Title: Morning's Embrace Part I Email: lollipop4588yahoo.com Rating: N-17 Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor. . .for now Author's Note: This chapter is going to go more into the depth of Erestor's feelings, and also, a few new and a well-known character will be introduced. ;) Enjoy! Disclaimer: Everything but the story belongs to Professor J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm not making any profit from this, and I'm only writing this because I love to write. =)
A reiviewer of mine on a different website pointed out that I had chosen names for my OC's that were already in use in the Silmarillion. So last night, I went through an elvish dictionary to create new ones. If they're still not exceptable, please let me know! Thanks!
The evening's pale moon waxed in the vast, starry sky over Imladris. Two lumenn's after nightfall, Erestor stood at his balcony overlooking Glorfindel assemble his combatants to depart from the vale and meet the approaching envoys from the elven domains of Lothlórien and Mirkwood. The elf-lord was currently astride his horse and receiving a few final commands from Elrond who stood nearby on the house's porch, overlooking the departure. The moon's pale luminosity glowed and glittered against the elf- captain's golden hair, making him appear more lordly and ethereal than the steward had ever seen him look before.
Commanding his elven companions to move out, the elven-lord, feeling as if he were being watched happened to glance up to find a gazing Erestor looking down on him from his balcony. Giving a sly smile, he reached his mind up to the steward,
"Tenna' ento lye omenta" Until next we meet. Thinking the steward would frown upon his rather rude form of farewell (for he knew Erestor found it rather personal to communicate with one's mind) he was very nearly shocked when he felt a calm and rather hushed thought replied to his own,
"Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au'" I shall be melancholy until I see thee again.
Trying to veil the his rather surprised countenance, Glorfindel gave one last smile and nod to the steward, and spun his mount around to lead his companions out of the vale.
As he watched the elves depart, Erestor could not help feeling a little surprised himself, at his own telepathic reply to the elf-lord. In fact, he found that he'd nearly already forgiven the golden elf for causing him to lose half of the Lord Elrond's letters earlier that morning. Nearly. He could remember the twin's fits of stifled laughter as he'd returned the crumpled papers of remaining parchment to Elrond with his usually smooth auburn tresses in somewhat disarray, although that hadn't been from merely running after the stray papers, but they did not need to know that. For Valar's sake, even Arwen and Celebrian seemed strained to maintain a straight face! Erestor now decided that he would give Glorfindel a good speaking to when the latter returned later in the week.
His thoughts remained upon the elven-lord as he retired from his balcony to retreat to his bedchamber for the evening. Attiring himself in a simple night robe, he sat himself before his desk and lit a small candle that lay upon it. He pulled out a bare piece of parchment from an alcove to the left and a small writing quill to begin a letter of correspondence to the shipwright Círdan of the Grey Havens pertaining to the council that was to take place concerning the swelling numbers of orcs inhabiting the east. Yet the steward's mind proved quite restless as he found he could not begin the letter. He was distracted, and could not bring his mind to import itself to the chief dilemmas at hand. Always, his mind would shift to the proud, beautiful creature known as Glorfindel.
He remembered the first moment he'd desired the elf lord. It had been nearly 2,400 years ago. Sweet Elbereth!, he thought to himself. Has it really been that long? It had been whilst he was in attendance to Elrond's marriage to Celebrian in Lothlórien. It being his first time in the golden wood, he was in awe of the pale glow the entire kingdom had radiated upon everyone and everything. The ceremony had been a small, intimate gathering, with only close family and friends in attendance. Of course the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn, Celebrian's parents, along with a small contingent of her close friends she'd known from her past in the Golden Wood had been present, as well as a group of Imladrin elves, including Erestor and Glorfindel.
As he'd witnessed Celebrian stating her vows and declarations to Elrond, Erestor had happened to glance to the far right from where the Lord and Lady stood, and saw Glorfindel observing the rite. His breath quite literally caught in his throat, and he'd had to reassure the elf-maid standing beside him that he was indeed quite all right.
The Lord Glorfindel's emerald eyes were a deep shade of green, which were in striking contrast to a forest green cloak he wore. His flaxen gold mane reverberated with an unearthly quality in the pale luminescence of the wood. His proud countenance was clear and striking. Never before had he noticed the lord in this way, yet he wondered why he had never seen it before when his beauty was so blatantly apparent!
Thinking that the elf-lord could not possibly be any closer to perfection than he was at that moment, he was stunned when the former suddenly shifted his jade eyes to rest on the steward, and smiled a warm smile that lit up his face in splendor.
Sitting now, in his desk at Rivendell, Erestor reflected upon that smile now, and sighed. Indeed, his former self in Lórien would have groaned had he known of the agonizing two millennia to come.
Upon discerning his new found desire for the elf-lord, he had been extremely nervous and on edge whenever in company with the former. In order to hide this strange new attraction, he composed himself to be extremely formal and rather icy when speaking to him, which was something he loathed to do, yet he did not think he would be able to bear it if the elf-lord ever found out about his feelings.
And then that night three years past had happened. He'd been having a late meal in the dining hall when he'd caught the elf-lord peering at him. Thinking that he'd simply wished to speak to him, the steward had moved himself to sit beside the golden elf, thinking that perhaps the lord would explain to him what was on his mind. The steward remembered with some embarrassment a trivial comment he made about the weather, when Glorfindel had actually reached up his hand and caressed the side of his face! He remembered the shocking jolts of desire running through him at the touch, and he involuntarily stiffened in surprise. To his dismay, the elf-lord had then hastily excused himself, muttering something about wine. He remembered that he'd noticed intense emotion flashing in the emerald eyes, and at the time, he'd misread it as anger. Of course, he'd been deeply troubled by that. It hurt him immensely to think that the one he'd thought to be the most exquisite being in existence to be angry with him. After pondering this for a good while, he'd retreated from the dining hall, in search for the elf-lord, wishing to discover the reason for the latter's disapproval.
After searching nearly the entire Homely House, he'd found a small flickering fire light coming from under the door of the Library. Venturing inside, he'd found the elf-lord sifting through parchments, and then only to look up at him with surprise and the same heated emotion he'd seen in the dining room. The rest of the memory was a mere haze compared to what would happen later.
He remembered himself imploring as to why the elf-lord was angry with him, and the way the latter hastily denied it. And then, when the steward had nearly given up and decided to leave, the golden elf held him back and made move as to caress his lips with his own. Fear and surprise had paralyzed him at the moment.......and then....suddenly, it began to make sense. Glorfindel desired him as well! He knew not for how long, but it instantly became clear. The strange emotion he'd seen in the elf-lord's eyes had been conflicted desire, and he had no doubt fled from him in the dining hall for fear of upsetting him. Hope and happiness had coursed through him then, and he'd willingly given himself in to the golden-elf's embrace. Never had he felt pleasure surge at such heights as when Glorfindel had taken him then, with as much passion as he felt himself.
The following day at noon, the elf-lord had clandestinely slipped him a note, instructing him to retire to the elf-lord's room come evenfall. With barely the energy to conduct himself with a timely manner, the steward had excused himself from the Hall of Fire that evening and made his way discreetly to Glorfindel's bedchamber. Upon reaching the desired door, he knocked quietly and heard a quite, "enter" from within. Slipping inside, he noticed the entire room lay in darkness, though he could still see quite easily with his elvish eyes. However, there was no sign of the elf-lord. The steward took a few more steps into the room, and then suddenly, with startling abruptness, he heard the door being kicked shut behind him. Spinning himself around at the sound, he was immediately caught in a fierce, passionate kiss by none other than the elven lord Glorfindel.
While still maintaining the heated kiss, the elf-lord backed them both up until the steward's legs nearly caught against the bed. Erestor felt his tunic being hastily discarded as he was lowered forcefully yet without not without gentle care onto the bed.
"What in Elbereth's name took you so long?" the flaxen elf had murmured breathily between kisses located along the steward's throat.
"I could hardly excuse myself as soon as we'd finished the meal!" the steward panted in return.
Erestor could not believe that another union with the elf-lord could be as pleasurable has it had been the first time. He soon learned he was wrong, and found that it was breathtaking to be so. Hours later that evening, the elf-lord laid with his head against the steward's chest, as he would soon be wont to do after an intense coupling, and spoke quietly,
"Erestor, I think it would be best if no one knew about our associations for a while. I'm sure you would not want the attentions that we would most likely receive. For now, let us just keep this between ourselves.".
The steward had acquiesced then in agreement, though later he would wonder at the elf-lord's need for such secrecy. Male/male relationships, though not as common, were in no way shunned by elves as they were with the race of men, and he found no reason why he should be unwilling to keep this from others. However, so happy was he that he had finally obtained his elf-lord that he cared not if their relationship was kept secret or out in the open. Glorfindel was finally his and his alone. The two elves then fell asleep, thus, in each other's arms until morning, when Erestor had retreated to his own chamber in the early hours of the new day.
And so for the next three years up until the present did the two elves remain united in their liaison, spending as much as five times each week in each other's company in Glorfindel's room until the coming of dawn.
Erestor sighed as he retreated from the haze of the memory, looking down upon the piece of parchment he'd set before him, no longer blank. As his mind had wandered, he'd sketched a portrait of the elf-lord. The sketch was in striking similarity to the way he'd looked in Lothlórien on the day of Elrond, and Celebrian's marriage. Smiling, he tucked the sketch away in a drawer, blew out the candle, and retired to bed.
Glorfindel and his combatants camped along the border of the vale for three days before any of the impending envoys became present. At the hour of noon on the third day, Elrohir, who, with his twin, had joined the welcome party, approached the elf-lord with news that a small troop of elves were seen to be approaching in the distance.
Raising his hand to shield his keen, elvish eyes from the sun, Glorfindel peered into the distance and saw what the Elrondion had spoken of. Emerging from a small wood at the foot of the hills, came a group of no more than eight or nine elves. From Lórien, it seemed, for their cloaks were of gray velvet and their hair a silver sheen. Their grace and beauty a faint reflection of their lord and lady.
Glorfindel swiftly turned to go to his steed that stood with the others next to a nearby tree, and mounted with the easy grace of his people. Nudging his mount he rode down the rocky path to meet the Lórien elves that made their way slowly towards the Imladrin encampment.
"Mae govannen, mellon! I am Glorfindel. The Lord Elrond bade me welcome you." he called as he slowed his steed to a halt before the company, who in turn did the same. Each bowed their head in faithful respect, and their leader slowly withdrew the hood of his cloak from over his brow to reveal a crown of raven hair, which was odd for a Lórien elf. Yet his heritage was certainly apparent by his pale blue eyes which was common amongst those of the Golden Wood.
"Mae govannen. I am Morfin." the elf returned, inclining his head. "The Lady bade us thank you for receiving us so graciously."
"You can tell your Lady when you return that we thank her for sending Imladris such gracious representatives of her domain." Glorfindel returned with a welcoming smile. He then, turned his mount in the opposite direction to lead the company toward the Imladrin encampment.
"Did you meet any difficulties along your road?" he inquired, pulling his steed alongside Morfin.
"None. We count ourselves fortunate. How much farther does the road stretch until we reach your Vale?" The Lórien elf answered with a slight edge to his voice. Glorfindel presumed that the elf was no doubt weary from the journey.
"'Tis but an hour's ride, mellon, however, I'm afraid we cannot depart just yet."
"No?" there was no mistaking the displeasure in Morfin's tone.
"I'm afraid we must still wait for the elves hailing from Mirkwood to grace us with their presence. They should arrive within two day's time. However, we have plenty of food and hot water for your people to replenish themselves, if you seek respite." The elf-lord apologized.
"Well, I suppose we have no other choice." Morfin retorted in annoyance. Glorfindel managed a side-long glance at the elf to notice a slight roll of light blue eyes. Sighing inwardly, the elf-lord thought to himself, "I shall have to keep an eye on this one!"
The passing of two days came and went with still no sign from the elves from Mirkwood. On the dawn of the third day, Glorfindel stood atop a large boulder, his eyes sweeping the distance for any sign of the envoy.
"Where are these Sindarins?" he heard a voice from beside him. Glancing to his right, Glorfindel saw Morfin gazing into the distance as well, an annoyed expression on his fair face. "I grow weary of remaining here."
Glorfindel clenched his jaw, trying to maintain his waning patience. For the past two days, Morfin had done nothing but sneer and curse the Mirkwood elves for their lack of haste, protesting that his people wished to sleep under a decent roof after their journey. Despite what the elf proclaimed, Glorfindel could not help but notice that perhaps it was only the raven- crowned elf who felt thus, for the remainder of the Lórien company were nothing but grateful and understanding. Glorfindel couldn't help but wonder if the reason the Lord and Lady of Lórien sent this elf as an envoy was simply to get him out of their hair.
"If they do not turn up by tomorrow's evenfall, myself and a few of my combatants shall go in search of them. Let us hope they were not waylaid by orcs."
The Lórien envoy merely sniffed and returned to his tent, the elf-lord glad to be rid of him for a spell.
The following evening, Glorfindel and a select few of his Imladrin warriors prepared to depart in search of their delayed guests. Just as he prepared to mount his steed, he heard his name being called.
"Lord Glorfindel! Lord Glorfindel!" The elf-lord snapped his head around to see Elladan gallop towards him astride his mount. Skittering to a halt, the Elrondion dismounted swiftly and came towards his lord.
"My lord, I've just sighted the Sindarin ambassadors! They've just emerged from the wood, and coming this way!"
Glorfindel nodded and sighed with relief. Vaulting up onto his horse he let himself be led to Elladan's sighting by the latter. Down the ridge, he saw the band of Mirkwood elves slowly plodding from the forest astride their tired mounts. The elf-lord at once cantered down to them.
"Vedui, Sindarin! Lle tyava quel?" Hail, are you well?
The Mirkwood elves glanced up to him with large, thankful eyes.
"We were ambushed by orcs at the Old Ford. We apologize for arriving so late." Glorfindel turned to see a young, dark haired elf ride forward, looking rather weary and travel worn.
"We expected as much. We were only just leaving in search for you, before my companion informed me of your arrival. Are any of you hurt?" the elf- lord inquired.
"No," he replied, "Thank Gilthoniel it 'twas but a small band. We overtook them easily, though they managed to slow us down considerably." He sighed wearily before continuing. "I am called Taurion, and what shall we call you, mellon?"
"I am called-" however, before the elf-lord could continue, a new voice spoke up from among the Sindarin elves.
"You are none other than the Lord Glorfindel; Balrog Slayer are you not?" Glorfindel turned his attention to a young, flaxen elf who urged his horse forward eagerly to hail the elf-lord.
"I am." He replied with a smile, his attentions focused upon the young elf who smiled eagerly in return. He was a comely lad with dark gold hair and shimmering brown eyes.
"Malenlaus! You should desist from speaking without being invited to do so!" The young elf known as Malenlaus grew flushed as he regarded yet another Sindarin elf who had scolded him. The scolding elf rode forward to give an apologetic grin to the elf-lord, who's green eyes widened in wonder. This latest speaker was comely rather beyond belief. His hair seemed spun from the very essence of gold and his eyes were a shimmering sapphire.
"I am Legolas Thranduilion." The handsome elf replied.
Glorfindel raised his slender eyebrows in surprise.
"King Thranduil sends us his own son? Imladris is honored to receive you, prince!"
"I am honored to be here, my lord."
Glorfindel smiled, before leading them up the path to the encampment.
TBC. . .
lumenn is the elvish word for 'hour'.
If you have read this, thank you so much, and please, please review! I'm an aspiring writer, and feedback is VERY appreciated. Thank you for taking the time to read this! Receiving