenly looking truly appalled, but Glorfindel had ceased to concern himself with them. Inwe stood in order to drop her gown to the floor and, he noticed appreciatively, these modern maidens did not bother with undergarments. "Of course, that's only if you become aroused, " Galadriel commented, as Inwe crawled across the huge bed towards her, a fevered look in her golden eyes.
It was all horribly embarrassing, and Glorfindel strongly suspected that he was blushing, although, having never done so before he couldn't be sure. It was truly terrible, just too utterly awful . . . he began looking around for a stool as standing for the whole show was probably going to get tiring.
* * *
Gildor could hear the rain dancing on the roof of the cabin; could feel the heat generated from the nearby fire; and smell the mingled scents of damp clothing, wet horse and lingering wafts of the soup they'd had for lunch. He tried to concentrate on one or any of these things to somehow block out the form hovering above him, but it was impossible. Haldir was looking him over, probably deciding on what torture to inflict next, and Gildor didn't like the speculative gleam in those beautiful eyes. It's all right, he told himself, for something like the thousandth time that day, he never has to know. Just be calm and everything will be all right. That happy little theory had lasted for less time than it took Haldir to remove his clothes; having that perfect body, either sheened with water or warm and pink from the fire, walking about completely unconcerned about its nudity, had quickly informed Gildor that he had made a serious mistake. I should have walked back to Imladris in the rain and left him here, he thought in desperation, as Haldir continued to study him, all the while running a light hand over his body. Oh, why didn't he just get it over with?
"Tell me if I do anything you don't like," Haldir whispered, lowering his head to catch Gildor's lips in a soft kiss. He was rather surprised at the tenderness of the action, as he had assumed, once Haldir had his permission to continue, that he would no longer have any reason to be gentle. But he was, and the sensation was almost too much for Gildor. Haldir was going to find out his secret; his reactions would betray him. He knew he should just try to enjoy himself--this was, after all, what he had longed for, ever since he first saw Haldir of Lorien while on a mission for Elrond centuries before. He had been captivated then by his beauty, and impressed by his skill and fearlessness as he led Gildor and three other Imladris spies through perilous mountain passes filled with every type of danger. At first it had been admiration, then fascination, and, by the end of the trip, Gildor had known his heart was lost. He had also known that he was a fool, for Haldir of Lorien would never love someone like him. Indeed, the fact that Haldir had not even remembered him when they met again had not surprised Gildor in the least.
Haldir's mouth left his and traced a trail of kisses down his neck to his chest, where he proceeded to finish the work he had begun before of sensual exploration. Gildor knew this all meant nothing to Haldir, just an afternoon's entertainment before he rode away, back to the many lovers he had in Lorien. And Gildor knew all about them, knew all about him, for he had made it his business to know. Even while telling himself that he was only feeding his obsession, he nonetheless had made a point of learning everything possible about the Lorien guard. What he discovered had just made him more miserable, however, as it became even more obvious that Haldir could never be his. The object of his affections was not only beautiful and accomplished, but came from a prominent and wealthy family, one that made Gildor's look even more insignificant than it usually did. The number of his lovers had also made it obvious that this elf took pretty much whoever he chose; Gildor, who was trained to miss little, had strong suspicions that even the Lord of Imladris himself had not been beyond Haldir's reach.
Of course, he thought, as his lover's attentions trailed lower, he had known that he might be able to manage such a tryst as this, for although Haldir was usually discerning in his tastes, contriving some sort of snare was not beyond Gildor's abilities. He had almost laughed when the storm had become too harsh to allow them to return to the house that morning, as just such a fantasy had played so often in his mind as to make the reality almost familiar. Well, maybe sans the horse.
But he had not arranged it, and had not wanted or intended for it to happen. He had followed Haldir that morning simply out of a wish to keep him in sight as long as possible, as stupidly infatuated as he knew that proved him to be. Nothing could have been further from his mind than this scenario, as it was everything he so much needed to avoid.
He could not keep himself from groaning as Haldir's questing mouth finally dropped to his straining shaft, and the wicked elf slowly dragged his tongue along its length, his breath feeling cool against the heated flesh. Elbereth! He did NOT want this!
He had planned it all so carefully, dressing in his oldest clothes, even some which he used on missions when he needed to pass as human, something his bulkier build would allow if he was only seen at a distance or heavily cloaked. He had just returned from a particularly arduous assignment, but learning that Haldir was at Imladris for some reason, he had refrained from getting his hair trimmed or otherwise attempting to improve his bedraggled appearance. He had worn no jewelry--not that he owned much anyway--and had bought the ugliest robe he could find for the party, but even then, he had only dared to approach the object of his fascination when Haldir was obviously staggeringly drunk.
All he had wanted, Gildor thought as Haldir moved on to nuzzling his scrotum, was a chance to talk to him, to be with him, and perhaps to keep him from ending up face down in the punch bowl. He had originally not planned to approach him at all, but he saw Haldir's face when Elrond left the ball early and did not return and his eyes as they followed Celeborn's retreating figure and he realised the truth. Gildor had only wanted to offer some measure of comfort, to do something to wipe that look of hurt and betrayal off that beautiful face. He had relied on Haldir not finding him alluring, and therefore not making any advances--or, if he did, as had proven to be the case, being too drunk to act on them. Still, it had been stupid, and he had made things even worse by giving into temptation and returning to his room the next morning.
Haldir was making thought difficult as, apparently finishing his inspection of Gildor's charms to his satisfaction, he suddenly swallowed him whole. The rush of sensation was unlike anything he had felt before, or wanted to feel now. It was bliss, it was ecstasy . . . it was certain to make his heartbreak that much worse when Haldir rejected him. He had always known that, and had carefully avoided doing anything that would put him in this position. But oh, it was glorious, so much better than his dreams, and if this was all he could ever have, after so much longing, so much waiting, then let it be enough . . .
* * *
Haldir could tell the moment his careful attentions FINALLY broke through the wall that Gildor had, for some reason, built around himself. He had begun to doubt if the elf was ever going to give into sensation and just enjoy what they were doing. Haldir had known partners like him before--they thought too much, analyzed too much, and didn't feel enough. But, he was glad to see that his attention to detail finally overcame that little problem, and Gildor lost himself in passion as he came.
Now came the more . . . delicate task. If his suspicions were correct--and although Haldir had trouble believing that any adult elf was completely innocent, it was the only explanation that seemed to fit the facts--then he needed to be careful. Which presented a problem, he realised, as his companion pulled him into a heated kiss. Haldir returned it with some enthusiasm, but part of his mind stayed on the problem at hand, or, rather, on what was not at hand. If Gildor was truly inexperienced, then doing without some sort of lubricant was not even a possibility, and Haldir's had been in his luggage which was now roaming around the Valar knew where on that dratted excuse for a horse. He somehow seriously doubted that Gildor had anything with him, and therein lay the difficulty. Relaxing into his partner's arms, Haldir spared a glance out the window. The rain had finally slacked off, and even a little weak sunlight had started to show through.
Kissing his companion lightly once more, Haldir jumped to his feet for a better look. Yes, the sun was definitely out and the ground, although be speckled with puddles, was
easily firm enough for riding. Maybe that voyeuristic horse of Gildor's, which had been watching them with interest for some time, would finally come in handy. Fingering his companion's clothes, Haldir found them to be almost dry, and tossed them to him, laughing at his surprised expression.
"Come, gwador," he told him, searching about for his own leggings, "I promised myself to do this properly, and that requires certain . . . advantages . . . that only Imladris can provide. We ride!"
"But . . . but if we can leave, then why do you . . . ," Gildor broke off, looking suddenly shy again. "That is, I will understand if you don't want . . . "
Haldir felt somehow strange as he looked into Gildor's miserable brown eyes. How ridiculous, that he should think that Haldir of Lorien would fail to finish what he'd started! Although, come to think of it, he wasn't exactly sure what that was. Some piece of his mind that still had a grip on reality after the convoluted emotions of this very strange day, now spoke up. Perhaps you should just end it here. Ride back to the house, get another horse, and go as far down the road to Lorien as you can before night catches you. Then you won't have to deal with what those big brown eyes are telling you. You won't have to think about what you're going to do saddled with a ragtag elf who probably won't even share your . . . personal habits. You can just walk away now and deem it one of those things. Nothing actually happened. Nothing has to happen, and, obviously from his expression, Gildor fully expected that to be the case. He looked as if his world had just ended, as he turned away from Haldir's contemplative expression and slowly began to get dressed.
Haldir felt rather like he had at the foot of Elrond's stairs--Elbereth, was it only a week or so ago?--when he had thought his world was about to change. Why did these things always sneak up on him like this? It was becoming a bit wearing on the nerves. Stepping across the few feet that separated them, he put his arms around Gildor, who stood shivering even in the heat of the fire. "Come, gwador, would you reject me now that my half hour is up? I thought I had done a better job than that!"
"Then you still want me?" Gildor sounded very unsure, and it bothered Haldir.
Turning the reluctant elf around to face him, Haldir put a gentle but firm hand under his chin, forcing him to look up. He learned rather more from that gaze than from a hundred conversations, and he smiled to see it. "Ride back with me," he told him softly, "and I'll show you how much."
* * *
Elrohir was bored, very bored. He had awoken sometime after mid-day, well rested and excited at the thought of his first day as a true adult. He had no particular plans made, but ruled out a picnic as soon as he noticed the overcast sky. Oh, well, it didn't really matter what they did; as long as he was with Glorfindel, he would be happy.
Noticing that his lover was absent from their bed, he assumed he was up and about his duties, probably helping Erestor get the party mess sorted out, he thought fondly. Dressing quickly, he'd gone in search of his elusive mate. Although he encountered a number of sleepy elves, as most of the house seemed to be just starting to emerge from their chambers, Glorfindel was nowhere in sight. Everyone seemed sluggish and most appeared hung over from the night before, so that Elrohir soon found his long-anticipated day to be a serious disappointment. The only elves he saw who looked lively were that Lorien guard and Gildor, one of his father's agents, who passed him going up the stairs at a run, but they did not look inclined to stop for a bit of conversation.
He finally ran across Erestor in the upstairs corridor, who seemed somewhat more flustered than usual. "Robes, bandages, towels . . . handcuffs?," Elrohir poked about in the large basket Erestor was carrying in his chubby arms. "And what, pray tell, is this?," he inquired, genuinely curious, as he drew out a long piece of braided leather with several narrower pieces branching off from it.
"Give me that!," Erestor jerked it out of his hands and stuffed it back in the bundle, before throwing a towel over top of the whole intriguing collection. "Just tidying up some loose ends, Elrohir," he said briskly, then hurried off in the direction of the stairs. Strange . . . they were already on the top floor. Where could he be going? There was nothing up there that he knew of except a few old storage rooms. Elrohir sighed and shrugged it off, going back to his fruitless search. His first day as a genuine adult, he thought morosely, and nothing at all interesting was happening. He wished everyone around here would learn to have a little more fun . . .
Drifting outside, he found his grandmother in the final stages of leave taking. He made his farewells, rather ashamed not to even remember her presence at the party the night before; he obviously needed to cut back on the dinner wine! Luckily, Galadriel didn't seem offended, just wished him happiness and invited him to visit her soon in the Golden Wood. He liked the sound of that, and, finally catching sight of his lover emerging from the house, had a sudden vision of him spread out amongst the mallorn's golden leaves.
"I seem to be missing two of my servants," Galadriel was informing Glorfindel, while drawing on her riding gloves. "Camthalion and Elros." She lifted a delicate blond eyebrow. "You wouldn't have seen them, by any chance?"
"No, my Lady," Glorfindel replied while assisting her to mount, "but I shall endeavour to locate them and send them on to Lorien."
"See that you do." Her eyes strayed to the rooftop of the house, "and in good condition, seneschal." With no audible command, her stallion turned and, with a great leap, sped off, the party of Galadrim rushing to keep up.
"Well, now what?," Elrohir commented, turning into Glorfindel's embrace. "The party was wonderful, but I've been SO bored today. What do you think we can do about that?"
Glorfindel smiled down at him, an expression that was interrupted by a huge yawn. "Truth be told, little one, I am a bit . . . tired . . . at present."
Elrohir laughed, dragging him toward the stairs, "Oh, really, Glorfindel! You need more excitement in your life. Lucky you have me . . . all these old elves are rubbing off on you! Why, look at Ada and Antada, they even retired early from the party and yet they are still asleep! I'm not going to let you turn into an old fogey like them," he leaned up for a quick kiss, "you are much too beautiful."
To his surprise, Glorfindel lifted him into a tight embrace and spun him around, right on the front steps of Imladris, while laughing uproariously for some reason. "Yes, my dearest Elrohir, I shall strongly endeavour NOT to follow your father's example," he said, once he'd gotten himself under control. "Nonetheless," and he smiled tenderly down at his fresh-faced young lover, "I am sure we can find some way of improving your day." Arms about each other's waists, they walked up the stairs and into the house.
The End