Glorfindel looked up from his papers as a soft knock sounded on his door. A quick glance at the moon outside told him who it was, for only one person would call on him at such a late hour. Rising from his desk, he moved to the door, opening it to allow the slender figure standing on the other side to slip quietly into his home.
As he closed the door, elegant hands appeared from under the cloak, reaching up to push back its hood. Hair as golden as his own tumbled free of its confines, framing eyes of a midsummer's blue set in a pale oval of fine bones. The elf lord smiled gently at his visitor, the gesture fading into concern as he noted the tight lines of her face and the shimmering circlet that winked at him from her brow.
Frowning, he stepped forward to lift the cloak from her shoulders, hanging it haphazardly on a chair, his work, as was wont with her, forgotten. Guiding her to a seat, Glorfindel removed the offending headpiece and set it upon the table.
"What is wrong, meleth-nin?" he asked, his velvet voice caressing the silence of the night as he took her hands in his ,pressing a chaste kiss to the back of each. The action elicited a small smile from his guest as she loosened the neck of the silk robe she wore. "My cousin frightens me," she admitted after a moment of silence, bright eyes searching his face. "The way he looks at me is not that of a cousin."
Glorfindel nodded, having suspected as much. From the first moment Maeglin had set foot in Ondolinde, he had coveted the city's fair princess most possessively, with lust filled eyes. It was a look that did little to please the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower. Though while he wished he could threaten off the young princeling, he knew they stood on precarious footing as it was. If news of his dalliance with the Princess Itarille were to become public, it stood the risk of destroying whatever future lie ahead.
So instead he pulled the princess to her feet, slipping his arms about her slim waist and drawing her into a tight embrace, burying his face in the silken cascade of her flaxen hair. Breathing in her sweet scent, he pulled back long enough to press a loving kiss to her brow.
"No worries, meleth, he dare not try anything. You are too well loved in our city…and your father would throw a fit," the elf lord said, a small smile touching his features as the lines of her face relaxed. She nodded, pressing her cheek to his shoulder and drinking in his solid presence. He never failed to make her feel better and more secure. He had provided support even when she had been but a child, frightened of her visions and the future they bespoke.
They stood like that for several moments, hair flickering in the candlelight like twin golden flames, until he finally felt her relax into his embrace. Smiling, he released her, his strong hands deftly loosing the ties on her robe until the pale blue silk fell to the floor. "Come to bed, Idril," he murmured, voice softly husky, "get some rest."
Stepping away from the robe, she nodded, pressing a brief, but thankful kiss to the corner of his mouth, her hand catching fast to his. The princess in her allowed him to lead the way, the cloth of her night shift whispering against her ankles as she moved. He paused before they reached the bed, an enormous mahogany creation cushioned in rich blue and gold silks, and released her hand. Swiftly, he pulled his tunic over his head, discarding it on the floor as appraising blue eyes lit upon the rpipling tones of his chest, the smooth skin above his breeches.
Glorfindel gave Idril a lusty wink, his blue eyes twinkling as they returned the favour, her slender figure silhouetted against the light, smooth curves of breast and hip only obscured by the thin silk of her night shift. The sight of her never failed to take his breath away. He approached her, throat dry, and gently took her lips with his own, his hands ghosting down the outside curve of her breasts to sit possessively at her waist.
These stolen moments were theirs, the only ones allowed them, and no one was around to interfere as eyes darkened and his hand pushed the straps of silk aside, revealing satin, golden skin, as he pressed his lips to each inch as it was revealed until the whole of the garment slid to the ground.
No one was around to hear the silent whisper of skin against skin as his breeches feel to join the shift and he pulled her against him, their heat blazing around them in a fiery rush of passion.
Nobody was there to hear the quiet murmur of voices as she pulled him back to the bed, sliding her nude form beneath the sheets and his atop hers.
And no one could hear the words that filtered through their thoughts, but left unspoken, "I love you," at their coupling. Not even them.
And her worries of before were left, like his work and their clothes, forgotten as they lost themselves in the one place they could be together, in each other.