Title: Morning's Embrace Part I
Email: lollipop4588yahoo
Rating: N-17
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor. . .for now
Author's Note: Yeah, the last chapter was more of a prologue to sort of
get myself started. This chapter is going to be in more depth concerning
the character's emotions. Enjoy! Btw, there's a more graphic version of
this at adultfanfiction.com.
Disclaimer: Everything but the story belongs to Professor J.R.R. Tolkien.
Don't sue me cuz you won't get a lot, that I promise you. I'm not rich.
Donned in a pale azure tunic, the Lord Glorfindel, master at arms for Imladris, made his way with precision and grace through the halls of the Last Homely House, vaguely aware of the sweet smell of baked breads and cakes the house-mistress, Anariel, had apparently prepared for the morning banquet.
The distinguished elf lord nodded his greeting to a few Imladrin elves as they passed him, their smiles shone with respect and not just a little tad of fear. The Lord Glorfindel was the most respected elf in all Imladris, in exception to the Lord Elrond, for the former had achieved great triumphs in his long life. It 'twas common knowledge that he was of the House of Finarphir and an 'Elf-Lord of a house of princes', in charge of Rivendell's defenses, and one of Elrond's chief counselors.
However, if one knew the great elf-lord intimately, one would know that there was absolutely nothing to fear from him. Although, his demeanor could be rough and stern, he would turn soft at the first sight of tears or sadness from anyone that he held dear to himself.
Ascending a small stairway, the elf-lord came upon a large set of double doors. Straightening his posture slightly, he lightly tapped the door with his knuckle and waited. Upon hearing an acquiescence of entry from within the room, he gently opened the door and slipped inside.
The Lord Elrond's study was indeed a lovely sight to behold. A large opening in the angelic carved walls revealed a quaint cascade of spring water falling down into the valley below, sounding the entire room with its melodic ring of water spattering against rocks. Within the room was a large mahogany desk with scattered papers strewn over its surface. A crackling fire writhed in the fireplace to the far right, underneath a large map of Middle-earth and the Undyling Lands.
The Lord of Imladris, Elrond, stood with his wife, Celebrian, behind the desk, speaking with her in soft tones. The Lady of Imladris gazed up at her husband, her long silver tresses cascading against her face, a sort of fear mingled sadness lingering in her light blue eyes. Glorfindel's brow furrowed at the sight of his troubled Lady, however he remained silent until spoken to. He watched as the Lady gave a tiny nod, and allowed herself to be given a warm embrace by her husband. She then made her way to the door and gave the elf lord a little smile as she exited. Upon her departure, the elf-lord asked,
"What ails the Lady Celebrian, my lord?"
Elrond remained thus behind his desk for a while, his eyes narrowed in worry and intense thought. He strode to the window over looking the cascade, robes trailing behind him, as he gazed in thought for awhile, long before answering,
"My wife is worried, Glorfindel. Her father has sent word to us to be at the utmost caution. Orcs, goblins, and all manner of foul things have seen to deign us with their presence of late," the healing master tiredly lifted his hand to rub at his eyes, his Great Ring, Vilya, glinting in the morning light. "She worries of our safety here, in Imladris. Of us, our children, and of course our beloved friends." He added the last part with a small smile directed toward Glorfindel. The elf-lord returned the smile with full admiration,
"I will do whatever I must to ensure the security of this home, my lord."
"I know you will, Glorfindel, mellon nîn," Elrond replied, now taking his place in front of his friend. "So, for now, I have a task I would ask of you."
"Anything, Lord Elrond," Glorfindel promptly replied.
The healing master now turned and made his way back to his desk, before setting himself in the high-backed chair before it.
"I have also reached word that we will be receiving several envoys from Lothlórien and Mirkwood to discuss this sudden surge in evil activity east of Hithaeglir. They will be here within the remainder of the week, lest they befall any difficulties. I would ask of you to select a few of your warriors and camp near our borders to await their arrival. They will need Imladrin elves to guide them toward this hidden vale."
"I will do as you wish, Elrond," Glorfindel acquiesced with an incline of his golden head. Under normal circumstances, the two elven lords treated one another as equals and great friends, yet in times of business and haste, they were severely dignified. "How soon shall I depart, my lord?" he continued. The healing master sighed in worry before answering.
"Nightfall at the latest, Glorfindel."
"It shall be as you command, my lord." The elf-lord bowed once more before taking his leave. Once outside the double doors, the smell of sweet way- bread assailed his nostrils yet again, and for the first time that morning, he realized the full extent of his hunger. Making his way quickly to the dining hall, he wondered if Anariel had perchance happened to make his favorite morning delicacy; lemon crème pastries. Just the thought of them, made his mouth water.
As he entered the hall, he caught sight of Elrond's children breaking their fast together at the head of the large table. Arwen was currently scolding them for "unintentionally" spattering batter onto her, whilst the twins, Elladan and Elrohir, strove to conceal their bouts of laughter. The elf- lord smiled to himself at the sight. Although the three of them were well past their 2,000th name-days, they still could act rather like neth hîn at times.
Taking his seat at the lower end of the table, wanting to avoid getting batter spattered onto his own self, his eyes quickly scanned the food-laden table. He nonchalantly added a roll and peach to his plate before he heard the sound of liquid being poured into a goblet next to his ear. As he turned his head, he saw Anariel grace his setting at the table with a goblet of Morning Wine.
"Hannon Le, Anariel," He thanked her and smiled before asking, "Is there, perchance, any of your Lemon-crèmes left, muin hiril?"
The young elf-maid gave a small frown as she tucked a lock of dark gold hair behind her tipped ear as she answered,
"Apologies my Lord, but the Lord Erestor acquired the last of them earlier this morning, not long before you entered. I could make some more if you like, however, they will not be ready until well past the hour of noon."
Glorfindel reassuringly patted her arm and replied,
"'Tis no matter, muin hiril. The spread you have already provided is lovely."
Assured that she had not angered her lord in anyway, the young elf-maid curtsied and made her way to the opposite end of the table, where she heard a rather unpleasant crash. It seems the twins had overturned a fruit platter.
Erestor sat under the shade of a large beech tree, beside the Bruinen river which ran through the valley, leafing quietly through random papers of correspondence sent to Imladris by neighboring domains. It was his job to keep track of them, and organize them, so as they could be read with ease by the Lord Elrond. He had decided to glance them over outside, for he found his office rather stuffy that spring morning.
"Enjoying your duties, Erestor?"
The unexpected voice caused the steward to jump, and the papers nearly flung from his grasp. His surprise turned to astonished annoyance as the ever familiar golden-locked elf-lord knelt in front of him.
"For Valar's sake, Glorfindel, you nearly caused me to fling these into the Bruinen!" he scolded, while gesturing to the papers.
"Oh that would be a shame now, would it not?" the elf-lord replied with a smirk.
Erestor glared back in exasperation. Normally, the golden elf-lord was proper and dignified, yet whenever he happened to be around the steward, he would turn into this teasing, smirking elf! Erestor could not decide whether he was fond of this or not.
"My, you look positively divine this morning!" the elf-lord continued teasingly. Erestor decided he was fond of this, though he gave the former a scolding look whilst he blushed.
"Why were you not at breakfast?" he quietly asked, purposely gazing at the papers below him so as not to meet the elf-lord's eye.
"Elrond had a favor to ask of me," the golden elf replied as he brushed a lock of auburn behind Erestor's tipped ear. The steward flushed once again.
"So shy, Erestor?" he heard the elf-lord ask, also noticing that his voice was closer. He abruptly glanced up to retort,
"No I am not-!" he began, however was cut off shortly as his lips were claimed by he elf-lord's. Melting as he always did when in the golden elf's embrace, he felt a hand snake around his neck and pull him closer as well as a skilled tongue ravaging the inside of his mouth. As quickly as the kiss began, it was broken off as the elven-lord pulled back.
"Wh-what are you doing?" the steward asked, somewhat weakened and spent.
"Punishing you." The elf-lord replied matter-of-factly.
"Punishing me? Why?"
"You ate my lemon-crémes." The elf-lord stated in a deep, drawl that was uncommon amongst elves, yet ever so enticing.
"Your lemon-!" however the steward was cut off once more as he was reclaimed in the passionate kiss. This time, he could do nothing but moan into the golden-elf's mouth as he felt himself gently, yet forcefully shoved back against the beech tree. The all but forgotten papers tumbled out of his hands and began to flutter in the wind. The elf-lord's body covered his and he felt the achingly comfortable weight of the other on top of him.
"Glorfindel?" he meagerly implored as the other began to nip and bite at the sensitive flesh just below his ear.
"Hmm?" the elf-lord grunted as he now began to suckle the hollow at the base of the steward's throat.
"Wont we-? We will be seen."
Glorfindel continued his trail of kisses along the steward's throat and collarbone, eventually making his way back up to the swollen lips to cease the steward from protesting overmuch. He knew it was a risk that they would be seen, yet he could not pull himself away from his steward. His mind wandered back to their first time of lovemaking. It had been three years ago. . .
2503 Third Age – "Flashback"
Glorfindel took a swig from his wine as he sat in the Dining Hall. A loud, raucous summer storm was at its peak and relentless, heaving its wrath upon the hidden vale. It was late evening, and the only light provided was from the two grand fireplaces on opposite sides of the hall, thus, everything was coated in a dull, amber glow. The supper feast had long since been over, yet a few who had joined in the meal late still lingered, drinking the last of their wine and merely picking at their plates. Glorfindel was one such person. He no longer obtained an appetite, yet he felt no desire to join the others in the Hall of Fire. His attentions at present were focused upon an auburn steward sitting down the table a ways from him, finishing his meal. The steward had come into the dining hall rather late, apologizing and claiming he had taken an afternoon nap and found that he had slept the time away. After laughing sympathetically, the Lady Celebrian bid Anariel to fix up her steward a place at the table.
Glorfindel watched as Erestor calmly sipped his wine and took a careful spoonful of his vegetable stew. The elf-lord took yet another swig from his wine and found it interesting to watch the steward who had no clue he was being gazed upon. He was well aware of the warnings from others that the more wine one consumed, the cloudier one's awareness became, however he couldn't help feeling that his vision and thought had never been more clear. It seemed that he was looking at the steward for the first time, and taking notice of all the subtle nuances that the auburn-locked elf possessed. He noticed with interest that the steward would always take a careful sip of wine after each partake of his meal. He noticed the way his hazel eyes seemed to shine the brighter in light of the amber radiance from the crackling fire. He noticed how his hair provided a striking contrast to his fair skin. He noticed the way his robe was slightly open at the collar, revealing a slender collarbone. The elf-lord suddenly decided against taking another swig of wine, perhaps he had had enough after all. Yet, he still could not tear his eyes away from the attractive steward.
Suddenly, as if sensing the elf-lord's stare, the steward glanced up. Glorfindel managed to think quickly and cover up his surprise by giving a soft smile of friendship. He watched warily as the steward returned the smile, picked up his goblet of wine, and made his way over to sit beside the elf-lord.
"Rather shrill this storm seems, does it not, Glorfindel?" asked the steward as he took his seat.
"Uh, yes, very. Very.....shrill." the elf-lord mumbled incoherently. By the Valar, why was he suddenly so uneasy in his old friend's presence? Glancing up into the striking hazel gaze, he caught sight of a small bit of wine dripping past the auburn elf's lips.
Forgetting his place momentarily, Glorfindel reached up a thumb and softly brushed the droplet away. Abruptly, he realized what he was doing and froze, his palm unmoving against the steward's jaw. The hazel eyes of the steward widened as he locked his gaze with the elf-lord. Glorfindel could feel him tense against his touch.
"F-forgive me, Erestor. I seem to have had too much wine." He murmured as he drew his hand away and quickly hastened away out of the dining hall.
He had no intention of where he should go next. He did not wish to depart to his chamber, so he continued to walk until eventually his pulse slowed and his head cleared. Walking now slower, and breathing in the deep, pine scent of the valley and of the summer rain, he came upon a doorway. The library. Seeking solace, he ventured inside. The entire room lay covered in darkness, until a pulse of flashing lightening caused the entire room to brighten for an instance. Somewhat calmed, he closed the door quietly behind him, and made his way to the fireplace to create a small fire for light.
Half the spell of an hour later, he sat cozily on a plush sofa glancing through a few historical documents of the second age. Of a sudden, his elvish senses alerted him of a sound. The door was opening ever so slowly. Papers forgotten, he narrowed his eyes to identify the newcomer. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he recognized the elf. Erestor.
The steward closed the door behind him, and gazed apprehensively at the elf- lord.
"Glorfindel, is there something I have done to offend you?" the auburn elf quietly asked.
"Of course not, Erestor. You are my dear friend." The golden elf replied just as quietly.
With a worried expression still harbored upon his face, the steward strode across the room and sat beside the elf-lord on the sofa.
"It's just that you looked genuinely angry with me when you departed so suddenly in the dining hall." The steward's expression was as plain as day: hurt. Glorfindel immediately felt ashamed for having caused one of his oldest friends to feel thus. He sighed,
"Forgive me, mellon nîn. Do not feel wounded." And with that, he gave the steward a friendly embrace, which the steward eagerly returned. Almost too eagerly. From over his left shoulder he heard the auburn elf whisper,
"Thank the Valar. I do not think you know how much I value our friendship, Glorfindel." The elf-lord inhaled the scent of honey and blossoms in the auburn locks, and suddenly felt the unwelcome feeling of desire growing in his nether regions. Alarm overtook him, and he insistently pulled out of the embrace. As he faced the steward once more, he saw something in the depths of the hazel eyes that he had never seen before. Could it be? Longing? He noticed that the auburn elf was unknowingly pressing closer once more. Not wanting his old friend to notice his arousal, the elf-lord edged away. Pain flashed in the hazel eyes yet again.
"You are angry. My apologies, my lord, I will leave you at once." The steward made a move to leave as guilt tore through Glorfindel, and he instantly grabbed his friend's arm.
"Please, do not leave mellon nîn," he murmured. The auburn elf turned his head to face the elf-lord, their noses nearly touching. Glorfindel could not longer misread the lax wanting in the hazel pools that were inches from his face. Taking an extreme risk of ruining their long friendship, he quietly leaned forward and brushed his lips slightly against the steward's. They each remained quietly for a moment, their lips slightly touching. Unexpectedly, Erestor parted his lips, granting Glorfindel the permission he sought. The steward gave a sharp gasp as the elf-lord swiftly plundered the sweetness of the former's mouth with his tongue, and began to paw at the latter's robes.
"Oh, Valar..." the steward moaned as the elf lord began to kiss down his jaw- line and against his tipped ear. Erestor convulsively gripped at Glorfindel's tunic, and groaned.
"Glorfindel, I've-wanted-wanted this for-ah!-an age!"
This newfound confession increased the elf-lord's desire ever more and he hastily lowered the steward and himself down onto the sofa.
Erestor's breathing hitched in his throat as he felt his robes being undone by Glorfindel's deft fingers and a skilled tongue suckling along his throat. It was bliss, sheer bliss. His eyes fluttered shut, when he felt his now achingly hard arousal being gripped by the elf-lord's hands.
Once Glorfindel had discarded the steward's apparel he impatiently ripped off his own tunic and pushed aside his breeches, not wanting to part his lips from Erestor's body. Once he felt that they were both to potent arousal he sealed a possessive kiss against the steward's lips and murmured breathily,
"Are you certain you wish to go through with this, Erestor?" He sucked the tip of his lover's ear before continuing, "You must tell me before I am unable to control myself."
In answer, Erestor wrapped his legs around the waist of the elf-lord above him and groaned.
"Never have I been more certain of anything, ever, hir nîn. Make love to me."
An hour later, their' beautiful elvish forms seemed to meld together. The dull light from the fire caused a glowing sheen of sweat to radiate from their bodies.
From that moment onward, Glorfindel had claimed Erestor as his. He found he could not be apart from the elf for very long without an intense desire stirring in him, and it was all too apparent that the steward felt the same.
It was his wish for them to keep their liaison a secret, though he knew the Lord and Lady of Imladris would not judge them. He simply wished to keep their relationship from the prying eyes of others. He was fully aware that Erestor would not wished to be looked down upon by his peers.
And so it was for the following three years. . .
2506 Third Age - Present
Glorfindel lay with his head resting against Erestor's chest, both lovers breathing heavily from their love making. The wind whistled softly through the leaves of the birch tree above.
"I cannot believe you did that," murmured the steward.
Glorfindel's eyes widened as he lifted his head to gaze accusingly at his lover.
"Erestor, muin mellon, you were as active a lover as I! Do not be so quick to point fingers!"
Erestor simply rolled his eyes, and gazed out into the distance. Inside, he was beaming with happiness. Of a sudden, his eyes widened in horror.
"Glorfindel! The papers! They've scattered everywhere!"
The elf-lord gripped his sides with laughter as he watched his Erestor rush around the lawn, gathering up stray pieces of parchments that had blown in the wind.
"I do believe I've punished you enough, steward!"
Morning Wine is a type of wine that they serve during breakfast in France. It's mostly watered down considerably and very sweet. It's actually quite good. You should try it sometime.
TBC. . .
Please review!
Donned in a pale azure tunic, the Lord Glorfindel, master at arms for Imladris, made his way with precision and grace through the halls of the Last Homely House, vaguely aware of the sweet smell of baked breads and cakes the house-mistress, Anariel, had apparently prepared for the morning banquet.
The distinguished elf lord nodded his greeting to a few Imladrin elves as they passed him, their smiles shone with respect and not just a little tad of fear. The Lord Glorfindel was the most respected elf in all Imladris, in exception to the Lord Elrond, for the former had achieved great triumphs in his long life. It 'twas common knowledge that he was of the House of Finarphir and an 'Elf-Lord of a house of princes', in charge of Rivendell's defenses, and one of Elrond's chief counselors.
However, if one knew the great elf-lord intimately, one would know that there was absolutely nothing to fear from him. Although, his demeanor could be rough and stern, he would turn soft at the first sight of tears or sadness from anyone that he held dear to himself.
Ascending a small stairway, the elf-lord came upon a large set of double doors. Straightening his posture slightly, he lightly tapped the door with his knuckle and waited. Upon hearing an acquiescence of entry from within the room, he gently opened the door and slipped inside.
The Lord Elrond's study was indeed a lovely sight to behold. A large opening in the angelic carved walls revealed a quaint cascade of spring water falling down into the valley below, sounding the entire room with its melodic ring of water spattering against rocks. Within the room was a large mahogany desk with scattered papers strewn over its surface. A crackling fire writhed in the fireplace to the far right, underneath a large map of Middle-earth and the Undyling Lands.
The Lord of Imladris, Elrond, stood with his wife, Celebrian, behind the desk, speaking with her in soft tones. The Lady of Imladris gazed up at her husband, her long silver tresses cascading against her face, a sort of fear mingled sadness lingering in her light blue eyes. Glorfindel's brow furrowed at the sight of his troubled Lady, however he remained silent until spoken to. He watched as the Lady gave a tiny nod, and allowed herself to be given a warm embrace by her husband. She then made her way to the door and gave the elf lord a little smile as she exited. Upon her departure, the elf-lord asked,
"What ails the Lady Celebrian, my lord?"
Elrond remained thus behind his desk for a while, his eyes narrowed in worry and intense thought. He strode to the window over looking the cascade, robes trailing behind him, as he gazed in thought for awhile, long before answering,
"My wife is worried, Glorfindel. Her father has sent word to us to be at the utmost caution. Orcs, goblins, and all manner of foul things have seen to deign us with their presence of late," the healing master tiredly lifted his hand to rub at his eyes, his Great Ring, Vilya, glinting in the morning light. "She worries of our safety here, in Imladris. Of us, our children, and of course our beloved friends." He added the last part with a small smile directed toward Glorfindel. The elf-lord returned the smile with full admiration,
"I will do whatever I must to ensure the security of this home, my lord."
"I know you will, Glorfindel, mellon nîn," Elrond replied, now taking his place in front of his friend. "So, for now, I have a task I would ask of you."
"Anything, Lord Elrond," Glorfindel promptly replied.
The healing master now turned and made his way back to his desk, before setting himself in the high-backed chair before it.
"I have also reached word that we will be receiving several envoys from Lothlórien and Mirkwood to discuss this sudden surge in evil activity east of Hithaeglir. They will be here within the remainder of the week, lest they befall any difficulties. I would ask of you to select a few of your warriors and camp near our borders to await their arrival. They will need Imladrin elves to guide them toward this hidden vale."
"I will do as you wish, Elrond," Glorfindel acquiesced with an incline of his golden head. Under normal circumstances, the two elven lords treated one another as equals and great friends, yet in times of business and haste, they were severely dignified. "How soon shall I depart, my lord?" he continued. The healing master sighed in worry before answering.
"Nightfall at the latest, Glorfindel."
"It shall be as you command, my lord." The elf-lord bowed once more before taking his leave. Once outside the double doors, the smell of sweet way- bread assailed his nostrils yet again, and for the first time that morning, he realized the full extent of his hunger. Making his way quickly to the dining hall, he wondered if Anariel had perchance happened to make his favorite morning delicacy; lemon crème pastries. Just the thought of them, made his mouth water.
As he entered the hall, he caught sight of Elrond's children breaking their fast together at the head of the large table. Arwen was currently scolding them for "unintentionally" spattering batter onto her, whilst the twins, Elladan and Elrohir, strove to conceal their bouts of laughter. The elf- lord smiled to himself at the sight. Although the three of them were well past their 2,000th name-days, they still could act rather like neth hîn at times.
Taking his seat at the lower end of the table, wanting to avoid getting batter spattered onto his own self, his eyes quickly scanned the food-laden table. He nonchalantly added a roll and peach to his plate before he heard the sound of liquid being poured into a goblet next to his ear. As he turned his head, he saw Anariel grace his setting at the table with a goblet of Morning Wine.
"Hannon Le, Anariel," He thanked her and smiled before asking, "Is there, perchance, any of your Lemon-crèmes left, muin hiril?"
The young elf-maid gave a small frown as she tucked a lock of dark gold hair behind her tipped ear as she answered,
"Apologies my Lord, but the Lord Erestor acquired the last of them earlier this morning, not long before you entered. I could make some more if you like, however, they will not be ready until well past the hour of noon."
Glorfindel reassuringly patted her arm and replied,
"'Tis no matter, muin hiril. The spread you have already provided is lovely."
Assured that she had not angered her lord in anyway, the young elf-maid curtsied and made her way to the opposite end of the table, where she heard a rather unpleasant crash. It seems the twins had overturned a fruit platter.
Erestor sat under the shade of a large beech tree, beside the Bruinen river which ran through the valley, leafing quietly through random papers of correspondence sent to Imladris by neighboring domains. It was his job to keep track of them, and organize them, so as they could be read with ease by the Lord Elrond. He had decided to glance them over outside, for he found his office rather stuffy that spring morning.
"Enjoying your duties, Erestor?"
The unexpected voice caused the steward to jump, and the papers nearly flung from his grasp. His surprise turned to astonished annoyance as the ever familiar golden-locked elf-lord knelt in front of him.
"For Valar's sake, Glorfindel, you nearly caused me to fling these into the Bruinen!" he scolded, while gesturing to the papers.
"Oh that would be a shame now, would it not?" the elf-lord replied with a smirk.
Erestor glared back in exasperation. Normally, the golden elf-lord was proper and dignified, yet whenever he happened to be around the steward, he would turn into this teasing, smirking elf! Erestor could not decide whether he was fond of this or not.
"My, you look positively divine this morning!" the elf-lord continued teasingly. Erestor decided he was fond of this, though he gave the former a scolding look whilst he blushed.
"Why were you not at breakfast?" he quietly asked, purposely gazing at the papers below him so as not to meet the elf-lord's eye.
"Elrond had a favor to ask of me," the golden elf replied as he brushed a lock of auburn behind Erestor's tipped ear. The steward flushed once again.
"So shy, Erestor?" he heard the elf-lord ask, also noticing that his voice was closer. He abruptly glanced up to retort,
"No I am not-!" he began, however was cut off shortly as his lips were claimed by he elf-lord's. Melting as he always did when in the golden elf's embrace, he felt a hand snake around his neck and pull him closer as well as a skilled tongue ravaging the inside of his mouth. As quickly as the kiss began, it was broken off as the elven-lord pulled back.
"Wh-what are you doing?" the steward asked, somewhat weakened and spent.
"Punishing you." The elf-lord replied matter-of-factly.
"Punishing me? Why?"
"You ate my lemon-crémes." The elf-lord stated in a deep, drawl that was uncommon amongst elves, yet ever so enticing.
"Your lemon-!" however the steward was cut off once more as he was reclaimed in the passionate kiss. This time, he could do nothing but moan into the golden-elf's mouth as he felt himself gently, yet forcefully shoved back against the beech tree. The all but forgotten papers tumbled out of his hands and began to flutter in the wind. The elf-lord's body covered his and he felt the achingly comfortable weight of the other on top of him.
"Glorfindel?" he meagerly implored as the other began to nip and bite at the sensitive flesh just below his ear.
"Hmm?" the elf-lord grunted as he now began to suckle the hollow at the base of the steward's throat.
"Wont we-? We will be seen."
Glorfindel continued his trail of kisses along the steward's throat and collarbone, eventually making his way back up to the swollen lips to cease the steward from protesting overmuch. He knew it was a risk that they would be seen, yet he could not pull himself away from his steward. His mind wandered back to their first time of lovemaking. It had been three years ago. . .
2503 Third Age – "Flashback"
Glorfindel took a swig from his wine as he sat in the Dining Hall. A loud, raucous summer storm was at its peak and relentless, heaving its wrath upon the hidden vale. It was late evening, and the only light provided was from the two grand fireplaces on opposite sides of the hall, thus, everything was coated in a dull, amber glow. The supper feast had long since been over, yet a few who had joined in the meal late still lingered, drinking the last of their wine and merely picking at their plates. Glorfindel was one such person. He no longer obtained an appetite, yet he felt no desire to join the others in the Hall of Fire. His attentions at present were focused upon an auburn steward sitting down the table a ways from him, finishing his meal. The steward had come into the dining hall rather late, apologizing and claiming he had taken an afternoon nap and found that he had slept the time away. After laughing sympathetically, the Lady Celebrian bid Anariel to fix up her steward a place at the table.
Glorfindel watched as Erestor calmly sipped his wine and took a careful spoonful of his vegetable stew. The elf-lord took yet another swig from his wine and found it interesting to watch the steward who had no clue he was being gazed upon. He was well aware of the warnings from others that the more wine one consumed, the cloudier one's awareness became, however he couldn't help feeling that his vision and thought had never been more clear. It seemed that he was looking at the steward for the first time, and taking notice of all the subtle nuances that the auburn-locked elf possessed. He noticed with interest that the steward would always take a careful sip of wine after each partake of his meal. He noticed the way his hazel eyes seemed to shine the brighter in light of the amber radiance from the crackling fire. He noticed how his hair provided a striking contrast to his fair skin. He noticed the way his robe was slightly open at the collar, revealing a slender collarbone. The elf-lord suddenly decided against taking another swig of wine, perhaps he had had enough after all. Yet, he still could not tear his eyes away from the attractive steward.
Suddenly, as if sensing the elf-lord's stare, the steward glanced up. Glorfindel managed to think quickly and cover up his surprise by giving a soft smile of friendship. He watched warily as the steward returned the smile, picked up his goblet of wine, and made his way over to sit beside the elf-lord.
"Rather shrill this storm seems, does it not, Glorfindel?" asked the steward as he took his seat.
"Uh, yes, very. Very.....shrill." the elf-lord mumbled incoherently. By the Valar, why was he suddenly so uneasy in his old friend's presence? Glancing up into the striking hazel gaze, he caught sight of a small bit of wine dripping past the auburn elf's lips.
Forgetting his place momentarily, Glorfindel reached up a thumb and softly brushed the droplet away. Abruptly, he realized what he was doing and froze, his palm unmoving against the steward's jaw. The hazel eyes of the steward widened as he locked his gaze with the elf-lord. Glorfindel could feel him tense against his touch.
"F-forgive me, Erestor. I seem to have had too much wine." He murmured as he drew his hand away and quickly hastened away out of the dining hall.
He had no intention of where he should go next. He did not wish to depart to his chamber, so he continued to walk until eventually his pulse slowed and his head cleared. Walking now slower, and breathing in the deep, pine scent of the valley and of the summer rain, he came upon a doorway. The library. Seeking solace, he ventured inside. The entire room lay covered in darkness, until a pulse of flashing lightening caused the entire room to brighten for an instance. Somewhat calmed, he closed the door quietly behind him, and made his way to the fireplace to create a small fire for light.
Half the spell of an hour later, he sat cozily on a plush sofa glancing through a few historical documents of the second age. Of a sudden, his elvish senses alerted him of a sound. The door was opening ever so slowly. Papers forgotten, he narrowed his eyes to identify the newcomer. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he recognized the elf. Erestor.
The steward closed the door behind him, and gazed apprehensively at the elf- lord.
"Glorfindel, is there something I have done to offend you?" the auburn elf quietly asked.
"Of course not, Erestor. You are my dear friend." The golden elf replied just as quietly.
With a worried expression still harbored upon his face, the steward strode across the room and sat beside the elf-lord on the sofa.
"It's just that you looked genuinely angry with me when you departed so suddenly in the dining hall." The steward's expression was as plain as day: hurt. Glorfindel immediately felt ashamed for having caused one of his oldest friends to feel thus. He sighed,
"Forgive me, mellon nîn. Do not feel wounded." And with that, he gave the steward a friendly embrace, which the steward eagerly returned. Almost too eagerly. From over his left shoulder he heard the auburn elf whisper,
"Thank the Valar. I do not think you know how much I value our friendship, Glorfindel." The elf-lord inhaled the scent of honey and blossoms in the auburn locks, and suddenly felt the unwelcome feeling of desire growing in his nether regions. Alarm overtook him, and he insistently pulled out of the embrace. As he faced the steward once more, he saw something in the depths of the hazel eyes that he had never seen before. Could it be? Longing? He noticed that the auburn elf was unknowingly pressing closer once more. Not wanting his old friend to notice his arousal, the elf-lord edged away. Pain flashed in the hazel eyes yet again.
"You are angry. My apologies, my lord, I will leave you at once." The steward made a move to leave as guilt tore through Glorfindel, and he instantly grabbed his friend's arm.
"Please, do not leave mellon nîn," he murmured. The auburn elf turned his head to face the elf-lord, their noses nearly touching. Glorfindel could not longer misread the lax wanting in the hazel pools that were inches from his face. Taking an extreme risk of ruining their long friendship, he quietly leaned forward and brushed his lips slightly against the steward's. They each remained quietly for a moment, their lips slightly touching. Unexpectedly, Erestor parted his lips, granting Glorfindel the permission he sought. The steward gave a sharp gasp as the elf-lord swiftly plundered the sweetness of the former's mouth with his tongue, and began to paw at the latter's robes.
"Oh, Valar..." the steward moaned as the elf lord began to kiss down his jaw- line and against his tipped ear. Erestor convulsively gripped at Glorfindel's tunic, and groaned.
"Glorfindel, I've-wanted-wanted this for-ah!-an age!"
This newfound confession increased the elf-lord's desire ever more and he hastily lowered the steward and himself down onto the sofa.
Erestor's breathing hitched in his throat as he felt his robes being undone by Glorfindel's deft fingers and a skilled tongue suckling along his throat. It was bliss, sheer bliss. His eyes fluttered shut, when he felt his now achingly hard arousal being gripped by the elf-lord's hands.
Once Glorfindel had discarded the steward's apparel he impatiently ripped off his own tunic and pushed aside his breeches, not wanting to part his lips from Erestor's body. Once he felt that they were both to potent arousal he sealed a possessive kiss against the steward's lips and murmured breathily,
"Are you certain you wish to go through with this, Erestor?" He sucked the tip of his lover's ear before continuing, "You must tell me before I am unable to control myself."
In answer, Erestor wrapped his legs around the waist of the elf-lord above him and groaned.
"Never have I been more certain of anything, ever, hir nîn. Make love to me."
An hour later, their' beautiful elvish forms seemed to meld together. The dull light from the fire caused a glowing sheen of sweat to radiate from their bodies.
From that moment onward, Glorfindel had claimed Erestor as his. He found he could not be apart from the elf for very long without an intense desire stirring in him, and it was all too apparent that the steward felt the same.
It was his wish for them to keep their liaison a secret, though he knew the Lord and Lady of Imladris would not judge them. He simply wished to keep their relationship from the prying eyes of others. He was fully aware that Erestor would not wished to be looked down upon by his peers.
And so it was for the following three years. . .
2506 Third Age - Present
Glorfindel lay with his head resting against Erestor's chest, both lovers breathing heavily from their love making. The wind whistled softly through the leaves of the birch tree above.
"I cannot believe you did that," murmured the steward.
Glorfindel's eyes widened as he lifted his head to gaze accusingly at his lover.
"Erestor, muin mellon, you were as active a lover as I! Do not be so quick to point fingers!"
Erestor simply rolled his eyes, and gazed out into the distance. Inside, he was beaming with happiness. Of a sudden, his eyes widened in horror.
"Glorfindel! The papers! They've scattered everywhere!"
The elf-lord gripped his sides with laughter as he watched his Erestor rush around the lawn, gathering up stray pieces of parchments that had blown in the wind.
"I do believe I've punished you enough, steward!"
Morning Wine is a type of wine that they serve during breakfast in France. It's mostly watered down considerably and very sweet. It's actually quite good. You should try it sometime.
TBC. . .
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