Thanks Mary and Mercury! We..ell that Gimli and Legolas could be a couple is what Aragorn thinks… we'll have to wait what the two say to that… as for Thranduil and Elrond, I did have something in mind. eg

Chapter 15

Aragorn sighed, barely resisting the urge to knock his head onto the table. Tiredly he rubbed his eyes. The few torches and the single candle he had lit were barely sufficient to light the room. Legolas and Gimli had already retired to bed. Of course his two friends had insisted on separate rooms, claiming that the weeks they had spent on the road had been too much closeness for them. He could not make up his mind whether the two were just putting on an act or really sis not realize that they could be more than friends. He sighed again. They were probably too thick-headed to notice it, which was rather good considering how Thranduil would take to the news of his son bonding with a dwarf. He had gone to his study after dinner, knowing that some correspondence was still waiting for him. It was not much work but it still had to be done and the letters waiting for him were those he preferred to take care of himself rather than simply signing them over to Faramir and he needed some time to think on the appropriate responses.

He wondered briefly if Arwen would already be asleep. Even after ten years of marriage she sometimes choose to wait up on him when he decided to spend the evening with his work instead of joining her in bed. Again he rubbed his eyes, blinking furiously as he noticed the grey mist welling up from beneath the door. With wide grey eyes he stared as a black figure slowly took shape on the other side of his desk.

At the same time two figures were moving through a corridor, heading straight for one of the guest chambers. They moved without light, their hands travelling over the walls as the sought their way with the smaller figure leading the other around the corners with grim determination.

The heavy chair clattered to the floor and he forced himself not to hoot with contemptuous laughter as the human in front of him backed up against the wall, seeming helpless and forlorn in spite of the sword in his hands.

"What are you?" the pitiful creature in front of him croaked, raising his sword, "What brings you here?"

Black wings flexed as he laughed silently at the defiant man in front of him.

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he bellowed, casually disarming the man with a flick of his hands, "I have been sent to you with a message from my master..."

Gimli was still sleeping, his constant snoring echoing through the chamber as two shadows, one tall and one small, silently sneaked out of his quarters. Only a few things had been changed within the room and some things had been added. A surprise awaited the dwarf's awakening.

Aragorn tore his gaze away from his lost sword and stared helplessly at the black, demon-like creature in front of him. "A message?" he repeated, gasping as the black figure started to blur. Black wings folded, seemingly melting back into suddenly slender black shoulders. A strangled sound came over Aragorn's lips as he stared at the elf who had suddenly taken the creature's place.

"Listen closely, human," the elf's dark eyes were as hard and cold as obsidian, "My master never repeats a message."

Aragorn nodded mutely, unable to move while the pale elf stalked around the table. "My master knows how much you feel for your wife and your kingdom," Aragorn's eyes narrowed somewhat at the mentioning of Arwen, "And he is willing to sign a treaty with you." A parchment appeared on the table.

"What?"

The elf smiled, just like he had always done when Aragorn had failed to copy a scroll correctly. "My master guaranties not to attack Gondor if you agree to give him what he wants."

Aragorn shook his head, still unable to understand what was happening. "Erestor?" he asked, slowly taking a step away from the wall, "Who is this master? Is this a message from Elrond?"

Elegant eyebrows arched. "Are you willing to pay the price for the safety of your realm?"

Aragorn barely managed to get the words over his lips. "What price?"

"Eldarion."

"Eldarion?" the king repeated, his eyes wider than ever before, "You want my son?"

"Glorfindel," Erestor looked up, almost smiling as he acknowledged the blond's presence, "Which twist of fate brings you to my library?"

A growl escaped the Eldar's lips. "Bellmaethorion."

Erestor sighed, moving a stack of parchments to the other side of his desk, "What has he done this time?"

"Nothing," the door slammed shut, "Everything. Why is he still here?"

"Maybe you should ask him," Erestor quickly crossed the room, leading Glorfindel out of the library before the blond could notice the tray with his untouched breakfast, "Bellmaethorion has not told me what his plans are and I cannot just throw him out of Imladris without a reason."

"He's keeping secrets from us Erestor," Glorfindel shook his head, "Important secrets, I can feel it. Where are we going?"

The advisor shrugged. "I know that you always try to listen to your feelings but they aren't always right and you know that."

"I am certain," Glorfindel insisted, "The feeling is too strong." Calloused hands entwined with Erestor's. "Have dinner with me?"

"Dinner?" Erestor repeated, startled by the sudden change of subject.

"Yes," Glorfindel's thumb caressed the palm of his hand, "And please don't tell me you're not hungry. I know that you haven't eaten anything today."

Erestor stopped. "How?" He frowned.

Blue eyes glared indignantly at him. "I am not blind, councillor. And I know your habits by now. You never eat anything when you're alone."

Erestor's frown deepened. He hated being predictable.

"You haven't answered my question." Glorfindel suddenly reminded him.

"What question?"

"Will you have dinner with me?"

"I think I might."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, frowning as the hand on his back stilled.

"Why am I doing what?"
"Why are you taking care of me?" Elrond clarified, "You once swore to kill any Noldo who set foot into your realm."

"I spoke in anger," Thranduil continued to rub a salve onto the per edhel's wounds, releasing the smell of Athelas into the room, "As we all do from time to time. I am no kin-slayer."

"I'm sorry," Elrond could almost feel the other frown, "I meant no offence."

"None taken. Your wounds are healing nicely," the woodland king commented, "No inflammations so far."

"How long till I'll be able to sit up again?"

"You should stay on your stomach for at least another week or so."

"Only a week?"

"Yes." Thranduil put something onto a table and pulled a light blanket over the half-elf's naked form.

"Your healers must be very talented."

"I guess they are. How is the pain?"

"It is bearable right now."

"Good." Elrond raised his head as the door opened again, already used to the daily routine.

"Laepselin will feed you," Thranduil said, "I would like to talk about Sadjan again this evening if you feel up to it."

"I do," Elrond answered just as carefully, "Though I already told you that I don't know very much."

The door clicked shut again and Elrond was left alone with the young healer once more.

"Bellmaethorion?" he asked, knocking again and slowly opening the door, "Are you in here?" Heavy wood scraped over stone as the guest chambers gradually came into view. Lindir frowned as he stepped inside, brows furrowing as he once more heard a strange noise from the bathroom. "Bellmaethorion?" he repeated, staring at the strange chaos in the room. Thranduil's seneschal was obviously not a very tidy person.

"Just a moment!" A muffled voice came through the door.

"Is every thing alright?"

"Yes of course! Just give me some more time!"

Lindir straightened his robes and scrutinized the room more closely. The bed was almost drowning in books, none of which he had ever seen before. Used plates and tray were stacked on the window sill and a brown cloak covered what seemed to be a pile of clothes on the chair in the corner. The minstrel sighed. At least the plates and trays were clean.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, lirimaer," Bellmaethorion grinned at the stunned minstrel, the charm of his smile almost evaporating as Lindir noticed the tangled and matted hair and the nondescript brown stains on the seneschal's tunic. "What brings you to my chambers?"

"I... erm... wondered if you might like to take a walk through the gardens with me." Lindir blushed desperately trying to adjust the sleeves if his robes.

"But of course!"

Lindir smiled as Bellmaethorion grinned again.

"What time is it?"

Lindir frowned. "It is early afternoon," the minstrel shivered as Bellmaethorion grabbed another cloak from somewhere between the plates, "You missed much."

"Did I?"

"Yes."

"O..."An uneasy silence fell, only disturbed by the noise of a busy afternoon.

"Well," Bellmaethorion smiled self-consciously tugging his clothes into place, "Let's go then."
"Lindir nodded, an unreadable emotion flickering through his eyes as he quickly went ahead. Bellmaethorion followed at once, looking something between angry and puzzled.

"Master?" A rough voice asked, causing him to frown as he reluctantly looked up from the book he had been reading.

"Yes?" he growled angrily, satisfaction flooding through him as the Orc cowered. Disgusting creatures. But he had to make do with them for now. It was too early to reveal his other servants.

"Sadjan has not returned yet, Master," the Orc reported reluctantly.

"And?"

"And the others sensed a loss of power and..."

"A loss of power?" Barak repeated, his interest piqued, "How strong was that loss?"

The Orc winced as red eyes fixed intently upon him. "Very strong, Master," the creature whimpered, "It might be better if you sent someone to... have a look at the matter..."

The Orc never had a chance of finishing his sentence as an invisible fist drove into its stomach, knocking it against the nearest wall.

"Are you trying to tell me what I should do?" Barak asked, letting the Orc breathe again.

"No... no Master!" the pitiful creature gasped out, writhing in pain.

"And do you really think that I am unaware of Sadjan's whereabouts or actions?"

"No!" The Orc screamed, "Master sees everything! Master is all-knowing!" Cruel laughter bounced of the ceiling.

"I am indeed," sharp teeth flashed in a menacing grin, "And it seems that you had better be reminded of that..."

The Orc's anguished screams were the only thing ever heard of it again.

Erestor tried to smile as Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at him. "I did eat," he pointed out, pushing the plate away.

"But not very much."
"Glorfindel," the advisor shook his head, a sad smile playing on his lips, "As much as I try to appreciate your concern, I am able to take care of myself and survive on my own."

"Survive yes," Glorfindel leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands, "But live?"

"I can never truly live as long as Barak does."

"But didn't you say that you thought he was dead?"

"Yes."

"How can that be?"

"I thought I saw him die." Erestor replied stonily.

"You thought?"

"Yes," slender fingers grabbed a peach and toyed nervously with the fruit, "I convinced myself that he was dead. I saw him fall but he's obviously still alive."

"How can you know if your bond has been dormant for millennia?"

"I dreamt of him…" Erestor said reluctantly, the shadow on his face accompanied by a bitter smile.

"You dream of each other?" Glorfindel's eyes widened, "Those nightmares you had… the memories that manifested themselves in blood… were that dreams and memories of him?"

Erestor swallowed a painful lump in his throat as he nodded, his eyes never leaving the peach in his hands.

"Aiya, Erestor," the seneschal reached out, gently cupping the other's trembling hands, "What did he do to you?"

Erestor shook his head, raven strands hiding his silent tears from Glorfindel. It was still too much to talk about.

"Erestor?" Glorfindel asked worriedly as the advisor remained silent, "Erestor?"

A sob rose from the dark-haired elf's lips as he suddenly found himself enveloped by Glorfindel's arms, Tears started to flow freely as soothing hands rubbed his back and stroked his hair.

"I'm sorry," the advisor whispered, "I never wanted anyone to see me like this.. it's just…"

"Hush," Glorfindel wrapped himself tightly around the trembling bundle of robes in his arms, "You don't have to talk, it'll be alright somehow…" Gingerly he lifted Erestor into his arms, wondering how little the advisor weighed, and carried him through the door that connected the library with the dark-haired elf's private chambers.

Erestor smiled weakly through a curtain of tears as Glorfindel carefully deposited him on his bed, never letting go. "I am sorry." He said again.

"There's no need to be," Glorfindel wiped a tear from Erestor's cheek, "I know the power of memories." His eyes lingered on Erestor's tear-streaked cheek.

"Thank you." The tired whisper tore right through Glorfindel's defences, giving the Elda's heart a painful squeeze. His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as soft lips suddenly brushed over his, almost too tenderly to be felt.

Surprised Glorfindel lifted his hands to his tingling lips, a stunned smile on his face.

"Erestor…" a hungry whisper as they embraced again, tenderness forgotten as the need for contact became too great.

"Glorfindel," Erestor gasped between urgent kisses, robes sliding from his shoulder under skilled hands, "You know that this cannot… cannot go…" Another kiss claimed his lips and he surrendered, giving in to both, Glorfindel's desire and his own needs. Warm skin moved over his own, cooling and heating it at the same time.

Teeth tugged at his bottom lip, demanding entrance, and then moved on to his nipples and scraped over his stomach. His fingers moved of their own accord tangling themselves in silky blond strands as Glorfindel straddled him, lean muscle and hardened arousal pressing against him.

Panting heavily they moved against each other, seeking as much contact and friction as possible, their lips fusing and unfusing in a dance of passion. All too soon Glorfindel spilled himself, collapsing on top of the advisor in time with his release. Reluctantly he rolled to his side, drawing Erestor into his arms.

"'Restor?" he asked, frowning as his hand encountered the advisor's still flaccid member.

"I'm sorry," Erestor's voice was muffled by Glorfindel's shoulder, "I can't.. not while the bond is still in place…"
Shocked Glorfindel stared into the darkness, till he felt Erestor withdraw.

"No," he quickly pulled the raven-haired elf close, forcing the other to look at him, "I'm not going to let you go now."

Erestor's arms wrapped themselves around him, holding onto him as though his life depended on it. Soon Glorfindel fell asleep, noticing Erestor go limp in his arms but unable to sense the darkness that claimed the advisor's mind once more.