Title: Wild Justice 35/?
Author: Rune Dancer
Rating: R
Paring: Thranduil/Celeborn/Elrond; Elrohir/Glorfindel; Haldir/Gildor; Elladan/Orophin
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plotline.
Warnings: BDSM.
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc. Read them in order--Unspoken/Revelations/Changes/One Last Time/Quid Pro Quo--or prepare to be confused.
* * *
Orophin put down the apple he had been munching and stared at Elladan. They were in bed in his family talan where they had been spending a few peaceful days before his leave was up and he had to return to the borders. There had been no word from Haldir, who was still recovering in the royal talan, which could mean that he had forgotten about his revenge, or, more likely, that he was taking his time devising something truly awful. The last time Orophin spoke to Rumil, his brother had promised to intercede for him to prevent whatever terrible fate Haldir had in mind, although Orophin had his doubts as to the likelihood of success. He had decided that, if he was soon to be made to regret the day of his birth, he might as well enjoy the time he had left, and his young lover had proved more than willing to help in that regard. Until, that is, Elladan had noticed something in the gardens that apparently intrigued him.
"He's up to something, I'm telling you!"
"What difference does it make?" Orophin rolled over and attempted to pull his lover back into his arms to resume their prior occupation. They had already tried virtually every position he knew, but there was always the possibility he would think up a new one. Especially if he had some help from his partner.
"Just look," Elladan thwarted his plans by slipping out of his arms, then tugging him over to the side of the bed near the window. Orophin obliged him simply to hurry this along, but saw nothing particularly interesting happening below. Lord Elrond sat on a bench in the beautiful flower garden usually used only by Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. There was nothing odd about that, however, as he was their son-in-law and no doubt had the run of the palace. "Do you see him?"
"See what? It's only Lord Elrond reading a book"
"Look there," Elladan pointed to a small clump of flowering bushes a good distance from Elrond, but closer to their position. It took Orophin's eyes a while to discern what his lover was talking about, but after a moment he saw him--an elf had concealed himself in the bushes and was lying there, apparently watching Lord Elrond. Why anyone would want to do that, Orophin couldn't imagine, unless Elrond had acquired yet another admirer who was too shy to approach him directly. Probably a smart move, Orophin thought wryly, especially if he handled unwanted attraction the same way as his youngest son.
"Who is it?" Orophin couldn't tell for certain, as the bushes did their job of concealment well, and the elf had his face turned away in any case. A second later he received a strong clue, however, when he noticed Haldir stealthily making his way around the perimeter of the garden, apparently intently watching the watcher. That and the dark hair of the elf in the bushes were the only clues he needed. There was only one person of Orophin's acquaintance who had ever been able to drive his brother completely mad, and while sneaking around the lord and lady's private garden didn't exactly qualify as insane, it would undoubtedly earn the heretofore-respected march warden a severe reprimand if anyone found out about it. "Why is Gildor spying on your father?"
"I have no idea, but let's go find out."
"Oh, no you don't." Orophin grabbed his lover before he could jump off the bed and pressed him back against his chest. This was more like it. "I much prefer it in here. No one is supposed to use that garden except for the invited guests of the lord and lady."
"I'm their grandson, Orophin," Elladan reminded him with a grin, "they won't care. Not to mention the fact that they aren't even here right now." Elladan's eyes sparkled with the wicked glint that warned of trouble in the making. "Oh don't be such a spoil sport--come with me! After all, what could happen?"
Orophin groaned at the familiar, fateful phrase, but followed his lover out the door anyway. Someone had to try to keep him out of trouble, although with these Peredhils, that was never an easy task. He wondered if Imladris was always this chaotic, and breathed a small sigh of thanks that he lived in beautiful, usually peaceful, Lorien.
* * *
Haldir was becoming quite uncomfortable. His ankle was better that morning after almost an entire day of rest, but the bush under which he had squeezed himself was prickly and the position he had been forced to take to insure concealment was awkward. It didn't help that the day was unusually hot for Lorien, causing trickles of perspiration to keep running into his eyes. He wanted to get a bath and change clothes, but nonetheless stayed where he was. The matter at hand was far more important than a little physical discomfort; he was staring at a potential disaster.
Haldir had noticed the previous day that Gildor seemed oddly quiet, but had assumed that he was merely shaken by their experience, as Haldir was himself to a degree. He had often heard that the older, more powerful elves could enter each other's thoughts, even communicating over long distances if they chose, but he had never before been in another's mind or truly understood what it was like. It had been unsettling, to say the least, especially those last few moments when he had feared that Gildor was in danger. So he had not been particularly surprised that his lover was quieter than usual thereafter, and indeed had felt by the end of the day that perhaps it had been a good experience for them both. Gildor had hardly left his side the whole day, and had not been able to do enough for him. Haldir had been more than happy to relax and let himself be pampered, relishing having Gildor's complete attention for a change. But that morning, everything had changed.
Haldir had awoken early, having had a good deal of sleep the previous day, and expected to find Gildor curled up beside him. Instead, his lover had been missing from their bed, and when he did not return after a few minutes, Haldir went in search of him. He had finally found him in the courtyard before the palace, where Lord Elrond was giving instructions to a large group of the border patrol. He was sending them to rendezvous with Lord Celeborn, and for a moment Haldir's attention had strayed away from his lover at the news that reinforcements were needed. Yet Elrond did not seem overly worried about the situation, and when Haldir offered his services once Elrond's speech ended, he was politely refused.
"Your ankle should be better today, Haldir, but it is still weak. Break it yet again and you may spend the next month in bed. We have enough elves to give your lord the support he requested; go, enjoy your rest while you can."
Haldir had decided to follow orders for once, a decision helped greatly by his curiosity over Gildor's strange, furtive actions. Gildor had stayed well away from the crowd of elves, not approaching them but also not returning to the palace. Even more oddly, he had attempted to conceal himself behind a large tree, but had not done a very capable job of it as he kept darting his head around the side in what looked like an attempt to get a better view of Elrond. Haldir was about to go ask him what in Arda he thought he was doing, when Lord Elrond turned to mount the steps of the palace once more. Gildor immediately followed, using plants and then, once the palace was reached, various large vases and wall niches for cover. Intensely curious by now, Haldir followed him. After a few minutes, he almost wished he hadn't.
Elrond had not returned to his rooms but had gone to the kitchens to oversee the food preparation for several of the elves who had been wounded alongside Gildor. A few of them were still in serious condition, and Elrond apparently wanted to insure that nothing they were fed was causing some of the complications they were experiencing. Gildor wedged himself into a tiny area near the kitchen stairs and peered at Elrond intently through the railing as he took a taste of the broth the chef had prepared to make sure it was not overly spicy. Haldir's heart sank with every passing second for, although he was standing in full view in the doorway, he was completely ignored; he doubted that Gildor was even aware of his presence, for his lover's eyes never left the lord of Imladris.
Haldir instinctively ducked out of sight as Elrond finished his conversation and exited the kitchens. Elrond didn't notice him in the shadows of the wide corridor leading back to the main parts of the palace, and neither did Gildor when he furtively followed a moment later. Haldir continued to trail after them, although he was beginning to be very disturbed by what he was seeing.
The implications, of course, were obvious. Haldir had seen elves make fools of themselves over Elrond--the Valar knew he had done the same himself--and had laughed at the stories Erestor told him of the wagers regularly made over how many besotted elves would follow Elrond around the grounds on this or that feast day. Erestor had sworn that, on one solstice eve, it had looked like a parade was winding its way through the grounds of Imladris, just because Elrond had decided to take a moonlit stroll and, of course, his rather large coterie of admirers had followed along behind like goslings after a mother duck. The story had seemed amusing at the time, but now it was taking on the quality of a nightmare. No! He must be imagining things. Gildor had lived at Imladris for years and had served Elrond for much of his young life. Why would he suddenly decide to be attracted to him now?
Yet, as the morning dragged on, Haldir became steadily more convinced that that was exactly what had happened. Gildor dogged Elrond's footsteps as he went to the sickrooms to attend to his charges, dropped a bouquet of flowers off at Elwyyda's rooms, where he spent some time conversing with the little dwarf, then visited the library for a book before strolling into the lord and lady's private garden to read in the sun. All the time, Gildor's eyes rarely left Elrond's face, and Haldir at last had to conclude, as he cursed the scratchy bush above him, that his lover really was infatuated with the handsome elf lord.
Haldir attempted to avoid panic by reassuring himself that, although Elrond often played with whatever elf caught his eye, he did not seem to grow overly attached to any of them. After noticing Haldir's growing infatuation, Erestor had even gently pointed this out, attempting, he supposed, to spare him disappointment. "We have been together for longer than you've been alive, young one, but even with me, Elrond remains . . . well, he guards his heart well, shall we say."
"Doesn't that trouble you?" Haldir had been so infatuated at the time that it had been with the great surprise that he saw Erestor chuckle in apparently genuine amusement. "Not really. In fact, I often think that is the greatest advantage we give each other--that our pleasure is uncomplicated by such things. But have a care, Haldir, for it is only when you lose your heart to someone that their actions have the power to hurt you."
Haldir thought about that conversation now, as he felt his heart battered every time Gildor moved into another position, each designed to bring him closer to the object of his affection. How could he blame him? There were hundreds, possibly thousands, of elves who had fallen under Elrond's sway through the millennia, with his own name one of the most recent on the list. Ah, but there was a difference, some part of his mind interjected, for you were not involved with anyone when you first saw Elrond. There was no lover to disappoint, no one's heart to break. But Gildor was betraying him, and just after they had spent much of the previous day making exquisite love . . .
But, Haldir suddenly realised, hadn't there been something almost desperate in Gildor's touch? His usually gentle and somewhat shy lover had been more possessive and demanding than usual, and although Haldir had greatly enjoyed it at the time, he now wondered if Gildor's reaction had been driven more by panic than passion. What if their experiences with Elrond the previous day had made Gildor see him in a different light? What if, by claiming Haldir in such an ardent fashion, he had merely been attempting to drive thoughts of Elrond from his mind, and to deny the growing attraction? It all made perfect, horrible sense, and Haldir suddenly wanted nothing more than to attack something, starting with the benighted bush above him, which had just stuck another thorn in his calf, and proceeding on from there.
How could Gildor do this to him? Didn't they have something special? Didn't he feel anything for him? Hadn't he said . . . Haldir stopped short at the realisation that Gildor had never actually said that he loved him. He had given enough indications that Haldir had never before thought about it, but it was a fact. Of course, he had never said it to Gildor either, but he had shown him, hadn't he? Perhaps, Haldir thought in growing dismay, he had not been as clear as he thought. Maybe that was why Gildor preferred to spend his time with Elwyyda or skulking after Elrond instead of with him. Could all this be his fault, for taking his lover for granted?
Haldir pondered this new and very strange concept. True, Gildor had shown a preference for romantic gestures--take that ridiculous first kiss anniversary celebration which, despite its absurdity, had been strangely touching, if only because of the amount of time and effort it must have taken. And keeping that ratty old tunic for so long, and sending him all those flowers . . . Haldir forced himself to stop that train of thought before he became any more morose. In any case, Gildor had not seemed upset that he had not returned his gestures, although perhaps that was because Haldir had been in no position to do so propped up in bed with a broken ankle. Still, maybe Gildor found him inadequate romantically, and had therefore been more vulnerable to Elrond's charms than he would have been otherwise.
Haldir found himself a bit at a loss. He had never before had to worry about satisfying a lover, other than in bed. People practically lined up for his affections, so why would he have to employ those sentimental gestures he occasionally noticed other elves using? He had always thought them inane and assumed that the only elves who bothered with such things were inadequate lovers who had no other options to keep their companion's attention. Now he suddenly wished he had taken more notice of what people in long-term relationships did to keep their admirers happy. It was a very bad sign that Gildor had drifted so far from him as to be following Elrond about, but this . . . infatuation . . . of his was new and there might still be time.
Haldir noticed a rustling in the bushes behind him, something he would have paid more attention to earlier had he not been so lost in his thoughts. He could not draw a weapon as he was not armed, but this was the heart of Caras Galadhon and therefore it was unlikely that he was facing a threat. Slowly crawling backwards into a clutch of rose bushes--wonderful, more thorns--he managed to circle the pair hidden behind a bench to his left. When he recognized them, he smiled a little evilly. These two owed him a huge favour, and were about to pay up.
* * *
"You want to do what?" Orophin decided that either Haldir was joking or else he had gone mad. "Who are you and what did you do with my brother?"
"Very funny. Do you help me with this, and thereby erase from my mind your previous appalling lack of judgment, or would you rather await your fate when we return to the fences?"
Orophin smiled a little weakly. He was well aware that Haldir could make him miserable for an extended time if he chose, so the prospect of getting off so lightly was highly appealing. Yet his request seemed so odd that Orophin could not stop himself from shaking his head in amazement. Haldir had NEVER gone to such lengths for anyone. He must really care for Gildor, then, and Orophin's usual love for his brothers came flooding back, overcoming the trepidation with which he had recently viewed Haldir. If his brother was actually serious about Gildor, Orophin would do everything he could to help him. Judging by his expression, Rumil felt the same, and Elladan's eyes glittered in the way that denoted excitement and mischief being planned.
They were seated around a table in Haldir's bedroom in the family talan, as Gildor's room at the palace would be too risky for such a conversation. All three had jumped at the chance to help instruct Haldir in the fine art of romance, although the idea seemed absurd to Orophin who, like most of Lorien, viewed Haldir as something of a sex god. He had lost count of the number of lovers his brother had had--surely he must know the basics of winning someone's regard by now! The idea of teaching their haughty brother something obviously delighted Rumil, however, and he plunged in with enthusiasm. "It's about time you woke up," Rumil informed him, "I was beginning to wonder what it would take to make you see that he's the best thing that's ever happened to you. I can't believe he's serious about Lord Elrond, though. Gildor obviously adores you--his whole face lights up whenever you're so much as mentioned!"
Haldir looked, Orophin saw with shock, absolutely dejected. "Once, perhaps, but you were there this morning. Why else would he follow Elrond about?"
Orophin agreed that it looked bad. He could also attest to the strange attraction of these Peredhils, although he had never thought about Elrond in such a way. The very idea was rather frightening, akin to being attracted to Lord Celeborn. Orophin felt a frisson of fear make its way down his spine at the very idea. No doubt the elders of their kind were very handsome, but he preferred a lover who he could view as something of an equal, and who could not eavesdrop on his thoughts whenever he felt like it. No, the elders were far better off admired from afar in his opinion, but then, Gildor would not be the first elf to disagree with that attitude.
"I still think it's impossible--there must be another explanation." Rumil looked adamant, and Elladan echoed the thought.
"Father does take lovers from time to time, but he never becomes involved with those under his direct control or far beneath him in stature. I suppose he feels that it would be difficult for them to be honest in the relationship--to tell him when they tired of it, or did not want to participate in a particular . .. activity. Gildor is both of those things--his family is a brave one, but not of any particular wealth or standing, and he is part of father's elite guard. Forgive me, but he also doesn't seem very . . . experienced . . . as father's other conquests have always been. I just can't see him responding to any advances Gildor might make, other than with a polite refusal, of course."
"That isn't point. Lord Elrond might not be interested in Gildor, but the opposite obviously isn't true. If he is unhappy with . . . with our relationship, when Elrond rejects him, he'll simply go find someone else." Haldir looked so distressed that Orophin briefly wanted to hug him as he had when they were children, but somehow did not think that would be well received, especially with an audience. Haldir had always had difficulty expressing his feelings, which was probably why he had trouble with something as simple as showing his love for Gildor. Orophin wondered if he had ever even said it, and thought about mentioning that that might be a good place to start, but decided to wait and hope someone else brought it up. Haldir was uncharacteristically vulnerable at the moment, and he didn't want to risk hurting him by insinuating that this was somehow his fault, even if that might be the truth.
"That won't happen. We won't let it happen." Orophin wished he felt as certain as Rumil, but he nodded in agreement with his brother's sentiment and the group set to work. After a short time, Orophin decided two things: first, that he wouldn't have missed this for worlds, and second, never give Rumil a challenge. His brother could be positively scary when his imagination was allowed free reign.
"First things first," Rumil commented, pulling a piece of parchment and a quill from a bag, "Tell us everything you know about his preferences." At Haldir's scandalized expression, Rumil laughed. "No, not THOSE preferences--I think we can safely leave that to you. I meant, what kind of food, wine, bath oil, flowers, etc. does he like?" When Haldir stared at him blankly, Rumil sighed and muttered something about wondering how he had ever acquired his reputation. "THINK, brother, you must have noticed these things, even if you didn't remark on them at the time."
Over a period of almost two hours, Rumil ruthlessly grilled Haldir on every meal, walk in a garden, and conversation he had ever had with Gildor. The quill flew as Rumil made copious notes, amazing Orophin with his thoroughness. He couldn't decide if it was going to be a very lucky or very overwhelmed elf maid who ended up as the object of his brother's affection one of these days.
"Now, to dress." Rumil paused and tapped the end of his quill against the parchment, obviously thinking hard. "No, you don't have anything in your wardrobe that's likely to do."
Haldir, who had begun looking somewhat grumpy as time dragged on, seemed annoyed. "This is ridiculous. What difference does it make what I wear?"
Rumil gave his brother a withering look. "Haven't you been paying attention at all? This isn't about YOU, it is about GILDOR, and clothes obviously have meaning for him. Look at his insistence on you wearing matching tunics the night of King Thranduil's reception. Look at the replica he had made of the first present you ever gave him . . . and probably the only one, too. Stop thinking about yourself and concentrate on what will make Gildor happy, assuming you really meant it when you said you want to keep him."
Orophin cringed, awaiting the inevitable explosion, for elves of good sense did not talk to Haldir that way. But to his amazement it never came. Instead, Haldir looked abashed, and after a moment meekly inquired what, exactly, he should wear.
"I don't know," Rumil said flatly, obviously still rather miffed. "Something that says, 'this is a special occasion for which I went to a great deal of trouble to please you.' Something that says 'you're important to me.' Something beautiful, unusual, seductive and memorable . . . although where we are supposed to find such an item on such short notice, I have no idea."
Orophin brightened. He had been feeling a little left out of the conversation, unable to improve on any of the ideas Elladan and Rumil had been bantering about. Now, however, he had an inspiration. Yes, he thought, looking at Haldir critically, it should look perfect on him, and if anyone complained about their borrowing it, well, he could always blame Elladan, couldn't he? "Elladan and I know of something."
Elladan, sitting across from him, looked puzzled for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Oh, yes," he gasped, "we certainly do!"
* * *
Gildor wearily returned to his rooms after one of the longest days he could remember. He had followed Elrond about hoping for some sign from the High King about his situation--either good or ill--or for an indication that Lady Galadriel had intervened, but had received neither. However, he had managed to get close enough several times to see that Elrond's eyes remained a bright, clear blue, indicating that Gil-Galad was still in residence, so to speak.
Gildor was tormented by indecision over whether that was a good thing or not, and he was equally unsure if he had done his duty to his overlord by contacting the lady. Wasn't that pushing off his responsibility onto someone else? What if Elrond managed to fool even her? Gildor had always heard it said that none could deceive the lady about anything, but then, the same was said of Lord Elrond. What if he managed to convince her that Gildor had been mistaken? If anyone could do it, Elrond could, and if that was the case, what in Arda was there left to do? It was in a state of confusion and despondency that Gildor pushed open his door, wishing for nothing so much as a chance to talk this over with Haldir, but unwilling to share the guilt. This was not his lover's problem, and he shouldn't be burdened with it.
The room was dark as the sun had set some time before. Gildor wondered if Haldir had had dinner sent up to him, because some delightful aroma still lingered on the air. He had been too busy following Elrond to remember to eat, and now wished he had thought to stop by the kitchens. He was too tired and heartsick, however, to go all the way down there now.
Suddenly, a taper flared across the room and a large, standing candelabra sprang to life. Gildor looked about the illuminated room in considerable amazement. What was all this? In the centre of his chamber, where the table and bed had once been, a huge tub had been placed. All about it candles were being lit as Haldir moved gracefully from point to point. Floating in the scented water were crimson rose petals and more candles shaped like lily flowers. The bed had been relocated to one side of the room and festooned with swathes of white gauzy fabric intertwined with ropes of flowers. Along the opposite wall, the table glowed with more flowers, bright cutlery and a number of covered dishes, which explained the mouthwatering aroma permeating the room. Gildor noticed all this in an instant, with the help of Erestor's long training, but none of these delights were what held his attention, for Haldir was . . . Gildor decided he really needed to sit down.
The vision in gold did not give him the opportunity, however, but finished lighting the rest of the candles and moved to kneel at Gildor's feet, helping him out of the sandals he had taken to wearing lately in lieu of his usual heavy boots. Haldir was wearing sandals, too, Gildor noticed, although his were gold to match the . . . tunic, for lack of a better word, that covered only half his chest and fell barely halfway down his thighs. Where did he find such an outfit? Gildor had never seen anything even remotely like it, but decided swiftly that he approved very much. Haldir's long hair fell unbound down his almost bare back, shimmering in the candlelight like spun gold as he knelt at Gildor's feet, lightly caressing his arches as he removed the shoes. Gildor would normally have asked him to stand, have insisted that he could take off his own sandals, but the whole moment had a feeling of unreality about it, and he was quite simply too stunned to speak.
"This way," Haldir murmured a moment later, pulling Gildor towards the steaming bath where he slowly divested him of his clothes and immersed him in the warm water. It felt wonderful on his tired limbs, and Gildor could almost feel the tension falling away from him. What was that fragrance? Gildor decided after a moment that it was too complex to analyse--some wonderful mix of scented oils and herbs that served to relax him fully when combined with the warmth of the water.
Gildor fully expected his lover to join him so that he could share the pleasure, but apparently Haldir had a different plan. Taking up a large sponge, he proceeded to give him the most sensual bath he had ever had, trailing the soft mass over Gildor's entire body while remaining outside the pool himself. Gildor had never been bathed before, and was at first intensely shy about it. He knew that made no sense, considering how intimate he and Haldir had been on other occasions, but there was something decadent about the way his limbs were lifted and slowly caressed by the sponge, and something overwhelmingly sensual in the intensity with which Haldir looked at him as he lazily drew the soapy mass across his chest, that left Gildor gasping. When his lover trailed the scented sponge down his back and between his buttocks, and when he shortly thereafter gently wrapped it about Gildor's by now fully hard arousal, all he could think about was dragging Haldir into the pool and making passionate love to him, preferably several times. He sensed that Haldir wasn't ready for that yet, however, as he had obviously gone to immense trouble to arrange the evening and undoubtedly had an order of events planned. Nonetheless, Gildor was almost relieved when Haldir decided he was clean enough and left him to soak while he busied himself collecting plates, cups and bottles from the beautiful collection on the table.
Gildor started to protest when Haldir began feeding him, feeling somehow as if he did not deserve such attention, but Haldir kept him too occupied to do so. The fruit was dipped in the mixture of honey and spices that Gildor particularly liked and which was a Lorien specialty, and with it he was offered sips of his favourite Berdruskan wine. "Wherever did you find this?," Gildor asked in amazement, after Haldir held the glass to his lips the first time. "I thought I used the last for our celebration."
Haldir merely smiled. "Oh, the chef always keeps a few bottles back for his own use. He owed Rumil a favour, so we managed to pry one away from him."
"We?" Gildor was overwhelmed that Haldir would go to such lengths for him,
even to the point of asking for his brother's help. Haldir was so self-sufficient, and never leaned on anyone for anything. The idea that he would do so just to please him made Gildor almost light-headed with happiness.
Haldir looked strangely shy. "I . . . hope you don't mind that I asked him about a few things. I wanted everything to be perfect, and Rumil . . . helped . . . with some of the details."
Gildor couldn't think of words to convey his feelings, so he simply drew Haldir into a deep kiss. His lover tasted of honey and the dark flavour of the wine, and Gildor thought him by far the most delicious thing he had tried all night. "Join me? I want to show you how much all this means . . . " He felt shy, having so much attention lavished on him, especially when he had not anticipated any of it. He wanted to reciprocate, but Haldir smilingly declined.
"Tonight is about you, not me," he replied softly, and picked up another platter. By the time the many course meal was completed, the water had become slightly tepid. Haldir helped Gildor out of the bath, enveloping him in a soft white robe after rubbing a soft towel all over him. Gildor was still in a haze of disbelief, but was also becoming desperate to touch his lover. Haldir's hands on him in the bath and the brushes of his fingers against Gildor's lips as he fed him had aroused him to an unbelievable degree. He was therefore very disappointed when Haldir did not immediately allow him to pull him into an embrace once they fell into bed together. "No, not yet. First, I have something for you."
Gildor sat in giddy disbelief as Haldir felt about under the satin sheets, fully expecting to wake up at any moment. This just could not be real . . . could it? He took with trembling hands the large package Haldir gave him, wondering what it could possibly be. He briefly panicked for a moment at the thought that he had forgotten some special occasion, but a fast perusal of their past relationship reassured him. He did not know why Haldir was doing this, but decided not to question his luck. He carefully opened the beautiful package; when the wrappings fell away, he could only sit and stare, desperately trying not to cry.
"Do you like them?" Haldir looked a little apprehensive, as if he actually thought the answer might be no. "I remembered that you always seemed to admire mine, and thought . . . "
Gildor let his fingers slowly caress the wood of the finely made Galadrim bow before him. Along with it was a skillfully wrought quiver of buttery soft leather that matched the one Haldir always used. Both were exquisite, and by far the nicest set Gildor had ever owned. He would, of course, have liked them just as much whatever they had looked like, simply because Haldir had given them, but the fact that his lover had noticed the admiring glances Gildor had always had for his weapons completely overwhelmed him.
"I can have them altered, if you like. I thought about having your name inscribed, as some of the Galadrim like to do, although it's hardly needed as we can always tell our own weapon from . . . " He never finished the sentiment, for Gildor could contain himself no more and, having set the prized items carefully aside, drew Haldir into a long kiss, running delighted hands over that silk clad form. Wherever Haldir had found that little outfit, Gildor only hoped they had more. He would love to buy him a whole wardrobe in every colour of the rainbow. "I take it you do like them," Haldir teased when they broke apart at last. Gildor still couldn't reply, but his eyes must have spoken for him. "Well, that's good," Haldir said, seeming a little at a loss himself. "I, er, I'm glad they please you. I do want to make you happy, you know, Gildor, I just don't always . . . well, I realised recently that I don't . . . that is, that I haven't . . . what I mean to say . . . "
"It's all right, Haldir," Gildor whispered, kissing his lover's throat and wishing he could taste all of him at once. There were no need for words between them; what words could describe what he felt anyway?"
"No, no it isn't all right." Haldir stopped his caresses by pulling him into a tight embrace. "Gildor," he spoke softly into his ear, "I need you to know that I've never felt this way before, not about anyone. I . . . well, I think, no I KNOW, that I love you. If you left me, I don't know how I would . . . not that I want you to think you have to stay with me if that isn't what you want, but what I said before, all that tripe about who leads and who follows . . . I know now that I don't care. I only want you with me . . . forever."
Gildor pulled away so that he could look his lover in the eyes. He felt like fainting, or perhaps levitating off the bed in sheer bliss, he wasn't sure which. He had dreamed about this, prayed for it, but never really thought he would live long enough to see it. He had decided to be happy with whatever kind of relationship Haldir was willing to have, and had carefully avoided thinking what would happen when his lover tired of him. That Haldir was really saying that that would never occur left Gildor so stunned that he simply sat there, looking at him in wonder as the seconds ticked by. It was only when a look of fear entered his lover's gaze that Gildor snapped out of it, realising that he was taking too long to answer. "I would be honoured to bond with you, Haldir. Whenever you say; however you want. I have loved you since I first saw you. Nothing could make me happier than the thought of never having to part from you."
As Haldir pulled him into a kiss that combined passion with overwhelming joy, Gildor decided that, if this was a dream, let him sleep forever.
TBC
Author: Rune Dancer
Rating: R
Paring: Thranduil/Celeborn/Elrond; Elrohir/Glorfindel; Haldir/Gildor; Elladan/Orophin
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plotline.
Warnings: BDSM.
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc. Read them in order--Unspoken/Revelations/Changes/One Last Time/Quid Pro Quo--or prepare to be confused.
* * *
Orophin put down the apple he had been munching and stared at Elladan. They were in bed in his family talan where they had been spending a few peaceful days before his leave was up and he had to return to the borders. There had been no word from Haldir, who was still recovering in the royal talan, which could mean that he had forgotten about his revenge, or, more likely, that he was taking his time devising something truly awful. The last time Orophin spoke to Rumil, his brother had promised to intercede for him to prevent whatever terrible fate Haldir had in mind, although Orophin had his doubts as to the likelihood of success. He had decided that, if he was soon to be made to regret the day of his birth, he might as well enjoy the time he had left, and his young lover had proved more than willing to help in that regard. Until, that is, Elladan had noticed something in the gardens that apparently intrigued him.
"He's up to something, I'm telling you!"
"What difference does it make?" Orophin rolled over and attempted to pull his lover back into his arms to resume their prior occupation. They had already tried virtually every position he knew, but there was always the possibility he would think up a new one. Especially if he had some help from his partner.
"Just look," Elladan thwarted his plans by slipping out of his arms, then tugging him over to the side of the bed near the window. Orophin obliged him simply to hurry this along, but saw nothing particularly interesting happening below. Lord Elrond sat on a bench in the beautiful flower garden usually used only by Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. There was nothing odd about that, however, as he was their son-in-law and no doubt had the run of the palace. "Do you see him?"
"See what? It's only Lord Elrond reading a book"
"Look there," Elladan pointed to a small clump of flowering bushes a good distance from Elrond, but closer to their position. It took Orophin's eyes a while to discern what his lover was talking about, but after a moment he saw him--an elf had concealed himself in the bushes and was lying there, apparently watching Lord Elrond. Why anyone would want to do that, Orophin couldn't imagine, unless Elrond had acquired yet another admirer who was too shy to approach him directly. Probably a smart move, Orophin thought wryly, especially if he handled unwanted attraction the same way as his youngest son.
"Who is it?" Orophin couldn't tell for certain, as the bushes did their job of concealment well, and the elf had his face turned away in any case. A second later he received a strong clue, however, when he noticed Haldir stealthily making his way around the perimeter of the garden, apparently intently watching the watcher. That and the dark hair of the elf in the bushes were the only clues he needed. There was only one person of Orophin's acquaintance who had ever been able to drive his brother completely mad, and while sneaking around the lord and lady's private garden didn't exactly qualify as insane, it would undoubtedly earn the heretofore-respected march warden a severe reprimand if anyone found out about it. "Why is Gildor spying on your father?"
"I have no idea, but let's go find out."
"Oh, no you don't." Orophin grabbed his lover before he could jump off the bed and pressed him back against his chest. This was more like it. "I much prefer it in here. No one is supposed to use that garden except for the invited guests of the lord and lady."
"I'm their grandson, Orophin," Elladan reminded him with a grin, "they won't care. Not to mention the fact that they aren't even here right now." Elladan's eyes sparkled with the wicked glint that warned of trouble in the making. "Oh don't be such a spoil sport--come with me! After all, what could happen?"
Orophin groaned at the familiar, fateful phrase, but followed his lover out the door anyway. Someone had to try to keep him out of trouble, although with these Peredhils, that was never an easy task. He wondered if Imladris was always this chaotic, and breathed a small sigh of thanks that he lived in beautiful, usually peaceful, Lorien.
* * *
Haldir was becoming quite uncomfortable. His ankle was better that morning after almost an entire day of rest, but the bush under which he had squeezed himself was prickly and the position he had been forced to take to insure concealment was awkward. It didn't help that the day was unusually hot for Lorien, causing trickles of perspiration to keep running into his eyes. He wanted to get a bath and change clothes, but nonetheless stayed where he was. The matter at hand was far more important than a little physical discomfort; he was staring at a potential disaster.
Haldir had noticed the previous day that Gildor seemed oddly quiet, but had assumed that he was merely shaken by their experience, as Haldir was himself to a degree. He had often heard that the older, more powerful elves could enter each other's thoughts, even communicating over long distances if they chose, but he had never before been in another's mind or truly understood what it was like. It had been unsettling, to say the least, especially those last few moments when he had feared that Gildor was in danger. So he had not been particularly surprised that his lover was quieter than usual thereafter, and indeed had felt by the end of the day that perhaps it had been a good experience for them both. Gildor had hardly left his side the whole day, and had not been able to do enough for him. Haldir had been more than happy to relax and let himself be pampered, relishing having Gildor's complete attention for a change. But that morning, everything had changed.
Haldir had awoken early, having had a good deal of sleep the previous day, and expected to find Gildor curled up beside him. Instead, his lover had been missing from their bed, and when he did not return after a few minutes, Haldir went in search of him. He had finally found him in the courtyard before the palace, where Lord Elrond was giving instructions to a large group of the border patrol. He was sending them to rendezvous with Lord Celeborn, and for a moment Haldir's attention had strayed away from his lover at the news that reinforcements were needed. Yet Elrond did not seem overly worried about the situation, and when Haldir offered his services once Elrond's speech ended, he was politely refused.
"Your ankle should be better today, Haldir, but it is still weak. Break it yet again and you may spend the next month in bed. We have enough elves to give your lord the support he requested; go, enjoy your rest while you can."
Haldir had decided to follow orders for once, a decision helped greatly by his curiosity over Gildor's strange, furtive actions. Gildor had stayed well away from the crowd of elves, not approaching them but also not returning to the palace. Even more oddly, he had attempted to conceal himself behind a large tree, but had not done a very capable job of it as he kept darting his head around the side in what looked like an attempt to get a better view of Elrond. Haldir was about to go ask him what in Arda he thought he was doing, when Lord Elrond turned to mount the steps of the palace once more. Gildor immediately followed, using plants and then, once the palace was reached, various large vases and wall niches for cover. Intensely curious by now, Haldir followed him. After a few minutes, he almost wished he hadn't.
Elrond had not returned to his rooms but had gone to the kitchens to oversee the food preparation for several of the elves who had been wounded alongside Gildor. A few of them were still in serious condition, and Elrond apparently wanted to insure that nothing they were fed was causing some of the complications they were experiencing. Gildor wedged himself into a tiny area near the kitchen stairs and peered at Elrond intently through the railing as he took a taste of the broth the chef had prepared to make sure it was not overly spicy. Haldir's heart sank with every passing second for, although he was standing in full view in the doorway, he was completely ignored; he doubted that Gildor was even aware of his presence, for his lover's eyes never left the lord of Imladris.
Haldir instinctively ducked out of sight as Elrond finished his conversation and exited the kitchens. Elrond didn't notice him in the shadows of the wide corridor leading back to the main parts of the palace, and neither did Gildor when he furtively followed a moment later. Haldir continued to trail after them, although he was beginning to be very disturbed by what he was seeing.
The implications, of course, were obvious. Haldir had seen elves make fools of themselves over Elrond--the Valar knew he had done the same himself--and had laughed at the stories Erestor told him of the wagers regularly made over how many besotted elves would follow Elrond around the grounds on this or that feast day. Erestor had sworn that, on one solstice eve, it had looked like a parade was winding its way through the grounds of Imladris, just because Elrond had decided to take a moonlit stroll and, of course, his rather large coterie of admirers had followed along behind like goslings after a mother duck. The story had seemed amusing at the time, but now it was taking on the quality of a nightmare. No! He must be imagining things. Gildor had lived at Imladris for years and had served Elrond for much of his young life. Why would he suddenly decide to be attracted to him now?
Yet, as the morning dragged on, Haldir became steadily more convinced that that was exactly what had happened. Gildor dogged Elrond's footsteps as he went to the sickrooms to attend to his charges, dropped a bouquet of flowers off at Elwyyda's rooms, where he spent some time conversing with the little dwarf, then visited the library for a book before strolling into the lord and lady's private garden to read in the sun. All the time, Gildor's eyes rarely left Elrond's face, and Haldir at last had to conclude, as he cursed the scratchy bush above him, that his lover really was infatuated with the handsome elf lord.
Haldir attempted to avoid panic by reassuring himself that, although Elrond often played with whatever elf caught his eye, he did not seem to grow overly attached to any of them. After noticing Haldir's growing infatuation, Erestor had even gently pointed this out, attempting, he supposed, to spare him disappointment. "We have been together for longer than you've been alive, young one, but even with me, Elrond remains . . . well, he guards his heart well, shall we say."
"Doesn't that trouble you?" Haldir had been so infatuated at the time that it had been with the great surprise that he saw Erestor chuckle in apparently genuine amusement. "Not really. In fact, I often think that is the greatest advantage we give each other--that our pleasure is uncomplicated by such things. But have a care, Haldir, for it is only when you lose your heart to someone that their actions have the power to hurt you."
Haldir thought about that conversation now, as he felt his heart battered every time Gildor moved into another position, each designed to bring him closer to the object of his affection. How could he blame him? There were hundreds, possibly thousands, of elves who had fallen under Elrond's sway through the millennia, with his own name one of the most recent on the list. Ah, but there was a difference, some part of his mind interjected, for you were not involved with anyone when you first saw Elrond. There was no lover to disappoint, no one's heart to break. But Gildor was betraying him, and just after they had spent much of the previous day making exquisite love . . .
But, Haldir suddenly realised, hadn't there been something almost desperate in Gildor's touch? His usually gentle and somewhat shy lover had been more possessive and demanding than usual, and although Haldir had greatly enjoyed it at the time, he now wondered if Gildor's reaction had been driven more by panic than passion. What if their experiences with Elrond the previous day had made Gildor see him in a different light? What if, by claiming Haldir in such an ardent fashion, he had merely been attempting to drive thoughts of Elrond from his mind, and to deny the growing attraction? It all made perfect, horrible sense, and Haldir suddenly wanted nothing more than to attack something, starting with the benighted bush above him, which had just stuck another thorn in his calf, and proceeding on from there.
How could Gildor do this to him? Didn't they have something special? Didn't he feel anything for him? Hadn't he said . . . Haldir stopped short at the realisation that Gildor had never actually said that he loved him. He had given enough indications that Haldir had never before thought about it, but it was a fact. Of course, he had never said it to Gildor either, but he had shown him, hadn't he? Perhaps, Haldir thought in growing dismay, he had not been as clear as he thought. Maybe that was why Gildor preferred to spend his time with Elwyyda or skulking after Elrond instead of with him. Could all this be his fault, for taking his lover for granted?
Haldir pondered this new and very strange concept. True, Gildor had shown a preference for romantic gestures--take that ridiculous first kiss anniversary celebration which, despite its absurdity, had been strangely touching, if only because of the amount of time and effort it must have taken. And keeping that ratty old tunic for so long, and sending him all those flowers . . . Haldir forced himself to stop that train of thought before he became any more morose. In any case, Gildor had not seemed upset that he had not returned his gestures, although perhaps that was because Haldir had been in no position to do so propped up in bed with a broken ankle. Still, maybe Gildor found him inadequate romantically, and had therefore been more vulnerable to Elrond's charms than he would have been otherwise.
Haldir found himself a bit at a loss. He had never before had to worry about satisfying a lover, other than in bed. People practically lined up for his affections, so why would he have to employ those sentimental gestures he occasionally noticed other elves using? He had always thought them inane and assumed that the only elves who bothered with such things were inadequate lovers who had no other options to keep their companion's attention. Now he suddenly wished he had taken more notice of what people in long-term relationships did to keep their admirers happy. It was a very bad sign that Gildor had drifted so far from him as to be following Elrond about, but this . . . infatuation . . . of his was new and there might still be time.
Haldir noticed a rustling in the bushes behind him, something he would have paid more attention to earlier had he not been so lost in his thoughts. He could not draw a weapon as he was not armed, but this was the heart of Caras Galadhon and therefore it was unlikely that he was facing a threat. Slowly crawling backwards into a clutch of rose bushes--wonderful, more thorns--he managed to circle the pair hidden behind a bench to his left. When he recognized them, he smiled a little evilly. These two owed him a huge favour, and were about to pay up.
* * *
"You want to do what?" Orophin decided that either Haldir was joking or else he had gone mad. "Who are you and what did you do with my brother?"
"Very funny. Do you help me with this, and thereby erase from my mind your previous appalling lack of judgment, or would you rather await your fate when we return to the fences?"
Orophin smiled a little weakly. He was well aware that Haldir could make him miserable for an extended time if he chose, so the prospect of getting off so lightly was highly appealing. Yet his request seemed so odd that Orophin could not stop himself from shaking his head in amazement. Haldir had NEVER gone to such lengths for anyone. He must really care for Gildor, then, and Orophin's usual love for his brothers came flooding back, overcoming the trepidation with which he had recently viewed Haldir. If his brother was actually serious about Gildor, Orophin would do everything he could to help him. Judging by his expression, Rumil felt the same, and Elladan's eyes glittered in the way that denoted excitement and mischief being planned.
They were seated around a table in Haldir's bedroom in the family talan, as Gildor's room at the palace would be too risky for such a conversation. All three had jumped at the chance to help instruct Haldir in the fine art of romance, although the idea seemed absurd to Orophin who, like most of Lorien, viewed Haldir as something of a sex god. He had lost count of the number of lovers his brother had had--surely he must know the basics of winning someone's regard by now! The idea of teaching their haughty brother something obviously delighted Rumil, however, and he plunged in with enthusiasm. "It's about time you woke up," Rumil informed him, "I was beginning to wonder what it would take to make you see that he's the best thing that's ever happened to you. I can't believe he's serious about Lord Elrond, though. Gildor obviously adores you--his whole face lights up whenever you're so much as mentioned!"
Haldir looked, Orophin saw with shock, absolutely dejected. "Once, perhaps, but you were there this morning. Why else would he follow Elrond about?"
Orophin agreed that it looked bad. He could also attest to the strange attraction of these Peredhils, although he had never thought about Elrond in such a way. The very idea was rather frightening, akin to being attracted to Lord Celeborn. Orophin felt a frisson of fear make its way down his spine at the very idea. No doubt the elders of their kind were very handsome, but he preferred a lover who he could view as something of an equal, and who could not eavesdrop on his thoughts whenever he felt like it. No, the elders were far better off admired from afar in his opinion, but then, Gildor would not be the first elf to disagree with that attitude.
"I still think it's impossible--there must be another explanation." Rumil looked adamant, and Elladan echoed the thought.
"Father does take lovers from time to time, but he never becomes involved with those under his direct control or far beneath him in stature. I suppose he feels that it would be difficult for them to be honest in the relationship--to tell him when they tired of it, or did not want to participate in a particular . .. activity. Gildor is both of those things--his family is a brave one, but not of any particular wealth or standing, and he is part of father's elite guard. Forgive me, but he also doesn't seem very . . . experienced . . . as father's other conquests have always been. I just can't see him responding to any advances Gildor might make, other than with a polite refusal, of course."
"That isn't point. Lord Elrond might not be interested in Gildor, but the opposite obviously isn't true. If he is unhappy with . . . with our relationship, when Elrond rejects him, he'll simply go find someone else." Haldir looked so distressed that Orophin briefly wanted to hug him as he had when they were children, but somehow did not think that would be well received, especially with an audience. Haldir had always had difficulty expressing his feelings, which was probably why he had trouble with something as simple as showing his love for Gildor. Orophin wondered if he had ever even said it, and thought about mentioning that that might be a good place to start, but decided to wait and hope someone else brought it up. Haldir was uncharacteristically vulnerable at the moment, and he didn't want to risk hurting him by insinuating that this was somehow his fault, even if that might be the truth.
"That won't happen. We won't let it happen." Orophin wished he felt as certain as Rumil, but he nodded in agreement with his brother's sentiment and the group set to work. After a short time, Orophin decided two things: first, that he wouldn't have missed this for worlds, and second, never give Rumil a challenge. His brother could be positively scary when his imagination was allowed free reign.
"First things first," Rumil commented, pulling a piece of parchment and a quill from a bag, "Tell us everything you know about his preferences." At Haldir's scandalized expression, Rumil laughed. "No, not THOSE preferences--I think we can safely leave that to you. I meant, what kind of food, wine, bath oil, flowers, etc. does he like?" When Haldir stared at him blankly, Rumil sighed and muttered something about wondering how he had ever acquired his reputation. "THINK, brother, you must have noticed these things, even if you didn't remark on them at the time."
Over a period of almost two hours, Rumil ruthlessly grilled Haldir on every meal, walk in a garden, and conversation he had ever had with Gildor. The quill flew as Rumil made copious notes, amazing Orophin with his thoroughness. He couldn't decide if it was going to be a very lucky or very overwhelmed elf maid who ended up as the object of his brother's affection one of these days.
"Now, to dress." Rumil paused and tapped the end of his quill against the parchment, obviously thinking hard. "No, you don't have anything in your wardrobe that's likely to do."
Haldir, who had begun looking somewhat grumpy as time dragged on, seemed annoyed. "This is ridiculous. What difference does it make what I wear?"
Rumil gave his brother a withering look. "Haven't you been paying attention at all? This isn't about YOU, it is about GILDOR, and clothes obviously have meaning for him. Look at his insistence on you wearing matching tunics the night of King Thranduil's reception. Look at the replica he had made of the first present you ever gave him . . . and probably the only one, too. Stop thinking about yourself and concentrate on what will make Gildor happy, assuming you really meant it when you said you want to keep him."
Orophin cringed, awaiting the inevitable explosion, for elves of good sense did not talk to Haldir that way. But to his amazement it never came. Instead, Haldir looked abashed, and after a moment meekly inquired what, exactly, he should wear.
"I don't know," Rumil said flatly, obviously still rather miffed. "Something that says, 'this is a special occasion for which I went to a great deal of trouble to please you.' Something that says 'you're important to me.' Something beautiful, unusual, seductive and memorable . . . although where we are supposed to find such an item on such short notice, I have no idea."
Orophin brightened. He had been feeling a little left out of the conversation, unable to improve on any of the ideas Elladan and Rumil had been bantering about. Now, however, he had an inspiration. Yes, he thought, looking at Haldir critically, it should look perfect on him, and if anyone complained about their borrowing it, well, he could always blame Elladan, couldn't he? "Elladan and I know of something."
Elladan, sitting across from him, looked puzzled for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Oh, yes," he gasped, "we certainly do!"
* * *
Gildor wearily returned to his rooms after one of the longest days he could remember. He had followed Elrond about hoping for some sign from the High King about his situation--either good or ill--or for an indication that Lady Galadriel had intervened, but had received neither. However, he had managed to get close enough several times to see that Elrond's eyes remained a bright, clear blue, indicating that Gil-Galad was still in residence, so to speak.
Gildor was tormented by indecision over whether that was a good thing or not, and he was equally unsure if he had done his duty to his overlord by contacting the lady. Wasn't that pushing off his responsibility onto someone else? What if Elrond managed to fool even her? Gildor had always heard it said that none could deceive the lady about anything, but then, the same was said of Lord Elrond. What if he managed to convince her that Gildor had been mistaken? If anyone could do it, Elrond could, and if that was the case, what in Arda was there left to do? It was in a state of confusion and despondency that Gildor pushed open his door, wishing for nothing so much as a chance to talk this over with Haldir, but unwilling to share the guilt. This was not his lover's problem, and he shouldn't be burdened with it.
The room was dark as the sun had set some time before. Gildor wondered if Haldir had had dinner sent up to him, because some delightful aroma still lingered on the air. He had been too busy following Elrond to remember to eat, and now wished he had thought to stop by the kitchens. He was too tired and heartsick, however, to go all the way down there now.
Suddenly, a taper flared across the room and a large, standing candelabra sprang to life. Gildor looked about the illuminated room in considerable amazement. What was all this? In the centre of his chamber, where the table and bed had once been, a huge tub had been placed. All about it candles were being lit as Haldir moved gracefully from point to point. Floating in the scented water were crimson rose petals and more candles shaped like lily flowers. The bed had been relocated to one side of the room and festooned with swathes of white gauzy fabric intertwined with ropes of flowers. Along the opposite wall, the table glowed with more flowers, bright cutlery and a number of covered dishes, which explained the mouthwatering aroma permeating the room. Gildor noticed all this in an instant, with the help of Erestor's long training, but none of these delights were what held his attention, for Haldir was . . . Gildor decided he really needed to sit down.
The vision in gold did not give him the opportunity, however, but finished lighting the rest of the candles and moved to kneel at Gildor's feet, helping him out of the sandals he had taken to wearing lately in lieu of his usual heavy boots. Haldir was wearing sandals, too, Gildor noticed, although his were gold to match the . . . tunic, for lack of a better word, that covered only half his chest and fell barely halfway down his thighs. Where did he find such an outfit? Gildor had never seen anything even remotely like it, but decided swiftly that he approved very much. Haldir's long hair fell unbound down his almost bare back, shimmering in the candlelight like spun gold as he knelt at Gildor's feet, lightly caressing his arches as he removed the shoes. Gildor would normally have asked him to stand, have insisted that he could take off his own sandals, but the whole moment had a feeling of unreality about it, and he was quite simply too stunned to speak.
"This way," Haldir murmured a moment later, pulling Gildor towards the steaming bath where he slowly divested him of his clothes and immersed him in the warm water. It felt wonderful on his tired limbs, and Gildor could almost feel the tension falling away from him. What was that fragrance? Gildor decided after a moment that it was too complex to analyse--some wonderful mix of scented oils and herbs that served to relax him fully when combined with the warmth of the water.
Gildor fully expected his lover to join him so that he could share the pleasure, but apparently Haldir had a different plan. Taking up a large sponge, he proceeded to give him the most sensual bath he had ever had, trailing the soft mass over Gildor's entire body while remaining outside the pool himself. Gildor had never been bathed before, and was at first intensely shy about it. He knew that made no sense, considering how intimate he and Haldir had been on other occasions, but there was something decadent about the way his limbs were lifted and slowly caressed by the sponge, and something overwhelmingly sensual in the intensity with which Haldir looked at him as he lazily drew the soapy mass across his chest, that left Gildor gasping. When his lover trailed the scented sponge down his back and between his buttocks, and when he shortly thereafter gently wrapped it about Gildor's by now fully hard arousal, all he could think about was dragging Haldir into the pool and making passionate love to him, preferably several times. He sensed that Haldir wasn't ready for that yet, however, as he had obviously gone to immense trouble to arrange the evening and undoubtedly had an order of events planned. Nonetheless, Gildor was almost relieved when Haldir decided he was clean enough and left him to soak while he busied himself collecting plates, cups and bottles from the beautiful collection on the table.
Gildor started to protest when Haldir began feeding him, feeling somehow as if he did not deserve such attention, but Haldir kept him too occupied to do so. The fruit was dipped in the mixture of honey and spices that Gildor particularly liked and which was a Lorien specialty, and with it he was offered sips of his favourite Berdruskan wine. "Wherever did you find this?," Gildor asked in amazement, after Haldir held the glass to his lips the first time. "I thought I used the last for our celebration."
Haldir merely smiled. "Oh, the chef always keeps a few bottles back for his own use. He owed Rumil a favour, so we managed to pry one away from him."
"We?" Gildor was overwhelmed that Haldir would go to such lengths for him,
even to the point of asking for his brother's help. Haldir was so self-sufficient, and never leaned on anyone for anything. The idea that he would do so just to please him made Gildor almost light-headed with happiness.
Haldir looked strangely shy. "I . . . hope you don't mind that I asked him about a few things. I wanted everything to be perfect, and Rumil . . . helped . . . with some of the details."
Gildor couldn't think of words to convey his feelings, so he simply drew Haldir into a deep kiss. His lover tasted of honey and the dark flavour of the wine, and Gildor thought him by far the most delicious thing he had tried all night. "Join me? I want to show you how much all this means . . . " He felt shy, having so much attention lavished on him, especially when he had not anticipated any of it. He wanted to reciprocate, but Haldir smilingly declined.
"Tonight is about you, not me," he replied softly, and picked up another platter. By the time the many course meal was completed, the water had become slightly tepid. Haldir helped Gildor out of the bath, enveloping him in a soft white robe after rubbing a soft towel all over him. Gildor was still in a haze of disbelief, but was also becoming desperate to touch his lover. Haldir's hands on him in the bath and the brushes of his fingers against Gildor's lips as he fed him had aroused him to an unbelievable degree. He was therefore very disappointed when Haldir did not immediately allow him to pull him into an embrace once they fell into bed together. "No, not yet. First, I have something for you."
Gildor sat in giddy disbelief as Haldir felt about under the satin sheets, fully expecting to wake up at any moment. This just could not be real . . . could it? He took with trembling hands the large package Haldir gave him, wondering what it could possibly be. He briefly panicked for a moment at the thought that he had forgotten some special occasion, but a fast perusal of their past relationship reassured him. He did not know why Haldir was doing this, but decided not to question his luck. He carefully opened the beautiful package; when the wrappings fell away, he could only sit and stare, desperately trying not to cry.
"Do you like them?" Haldir looked a little apprehensive, as if he actually thought the answer might be no. "I remembered that you always seemed to admire mine, and thought . . . "
Gildor let his fingers slowly caress the wood of the finely made Galadrim bow before him. Along with it was a skillfully wrought quiver of buttery soft leather that matched the one Haldir always used. Both were exquisite, and by far the nicest set Gildor had ever owned. He would, of course, have liked them just as much whatever they had looked like, simply because Haldir had given them, but the fact that his lover had noticed the admiring glances Gildor had always had for his weapons completely overwhelmed him.
"I can have them altered, if you like. I thought about having your name inscribed, as some of the Galadrim like to do, although it's hardly needed as we can always tell our own weapon from . . . " He never finished the sentiment, for Gildor could contain himself no more and, having set the prized items carefully aside, drew Haldir into a long kiss, running delighted hands over that silk clad form. Wherever Haldir had found that little outfit, Gildor only hoped they had more. He would love to buy him a whole wardrobe in every colour of the rainbow. "I take it you do like them," Haldir teased when they broke apart at last. Gildor still couldn't reply, but his eyes must have spoken for him. "Well, that's good," Haldir said, seeming a little at a loss himself. "I, er, I'm glad they please you. I do want to make you happy, you know, Gildor, I just don't always . . . well, I realised recently that I don't . . . that is, that I haven't . . . what I mean to say . . . "
"It's all right, Haldir," Gildor whispered, kissing his lover's throat and wishing he could taste all of him at once. There were no need for words between them; what words could describe what he felt anyway?"
"No, no it isn't all right." Haldir stopped his caresses by pulling him into a tight embrace. "Gildor," he spoke softly into his ear, "I need you to know that I've never felt this way before, not about anyone. I . . . well, I think, no I KNOW, that I love you. If you left me, I don't know how I would . . . not that I want you to think you have to stay with me if that isn't what you want, but what I said before, all that tripe about who leads and who follows . . . I know now that I don't care. I only want you with me . . . forever."
Gildor pulled away so that he could look his lover in the eyes. He felt like fainting, or perhaps levitating off the bed in sheer bliss, he wasn't sure which. He had dreamed about this, prayed for it, but never really thought he would live long enough to see it. He had decided to be happy with whatever kind of relationship Haldir was willing to have, and had carefully avoided thinking what would happen when his lover tired of him. That Haldir was really saying that that would never occur left Gildor so stunned that he simply sat there, looking at him in wonder as the seconds ticked by. It was only when a look of fear entered his lover's gaze that Gildor snapped out of it, realising that he was taking too long to answer. "I would be honoured to bond with you, Haldir. Whenever you say; however you want. I have loved you since I first saw you. Nothing could make me happier than the thought of never having to part from you."
As Haldir pulled him into a kiss that combined passion with overwhelming joy, Gildor decided that, if this was a dream, let him sleep forever.
TBC