Title: Yours For A Song

Author: Hare (hareatic@yahoo.com)

Type: FCS

Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Can I choose to proclaim, rather than disclaim? Hear ye, Hear

ye--they are not mine!

Timeline: Present day is Imladris Third Age, years 1973-1975. All flashbacks are

in Gondolin First Age, years 505-510.

Warning: AU, two graphic sexual scenes of which one might be considered vaguely

non-con and kinky, angst, romance, sap….

Beta: What is this you speak of? Any takers? Please? All mistakes are mine.

Dedication: To Chaotic_Binky, Erviniae, and Weepingnaiad for making my little

corner of our fandom silly, lovely, and refreshingly kinky!

Author's Note: Hello, my name is Hare and I am a hopeless romantic. Seriously, I

have exploded the sap-o-meter on this one! You are thusly warned, and I am

resolved of any consequences should you choose to read. I am grateful to whoever

put together the Elf Fetish website and name generator. Special thanks to

Svengalliedhare, my niece and poetess extraordinaire for the songs and poem

found within. The eagles and swans are all mine! Though I didn't plan it this

story is connected in a vaguely cosmic parallel universe way to several of my

other Erestor/Glorfindel tales. Caveat lector!

Summary: What happens when Erestor discovers his well ordered, fully planned

life is nothing of the sort?





Chapter 1

Imladris, III 1973



A creature of routine he craved the sameness of it all. Mind numbingly average,

each day dawned and with a typical cadence faded into the next. It gave him a

queer sense of peace that time marched on unfazed by any occurrence, and he a

mere insignificant occupant of this small space in this current Age. Even the

steady threat of evil fit into his scheme of what life should be like on Middle

Earth.



And so like most mornings he leisurely arose, sat in the chair by the window and

twirled the plain gold band round his index finger. A circle with no beginning,

no end and eternity promised. But then promises rarely answered to reality. He

chuckled softly the sound raspy and desperate. Still his eyes ever strayed to

the ring day after day. The token evidence of a love that had once bloomed

perfectly and would again, or so he assumed. He kept the ring as his singular

recognition of potential optimism. And he knew that he only need wait out his

obligations before sailing to the waiting arms of his love.



He never removed it except for cleaning and having just yesterday polished it to

perfection it gleamed in the dawning rays of Anor. The fit still perfect after

all these centuries. Reluctantly he moved his eyes from the ring, stood and

moved toward the mirror. With deft hands, and years of practice he fondly tied a

love knot in a strand of hairs that lay to the right side of his face. He added

two golden beads as an anchor to keep it from loosening.



Occasionally, like today, he knelt and reached into the chest at the foot of his

bed and removed a well known secret from his past, this too an ever present

routine about once per week. Buried underneath a lifetime of gathered memories,

deep within and covered by a soft lint cloth he made sure it never came to harm

yet he dared not entertain any thoughts of its use. Long had it been in his

possession, long had it lain abandoned. But that did not prevent him from

holding it and running his fingers lightly over the inlaid flowers, over the

golden sliver in the fretboard, over the strings. The resulting discordance

caused him only a brief annoyance, a brief desire to tune it before he returned

it to its resting place. Mayhap someday he would allow himself use of it once

more. But, not today.



He stood, stretched and immediately put a hand on the spasming muscles in his

back. The nagging memory of an ancient injury presented itself when he attempted

too much rigorous activity and yesterday had been full of dancing and cavorting

to celebrate the passing of the shortest day of the year. Today he would pay the

price at least until he found a healer to mix him an elixir. Lord Elrond had

tried on many occasions to convince Erestor to allow him to fully heal the old

wound, but he always refused. The ache was too important to lose. He needed the

reminder. But pain or no pain he must attend to his pattern of normalcy. This is

how he managed life, this is how he survived.



Humming a gay song he prepared for the day. Mountains of work awaited him

especially now that the Mereth Rhîw jubilation were completed. He voiced an

irritated "tsk" as he recalled the complete yet accidental annihilation of

several garden benches by an exceptionally rowdy group of ellyn. But the ground

workers always inspected every area after each celebration so he had not added

that to his own list.



However, Lord Elrond remained barricaded with the contingencies from Mirkwood,

Lindon, Mithlond and Lothlórien…each group planned on staying until the passages

to their homes reopened. He was completely unavailable for consultation thus

Erestor's duties had escalated to running Imladris. In addition, the ladies

Celebrían, Arwen, and Aevar should have left early this morning to arbitrate

several disputes with the farmers; a formidable trio who appeared unassuming but

any who knew them would tremble at their combined presence. These ladies would

harangue and goad the growers with gracious smiles upon their faces, and shall

win a multitude of equitable concessions, the outcome a forgone conclusion in

his opinion. Unfortunately, in their absence their obligations also fell to him,

so in addition to issuing all decisions he would be responsible for monitoring

the schedules of those who maintained the Last Homely House. Further, the

festival marking the newest day of the year was three months hence, and the

ladies had preparations well underway, though he suspected this would also

require his notice.



He opened his door and hesitated before exiting. All the sounds of the day

seemed right. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just as he expected. He placed a

satisfied smile on his face and began a non-hurried pace onward. Elves scurried

to and fro engaged in the morning cleaning, buckets clanged and the occasional

laugh came from within the rooms he passed. Clean smells dominated the air and

the floors were slick with water. Gracefully he sauntered down the hallways

heading towards his office when he encountered a friendly face.



"A good morn, Gwennuial," he greeted the young elleth who cared for his

quarters.



"And to you, chief counselor. Another beautiful day."



"Aye."



He nodded his head while she continued her polishing of a marble carving of

Elbereth. The statue had been rescued from Eregion and the damage lovingly

repaired. The sculptor remained unknown but Celebrimbor had certainly crafted

the blazing blue jewels set in her eyes. Her arm was raised upward in rendition

of her creation of the stars. It had been purposefully placed diagonally to a

window so it reflected light for most of the day. He ran a hand softly across

her beautiful face, sent up a silent request, and moved on.



Erestor started his descent to the next level along with a large group of junior

counselors on their way to tutoring sessions. Their dark robes swished and

flapped in the rush of air that preceded a gaggle of screeching students who

raced down the stairs to arrive at the tutoring area before their instructors.

None of the children heeded the yelled directives to slow down. Erestor and the

junior counselors grinned and one made the obligatory comment about elfling

energy and how it is wasted on the young. Erestor scratched his head and

wondered what nonsense those younglings had been up to as they were not

residents of the Last Homely House and had no business on that floor. He sighed

and decided that as long as heard nothing he would not investigate.



He parted ways from the group with a promise to attend the annual re-enactment

of the Awakening beside Cuiviénen the following week as it seemed clear Lord

Elrond would not be free. He scribbled the date on a note pad using a charcoal

writer.



His assistant counselor had invented this clever writing utensil and made it

possible to take portable notes without the aid of an ink blotter. Erestor still

celebrated the young scribe Berengardh's decision to leave his brother

Pengolodh's employ. The young elleth had been reluctant to sail with the

loremaster to Eressëa and was easily swayed to remain in Lindon. He hated

recalling the bitter day he had said goodbye to his beloved brother. But

Berengardh had spent much time with Pengolodh and Erestor found early on that

sharing stories with her about his brother eased the pain a bit.



"Chief counselor," came the call from multiple voices.



He nodded and greeted everyone by name as he continued down the hallway.

Satisfaction swelled within him spurred by the comfort of this everyday routine.

Everything in its place.



He continued down the Hall of High Kings with a quick glance at each

painting…Finwë, Fëanor, Fingolfin (who had two portraits), Finarfin, Fingon and

Maedhros the only high king pictured with another, Turgon, and Gil-galad. He

murmured the names of each as he passed and flashed a quick smile of

understanding when he passed Fingon and Maedhros. He stopped and straightened

their slightly askew portrait. Erestor frequently wondered why he had been

compelled to follow Turgon instead of Fingon. He and his brother had argued this

point for months before agreeing to reside in the hidden city. He grinned

broadly at their fortuitous decision for it had garnered him the love of his

life.



Picture straightened he moved to the end of the corridor where the lord and lady

resided. Lord Elrond secured his personal seal in his rooms at the end of each

day, and Erestor needed it for today's work.



Before he could enter their rooms a series of ear piercing squalls erupted from

behind the door to his immediate right. The twin's resided there and from the

sounds he deduced they were extremely unhappy. Not to be unexpected, he thought,

for this was the first time in their young lives that their nana was away. He

once again reached for the door handle intending to retrieve the seal and be on

his way when he heard several loud crashes and the cry of dismay from one of the

twin's minders. The screams and cries intensified, faded and then rose to a

crescendo again, over and over as if a chase had ensued.



With a sigh he reluctantly turned from his course and entered the twin's rooms.

He stopped in amazement at the havoc which confronted him. The remains of an

uneaten breakfast lay strewn about amidst the broken crockery. Splashes of food

decorated one wall and slowly dripped onto the floor. It appeared that fowl eggs

and porridge was for fast breaking today, curiously he saw no bread. Several

potted plants lay destroyed amongst the food, and dirt covered every inch of

this room as if an explosion had occurred. One plant now resided on top of the

head of a bust of Tata. A small statuette of Rúmil lay on its side, its quill

snapped off but a flowering plant now sprouted from its ear. Erestor delicately

picked his way through the carnage as he only wore slippers that afforded little

protection. He could not contain the irritated "tsk" that issued forth when he

stepped on a water soaked rug. Shaking his foot he hobbled into the bathing room

where a loud argument echoed shrilly off the walls.



Cowering in the corner stood the twins, naked and covered with debris, their

hair clumped and tangled and slick looking. The foul stench of neem oil emanated

from them and Erestor saw the empty bottle near their feet. They clung to each

other and shivered. Their faces both scared and angry and they spoke in harsh

voices against the minder who knelt before them foolishly trying to reason with

them, while another guarded the only exit from the room. Erestor came up behind

the ellith blocking the doorway and softly cleared his throat.



"Problems?" he whispered into her ear.



She turned quickly and hope flared on her face. "Oh chief counselor, please we

desperately need your assistance! The twins are distraught over their nana's

departure and refuse to listen to us."



"Calm yourself, Calenamon. Now that I have arrived we outnumber them."



He winked at her conspiratorially, and she blushed in response before he

continued.



"Stay right where you are should they attempt an escape."



He moved around Calenamon and stepped into the bathing room.



Erestor took a deep breath and screamed in horror. "My lady!"



The minder, Restilhul, and both twins jumped and screeched.



He motioned at Restilhul furiously. "Quickly now. Quickly come to me!"



Recovered from her fright and clearly confused, Restilhul stood and scurried

across the room. He pushed her behind him. The twins also took one step towards

Erestor but he pointed an accusing finger at them. They stopped, eyes wide.



"Stay where you are foul beasts," Erestor spoke with dramatic flair, "I do not

know how you broke through the defenses of Imladris, but I shall find out!"



He turned to the ladies. "My ladies it might be best if you close your eyes for

I must torture these two orcs. It will not be a pleasant sight."



Both covered their smiling mouths with one hand and their eyes with the other,

they answered, "As you command, chief counselor." He ignored their muffled

giggles.



Slowly he turned a glare on the elflings and showing more bravado than he had

expected they scowled back at him.



He advanced on them menacingly. "You will pay for harming my lord's twins AND

you shall tell me where you have hidden their bodies. Deny me this information

and regret will be your constant companion!"



Erestor charged forward, scooped up the twins, grabbed each by a foot and

dangled them over the bathing pool. He groaned lowly when his back cramped from

the exertion but maintained firm holds as they squealed and kicked and squirmed.

When his back could take no more he dunked their heads in the water and both

went rigid.



Whistling, feigning a lack of concern, he kept them there until Restilhul spoke,

"Um chief counselor!"



Snapping back to attention, Erestor smiled slyly. "Oh, aye, let us hear if they

are ready to confess their crimes."



The twins sputtered and coughed upon their reemergence. Erestor shook them.



"Speak of your foul deeds monsters. Speak now or I will torture you further."



They remained stubbornly silent. Keeping his grip on each foot, he freed his

index fingers and began tickling. Immediately laughter and screeches filled the

bathing chamber. He continued until tears flowed down their cheeks and their

flailing increased such that frantic hands hit the water and soaked the front of

Erestor's robe.



With an annoyed *tsk* he released each foot and the twins slipped fully into the

water while Erestor swiped at his now sodden robe.



The elflings surged up out of the bathing pool still cackling. Erestor took a

dramatic step backwards. "Stay where you are evil doers. Do not attempt to exit

the water."



"Erestor it's me!" cried the twin on the left, "I'm an elf."



Erestor eyes narrowed. "You are as sly as you are evil, little orc. I do not

know how you came upon my name but do not attempt your machinations on me. I am

Lord Elrond's chief counselor!"



They both giggled again.



"No! Look at me! It's me Melpomaen but you call me Figgy."



"Figgy? I call you --?" Erestor pointed to himself and donned a completely

virtuous and confused face. "I would never address another elf as Figgy. That is

a very unelflike name, and I am extremely proper and upstanding."



"You are silly, Erestor. How did you get so silly?" questioned the twin on the

right.



Erestor answered quickly. "My nana fed me too many cookies."



"That doesn't make you silly!" The twins both snorted with laughter.



"Are you sure?" he asked innocently.



"Yes!!" they cried loudly.



The twin on the right stood to his full height. "Look at my belly, Erestor. See

my big scar? You saved me, remember?"



Erestor's mood darkened quickly. He did indeed recall that heart-wrenching day

when Faelon fell from a tree onto the large boulder beneath it. The sickening

sound of the impact still resonated in his mind.



Shivering from the memory, he fell to his knees, head bowed. "My lords! Oh, my

lords I do not know how I mistook you for foul, smelly, vile orcs. Can you

forgive your humble servant?"



"Yes!" came the immediate reply.



Erestor rose, walked to them, and received two fierce wet hugs.



"I can see it is you, now that all the filth has been washed away. Oh I was so

scared, my lords. How sad would your nana Aevar be when she came home to find

you gone? Or your ada Elladan? Or your grandada Elrond and grandnana Celebrían?

Or me?! Tell me how you came to be so dirty?"



"We were bad, Erestor."



"Bad?" he questioned.



"Yes," answered Faelon.



"And mean," added Melpomaen.



And then the two prattled on retelling exactly how the outer room had become a

chaotic mess.



Turning completely somber, Erestor chastised them.



"My lords, I am so very disappointed. And your parents and grandparents will

also be upset. We all expected you would behave, and be kind and helpful to

Mistress Restilhul and Mistress Calenamon. If I recall you both promised to be

on your best behavior. Yet here it is the first morning and you have already

broken your oaths, oaths you swore upon your specially made replicas of Maia

Tilion's arrows."



The sniffles and tears started the moment he mentioned his disappointment and

threatened to turn into a full-fledged hysterical outburst when Restilhul called

to him.



"Chief counselor, a word please?"



He left the twins miserable and shivering in their bath to speak to the minders.

After a brief meeting with the ladies he returned to them.



"My lords. Wipe your eyes and look at me."



They responded immediately and even snapped into a semblance of a military

at-ready stance, though it appeared a bit hard to hold while standing in

hip-deep water. He lifted his hand to cover a fake cough and a real smile. Their

ada Elladan and Uncle Elrohir would be pleased to see this. It appeared some of

their training had taken hold.



"You are very, very lucky for your minders love you dearly and have asked me to

intercede on your behalf. I offer you terms."



"Terms?"



"Your fate rests in my hands, but I am prepared, at the urgings of Mistresses

Restilhul and Calenamon, to offer generous terms to soften your surrender."



"What?" Clearly he was confusing them both.



Erestor had a running policy to speak to the young lords as if they were adults

thereby forcing a large vocabulary on them in a short period, but his day was

already full and time marched on. Today the direct and quick approach would have

to suffice.



"You will do as I say and if you perform your penance to my satisfaction,"

Erestor placed heavy emphasis on those last words. "I will speak on your behalf

to your ada. Refuse my terms, and I will have no choice but to administer the

harshest punishment and turn you over to the Marchwarden."



"No," whispered the twins, both cringed backwards their eyes wide with horror.



"Aye." Erestor stated solemnly then was forced to turn himself away as a fit of

laughter threatened to overcome him. The twins feared their nana's younger

brother, Haldir - a Marchwarden. On the singular occasion of their visit to

Lothlórien, Melpomaen and Faelon had born witness to Haldir's less than

respectable manners and actions. His argumentative personality and booming voice

sent them running to their parents anytime he appeared. And then, while

exploring an area near the edge of Lothlórien a lone warg had dared too close

and they witnessed the Marchwarden's carnage of the creature. Needless to say,

Haldir, who was here in Imladris as a Lothlórien representative would be

horrified to know Erestor had used him as a threat to his young nephews.



Once he regained control of his mirth, Erestor turned around.



"Do you agree?"



"Oh yes, Erestor, we will do whatever you say!" Faelon burst out and Melpomaen

vigorously nodded his agreement.



"Excellent decision, my lords. Now listen well. First, you will each make a

formal apology to the ladies. Think upon this hard and deliver it with a

completely sincere attitude and I shall consider the deed done. Second, I forbid

you food until all the cleaning is done, and I have approved of it. Third, there

will be no riding today or tomorrow or the next, but you will still attend to

your ponies needs. Finally, I will accompany you when you stand before your ada

Lord Elladan and advise him of your behavior.



"Am I clear?"



Two heads somberly nodded their understanding.



"Very good. Out you come then." He stepped forward and both elflings jumped from

the pool into his arms. Erestor placed them on the floor and prodded them over

to their minders, who had retrieved some old leggings and quickly dressed them.



He lingered only briefly to confirm that the young lords did indeed cooperate

with the cleaning before he departed for Lord Elrond's room and the almost

forgotten seal.







Translations for the entire story.



Ada(r) - Dad, father

Nana(naneth) - Mom, mother

Elda - first born

Fëa(r) - soul, souls

Ellon (ellyn) - male elf, male elves

Elleth (ellith) - female elf, female elves

Hithlain - rope

Mereth Tui - my made up celebration which occurs between March 21st and March

28th. Literally it translates as `Festival of the Bud' (yeah I thought it was

funny! Too bad the elves hadn't invented Doritos. Look out for the swans!), a

festival for new life and for the newest year, which begins on March 28th.

Mereth Rhîw - winter solstice festival (I believe Zhie and Malinorne made this

one up, thank you!)

Kelvar - living things that move

Anor - the sun

Ithil - the moon

Arda - the world aka Middle Earth

Valinor or Aman - the Undying Lands



Chapter 2:

Imladris, III 1973



After retrieving Lord Elrond's personal seal he reversed this morning's trek and

raced for his rooms. Now hours delayed from starting the workday and he had not

even broken his fast yet. Erestor hated missing a meal, any meal, still that all

had to wait until he changed from the grimy wet garments and sopping wet

slippers.



He charged into his quarters, ripping his clothes off as he approached the

wardrobe. Fully nude and engrossed in searching for clean replacements he jumped

startled when something crashed to the floor near him.



Turning he beheld Gwennuial and immediately questioned her.



"I cannot find my over robes and where are my breeches?" He stopped, put his

hands on his hips, and waited. But her mouth kept opening and closing in a

perfect imitation of the thousands of dying fish he had seen brought onboard his

ada's ships. Her eyes never left the floor.



Exasperated, he snapped his fingers and crouched down so he could catch her

gaze. "Gwennuial! Where is my clothing!!?"



A brief choked sound left her mouth, and she averted her eyes once more but his

shout seemed to rouse her and she hesitantly scooted around him toward the

reading room.



Quickly she returned with trousers and a robe. She cleared her throat and this

time she seemed to focus on the ceiling.



"I…I am…am sorry, chief counselor. But all your clothing was in dire need…aye,

need of washing and I picked today to do so. Mmmmm, I…well, your small library

receives the most light from Anor at this time of day and, well….well,

everything is still damp but clean."



She shoved the clothing into his arms, grabbed the bucket she had dropped and

ran for the bathing room. Erestor looked down at his naked body and burst into

laughter the moment she left his sight. In his haste he had completely forgotten

that poor Gwennuial hailed from Nargothrond, a land steeped in secrecy and

absolutely conservative in ways of the flesh. And even though she had not

dwelled there since its sack, she had never shaken free from her upbringing.

Backwards is how Erestor thought upon her, yet Gwennuial seemed happy enough.



One irritated *tsk* followed another as he struggled to don the partially wet

garments. They clung to him and bunched around his joints making the task almost

impossible. Time marched forward as he fought his leggings, aggravating him

further. And when he finally stood fully dressed he squirmed and shook his

limbs, completely uncomfortable and wondered at the first elf who thought

coverings necessary. He would gladly kinslay that elf should he ever meet him or

her.



Not leaving anything to chance, Erestor opted for boots instead of his second

pair of comfortable slippers. Swiftly he checked his hair in the looking glass,

the love knot still held. A quick glance to his finger reassured him that the

ring still resided in its proper place. Tempted to sneak another peak at his

lute, he instead grabbed Elrond's seal and exited his quarters. He strode down

the hallways at the pace of a slow run and experienced the entire morning

routine again. Erestor waived and smiled and greeted all those who called out to

him.



A shout roused him from his contentment, mildly exasperated at being so close to

his office yet facing another interruption, he turned to see Habadond

approaching.



"Chief counselor! A moment please!"



"As you wish, Habadond."



Erestor awaited him with an open pleasing smile that masked his clenched teeth.

At least once each week Habadond pleaded for an audience with Lord Elrond. And

then he would spend precious moments of Erestor's time recounting some foolish

dispute or complaint. Yet, never once did Habadond appear at his appointed time

with Lord Elrond. The one instance Erestor had complained about this he had been

reprimanded by his lord. Elrond had reminded him that Habadond was lonely and in

an ill mental state due to battle stress and just needed someone to whom he

could vent his anger. Elrond had further stated that he, Erestor, should feel

complimented that Habadond felt safe and secure enough to continually seek out

his counsel.



Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Erestor linked his arm through Habadond and

pulled him close.



"Walk with me, Habadond and speak your confidence. I am sure we can catch Lord

Elrond during his mid-morning break. Surely he will desire nothing more than to

hear what troubles you this day."



Habadond stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh!" He stuttered and tried to reclaim his

arm from Erestor's grip, but Erestor held firm. "Nay, I have not the time this

morning, chief counselor."



He could hear the gears turning in Habadond's mind as he searched for some

escape.



Erestor dragged him forward as he continued towards his work area, that unworthy

part of himself vindictively irritated enough by today's events that he thorough

enjoyed toying with poor Habadond.



"I am sure, Lord Elrond's full energies must be focused on the evil that

occupies Fornost", Habadond babbled, "Surely he has no time for --."



"Oh, nay! When you approached me last and I spoke to our lord he insisted that

when next you beseech me with some grave situation he should be informed

immediately!"



Habadond jerked from Erestor's embrace abruptly and stumbled back a few steps.



"You cannot make me go!" He hissed. His face contorted into a mask of gnashing

fury yet confused terror shone from his eyes.



Erestor held up both hands in a placating gesture. Somehow their conversation

had changed dramatically.



An accusing finger accosted him, and Habadond snapped. "I will NEVER fight

again! Never! Lord Elrond promised I would be safe here." His eyes rolled and

rounded wide open in terror.



"Habadond," Erestor spoke softly and calmly. "You are safe here. Look at me,

friend."



Reluctant eyes desperately trained on his. Erestor smiled serenely and took a

step toward him.



"No harm comes to us, here. You are free and safe forevermore. Lord Elrond never

retracts a promise. Never." The words were spoken true for Imladris was well

hidden and none were forced into soldiering here.



In a flash, Habadond ran to him and clung to him fiercely, sobbing freely and

blubbered. "He promised. Never. No more battles. No more." The words repeated

over and over through gulping whimpers.



"Aye, Habadond. Never." Erestor, repeated back to him, and caressed his back in

soothing gestures. When an elf finally passed by he silently mouthed his request

for assistance. The healers arrived shortly and escorted the now compliant

Habadond away.



He rubbed hands up and down his arms to remove the chill that ached down to his

bones. Erestor had seen his fair share of elves damaged not only physically by

the never ending battles but mentally as well. Imladris was a haven to those

seeking refuge from the evil that plagued Middle Earth, especially those scarred

and unable to face the horrible consequences of battle, those who for whatever

reason could not or would not travel to Valinor for complete healing. He

shivered and plucked at his over robe now soaked again by Habadond's tears. But

he shook his head firmly, not allowing himself to think on it further, for all

had at one time been greatly affected by loss and found their own ways to handle

the outcomes.



Erestor scribbled a hasty note and tracked down an elf to deliver it to

Habadond's daughter, for his wife had perished in some unknown conflict. He knew

it was for his daughter that Habadond stayed in Middle Earth and delayed his

journey to Valinor.



His step slower, Erestor finally slipped into his office and with a loud sigh

fell into the chair. But the sounds of its squeaks were an obvious beacon to his

assistant who came immediately upon the first squeal.



"Chief counselor, a happy morn to you," greeted a frighteningly cheerful

counselor Berengardh.



"And to you, counselor." Erestor automatically responded and then a yawn caught

him. He rubbed gritty eyes and felt as if an entire day had already passed.



Berengardh chuckled, "Mayhap you need further sleep from last night's

activities."



He glared at her. "You know well I left early. Nay, let us leave this topic with

minimal discussion. The entire morning has been trying."



She nodded her head. "Aye, as will most of our days for the next few weeks. The

absence of the ladies Celebrían, Arwen, and Aevar is already felt." Berengardh

plunked down a thick stack of papers on his desk.



Erestor sighed in exasperation. "You jest?"



Berengardh smiled tightly and spread her arms outward in a wide shrug.



"How is this possible?" he continued. "A mere two days ago our outstanding

issues were contained on two pages."



The counselor reached for the top sheet and began reciting.



"As our responsibilities now include all household issues as well as monitoring

the plans for the festival of the newest year - Mereth Tui - our list has grown

exponentially.



"Early this morning, I encountered a very unhappy counselor from Lindon growling

for fresh bread. And if you will note there are no mouthwatering aromas wafting

through the Last Homely House today…"



He sniffed and realized she was correct; no smells of baking inhabited the air.

Erestor worried his lower lip. This was unusual for him; he always noticed when

something out of the ordinary occurred here, for his happiness depended upon a

continued routine existence.



Berengardh continued uninterrupted by his thoughts, "…And they should be for it

is mid-week and baking is done on this day. But every bag of flour is infested

with the saw-toothed beetle. We have nothing with which to bake. Several

containers of sugar, cereal, and dried fruit have also been affected. Currently

Cook has a small horde of kitchen workers inspecting every bag and tin of stored

food stuffs and the rest are already in the process of cleansing the entire

kitchen, store rooms, and utensils. In other words, we have the makings of a

small disaster on our hands."



He pushed himself out of the chair and stretched the kink out of his back. Then

he started pacing slowly, hand on his chin while one finger tapped his cheek.



"Hmmm, were the containers compromised?"



"It does not appear so. None thus far have revealed tears nor are any unsealed."



"Were the grains moved from the cold storage area?"



"Aye, what with the influx of so many from the other realms and the solstice

celebration, Cook needed --."



He waived off her explanation. "Make sure it is all moved back outside. That is

the only quick and sure way to kill the pests, though it will still take four

days. Send out an urgent message to Lady Celebrían. I fear she will have to add

this to her already lengthy list of issues to discuss with the growers, but we

need those replacement supplies as soon as possible. And make it clear we will

support her in any way necessary should they attempt any gouging increase in

prices."



"That will take at least two weeks."



"Aye, and until the new grain arrives, Cook can employ her staff to pick out the

dead beetles once they have been frozen." He smirked. "Although I recommend

leaving some in deference to the Mirkwood contingency, remind them of home with

the familiar crunch of dead insects."



She chuckled while scribbling notes.



"Oh! Also tell her that I require a complete investigation of this incident and

a report on her findings. If necessary we can lend an assistant counselor to her

for this. Next!" Erestor cried.



"We received a missive late this morning from Storyteller Maelam. She has

rejected our contract for performing at Mereth Tui."



"That ungrateful --."



"Chief counselor," Berengardh warned.



"Fine, fine. What part did she reject? Our generous compensation? Our

outstanding offer of fine accommodations including her outrageous demands for a

chilled glass of sealgrass wine at her bedside each night and a warm salt gargle

every morning upon waking? Nay? Let me guess. She demands a different hot

willing body every day?"



"Chief counselor!" She looked at him with such astonishment that Erestor could

not help but laugh.



"It is none of those, my goodness. Pengolodh did warn me about you but rarely

have I seen you quite like this." She eyed him suspiciously before continuing.

"The Storyteller is concerned by the battles in Fornost and has included an

increased allowance for protection on her trip here and the return journey to

her home."



She continued on quickly. "Nothing more than that one request, and I recommend

we allow this. It is a reasonable concern."



"Agreed. Amend the contract, and I will approve with Lord Elrond's seal. But it

must be done soon for Mereth Tui comes upon us quickly."



Berengardh wrote furiously before moving to the next topic.



"We have complaints from several room attendants regarding chief counselor

Galion. He drinks nightly, cavorts with the Mirkwood Captain and apparently he

dribbles."



"Dribbles?" Erestor questioned, a wide grin split his face.



Berengardh stammered and her face lit a deep red. "Well, ah…aye. They complain

of being kept awake by his antics and having to change the sheets daily.

Apparently he is extremely unruly when awoken too early. Further, he and the

captain have attempted outright enticement with several ellon."



He bit back a laugh. The elves of Imladris were so sheltered here in this haven

run by Lord Elrond. Its peaceful ways, its giving gracious lord, lulled them

into their uninterrupted tranquil lives. He thought it good they experienced

this influx of elves from other lands.



"Has anyone been hurt or forced? Has anything been permanently damaged?"



"Nay!" She seemed shocked by the mere suggestion and Erestor made a mental note

that his counselor required more exposure to the other elfish realms before any

further promotions.



"Excellent. I shall speak with Galion and his captain. The matter will resolve

itself. As for placating the staff, that is your task, counselor."



Berengardh did not seem pleased by his response but, he observed, she notated

his command dutifully.



Erestor's stomach took that moment to grumble, loudly and Berengardh's giggle

was interrupted by a polite knock to the door.



"Enter!" He shouted.



Melpomaen and Faelon came in followed by mistresses Restilhul and Calenamon.

Both elflings now appeared and smelled clean, were fully dressed, not a hair out

of place and stood quietly contrite with their heads down.



The counselors both rose and bowed before Erestor spoke. "My lords, ladies

welcome. Am I to assume all is well, my lords?"



"Aye," they chimed together, sounding completely wretched. Erestor ignored

Berengardh's questioning stare when he turned to dismiss her.



"Are we finished, counselor?"



"For now. There are no desperate issues that cannot wait until the morrow."



As she gathered up her notes and other papers, Erestor reassured her that they

would speak later.



When she left, he brought his chair to the center of the room and sat facing the

young lords.



"Lord Melpomaen. You first, step forward and remove your footwear."



Without hesitation he did and Erestor inspected him - fingernails, hair, face,

ears, neck, feet, and then shoes and clothing for any debris.



"Step back and now you Lord Faelon." Again perfect cooperation from the elfling

and he commenced a second inspection.



He then turned his attention to their minders.



"My ladies, what have you to report?"



Restilhul answered, "Our lords have willingly cleaned their rooms with no fuss

and washed and dressed themselves without assistance. Mistress Calenamon and I

agree that all is ready for your review."



Erestor stood and appraised the young lords, his *tsk* startled a jump from both

yet they refused to lift their heads.



"I am unhappy with your stances, my lords. Not once have you gazed upon me. Lift

your eyes immediately!"



Two miserable, tear-stained faces snapped to attention and grimly beheld him.

Erestor's tough mask threatened to crack at such a sight. These two were

frequently too serious in demeanor, such a contrast from their father and his

twin, but so alike Lord Elrond.



"Much better," he allowed a small smile to play across his face and delighted in

how such a minute gift straightaway brightened their countenance.



"Lead us on, my lords. To your quarters."



With military precision, the twins marched directly to their rooms yet once

inside stood unsure, fidgeted nervously and looked to Erestor. Erestor canted

his head towards the ladies. Quickly the elflings moved to their minders,

escorted them to a comfortable divan and inquired if they desired some water to

drink.



Once the ladies were seated, Erestor began his perusal of the sitting room,

amazed that the walls seem to bear no stains. The statutes and statuettes had

been up righted to their original positions and the potted plants all seemed to

be once more potted. Erestor bent down and felt the rug, still damp but no

longer soaked through and no dirt. All traces of the neem oil, blown away by the

now opened windows. He walked over to close them and spotted some debris which

Melpomaen cleared away immediately upon his order. He then set them both to work

lighting a fire in the hearth while he continued his way through the bathing

chamber and their sleeping room.



Extraordinarily impressed, he returned to the now partially warmed sitting room

with a broad smile upon his lips.



"I am pleased thus far, my lords. You have kept several of the promises made

this morning."



The twins dared return his smile, hope burgeoning in their eyes.



"Now I do believe you have prepared apologies for mistresses Restilhul and

Calenamon. Faelon you shall begin and Melpomaen you shall follow."



Faelon turned toward them and cast his head downward, then looked sharply at

Erestor when he voiced his disapproval with a throat clear. Head held high, he

faced the ladies once more and his strong, sweet voice filled the room.



"My ladies, I love you almost as much as I love my nana and my grandnanas and my

great-grandnanas and my Aunt Arwen. That's how much I love you, and I'm sorry,

very, very sorry that I was bad. I try not to be but sometimes this little orc

tells me I should be mean and then I'm mean and then I'm sorry," Faelon rambled

on without catching a breath.



"And then this morning, when I woke up and Nana was gone I got this ache in my

belly. And it hurt so bad I didn't know what to do, so I thought if I got mean

the ache would go away but then I got mean with you. And then my belly hurt AND

it hurt right here, too." Faelon pointed to his chest, "Because now you hurt

because of me. I promise I will be good from now on. And I hope you still love

me because I don't like this hurt in my heart."



Faelon reluctantly stepped backwards and Melpomaen moved forward, his turn.



"Mistress Calenamon, some day I will marry you. That's how much I love you. And

we will have lots of babies who will not be mean. They will be nice and

beautiful just like you, and I will scold them if they are ever mean like me

because being mean is not nice, and I'm a lord and I must set a good standard.

That's what Ada always says, and this morning was not a good standard. But

you'll see. I can be good, and I will be good from now on. I promise.



"And Mistress Restilhul, I know I can't marry you too. Can I? I don't know, I

don't think so but I still want to ask my ada if that's possible because I love

you. You know how to swim and paint and tell the best stories. I could listen to

you forever. Except I'm mean now, but I won't be forever. I'll be good and make

you proud."



Melpomaen gasped loudly, near tears. "Please don't hate me! I promise I won't be

mean anymore."



And then Erestor lost complete control over the situation as the ladies rushed

forward and gathered the twins into their embraces, sobbed and hugged and kissed

and assured them that all was forgiven and they were still very much loved.



Unsure whether to laugh or cry, Erestor called for their attention and separated

them.



"It is clear that your ladies approve. I do also. Very well done, my lords. A

more heartfelt and sincere apology surely has never existed before this moment.

Now, let us go see if we can rid Lord Faelon of that ache in his belly."



A much happier group descended the stairs and together they relieved the kitchen

of a platter filled with meat, a hunk of cheese, and several apples. They

retired to the ready room next to Lord Elrond's office for Erestor knew the

lords would adjourn here during the mid-afternoon break.



Blessed peace finally descended as the twins and the ladies broke their long

fast. Erestor himself was famished and took his fair share of the food. Once the

desperation of hunger ceased, and they sat munching on apples he noticed

Melpomaen had him under close scrutiny.



"Erestor?" Melpomaen broke the silence.



"Mmm?"



"Are you married?"



A piece of apple lodged itself in Erestor's throat and he sat up choking and

coughing. Calenamon pounded him on the back.



"What?" Erestor finally gasped.



Melpomaen reached forward and touched his hair. "You have this thing here and

you have a ring on your finger. Ada and grandada have the same things and they

are married."



He had wondered when this question would arise. Elladan and Elrohir were just

short of their majority when they accosted Erestor and demanded to know why he

wore a love knot in his hair and a ring on his marriage finger. Elladan's twins

were more inquisitive and curious, so he had expected this but not quite so soon

and not in the presence of others.



Of course there were survivors here from Gondolin, so his story was not unknown

but the attentive stares of the ladies made him a trifle nervous. He cleared his

throat.



"Well, nay I am not married but there is someone very special whom I love. And

this love knot and this ring are tokens of a promise to uphold our future

bonding."



Faelon piped into the conversation. "But we have never seen you with her."



"You would not have for he does not live here in Imladris."



Melpomaen and Faelon giggled. "Warriors!" They cried in unison.



"What?" now it was Erestor's turn to be confused.



"You love a warrior just like Uncle Elrohir. He gets very happy when that elf

with the yellow hair comes to visit. I can't remember his name though."



"Where does your warrior live, Erestor?"



"In Valinor, and there he awaits my arrival."



Melpomaen's eyes rounded. "Oh no, did he die?"



"Aye, in a great battle, long ago," Erestor swallowed hard past the lump in his

throat. He did not enjoy speaking of this to anyone.



"So the Valar let him be reborn and when you get there you can marry him and

have lots of babies."



"Babies?"



"Uh huh, that's what happens when you get married, you have babies. Nana told us

all about it."



He ignored the muffled giggles from the ladies while his mind searched for some

explanation.



"I do hope to marry him, aye but we are two ellon so there will be no babies."



"Sure there will be. We saw Uncle Elrohir and that elf trying to make babies and

they do it just like ada and nana, but for some reason Uncle Elrohir didn't have

a baby yet probably because he hasn't married that warrior elf yet. And we've

seen the goats and horses and birds do it just the same and they have babies."



Now the ladies were outright choking trying to hold back the laughter. But the

elflings seemed not to notice and continued with their questioning.



"What is his name?" Faelon asked just as the door opened and Melpomaen shouted.



"Grandada!!"



The twins ran to Elrond and embraced his legs; he reached down for a kiss from

both. Then they saw their ada and retreated behind Elrond.



"What is this?" asked Elladan, "No enthusiastic greeting for your own ada?" His

broad smile slowly faded to a frown.



Melpomaen and Faelon glanced at Erestor who nodded and gestured them to keep

their heads up and move towards their ada.



"We were bad and mean, Ada," Faelon confessed.



"But we are better now and promise to be nice to everyone especially the

ladies," chimed in Melpomaen.



Faelon continued, "We even cleaned up all the mess and washed ourselves. And

Erestor approved of it all, even our apologies."



Elladan put up a hand for them to stop and looked to Erestor.



"Your sons have spoken truly, my lord. Their misbehavior has been discussed,

they have made certain promises and have thus far amended the situation with

great satisfaction to both myself and mistresses Restilhul and Calenamon." The

ladies nodded their heads.



Elladan glared disappointment at the twins before speaking. "If you will excuse

me, Adar I would retire with my sons to their quarters for a further

explanation. How soon before we reconvene?"



"Take as much time as you need as I am sure we will make no further headway

today."



Somberly Lord Elladan escorted the ladies and the twins, who now clung to each

other, from the room.



Erestor and Elrond sighed together and then chuckled.



"Your day has been as trying as mine?" inquired Elrond.



"Aye. How goes the counsel?"



"It is as we expected. Mithlond, Lindon and Lothlórien have the available

resources and the willingness to not only commit troops to a campaign in Fornost

but to share responsibility in patrolling the roads between realms.



"While the counselors and captain from Mirkwood agree to everything in spirit

they are hesitant to allocate any of their warriors for either. And it is

understandable considering the numbers needed just to maintain a secure border

against the evil occupying Dol Guldur."



Elrond stood and paced.



"But we need them, Erestor. Without all of us participating and providing equal

protection this entire alliance will fail and these months in negotiations will

have been for naught."



Erestor leaned forward in his chair. "Tonight I speak to Galion on a completely

unrelated issue. Let me broach this subject with him, my lord. Let me initiate

the plan we spoke upon before these proceedings commenced."



"Not yet, my friend," Elrond chuckled, "We are not so desperate that we need

resort to our final impetuous plea."



"Desperate!" Erestor snorted, "Never that, but the chief counselor and I have a

history, as you well know and with one little word he will bow to whatever

reasonable demand we lay before him. Either that or we can present an outright

bribe. Our cellar is stocked with enough wine to keep him in his cups every

night for a year, and the latest batch of scented oils have proven an especially

pleasing lubricant, the Mirkwood Captain would much appreciate."



Elrond howled his humor at that and Erestor beamed. Every day he sought to wring

at least one smile or laugh from his lord. It was his duty as chief counselor.

It was his duty as a good friend.



Wiping his eyes upon his sleeve, Elrond shook his head. "It is good that you are

not part of these meetings. Not as fun or productive, mind you, but my sons

learn much.



"How goes Imladris? I see the House still stands yet what of the rest?"



"Minor catastrophes, much gnashing of the teeth, flaring tempers, and general

chaos. A typical day."



"Ah, wonderful. I look forward to my return to the simpler dealings of our

realm."



"However, I did have one moment of panic when we received word that Storyteller

Maelam refused our contract."



"Nay! Celebrían will be devastated."



"Not to worry, my lord. She merely demanded an increase in payment to cover the

extra costs of traveling due to the instability in Fornost."



"Good, good. One moment, there is something I meant to tell you," Elrond

continued to walk around the room, his face a mask of concentration. He stopped

abruptly.



"Aha! Mereth Tui. I know of a perfect new talent. A young elf named Lindir. I

believe he and his ada have been residents for a short time but already there is

much talk of his outstanding voice and clever lyrics."



"Where can I find this singer?"



"Hmm, that I do not know but his adar is a Horsemaster in my stables. I cannot

recall his name but he will be immediately recognizable for the cowl he hides

under."



"One of the battle-scarred?"



"Again, I do not know as his face has never been visible to me; however, his

right hand is completely damaged, probably due to fire from the looks of it."



"I shall make it a priority to find this Lindir and secure him for a spot in one

of the festival performances."



They parted ways shortly thereafter to continue their day. Erestor returned to

his office and spent an exhausting afternoon and evening attempting to conclude

as many outstanding issues as possible before retiring.



When Ithil shone brightly and he still sat hunched over a pile of paper, he

heard the squeals and screams of elflings outside his glass doors, doors that

led to the front lawn of the House. Erestor stood, stretched out tired muscles,

rubbed the ache in his back, opened the doors and emerged to the snow blanketed

night. Grateful he had opted for boots this morning, he strode outside.



Melpomaen and Faelon, though barely recognizable through multiple layers of

clothing stumbled around dodging snow thrown by their ada and Uncle Elrohir. It

appeared any rifts between father and sons were mended. He smiled.



His musings were abruptly cut short by a stinging pain on the right side of his

face.



"Ouch!" he yelled.



The same stinging pain then emerged on the left side of his face.



"What in the name of the Valar!" Erestor roared while he wiped the snow from his

eyes, only vaguely aware of the laughter ringing through the air.



And then Haldir appeared directly in front of him. His face set into a firm

smirk.



"There. I always thought your face could do with a bit more color and now you

have it. Two perfectly rounded patches of rouge."



"Marchwarden," Erestor growled before a startled "Umph!" was forced from him as

he impacted the ground.



Struggling for breath he looked upward to find two identical faces peering down

upon him. The twins sat upon his chest.



"Uncle Haldir just taught us distract and de-thatch."



A distant voice cut in. "Distract and dispatch."



"Oh!" The twins giggled.



"So Uncle Haldir distracted you and we dispatched you!"



"And you did a fine job now let me up."



"But you're dead."



"How can I be dead if I am speaking to you?"



"Oh, Uncle Haldir. What happens if they aren't dead?"



Strong hands lifted the twins up by the scruff of their clothing and then pulled

Erestor from the ground. Those same hands vigorously slapped snow from his over

robe.



After removing his robe and shaking it free of snow and combing his fingers

through his hair, Erestor finally looked up. Three adult elves and two elflings

contemplated him.



"Hmmmm," Elrohir said. "Usually we kill orcs and goblins outright, though

sometimes we must extract information from them, and occasionally we pin a note

to them and send them back to their evil masters with a warning."



"What say ye, young lords?"



"Torture him!" They shouted gleefully and Haldir chuckled. Erestor thought the

Marchwarden looked especially proud with that answer. Only barely was he unable

to keep the irritated *tsk* from forming on his lips, for he had work to

complete. But he knew better, Elladan and Elrohir had tormented him since their

birth with harmless pranks and general mischief. He could only escape by playing

their game.



Dramatically he fell to his knees before Melpomaen and Faelon.



"Please brave lords, release me. Send me back to my evil lord with a message.

For I have his ear, and I can convince him of your superior might and

intelligence and he will forever leave you and your people in peace."



The young twins looked at each other and seemed to think about his plea for a

moment and then their lips rose into a full grin. "Torture!" They agreed before

charging Erestor, wrestling him to the ground and tickling him.



Erestor gasped out names and dates and secret locations of warriors and weapons

until the young twins were congratulated on their technique and then sent off by

their ada to quickly create a cover before the next round of fighting began.



While cleaning himself of snow again Elladan invited him for chocolate in about

an hour before setting off after his sons.



"How is your back, Erestor?" Elrohir looked at him with genuine concern but did

not wait his answer before continuing. "When you come for chocolate, I will have

an elixir for you. Do not be late!"



As he walked off, Haldir approached him closely, "Yes, chief counselor do join

us." And then he leaned in closely and blew hot air against the cold shell of

Erestor's ear. "And if light-colored hair is your only requirement for a lover,

there is an empty space in my bed for the evening. Shall I keep it warm?"



But Haldir obviously not expecting a response laughed and raked his eyes over

the length of Erestor before departing with a leer firmly upon his face.



Erestor shook his head as he left. Amazed at the gall of Haldir, and amazed that

in a few short hours the twins had completely lost their fear of the

Marchwarden.



The search took him from Lord Elrond's stables to a tiny house nestled within a

copse of holm-oak trees. On one side, an old garden had been scratched in the

earth, now dead and partially covered with snow. On the other, boxwoods guarded

the foundation. Just one of the many typical homes that dotted the land of

Imladris.



His knock on the door was answered promptly. The elf, almost as tall as Erestor

was covered in a black robe and his face hidden in the shadows of a deep cowl.

It always shocked Erestor to meet an elf as tall as he, for his family was known

for its extraordinary height. He noticed the disfigured hand before the elf

quickly slipped it under the sleeve of his robe. The skin melted such that each

finger was fused together and a tarnished, badly damaged golden ring still

resided on the index finger.



Erestor smiled to put this unknown elf at ease, for his stance was rigid and

hard with a slight tremor. And he stood defensively in the doorway neither

stepping out further nor inviting Erestor in.



"A good evening. I am chief counselor, Erestor. Are you the adar of Lindir?"



"I am," came the quick response, the elf's voice strong yet raspy.



"Excellent, I will come straight to the order of my business. Lord Elrond offers

your son the opportunity to perform at Mereth Tui. It is our Imladris version of

an equinox and newest year celebration, much fun and the occasional prayer for a

good harvest in the fields and in the bedroom."



Silence greeted him, not even a change in stance to show the elf appreciated his

attempt at humor. About to speak again, the elf interrupted him.



"My son is recently of majority age, chief counselor. I suggest you speak with

him directly about this issue. He spends most days and many nights with the

bard, Adanglir. A good night to you."



Erestor, for reasons he could not begin to fathom put his foot in the door to

prevent its closing.



"Please one moment. There is no need for the cover, friend. Imladris is a

welcoming place and all are admitted as they are. I am sure you have seen the

many elves here who are battle scarred or disfigured from accidents. There is no

discrimination against them only loving acceptance."



"Aye, which is one of the reasons I brought my son here. My thanks, chief

counselor, but I am most comfortable under cover. Someday, mayhap, that will

change."



"As it pleases you, sir."



The door was abruptly closed, and Erestor hesitated. A nagging thought chased

through his mind as he walked back to his quarters. This elf seemed so familiar

and it had distracted him enough that he had failed to obtain his name. Yet.





Chapter 3

Imladris, III 1974



Anor slowly disappeared from sight and the sky blackened ominously. The gathered

crowd issued in unity a gasp of awe. What had been a bright mid-morning now

faded to shadows. And a rippling sound in the distance grew in volume. Erestor

knew what came but knowledge did not slow the quickening of his heart. It jumped

and thumped excitedly in his chest. Nor did it calm his breath which issued

forth in ragged hitches. A brisk early spring wind stirred and caressed him as

gently as a lover, and he tilted his head skyward for a breezy kiss. Thousands

of wings flapped in unified tempo with the beat of his heart, and the air wafted

by replete with a sharp gamey tang. Their approach close now.



The first *honk* raised a smile to his lips and many elves cried out in

response. Until the responding squawks and honks rose to such a crescendo that

elflings fell to the ground, their hands clasped over their ears. No one could

hear him but Erestor sang back to the birds. He broke free of his flesh and flew

up toward the song and found himself at the top of the world soaring on wings

that overlooked the lands beyond Imladris. And then he fell, exhilarated,

panting, hoarse and grinning madly.





The darkened sky was now completely filled with the pure white sight. A great

flock of swans, hundreds of thousands of them blocked out Anor as they migrated

for their mating grounds.



And they flew overhead for three solid hours littering the ground with their

droppings and fallen feathers. Erestor stood the entire time unmoving, beaming.

Ellith and ellyn alike darted out from undercover to retrieve the feathers which

they stuck into their hair, or behind an ear, or delicately held onto to later

incorporate into some covering and wear for the entire week long festivities.

None would dare be seen without one adorning their body. Even Erestor dutifully

gathered a few fluffy down feathers to place through his love knot.



Though the inns of Imladris were overflowing with the droves of elves and their

human guests who had arrived over the past fortnight, the festival did not begin

until this moment. Mereth Tui started now for the arrival of the swans was the

unofficial opening of the celebrations. There was no more perfect symbol of

love, fidelity and fertility that arrived punctually every year on or within

hours of the equinox.



Mereth Tui a celebration of life and the coming of the newest year, such a

conundrum in Erestor's estimation. A festival created by Noldor, elves

supposedly at the pinnacle of intelligent, logical, and rational thought. Yet it

was based on an appeal to the whims of the Valar. Oh everyone acknowledged that

the success of the growing season or the fecundity of a couple depended on good

soil, rain, superior seed and stamina. But that did not prevent the residents

from using this time to mate underneath a flock of swans, or gathering swan

waste and smearing it upon their bodies in the hopes of receiving a blessing of

the Valar. One of the stalwart occurrences during the festival involved

gathering swan droppings, mixing it with soil, and planting a row of crops. Many

absolutely espoused that the upcoming growing season's fruition depended on

whether these few seeds germinated during the week long festival.



But those activities were none of Erestor's concern this year, nor any year

since his arrival in Imladris. Even now he scurried to his duties though his

head spun annoyingly, an effect most assuredly a result of the three day fast

required of all adult elves during this time. Lady Celebrían coordinated all

aspects of Mereth Tui, but she made sure every counselor played some part. This

year she assigned Erestor to the shrines, and he needed to assure himself that

the migrating flock had not caused damage to any of the structures.



The shrines were small stalls made of the lowest grade of wood and would be

burned as sacred bonfires to mark the ending of Mereth Tui. None were painted

but they were decorated, sparsely or elaborately depending on the whim of those

delegated to the task. Several bore seeds and stalk from last years harvest;

some were decorated with symbols related to bindings and marriages, one for a

successful conception, and another for a healthy pregnancy and birth. A

contemplation shrine would be placed within the spray of a waterfall.



Most of the shrines were visited by humans and several were constructed with

them in mind, specifically those for warding off diseases and sicknesses in the

coming year. Each had a small offering box attached to it and the money was used

to train healers who would volunteer their services in a human settlement for

several decades or possibly centuries.



He breathed a sigh of relief as he inspected the structures. Huddled in a tight

group just on the outskirts of the main lawn, none were marred. A few were

stained with droppings but that would be no issue for those seeking the grace of

the Valar. In a mere hour, they would all be carried to the Bruinen and dipped

until water soaked, then marched through the crowd for a ceremonial blessing by

Lord Elrond.



The parade of the shrines had become wilder with each passing year. Those picked

to carry them would dress in outrageous costumes related to the shrine they bore

and last year's phallic offerings did not bear further thought. He only hoped

this year's fanfare would be tamer. Once the procession concluded the shrines

were placed at various intervals around Imladris, for the duration of the

celebration.



Erestor checked the sky, mid-day had come and gone and it was time to return to

his office for a brief update from Berengardh. Though officially not in charge

of the entertainment, Erestor still needed to confirm that all the terms of the

various performers' contracts were being met. So he scurried again, waving his

greetings as he was hailed by a multitude of elves in varying conditions of

inebriation or gluttony, for over consumption played a large part in Mereth Tui

with dozens of stalls stuffed with food and wines and ales prepared from last

year's harvest. Erestor's favorite was the hot tomato soup and he meant to hurry

this meeting so he could soon rest with a steaming bowl, followed by the

traditional overripe apples covered in sugar which had been melted and hardened

around the fruit and generously sprinkled with cinnamon.



After a quick assemblage, Erestor not so subtly herded the counselors from the

room to their various tasks. It would not do for Imladris to obtain the

reputation of not keeping true to their contracts, and he could not enjoy the

celebration until he knew everything was in order. In addition, the counselors

and captains from the other elfish realms still remained and their needs must be

continually seen to.



Outside the cheering and clapping had finally subsided and rhythmic chants

buzzed through the air. The day marched forward and it appeared the blessing of

the shrines would be concluded soon. He rose from his chair and moved to the

glass doors. Every elf in view stood with arms held high, palms up and most

swayed. Lord Elrond's voice penetrated the cold day easily and even though he

was not visible, Erestor could still make out some of the words of the prayer.

He let his eyes fall shut and his hands crushed the day's notes.



Berengardh startled him when she entered but she kept her report blessedly short

and he released her to attend the festival. All was well, everything as it

should be.



Freed from his own duties, he hunted the food booths for a mid-day meal. Tempted

from the soup by a familiar scent, Erestor stood next to a fish stall. His

fingers and mouth glistened with oil and his tongue darted out to catch bits of

stray meat that fell from the bone before he could consume it. He had greedily

eaten four large portions, fish so fresh he imagined they still bore the smell

of the sea, and then licked the juice from his hands. The scents and sounds in

this area had a visceral pull. It reminded him of his family home in Nevrast

near the sea. He sniffed deeply and recalled the constant noise of the waves

crashing to shore, the constant ping of a ship's gear thrashing in the wind, the

constant shouts and jests of those who worked the boats, and the constant smell

of fish decayed and fresh. His nana's smile, his ada's gruff but loving ways,

his brother's constant companionship and guidance. Nevrast had even sponsored

its own fertility festival but nothing as ambitious as this.



Taking him completely unawares, chief counselor Galion and the Mirkwood Captain

stumbled around the corner, arm in arm and bounced off him. Erestor's fish flew

from his hands, and the two lovers landed with a resounding *thud* on the

ground. They giggled upon impact. Erestor's mouth dropped open and he stared at

the drunken adult ellyn now in full hysterics, rolling in each other's embrace,

stinking of ale. Their open mouths met, sloppy and wet until their muffled

giggles turned to groans.



Erestor had spoken to Galion, to no avail, no agreement was obtained from

Mirkwood to participate in their alliance. He suspected the chief counselor

enjoyed the freedoms he had here, to love the Mirkwood Captain in the open, and

was reluctant to lose that when they parted for home. At least they no longer

frightened those who cared for their rooms! Uncomfortable for some unknown

reason, he moved along. Public displays happened regularly during this

celebration and elflings usually spent the entire week of Mereth Tui with their

eyes wide open in educational amazement.



Surprised, he finally recognized it as jealousy that had spurred him away. That

kept him moving as he unnecessarily went about the area re-inspecting the

shrines, checking the donation boxes, watching the costumed actors and dancers

that entertained spontaneously and he flicked food tokens at elflings who

approached him. He investigated every merchant's stall and found several lovely

trinkets that he purchased for the ladies Aevar and Arwen. Both were fond of

amulet pendants especially those depicting marine kelvar. And then on a whim he

bought two crude but tonally perfect pentatonic flutes for the twins. Mayhap

they would be drawn to a more musical future than their ada and uncles.



Day had turned quickly to dusk. Erestor transported his packages back to his

quarters before returning to the festival. He purchased an evening meal before

searching out that perfect place from which to watch this evening's

performances.



Ambling across the now frosted crunchy grass; he found a peaceful haven in the

middle of the chaos under a young pine tree. Night had fallen and the stars

blinded with their brilliance against the background of an inky canvass. He sat

and scanned the crowd. Lots of elflings jumped about for storyteller night was a

big draw for children. But two familiar voices pierced the din and not far from

him were Melpomaen and Faelon. They were busy chattering away with their Aunt

Arwen while tucking feather after feather into her braided hair. She laughed

often at whatever they said and the twins smiled at her fondly. Their uncles

Elrohir and Haldir sat nearby, heads close in conspiratorial chatter, and

suddenly they both reared back and roared with laughter. Lady Aevar reclined

tucked beneath the embrace of her husband Elladan, both gazing fondly at their

sons. Lady Celebrían rested against her husband nestled in the crook of his arm,

while Elrond lazily kissed her face and murmured unknown words near her smiling

lips.



The weight of it crushed him. The stark loneliness amidst his friends here, the

striking solitude bore down upon him. His heart tripped and stole the breath

from his chest. Run! Go to him! The same mantra that skipped through his mind

every day urgently pressed him. Surely by now he was reborn, a fully grown adult

with the memories of his prior life restored. Surely his lover ached as he did

for a reunion and the start of their life together. Why do you hesitate? Run!



He really did not belong here. Here where, on the inside resided his long,

bitter winter.



A pang of hunger arrowed through his belly, and he quickly turned his attention

to his meal of hot tomato soup. Slurping it loudly, he distracted himself from

further thoughts of his love. But with the first crunchy bite of the candied

apple, a sudden agonizing thump beat inside his head. He closed his eyes fully

and swallowed convulsively determined not to lose his supper. Erestor let out a

snarled groan and willed himself to relax, to release the misery which gripped

him, to fight this aching wretchedness, to allow his mind to drift again.



He had convinced himself he would bend with life's blows and grow stronger,

accept only the good and the simple and not complicate everything he touched.

But mayhap the time had come for him to cease yielding and leave Middle Earth.

Imladris would run just as efficiently without him as there were plenty of

counselors qualified to step into his duties. He would not be missed. Erestor

tensed, he felt pincered from every direction and he teetered precariously on a

knife's blunt, subtle edge separating past and future. A decision must be made,

and soon, no further excuses for he ached to be held, and loved, and to sing

once more.



Screams of delight broke his ruminations and through watery eyes he observed

scads of elves on the dais. The stage was adorned with conifer needles, the only

plant life fully green at this time of the year, and stuck to the wood with its

own sap. In his estimation the platform appeared a green, hairy giant but as

they celebrated the beginning of the growing season, green color won out over

tasteful decorations.



The elves were throwing food tokens into the crowd and elflings ran for them

frantically. Their continual screeching rang the air like a violently rattled

animal's cage with their juvenile fury. The sound slammed into his ears, set him

on edge and his temper flirted with angry distraction. Nay, he chastised

himself. He must focus instead on, other distractions…Gandalf, the name floated

effortlessly through his thoughts. And with that he immediately grinned, his

usual reaction to a visit by his friend.



More often that not, Gandalf appeared at the festival with fireworks but for the

first time in what seemed forever he had not accepted their Mereth Tui

invitation. Erestor already missed the whine and burst of fireworks against the

starry sky of early spring, the bright offerings to the Valar. He yearned for

the comradery Gandalf had afforded him over the years, sitting on the ground

while Gandalf smoked and they both drank frosted wine, discussing nothing of

importance. Gandalf's presence, one of the rich spots of color in Erestor's

grayed world.



A tinkling of bells rang through the air, caught the crowd's attention and his

nerves jangled along with them. Storyteller Maelam climbed the dais and an

explosion of applause accompanied her up the stairs and to the edge of the

stage. Elflings surged forward for a better view.



Traditionally, Mereth Tui's first performer was always an oral storyteller and

this year Lady Celebrían had secured the best of the best. Maelam paced the

stage waving her arms in an up and down motion, her long dark hair billowed in

the wind and a hush fell across those gathered.



"RAWK!" She screeched her flapping arms still in motion.



And all the elflings responded with a cacophony of "RAWKS".



Her voice strong and clear, Maelam commanded her audience.



"Come great eagles oh gentle friends, make quick your wings outspread."



Every elfling appeared in rapt attention and they swiftly responded by lifting

their arms and mimicking her motions.



"With the warmth of Anor on our sturdy backs we will soar on the thermal wind.

Higher and higher, where the air is thin and our song is breathless yet

unending. We will dive through the skies bringing peace and delight with our

strong and our magical flights.

Let us fly to the ends of all Middle Earth, let us observe where the waters

fray. Let us soar past the mountains to that mysterious place which lies betwixt

the sky and the heavens. And circle round the warmth of the dancing fire, and

render the sparks to our talons. In a swirling mass we will rise once more then

scatter afar, alight. And with gentle strokes, illuminate the stars full bright

on this cold darkened night."



From somewhere appeared two sticks glowing bright red on the ends, that Maelam

held tightly in both fists. Thrusting them both into the air she screeched

another ear-splitting "RAWK!" and began a slow run around the platform, her long

slender legs peaking out from her skirt.



Every elfling jumped to their feet as one and ran toward the dais. In

unrehearsed concert they flew around the base of the stage furiously flapping

their arms while screaming Rawk! Rawk! at top voice.



Erestor could not resist joining the adults in delighted cheers of their own. He

smiled though at the obvious drama, so perfect for children and certainly the

best way to start any celebration…crowd participation.



Maelam continued for another hour enchanting all with her stories and antics.

Erestor had not expected her to be so funny or so entertaining, but he like so

many would now be counted among her admirers. With the conclusion of her

storytelling the elflings and other youths were escorted off to bed for the rest

of the evening's performances were strictly for those past their majority age.



Up first would be a small group of first time musicians, those select few chosen

for their outstanding talents but who had not yet declared performing as their

profession. And young Lindir would be amongst them.



His meeting with the singer, several months ago, still set warily in his mind.

For the young elf was known to him. He had recognized him immediately. Lindir

had hovered at the perimeter of Erestor's presence for months, appearing almost

everywhere Erestor went. Without directly questioning Lindir, Erestor had

decided the young singer knew of his past and was simply curious. No matter the

reason, Lindir had accepted the offer to perform with absolute glee, shaking

Erestor's hand furiously, and then running off to spread the news of his good

fortune. He had not seen him since that time, until now and he was eager to hear

this voice that Lord Elrond seemed so gladdened by.



Erestor leaned back on his elbows and stretched his legs, stomach sated now but

a hollow ache stretched the length of his skin. He swiped at his face rubbing at

the tiredness and irritation and hoped the music would uplift his sullen mood.

His eyes drooped and he yawned until he glimpsed the young singer moving around

to the back of the dais.



Lindir followed two previous performers and mounted the stage bravely. His

innocent face seemed so familiar to Erestor, something he had noticed on their

first meeting yet he could not place it. The countenance of this youthful elf

shone strength and confidence as he relaxed into position at the center front of

the platform. With no hesitation, no instrumental accompaniment, no introduction

he opened his mouth and immediately the song spilled from his tongue.



"Fell so effortlessly, tumbling safe into your passionate hands…

Forever sculpting your immense song into my unaware heart…

Awaking me, as if I was an instrument only to play for you…



Carefully reluctant to admit you needed me, yet it was all a lie…

So I offered you many gifts, wishing for one true gift in return…

Thus, I took you and made you mine; two fëar linked eternally…



Craving that loving gaze, the warm embrace reserved just for me…

You will always be my forever; my home is everywhere you are…

For I am that melody you shaped; eternally yours for a song…"



He sat unmoving, not breathing dumbfounded into inaction. The universe had

arrayed its perversity straight at him with a resounding slap. He felt grubby

and inept and stripped bare in front of the entire population of Imladris.

Erestor did not dare turn his head for surely all looked at him now. Existence

had a clever devious plot and that was to wear him down with every shocking

moment.



And then an awed smattering of clapping turned into a thunderous roar of

approval and the crowd surged to its feet in appreciation. Finally a ragged

inhalation snapped him to attention and Erestor struggled upwards, their

attention diverted he could make good his escape. He did, and he sprinted to his

quarters.



Once there he stalked through every room, a bundle of excess nervous energy he

paced, twitched, and frowned. Erestor had searched for security for a long time

and foolishly thought he had found it here. But now his mind circled in a rut.

Lindir's song had hit unerringly, described with clear insight his years of

feelings, his hopes and dreams when he resided in Gondolin with love as his

constant companion. How? He could not fathom for none, but he and one other knew

most of these intimacies Lindir had sung about, known the words his love had

spoken to him. The burden of the unknown cast his neck and shoulders into a

slope of rigidity.



Erestor skulked around until he found an old cloth. He set about cleaning,

rubbed down every surface, got on his knees and scrubbed at the floor until the

rag fell to pieces. He straightened books and papers and those tokens obtained

as memories of adventures and then straightened them again. The void of sound

fed with his mutterings. Everything in his quarters fit together too neatly so

he dragged furniture around, rearranged it again and again. Breathing heavily he

surveyed the room with brooding eyes. Tonight the perfectness bothered him. It

pricked at his sense of rightness.



How? The word speared through his ruminations and shattered his hard sought

thread of calm. Erestor abandoned the outer rooms, scrambled up on his bed then

lay back against the pillow with unfocused attention. Unease washed through him

and he struggled to tug his thoughts away from the song. He rolled into a ball,

snapped his eyes closed and concentrated on slowing his breath…relaxing.



The deep, comforting voice drifted through his mind and he dislocated in time to

a different Age, a different tribe of elves…shouts of horror yet one piercing

voice rich in tenor, commanding, calm in the face of calamity called to all and

he followed. The voice that ruled his life, his love, his happiness, his

security. But he was choking on smoke, dodging fallen bodies, skirting death as

shrieks of evil and smells of agonized violence slammed into his senses. He

stumbled and a slender hand hooked beneath his elbow and lifted him, face to

face with Lady Berendes. Her eyes empty, her son clinging to her neck, his soot

covered face outlining a trail of tears. And they ran, together, yet alone and

utterly panicked. Forever…forced forward by certain death, then blocked at the

passage by raging terror.



The balrog loomed fiery and the air heated red and stole his breath, conscious

now of his lack, gulping strongly forcing his lungs in and out. And then he saw,

his love, his happiness, his security battling the giant, winning, forcing it

over the edge. A horrific shriek rent the air, and he cheered hysterically,

running to reach him. He moved faster, confused because his love, his happiness,

his security's beautiful hair seemed to move of its own accord. The hair

tightened into a tail, burst into flames as his love's head was slammed to the

ground and he was dragged him across the earth, his hands one ruined and melted

and bloody scrabbled across the arid soil searching for purchase. Their visions

met across the distance, he paused struck by the bland expression yet he feasted

on that one last glimpse into the loveliest blue, most happily peaceful and

secure eyes before his love, his happiness, his security was snapped over the

edge into the precipice.



Too late, Erestor stood looking down into the gorge, now filled with crushed,

and burned and broken bodies, red rivers splashed down the steep sides as if

Ilúvatar had haphazardly flung some paint and then purposefully forgotten this

part of creation. The smoldering balrog dominated his sight but he could not see

him who he sought! Eyes scanned desperately, he pushed his will down, strained

his own heart to beat for his love, his happiness, his security…but there was no

answer. Erestor could no longer anchor to the spark that had lived inside him.

He did not sob, did not burst into hysterics, he just focused downward until a

familiar glimmer caught his attention.



The shrill tenor of Lady Berendes' cry did not stop him and he slid over the

edge and rode a shower of pebbles half-way down. The object lay gleaming, mutely

reflecting Anor, stained with gore and warped from heat. His back flared agony

and when he reached behind his hand came away stained an angry red. But onward

he trod, retrieved the sword and held it high in bleak victory.



Eagles swooped down from Crissaegrim, retrieved bodies and placed them near the

surviving elves for burials that began immediately and lasted well into the

night, no matter the danger for the dead deserved respect. One eagle had gently

assisted Erestor back to the top. Erestor busily lamented and grieved for those

lost, until great grappling talons laid a body before him, the implication

unsaid but obvious.



Glorfindel - his love, his happiness, his security.



He ran his fingers over every burned and shattered inch of the body of the one

he adored and held Lady Berendes and his brother Pengolodh tight as they laid

Glorfindel to rest on the side of the passage.



He shed no tears, allowed himself no lasting grief, for Glorfindel had assaulted

happiness during his life and he was determined to follow in kind. And

Glorfindel would be reborn. Time, he only need wait and his life would again be

filled with love, happiness and security. He left the passage of Cirith

Thoronath with no glance backwards. Forward…away from the stench of death and

promises unfulfilled.



After another disorientating shift of mind and place Erestor awoke, the scream

trapped in his mind. The pain made him gasp and whimper and now there was no one

here to soothe him. He trembled, tangled in the damp covers, and his heart

stumbled over itself with panic. He took a deep breath and forced the calmness

back. How? How could he have been so blind all these years, until now, until

revealed by this dream?



Glorfindel's corpse had borne no betrothal ring.



Anticipation, uncertainty and barely controlled terror hounded him as bounded

off his bed and knelt to dig through the storage chest. This time he passed by

his lute. Nay, he searched for something even deeper, better hidden. Erestor

trembled when his fingers encountered the cold hard steel. He smiled against the

melancholy that tightened him like a drum.



This sword had been a courtship present from him to Glorfindel, made to measure

and accompanied by the most supple leather sheath. An idea that had at first

been purely practical because Glorfindel spoke incessantly about the

deficiencies of his current weapon, groused actually and Erestor knew this gift

would cease all complaints. But his intent had changed into a grand gesture, a

desire to please, to make Glorfindel happy rather than merely uncomplaining. And

Glorfindel had received it with a shy smile and a look of such awe that

Erestor's throat had tightened.



The front of his knees ached from kneeling too long. He swallowed past the lump

in his throat, shook the memories from his mind and stood. Hot fury gripped

Erestor as he walked to his library and opened the door to a small closet.

Stored within was his own weapon, gratefully unused for centuries. Until

tonight. With purposeful steps Erestor left his quarters and the Last Homely

House, and moved passed the late night revelers entranced with resolve.



He knew exactly where to find his answers.



~o0o~



Erestor heard voices raised in argument as he approached the house and it broke

his stupor.



"Go to him, Ada. He deserves to know the truth!"



"I cannot, not yet," came the resigned reply.



"But this is why we have come here, yes? I know you desire my safety but we

could have gone anywhere. Instead you chose Imladris --."



A mumbled response cut off the speaker but the soft words prevented Erestor from

hearing more.



Erestor stopped dead and shivered, cold fear gripped him.



"Nay. Please, dear Elbereth. Please let it not be him!" he mumbled softly.



His nerve failed him for a brief moment but then he banged on the door

violently. The voices within grew silent. He thumped the door once more before

it finally opened to reveal Lindir, whose eyes grew wide as Ithil in its full

phase.



"Uh, uh, chief counselor…" he stuttered.



But Erestor cut him off with a slash of his hand. "Send your Adar outside now!"



Erestor stepped backwards down the stairs and assumed a fighting stance, his

breath rushed out of him as he panted with emotion. The cowled figure emerged

and moved in front of Lindir. Erestor could feel the hidden eyes boring into

him. He flashed Glorfindel's sword at the unknown elf and scowled before driving

the sword tip into the ground. The force of his actions caused the sword to

wobble and the gems of the pommel and the intricate raised writings on the blade

glittered in Ithil's light.



He felt no joy when the hooded elf stumbled backward. And then the elf stilled

and remained that way for a time, until Erestor grew restless and tossed his own

sword from hand to hand, and started toward him. The elf urgently whispered

something to Lindir and pushed him away in the opposite direction of Erestor

before he raced to the sword still thrust into the soil. Grabbing it, the elf

rolled away and brought his weapon to the ready.



Erestor stopped. "Nay!" He threw his head back and wailed to the sky before his

knees gave way and he collapsed into a crouched position.



The elf's stance was unmistakable. He knew of only one who fought in such an

unorthodox way. Glorfindel's fighting form caused him no end of harassment from

his fellow warriors, the odd angle of his elbow, the laxity of his grip, the

lazy dip of the sword's tip. And yet the results of such a stance proved deadly

time and again.



The elf moved toward him, arm outstretched out in supplication. "Erestor?"



His senses whirled around him - everything a maddening storm of color, every

sound of the night blasted his ears, bitter, sour tastes burned his tongue - and

then it all blurred, before it snapped back into focus. No question now. He knew

absolutely. Glorfindel stood before him. His righteous fervor popped, anger

overrode any lingering sorrow and he leapt to his feet.



"Betrayer!!!" screamed Erestor as he drove forward slashing his sword in a

deadly arc.



Pain. Rage. Fear.



There was nothing else. No existence or thought beyond that, all else swallowed

whole by their voracious power. Erestor gripped his weapon with both hands and

pounded Glorfindel's sword and over and over, frenetic screeching fury. He

wanted to drive Glorfindel into the ground and stomp him to dust, make him

disappear. Die horribly as he should have millennium before. Seal the mouth that

spoke to him, incessantly foolish chatter.



"Erestor, stop look at me. We can talk. Let me explain. I was damaged."



He hissed in frustration and struck harder, primitive determination for revenge

strengthened him and he crowed with delight when Glorfindel stumbled backwards.

He would silence Glorfindel's words permanently.



And when the cowl slipped off his head, Erestor hesitated. Glorfindel's flushed

face shone perfectly in Ithil's light, but his hair was gone, with the exception

of one golden strand, and in its place deep, angry whip-like scars marked the

skin down past his neck, his left ear only a hole in his skull. In Erestor's

delay, Glorfindel shrugged the hooded robe completely off revealing the full

extent of his ruined right hand…melted skin that ran up the full length of his

right arm and stiffened it into a permanent right angle.



Erestor roared and attacked Glorfindel again, who never mounted any sort of

offense. He took every blow silently, efficiently, but his defenses would not

bow. Erestor felt weak and stretched thin as if his fëa would tear apart in a

gentle wind. He saw through a red haze and lashed out blindly pounding, throwing

his weapon around wildly.



"Scream! I want to hear you scream before you die!"



His pulse drummed erratically and his sides heaved in distress. Erestor swung

the sword with enormous effort, its edge chipped and notched. He was tiring

rapidly, could feel the cost of wielding his sword for so long. He howled his

fury and disdain and hatred knowing that he must soon fall. The muscles of his

arms burned and his legs wobbled when Glorfindel took him down with little

effort, and they fell to the ground.



He struggled within Glorfindel's grip, groaned in pain and shock. A shriek full

of torment and loss broke from his throat but Glorfindel only held him tighter,

murmured into his ear.



"I am here now. I have healed and come for you, my love. Please hear me."



Erestor battled, scratched, bit, threw himself from side to side. The misery and

anguish consumed him as image after image of his past life with Glorfindel, as

his dreams of a future life with Glorfindel pounded into him. Mocked him. It

bore him under and the long confined grief threatened to drown his sanity.



"You threw me away!" Erestor's screamed truth spiked unerringly through the

sounds of their ragged breaths.



"Never!" came the immediate, sure reply.



Erestor flinched against the pain in his forehead, an ember of burning agony

that knew his name and spoke it, over and over. "Erestor," it whispered,

"Erestor."



He shook his head against the familiar voice. A light kiss pimpled the skin at

the nape of his neck and sparked the memory of an elf, wet clothing, an injured

hand, and bluest eyes darkened by arousal. A feeling of longing and lust, a

feeling of love welled up.



"Nay!" The word boomed like thunder. He wailed and punched an elbow savagely

into Glorfindel's gut. The grip went slack and Erestor shot to his feet.

Glorfindel remained sitting, staring at him. Grief, hurt, suffering flickered in

his eyes, and it gladdened Erestor's now hate-filled heart to see it.



Erestor's attention was caught by a sound and he cackled when he saw Lindir

reappear and who he brought with him. He reached down, grabbed Glorfindel's

remaining ear and jerked him so he faced their new audience.



"Behold, Lord Elrond! Look what the Valar have brought us, the great and mighty

Lord Glorfindel here in Imladris. All this time he hid beneath our noses and we

never knew. Sneaking around hoping he would not be noticed. I imagine you found

it all so amusing, did you not Lord Glorfindel?"



"Nay," Glorfindel whispered as now released from Erestor's grip, his head bowed.



But Erestor rushed on not interested in anything Glorfindel had to say.



"How dare you tell Lindir of our most intimate moments? How dare you! And then

to allow him to put them to song and reveal them in detail. You sicken me! I

wish you could gaze upon yourself, a pathetic and weak dog who licks at my feet

whimpering for understanding. And your disgusting scars. Cover yourself, Lord

Glorfindel, as that is the only intelligent decision you have made here in

Imladris!"



Elrond reached out a hand. "Erestor --."



He jumped away. "Nay!" He pointed a finger at Elrond. "Do not touch me."



"Look at me, Lord Glorfindel!" Erestor sneered at him when his head finally

lifted. With deliberate slow actions he untied the love knot from his hair,

letting the golden beads and feathers fall to the ground. Next came the once

beloved ring which he dropped quickly as if burned by its touch.



"Erestor, please," plead Glorfindel.



"Erestor, please," he mimicked before he lifted a foot, placed it on

Glorfindel's forehead and cruelly shoved him backwards. Erestor vaguely

cogitated Elrond's gasp and the cries coming from Lindir.



"May the Valar doom you to the Void, you foul, simpering deceiver. Stay away

from me and keep your offensive bratling hidden from my sight!"



Erestor turned and for the second time that night, fled for his quarters.





Chapter 4

Imladris, III 1974



Erestor faced the looking glass and a stranger peered back at him; face ironed

flat and empty, intensely unreadable. He had waited for millennium, constantly

craning his head for a glimpse down the road, a road on which he now knew no one

would ever come. His life would continue surrounded by dark emptiness and

silence. A soft agonized sound rending in its quiet hopelessness slipped through

his open lips, and he cocked his head. This stranger, this new him would not

survive for how could anyone live such a desperate and horribly lonely

existence? Death would be a mercy.



Irritated, he blinked away the gathering moisture and stared. The crinkled

strands of hair to the side of his face annoyed him and a huffed *tsk* filled

the room. That noise a hauntingly normal one of his before-today life,

disquieting in its place yet still appropriate for this new him. He would take

this sound with him, one of the few reminders of who he once was.



Suddenly frantic, he dashed for the bathing room and dunked his head in the sink

basin, water dripped onto his tunic, soaking it and Erestor trembled. And then

he ran back to the mirror. He pulled and tugged at the strands of hair,

struggling to force it straight, but they refused to cooperate, he could hear

their cries, "Erestor, please!" begging him to listen, coercing him to stop and

retie the love knot.



"Nay!" he screeched at his reflection knowing he would never heed that voice

again. Erestor's hand shot forward and punched the glass. The shattered remains

fell to the ground painted with blood. And when he looked into the mirror once

more, what flashed back was not whole. He was broken into pieces, half of him

missing, the part which had balanced his life and tilted it toward everything

good. He pulled in a shaky breath against the aching absence of the sense of

rightness now gone. In one significant blink of an eye that glimmer of warmth

inside him died, extinguished forever.



He reached down and retrieved an ugly, jagged shard. And then he sawed at his

hair, removing the offending strands of hair, gleeful in his dominance, but so

short-lived as resentment and helplessness and despair entwined and spiraled

around him, jostling for priority. Snarling and snapping they danced and

circled, unwanted guests from his horrifying surprise party. The glass fell from

his wounded hands. Curiously detached he held them up to his eyes. Rivulets of

red streamed through the valleys and bumps of his skin, pulsed onward with each

miserable beat of his heart. He turned them downward and stood counting the

insignificant crimson droplets as they plummeted and splattered upon the

sparkling clean floor.



A low agonized groan greeted the knowledge that his finger where the ring had

once encircled it, was indented and whiter than the surrounding skin. Frantic he

turned round and round, then scurried through his quarters searching. He halted

near a potted plant and jammed his fingers into the soil. Erestor scrubbed and

scoured the area until it glowed red with irritation and tiny red spots bloomed

with each rub. Dirt embedded itself under his skin and turned what had been pure

white to dark inflamed smudges. His hands ached but he threw a spiteful glare at

them and a smug smile froze stiffly upon his lips, a slight lifting of an awful

weight from this purge of his past and the brief triumph of euphoric

self-righteousness.



"I shall never wash until the taint of that cursed ring is removed," Erestor

vowed to himself.



Unable to stay still, he crept around each room, fright gripped him and he

cringed and startled at each shadow. Alone. He pressed his hands tightly against

his ears, but the interlopers surged through the door of his mind, taunting him,

fawning over his punishment, unwanted he railed at them. Hopeless. He flailed at

the air. Suffering. He struck out at torment, but it kept coming and buried him.

Abandoned. Forsaken. Deserted. Destitute. Lost. Alone. Alone. Alone.



Groans of horror issued forth from deep inside him and gasps bent him double.

All the hurt, all the anger, all the lost passion broke free and he tumbled to

the ground.



Huge waves of pain and anger sliced through him, and the tears came immersing

him. Terrible harsh sounds of grief tore from his throat. The flood had arrived

and it was unstoppable. He suffocated in it, the tide pulled on him, an undertow

of black rage and grief. He could not tread the water, nay he wanted to drown,

slip into the darkened depths, and choke away the terror until he floated free

and weightless and unfeeling.



Erestor wrapped trembling arms around his chest, folded inward, and pulled

himself inside. His face buried in his knees muffled the strange high voice

coming from him. Unheeded words, words that melted into a shrill caustic keening

sound turned into a long wordless cry as it unrolled from him. A blossoming pain

of thorny grief spiked through him then plunged downward centering on his gut,

before exploding to a heavy leaden numbness that rooted him in place. The

anguished sounds uninterrupted as warm tears spilled down his cheeks.



He mourned the death of love.



Glorfindel. It was the answer to everything Erestor had ever needed, contained

in one elf. He had done his best to be happy without him knowing they would be

reunited in Valinor. Erestor had trusted, for the first time someone not within

his family, had thought he wisely unraveled the eternal mystery of loving

someone. Glorfindel - friend, trusted confidant, trusted lover, and trusted

partner - now his vile nemesis and irrevocably dead, along with Erestor's hope

for ever trusting anyone again.



Finally tearless and empty he laid motionless on the cold, hard floor, staring

off at a focused spot of nothingness. Celebratory noises, music, singing,

laughter, gaiety filtered through the windows and into his silent room. None of

it touched him, it repelled away from the lone carrier of grief in Imladris. The

light grew and faded and the sounds of the day and then dusk and then night

which turned back to day filtered through his locked door. Once, twice, numerous

times he heard the door handle rattle but no one called out for him. No one came

for him. It took strength to care about others and Erestor knew his was gone. No

one cared for him. That he could reciprocate.



Necessity finally forced him upward and he weaved his way on awkward feet toward

his bathing chambers and a drink of water. His hands shook so badly he spilled

most of the liquid but managed enough to slake his raging thirst. Why then did

he still feel so drained? His belly flopped and heaved with what seemed the pain

of tender thorns that still tore at his insides. Grief faded a bit and made way

for shame. His face flared hot, and he felt the idiot. All these years planning

out a future with Glorfindel reborn and awaiting his arrival in Valinor, while

Glorfindel lived and took a lover or lovers and created a family that did not

include him.



As another black night engulfed his rooms he found himself wandering around his

quarters. He had done his best to be satisfied with life. Over the Ages he had

become a new creature, a stronger one, performing work that meant something, not

catering to his base whimsical nature. But he still craved a certain connection,

a certain touch. He had learned how to love Glorfindel now he needed to learn

how to live without him. One day, it might not matter that Glorfindel had

abandoned him, had not cared enough to even try and contact him. He smiled

grimly at that absurd thought.



Fatigue hit him, finally and shut down all thoughts but of sleep. He staggered

to the bed and slumped upon it. Erestor woke only once that night, he dreamed

that Glorfindel slept beside him but awoke and saw only the empty cold space to

his left.



~o0o~



Erestor heard the thumping upon his door well before he woke fully. It was the

screaming voice that finally pulled him completely from slumber.



"Open this door immediately, Erestor or I will order it hacked to pieces and you

will remain doorless until I decide otherwise!"



Lord Elrond, master of inspiration and clever manipulator of emotions demanded

entrance. The very skills that made him such a superior ruler were the things

Erestor feared. But, a product of conditioning since birth, Erestor could not

deny his lord.



Reluctantly he unlocked and swung open the door and moved aside for Elrond. But

after closing the door he did not get far for Elrond was immediately upon him

and inspecting his hands.



"What have you done?"



He heard the concern in his lord's voice but ignored it, struggling instead to

keep from stumbling as he was dragged into his bathing chambers.



"Sit, do not move," Elrond investigated his injuries and then left. Erestor sat

obediently, he had nowhere to go.



When Elrond finally bustled back in, the stench of healing ointments followed.

Erestor promptly fell to the floor and retched. He tried to shrug off Elrond's

soothing hand rubbing his back. But it was such a familiar touch, something his

brother had always done to calm him; he ceased moving and leaned into it. When

Erestor rose from his knees, Elrond removed his robe, put him back on the chair

and ran a wet flannel over his face.



"I should have come sooner, Erestor. But I thought you could use the time alone

to process what has occurred. I was wrong, and I am sorry, dear friend." Elrond

babbled away as he soaked the flannel in fresh water, rung it out and reached

for Erestor's hands.



But Erestor leaned far back in his seat and shoved them underneath his tunic.



Elrond's face turned stern. "I do not request permission, Erestor. Give me your

hands."



Hesitantly, Erestor extended them for inspection and Elrond gently washed and

explored every small cut, and removed several small slivers of glass before he

exhaled a great sigh.



"Minor damage, only. Will you tell me how they came to be this way?"



Erestor shook his head.



"Nay?" Elrond explored his face and as he caught Erestor's glance his

encouraging smile dimmed several notches, became more contemplative.



"As you wish. Let us get your hands into the bucket and cleaned before I apply

the cream." Elrond produced a slab of rough foul-smelling soap and scrubbed

Erestor's hands and then slathered on several ointments. His hands glistened and

throbbed and kept time with Elrond's patter. He ignored what he could,

concentrating instead on his right index finger. He could still see a faint

delineation and he itched to dirty it again.



"…and I will not allow you to close yourself off. Erestor? Erestor!"



He remained passive, withdrawn, staring over at the far wall.



"How can I help you if you will not tell me what you need, what you want?"



"What I want?" Erestor's attention snapped back and he sat up rigid and

straight, outraged that he even had to explain. His voice rang raw in the air

and ugly which satisfied him in a grim way.



"I am humiliated. He has made a mockery of what we shared, purposefully hiding

away from me, forging ahead with a new life and creating a family. What do I

want? I want all of this to have never happened. I want him to have died and

been reborn in Valinor. I want him to be waiting for me there, to be my lover

exclusively. I want my future back!



Thoroughly worn down, Erestor could sustain his tirade for long. He slumped back

down into the chair and whispered.



"I cannot go on."



"But you will go on, and you will face him. I have spent the last two days

threatening Glorfindel away from your quarters. Only was I successful by

diverting his attention as I spoke to him of the asset he will be to Imladris.

He refused at first, convinced that those evil forces, once learning of his

return would focus their efforts towards him, and he would never put Imladris in

danger's way, especially now when he intends to court you back."



Erestor shifted uncomfortably in the chair, but Elrond continued on.



"He has finally agreed to take his rightful duties at the head of our warriors.

Glorfindel has stirred up more excitement and joy in Imladris than I have ever

witnessed."



Elrond looked up from his work. "Except here, in this room, in the one elf he

desires to see happy."



If Elrond expected an answer, Erestor was determined that he be sorely

disappointed for he had nothing further to say on this subject.



"He was found outside your door on two separate occasions attempting to gain

entrance. But I ordered him to be dragged away, and I nearly ordered him locked

in a room. Instead I spoke to him further and he told me everything, Erestor.

His love for you --."



"Nay, stay seated!" Elrond pulled him back down.



"You grieve for naught, for you have lost nothing, Erestor. Instead you have him

back. He is here and waits, very impatiently, to speak with you. It is time, my

friend. I know your instinct is to panic and lash out but you must exercise some

patience, remember the trust you two once shared. You can create or destroy, the

decision is yours."



Erestor shrugged his shoulders making it clear he did not care, though

destruction seemed the better option at the moment. Elrond, in turn sighed again

and Erestor sensed the frustration. He allowed himself to be led out to his

lounge room and onto a more comfortable chair. Elrond fussed over him, ordered

food be brought immediately and hovered over him as he ate. Erestor trembled

when his lord gently took out his knife and evened the ragged cut of his hair.



And then Elrond did the one thing Erestor dreaded. He gathered him close for an

embrace. Erestor's fists clenched the back of Elrond's robe and his chest heaved

as he fought frantically to regain control.



"Shhh," Elrond whispered softly. "Close your eyes. Breathe, Erestor nice and

slow. You have faced harder times, larger and messier and more complicated

problems. This crisis shall pass, I promise."



Elrond rubbed his back, nudged at the tension, tried to soothe it away. Erestor

thought he had dispelled his grief in one giant purge but suddenly his breath

hitched and there were scalding tears coursing down his face again as though

there was an endless supply. Elrond cupped the back of his neck and pulled him

down, and Erestor buried his face in the comforting shoulder. The sobs lurched

rhythmically through his body and for a long time he struggled but gradually,

Erestor began to calm.



Abruptly he stepped back and felt the sting of new tears in his eyes. Erestor

reached up and pinched them impatiently away.



"Give me a moment to ready myself." He startled at the brittleness in his voice.



But Elrond merely nodded and walked out of Erestor's quarters and into the

hallway.



Once again he stood before the looking glass, as he shrugged off his clothing.

The skin beneath his eyes stretched and pink where he had scrubbed the tears

away. His hands dotted with a multitude of tiny red cuts. Bruised marks had

blossomed upon his upper left arm, a perfect impression of where Glorfindel's

fingertips had frantically gripped him. But he could feel no outrage only a

dull, listless sadness as he joined Elrond in the corridor.



Anor blazed fiercely through every window they passed, and Erestor hated it. Too

bright and cheerful and he resented the pale blue sky, clear of clouds. A

perfectly gorgeous day replete with the sounds of the ongoing Mereth Tui

festival. He patently ignored the celebration decorations and instead focused

his attention to the floor ahead of him as he walked with Elrond. His breath

heavy with a frantic edge, a creep of panic, like the air had disappeared.



Glorfindel sprang to his feet when Erestor followed by Elrond entered the room.

His deep blue eyes and their clear regard, pierced Erestor and he quickly

glanced toward the hearth. Erestor preferred being the first to turn away.



They sat at opposite ends of a long table but Erestor could still smell him, the

haunting scent from long ago. He finally looked up when Glorfindel spoke, eyes

impossibly bluer against his flushed skin. Glorfindel sounded breathless and

overwhelmed, and Erestor relaxed for the fight.



"I did come here for Lindir, after his mother died. His safety is of great

importance to me, and as an adult he needs to be introduced to elfish society."



"Fine, you came here for your son. That explanation is enough for me. Good day."



Glorfindel exploded from his chair when Erestor rose. Erestor tracked the

trembling hand that Glorfindel swiped backwards across his head, as if he had

forgotten he had no hair.



"I…I want to explain further. Why I stayed away but I have a hard time

explaining it to myself. If you will sit, please and listen I will try."



Glorfindel pleading and stuttering was too much. Erestor turned from the sight,

even now the rough and complex hues of Glorfindel's voice threatened to sooth

him and even with one hideously deformed, he could not shake the memories of

those sure hands. But his memories were no match for the frustrated fury that

consumed him, as he once again looked upon Glorfindel, Erestor's breathing went

uneven and ragged, and his face twisted up with anguish.



"With how many did you share your body?"



"They did not matter!" Glorfindel pounded the table on that last word. "Only

you, Erestor. No one else."



Glorfindel's comment dashed over him like cool thrown water. "You hypocrite!

For years you fretted over my behavior and whether I would stray! I felt your

suspicious eyes and those of your sister's constantly upon me." His voice had

risen sharply and he was almost shouting.



"Nay!" Glorfindel denied, but Erestor cut off his next words with a challenge.



"And Lindir's mother, did she matter?"



Guilty silence hung between them and Glorfindel glanced at him with terrifyingly

vulnerable eyes. They both said nothing and the nothing grew.



Erestor hardened, remained unmoved while his stomach twisted into knots, but he

could not look away. Rage, fierce and bitter erupted into choking bile that

stung his throat. Palms down on the table, Erestor leaned forward menacingly.



"I have floated through these last five thousand, nine hundred ninety-seven

years, nine months, six weeks and three days without you! And you return from a

lie only to lie again. Enough!!" He yelled furiously hoping to mask the

overwhelming ache at the hurt he suffered. Unable to continue he stalked from

the room.



"Then it is time I teach you how to swim again!" Glorfindel's final words chased

him through the corridor.



~o0o~



He had burned a trench in his floor, that night and every night since the first

meeting with Glorfindel, walking back and forth, fretting. Erestor spent most

evenings alone, shifting nervously through his quarters or calming a heart that

tripped with glee at the mere thought of Glorfindel so near. It all put him out

of sorts and irritable.



Even as the months passed and Glorfindel easily found his way back into elfish

society, Erestor's own peace remained shattered. Everyone accepted Glorfindel's

leadership and solicited his advice, including Lord Elrond.



After taking his place as the captain of all Lord Elrond's soldiers, a title

with responsibilities gladly transferred to him by the adoring officers,

Glorfindel began a rigorous training schedule for himself and all warriors.

Glorfindel had also taken the commander's seat in those sessions his presence

was necessary, which turned out to be practically every counseling session. And

in one awe inspiring moment he had accomplished what Elrond and his sons and

Erestor had been unable to do. The Mirkwood representatives agreed to every

proposal for troops and monitoring of the roads between the realms. And all

departed shortly thereafter, to outline the agreements to their lords or king.



Glorfindel's quick solution was fortuitous as by late summer word came that the

Witch-King had finally triumphed and Fornost was lost. Every realm committed to

the effort was charged with orders to be ready to march directly after the

newest year. But Imladris, now under Glorfindel's command had already been

preparing and training for over five months.



And every day, every single day without exception Glorfindel quietly entered

Erestor's office to speak. At first, Erestor had pushed him out the door,

screamed at him, complained to Lord Elrond, Lady Celebrían, anyone who would

listen, and he insisted on guards. All to no avail. No one entertained his

pleas, his demands were labeled petty and unnecessary. Nay, they insisted he

must deal with this on his own. They counseled him to listen, open himself. Even

pompous, arrogant Haldir had approached him with soft, beseeching words,

concerned for Erestor's well-being.



Mad! They were all crazed with their hero worship of Glorfindel. He had

convinced himself of this. And through it all Glorfindel always came. Day after

day, no matter Erestor's scheme for being absent from his office, Glorfindel

would find him, would introduce some topic for conversation, say things he did

not want to hear.



Erestor knew the ploy, knew Glorfindel sought to wear him down with words and

his presence. He had lost track of the number of times he had to will his heart

to slow when he caught Glorfindel watching him over the rim of his mug. His

heart leapt at the mere thought when Glorfindel raised a suggestive eyebrow. Or

the night he had seen Glorfindel through his office window, Ithil's light

spilling over his unmarred face accentuating the perfect nose and soft curve of

his mouth. For a long moment he had just stared at him, feeling a peculiar

softening in his gut, even though he had vowed to never ever succumb to that

vain faint hope of loving Glorfindel again.



~o0o~



Today finally Glorfindel was immersed in observing how the borders surrounding

Imladris were monitored. Erestor knew he had departed sometime this morning and

would not return until dawn the next day. So he spent his time freely, working

with counselor Berengardh, finally completing a variety of projects he

previously had not the focus of concentration on. Just knowing Glorfindel would

not be around lifted a heavy burden.



But he had foolishly forgotten about Glorfindel's son whereas Lindir had

obviously not forgotten about him. For when Erestor left the dining hall that

evening, Lindir was immediately by his side matching his pace, talking at him,

desperately rambling.



"How can you know anything about his reasons? You never listen to him, do you?

You carry on and rail against his betrayal yet you have no idea why he stayed

away from you.



"He never for a moment believed he would survive his injuries. And in his

muddled confused state he directed the eagle to fly him somewhere he could die

in peace. He felt he would be a burden, that you and Lady Berendes would commit

too much time caring for him when haste was necessary. Your party needed no

further burdens, he was dying. And when he was left in a human village graced

with a skilled healer he still spent weeks screaming from the pain of the burns,

it wracked him so completely he was unable to do anything but suffer. Your party

would not have survived with him present, you know this.



"Have you never wondered why he named me Lindir? Are you not the slightest bit

curious why? The Singer, Songmaster. I am named after you. And he sang to me all

the songs you wrote. With pride he taught me your craft, and I came to love you

too."



By this time, Lindir was shouting at him from a distance but Erestor closed his

ears and ran an old song through his head as he darted away to his rooms. He

refused to believe any of the words spoken by Lindir. The jealousy, present

since he first knew of Lindir's parentage sparked through him alive and vicious,

and Erestor found he wanted nothing more than to pummel him to the ground. Let

him experience the agony Erestor felt daily. And that face. He needed to alter

it, damage it completely; for Lindir looked exactly like the younger Glorfindel

he knew in Gondolin, so alike it distressed him thoroughly. It served as another

painful reminder of his lost love.



So he ran and seethed. This spawn of Glorfindel's who would always bask in the

warmth of the unconditional love of his ada. Whom Glorfindel would always hold

close and keep safe, who would never be abandoned. Who had taken his place in

the center of Glorfindel's universe. And he was an aggravating little toad, just

like his ada, persistent, sure of himself, and head-strong.



Grateful for the safety of his quarters, he flung open the door and rushed

inside. He secured the door with the lock. Something he started doing since that

first horrible night he had confronted Glorfindel.



Stripping off his clothing, Erestor stalked into the bathing chamber. Tonight he

needed a cold cleansing wash before he attempted sleep. He reached for the

bucket full of water and saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. Startled

he ducked into a defensive crouch and then wide-eyed with surprise he slowly

stood and warily moved toward a small glass bowl displayed prominently on a

shelf where he stored his wash flannels.



Curious he picked it up and gazed at the sight within. It contained a colorful,

tiny fish that swam around in brief spurts of speed before lying motionless on

the small rocks of the bottom. It appeared to contemplate him briefly before

flitting off to a position furthest away from his peering face. It's strikingly

tinted fins of deep blues, brilliant reds and bright oranges, its striped body

markings of varying hues of blue and its light blue cheek patches sparked a long

repressed memory.



He trembled so severely he quickly placed the bowl back on the ledge and stepped

away from it. Erestor recognized the fish as a rainbow darter, a species he had

been introduced to by his ada. And they had fascinated him so thoroughly that

from childhood through his days in Gondolin he caught and kept hundreds in large

glass containers, studying their behavior, relaxing from long days while

watching them frolic.



Glorfindel had done this. Only he knew of his love for fish. Only he knew of the

memory it would trigger. Purposefully he had left this little momentous gift.

Erestor understood the implications and resented the intrusion. Glorfindel had

dared come, uninvited to his rooms! Had dared to defy Erestor's edicts to stay

away!



He remained rooted to the spot vacillating from anger to awe and back to anger.

Around and around his thoughts swirled, until he noticed the small slip of paper

that had obviously fallen off the shelf onto the floor.



Erestor hesitated. At this moment, he grudgingly desired a look at the writing

on that paper more than any desire before. Only briefly did he contemplate

allowing it to stay undisturbed until Gwennuial disposed of it tomorrow during

her cleaning. Instead he huffed, disgusted by his lack of will, bent over and

snatched up the paper.



It contained but one line.



"My heart swims in your brilliant colors as I recall questing lips soothing my

aching hand…"





Unable to prevent it, his mind slipped away to another Age.



*flashback*

Gondolin, I 505



Tingling and wet from a naked frolic in the water, Erestor now laid flat on his

back upon the cool, muddy bank. He dangled lazy feet in the stream and

rhythmically moved them back and forth. His head was turned slightly north and

the spongy moss tickled his left ear. A frond leaf folded neatly between his

teeth emitted squeaks with each exhalation. High wispy clouds painted on a

background of brilliant blue raced overhead yet only a gently breeze nudged him.



Erestor's arms swung around as he conducted the noises of nature, the rise and

fall of the insects humming, the distant roar of the fountains of Amon Gwareth,

the stream gurgling, the birds chirping, and the occasional snuffle of some

hidden predator. His feet kicked up a column of water on each crescendo and he

laughed for no reason. Inhaling deeply he then spit out his impromptu

instrument and declared the day "perfect!" to the air.



When not performing or writing a new piece this is the place he preferred,

surrounded by nothing that roamed on two legs. The symphony completed to his

satisfaction, he tucked both hands behind his head and squirmed around to find a

good sleeping position. Unfortunately the creek bank did not cooperate so he

reached under his left buttock to dislodge the pebble that had been poking him.

Once found he lobbed it into the creek.



"Ouch!"



Erestor bolted into a sitting position and looked around. No one was near yet a

grumbling voice and splashing sounds drifted by from downstream. Curious and a

tad annoyed with the intrusion, he slid down the bank, entered the stream and

waded towards the noise.



He rounded a slight bend and came upon Lord Glorfindel or Lord Glorious as

Erestor and his close friends secretly referred to him. For who did not lust

after the golden lord and dream of capturing his heart? He softly laughed at

that thought. Erestor had never desired Lord Glorfindel's heart. Nay his dreams

centered on that which was currently on display, his perfectly proportioned hind

end and the tantalizing pleasure hidden between. Leaders and warriors held no

appeal for him. A soft and compliant body, those who craved being commanded,

enjoyed his attentions. He cared not what they possessed between their legs nor

if they were elfish or human…or a dwarf, for that matter! Erestor smiled

wickedly. Following his linguist brother around Middle Earth had led to his one

drunken encounter with a dwarf. To this day he was unsure if he had bedded a

male or a female.



Of course now, hemmed in by the walls of Gondolin his choices were somewhat

limited. And he still regretted the fear that had forced him to agree to such a

restricted life.



Obviously unaware of Erestor's scrutiny, Glorfindel remained bent over a small

net filled with tiny wiggling fish and occasionally for no apparent reason, he

shook his right hand. Erestor pushed the musings from his head, briefly

hesitated enjoying the view for a bit longer before he kicked a spray of water

towards the lord. Glorfindel clearly startled hastily straightened and turned at

the same time. The action caused his feet to slip on the rocks of the creek bed

and he fell hard upon his backside.



Another "ouch!" burst forth.



"My lord!" Erestor rushed forward and assisted Glorfindel in standing. "Are you

injured?"



Glorfindel winced and rubbed both hands over his bottom, "Only my pride,

Songmaster. But that shall heal. I think."



He hesitated and narrowed his eyes at Erestor. "But I will be very displeased if

this incident surfaces in one of your bardic lyrics."



"Um, well Lord Glorfindel. Oh! Look!" he quickly pointed to the net and the

current escape of several of the small fish.



"Nay!!" Glorfindel lunged for his prey but fell short and the surge of water

pushed it further out of his reach. Erestor ran forward swiftly but with dainty

steps to avoid slipping. He grabbed the net and hauled it upward triumphantly.

Only to have it snatched from his hands.



Frantically Glorfindel dragged himself out of the water and plunked his catch on

the muddy bank.



"Oh, nay. Nay! An entire afternoon's work for naught!"



Glorfindel reached for several of the creatures that had fallen out onto the

ground.



"Ouch!" he screamed. "The little bugger stung me in the exact same place as the

last one."



Erestor watched amazed as Glorfindel did a frenzied dance of pain, his right

hand flapping frantically. He sat beside the bag of fish and bowed his head

between his knees so Glorfindel would not see his wide grin. Unfortunately he

could not stop his body from shaking with mirth.



"Do you find this amusing, Songmaster?"



He lifted his head and Glorfindel stood directly in front of him, his right hand

cradled protectively against his body but the rest of him shone with aggression.

Helpless to prevent it, one last snort of delight escaped him before he could

force a serious expression upon his face.



"Never, my lord. But I do question your sanity."



"You what?!"



Erestor turned absolutely sober when Glorfindel stalked towards him. He

scrambled to his feet and held out his hands, placating for calm.



"Just a moment, hear me out," Erestor pointed at Glorfindel's catch. "Why in all

the Valar's names are you catching madtoms?"



"Mad Toms?"



"Aye, madtoms. These small wriggly dully-colored creatures with the vicious

barbs."



Erestor picked one up by the tail to illustrate his point.



"You do realize they are highly aggressive --."



Glorfindel cut him off. "Aye, obviously now I do! But these fish are called

Ulmo's Delight."



Erestor could only gape at him. "Who told you that?" he finally asked,

incredulous.



"My sister," and immediately upon speaking those words, understanding sparked in

Glorfindel's eyes and his fists clenched. "That minx! That conniving wench!"



He collapsed to the ground and ran his uninjured left hand over his tired face.

Erestor sat beside him. Glorfindel's hair was close, and Erestor could brush his

face into the edge of paradise, if he leaned but a few scant inches. His nose

peeled away layers of elanor and sage and lemon grass and heather, the glorious

scents of a glorious elf.



Glorfindel sighed loudly and broke Erestor's enchantment, "You do know she is

heavy with her first child?"



"Aye," Erestor answered. Everyone in Gondolin knew to stay well clear of Lady

Berendes these past few months. Her outbursts had increased in ferocity with

each passing month of pregnancy.



"For weeks she has whined to me about a craving for these delicate fish. Over

and over she spoke of them and described to me what they looked like. She listed

dozens of recipes in which they could be prepared but particularly waxed on

about how marvelous they tasted when pickled. And she vowed she would perish if

I did not personally venture out to this stream and pluck one hundred for her

consumption. Her personal healer even swore to me that Berendes needed these for

her continued well-being during the pregnancy."



Erestor congratulated himself on staying completely serious and quiet during the

explanation. It was also a well known fact that Glorfindel and his sister

Berendes had a long history of perpetrating these types of pranks upon each

other. But Glorfindel's remarks invited parry.



"Pulling fish from the sea is my ada's life work, Lord Glorfindel, and I can

assure you that in all my long years I have never heard of one called Ulmo's

Delight. Nay this is a madtom, named for Iarwain Ben-adar, or as men call him,

Tom Bombadil. We elves name them kiril fish, but I prefer madtom for it is a

more accurate description. But these fish, instead of cowing folk with words and

songs, sting with venomous barbs. In the end the outcome is the same, all bend

to their will. Still, I must confess to amazement at your prowess, my lord. I

have never seen so many madtoms captured with such minor injury."



Glorfindel lifted his eyebrows at that statement and swept his eyes down to his

bleeding right hand.



Erestor grinned. "Aye, you have escaped relatively unscathed considering."



And he reached out and gently pulled Glorfindel's right hand toward him. A

frissure of previously unfelt feelings coursed through him at that simple touch,

a nagging tingle buzzed in his head, and they gasped unison. Something beyond

mere desire began to stir, unwanted by Erestor and he struggled to keep it

unnamed. Yet, a new question was born in that surprising moment and it loomed

unanswered.



Their eyes steady in perfect yet unnerving understanding, Erestor gently licked

the wounds clean as his head pounded with scattered thoughts. Glorfindel finally

broke contact by scrambling backwards and pulled his thumb from Erestor's mouth.

Glorfindel faced him, panted heavily for a few brief moments before he rose and

fled from the river.



Erestor sat for a long time, and then decidedly he rose, went directly to his

quarters and did write a song about their adventure, before he banished it

completely from his mind.



*end flashback*



Erestor chuckled at the memory. He had been so bold then, prone to outrageous

actions. He knew something special had occurred, but had categorized the

incident as nothing more than a chance encounter and a lost opportunity to bed

the golden lord of Gondolin, just a delicious lick and an enticing sniff.

Willfully had he partitioned off the occurrence and refused to reflect on the

true outcome of that afternoon. Of course Glorfindel saw the incident through

clearer, braver eyes. Not long after, Erestor found he happened upon Glorfindel

at every turn yet still it took him months to admit their meetings occurred

because of calculated desire.



Inch by inch, agonizingly slow he had relented and agreed to a friendship with

Glorfindel. And before long he found himself intrigued him by Glorfindel's

previously unknown depths and consumed with uncovering his secrets. His widely

read past evidenced by an enormous personal library and ability to speak

knowledgeably on any topic, how one so young became head of his own house, the

natural kindness and gentle humor. It all appealed to him tremendously.



His smile faded suddenly and he refused to recall their further interactions. He

could see through Glorfindel's transparent attempts to gain his favor, and he

refused to budge on his rejection. The pain still fresh in his mind and the

devastating betrayal of the elf who had claimed to love him.



Erestor snatched up the glass container. Late was the hour, so he remained

unclothed as he ran undetected through the Last Homely House and out to the

Bruinen. He hesitated not and threw the darter into the water. The now empty

bowl, light in his hands, was hurled onto the nearest rock. Erestor smiled,

satisfied at the harsh crash of shattering glass just as his love for Glorfindel

was smashed and broken.





Chapter 5

Imladris, III 1974



The next morning Erestor slipped the paper with the one lined poem into his

bedside cabinet, and strolled to his office. He would forget about it, surely.

No need to throw it in the trash just yet.



He had not been seated for more than a few moments when Glorfindel made his

daily unsolicited visit.



"Do you find me hideous?" Glorfindel waived his ruined hand through the air and

turned a circle displaying the deep scars on his head and down his neck.



"Possibly you think I have received a deserved punishment? Or is your rage only

directed at my actions? I understand that the mirror is no longer my friend and

wonder if you hate that I am now ugly?"



Erestor spotted the moist glitter in Glorfindel's eyes and groaned inwardly. The

sight tore at him as he had always been a slave to Glorfindel's misery. Still he

managed to present a flippant attitude and answered. "Your looks are irrelevant

to me."



And he meant it. Time and familiarity erased any thoughts of the disfigurement.

But Glorfindel did not seem convinced by his words and continued on with a

worried tinge in his voice.



"I peer in the looking glass and see the horror I have become. That dark black

fact follows me every hour evidenced by the sympathetic stares, the occasional

disgust. No longer does a gaze linger upon me because I am pleasing to see."



"Nay Glorfindel, it is not the scars you bear. You fantasize a tragedy where

none exists as you know well your strengths lie not in your physical beauty.

Other things matter more like respect and trust. It is the truth that has been

fatal to our love! Your lies and deceit! Good day, Captain!"



But instead of complying with Erestor's command, Glorfindel's blue eyes sparked

and that made Erestor's pulse sit up and take notice. He had not seen that look

forever yet knew with one word, one nod, one smile he could turn the spark to a

raging blaze. Prepared to douse any of Glorfindel's pitiful hopes for lighting a

flame between them, Erestor prepared to deliver a most dry and restrained

comment. He was interrupted.



Glorfindel let out a frustrated breath yet a lopsided grin hung on his face, and

he nodded. Erestor knew he had silently admitted defeat but then Glorfindel

surprised him when he said.



"It is a pity you do not smile more often. I remember well how it lights your

face, softens it, makes it even more beautiful. I miss it. And your songs,

seeing our world through your eyes, the musical pictures you painted for me.

What a loss to all that your poetic words have been silenced," Glorfindel

hesitated and sighed reluctantly. "Good day, my love. Until tomorrow." He

executed a quick bow and left.



Erestor sat stunned, picked up some papers and fanned himself…the days of autumn

flared scorching hot or shivering cold, before the frost took a firm hold. But

this heat was internal and he focused inward, willing himself to ignore the

siren call of Glorfindel's sweet smile, to deny the deep, tidal pull to be with

Glorfindel, to calm the roiling heat in his groin.



With abrupt single-mindedness, sourced from the lonely well of his new life

Erestor purposefully pushed aside all thoughts and immersed himself in work.





~o0o~



Worry clawed at his stomach. Erestor hated this need, he felt lost and

unsettled. The earlier conversation with Glorfindel haunted him and now he tried

convincing himself that he had not prematurely left his office for any reason

but a desire for an early night and a long slumber. But he knew better. Even

deformed, Glorfindel was a strong maddening sensual being. And he had to admit

that he scurried to his rooms specifically to know if Glorfindel had left

another present, another reminder of their time together.



He burst into his quarters and searched. A quest that ended in his bedroom where

his eyes immediately caught the yellow celandine that rested on the left pillow.



The side on which Glorfindel always slept when they bedded together.



Erestor reverently picked up the flower and accompanying piece of paper. He

walked over to the hearth, for the light and warmth and unfolded the line of

poetry he knew would be attached, a continuation from the first line sent with

the first gift.



"And when you first embraced a timid ardor for your beloved and imperfect golden

flower…"



His knees folded beneath him and he lost his thoughts to another Age.



*flashback*

Gondolin, I 506



Erestor stood, waved and shouted.



"Brother, here!"



Pengolodh acknowledged the greeting with a grin, waved back, and proceeded to

wade through the crowd of elves currently occupying the tavern. Erestor met him

halfway and they embraced, arms linked they moved to their table. Every other

evening, when possible, the brothers met here at the Tip and Sip alehouse and

had done so for centuries.



"It has been too long, Pengolodh!"



"It has been two days, Erestor!"



"Aye, as I said too long!"



They chuckled as they sat and simultaneously reached for the ale Erestor had

fetched when he first arrived.



Excited, Erestor drank hurriedly, plunked down his tankard and reached into his

satchel for the new composition he currently worked on. He spread it in front of

his brother.



"Oh, I have grand ideas for this one. High King Turgon has commissioned a

performance as none yet before witnessed. I picture a scene from the ages of

dark with shadows and muted lighting. Oh the elflings will cower and the ellith

will screech when they hear the wicked delights I have in store for --."



"Excuse me," chimed a soft voice.



A young pretty elleth dressed in a plain brown shift stood behind Pengolodh with

a flower in her hand and a serene smile on her face. She walked around and

extended the yellow bloom to Erestor. He accepted it graciously but before he

could speak she continued.



"My lord sends his greetings and hopes you are well." She curtseyed and backed

away from their table.



He gaped at the celandine while Pengolodh grinned broadly.



Erestor stood suddenly and called out. "Wait!" but the elleth had slipped

through the crowd and disappeared.



Slowly he sank to his chair and mumbled. "Who is your lord?"



Pengolodh laughed loudly. "Oh brother, please. You know well who this is from."

He fingered the delicate flower that shook in Erestor's trembling hands.



Quickly Erestor placed the gift on the table and swiped it off to the side,

irritated that he could still see it out of the corner of his eye. His brother

flashed an inquisitive look at him.



"What were we discussing?" quipped Erestor.



"Well right before that charming elleth delivered your flower from Lord --," he

stopped when confronted by Erestor's menacing look, and then smiled and

continued, "Lord Glorious you were explaining your ideas for a new performance,

but I would rather you turned from that issue. For there is obviously another

that is more pressing. "



Erestor's eyes shifted down to the floor. "I would prefer we not discuss him."



"Why not?"



Erestor squirmed uncomfortably then leaned forward close to Pengolodh. "It is

all too new and confusing."



"Masters! Please pardon the interruption."



The brothers flew apart at the near loud voice. Before Erestor stood Maluthros,

the head cook at the House of the Golden Flower. Shorter and thicker than most

elves she had joked with Erestor not one week prior about her possible dwarfish

ancestors and had then served him and Glorfindel the most horrid goat blood and

intestine soup. Glorfindel claimed he kept her on staff to maintain a proper

attitude regarding wants and needs but hastily added that her pastries were the

envy of the other eleven Lords. Apparently Lord Penlodh's steward (from

Erestor's own House) had even attempted to woo her away with great promises of a

new well equipped kitchen and great promises of his own well equipped person but

she had chased him from her sight with a large wooden spoon.



In her hand a small golden cake topped with an icing rendition of a sunflower

and two yellow flowers framed her face.



"My lord and I share a worry that you do not feed yourself properly, Songmaster.

He sends this to you and your brother for tonight yet hopes you will both join

him tomorrow on the occasion of his begetting day feast."



She lifted a finger and pointed at them both. "Do not be late as I will not have

his lordship upset on his special day. We start promptly as Anor sets."



She placed the cake down in front of Erestor, removed the two flowers from

behind her ears and put them next to the other. Maluthros then took his hands

and gave him an encouraging squeeze before she left, bellowing out greetings to

many of the gathered elves.



Erestor bolted to his feet. "I am leaving!"



He grabbed for his song sheets. His brother darted behind him, placed two firm

hands on his shoulders and pushed him back into the chair.



Pengolodh leaned down and whispered into his ear. "You will not run from this.

Nay, you will see this to its end whatever that shall be. As your older brother,

I command it. Do you understand me?"



He waited until Erestor gave a curt nod before he reached for his chair and

scooted it close. When Pengolodh sat their knees touched and he twined the

fingers of one hand with Erestor's. Erestor flashed a thankful smile at his

brother.



"You have not been honest with me, have you? It is clear your relationship has

progressed quickly in this last year. Speak truly for your words are safe with

me, as they always have been."



Erestor hesitated then exhaled loudly. "He desires me for more than just

physical needs. Last week he swore our fëar were destined to be bound!" Erestor

snorted his nervous amusement.



"These are the very topics you sing of, Erestor. Have you not witnessed your

audiences swooning and sighing over your own composed love songs? Why do you

find the idea so impossible for yourself?"



"I am a free spirit, brother! Tying myself to one elf holds no joy for me. Nay,

I need variety and excitement."



Pengolodh sat back his eyes wide in amazement. "You are frightened of him."



"Nay!" protested Erestor.



"Aye, you are. Do not try to deny it. I know you well, Erestor, have watched you

progress to adulthood, and tumble through multiple affairs. This IS new. You

tremble with fear and excitement, your voice and body posture change anytime you

speak of him. Little brother, you are not only apprehensive but you love him!"



Erestor crossed his arms across his chest and pouted. "I do not have to sit here

and be picked raw by my own kin."



"A good eve to you, Songmaster, Loremaster." The neatly dressed warrior nodded

to them both, and the various markings on his uniform indicated he held the rank

of Captain. His deep blue eyes sparkled with glee and it was clear he attempted

to conceal a smirk yet it kept finding his face.



"My lord sends his compliments. Today, Songmaster, purely by chance he witnessed

your path through the Square. When you passed a fountain and Anor sparkled off

the water which had landed in your hair, his heart swelled at your beauty."



The captain cleared his throat but the smirk was still present. "Further, he

hopes these will brighten your day as you have brightened his."



He produced a bundle of daisies tied tightly together by a golden thread. The

bouquet hung from the hilt of a ceremonial dagger. He knelt beside Erestor,

bared his throat, placed the blade to it and thrust the hilt towards him.

Erestor carefully removed the flowers and placed them next to the three unbound.

The captain then stood and drove the dagger point into the table before bowing

and walking away.



The tavern had grown completely quiet and all attention centered on the

brothers. But when the warrior exited the conversations gradually began again

though Erestor noticed the eyes of the patrons continually flickered his way.

For his part he knew he sat with mouth wide open gawking at the knife but could

only move to action when he saw Pengolodh reach into his bag.



Erestor grabbed his wrist. "Nay, brother! I will not have you taking notes on

this night's events."



"But Erestor, the absolute gall of Lord Glorfindel must be recorded. `Heart

swelled at your beauty.' Indeed! You, and I, and that captain all know it was

not his heart which swelled at the sight of you. And not only is he publicly

courting you but he marks you as under his protection! Lately, as you are well

aware, I have spoken of little beyond my search for information documenting our

courtship rituals. My newest project needs examples such as this. He is

displaying the most wonderful creativity in his desire to capture your fancy,

and surely nothing this interesting has occurred in Gondolin since Tuor wed

Idril."



"Be that as it may this evening will remain documented only in our memories.

Promise me that, Pengolodh."



Erestor now fingered the dagger, the hilt shone a brilliant gold and embedded

within were gems shaped into the figures of flowers. The blade was etched with

ascending chords of musical notes. He closed his eyes and squeezed at the

moisture that threatened to spill down his cheeks.



"Of course I agree little brother. Me, you, and all those present here shall

have the only clear recollection," Pengolodh swept his arm to encompass the

room. "Your lord chose this night purposefully so word would spread quickly of

your unavailability. It seems he is quite certain you return his feelings

completely."



About to respond, Erestor snapped his mouth closed when he saw who entered the

tavern. A hush once again descended over the room, but the elf seemed not to

notice. He stopped at every table and chatted with all those present, his voice

clear and melodic and hypnotizing, and he left a wake of laughing warriors and

giggling ellith. His path brought him eventually to the brothers and he arrived

with a broad smile and a bottle of wine. Erestor felt faint with fear and

grabbed Pengolodh's hand tightly.



"Masters Pengolodh and Erestor. A fine evening, very fine is it not? Nay, do not

rise. I am here for only a moment."



Not awaiting their replies he forged on. "There is a weed that grows not only in

Middle Earth but in Valinor. In Aman we called it astera but for some odd reason

here we have adopted the human name, dandelion. Most consider it a pest and

strive to remove it from their gardens though I cannot imagine why. Its ripe

form produces a most pleasing bright yellow flower head and the nectar is

divine!"



Erestor and Pengolodh sat stone still and stared at the elf obviously confused.

He chortled before he continued on.



"Of course my fondest memory of the dandelion is using it to decorate the face

of my greatest friend. You see his hair is a most unusual golden tint, and he

insisted on seeing what he would look like should he live long enough to grow

facial hair. So we vigorously rubbed dandelion florets over his jaw and around

his lips. Little did we know how difficult it was to remove dandelion dye from

skin. He spent five days sporting a full yellow beard before it faded away."



The elf hesitated and he grinned, clearly lost in the memory. Finally, his gray

eyes once more drifted downward and captured Erestor's.



"But the dandelion had a more useful destination than a mere trifle for

elflings. My friend's adar harvested the astera and produced wine for every

summer solstice festival. Receiving a bottle of this vintage is a rare and

sought after gift."



Lord Ecthelion cocked his head to the side, smiled fondly at Erestor and placed

the dandelion wine in front of him.



"This comes to you from that same friend, Songmaster. One whom I love dearly,

and he has expressed to me," he chuckled deeply and shook his head,

"incessantly! how dear you are to him."



Ecthelion snapped his fingers and an elleth appeared immediately with two

glasses. He served the wine to the brothers. Erestor sat shocked and could utter

not a single syllable while Pengolodh chattered complete gibberish which

Ecthelion acknowledged by polite noises and appropriate head nods.



When the second glass was filled, Ecthelion folded his right arm over his chest

and declared, "Anor will shine upon your path."



He then executed a sharp about turn and left the tavern with calls of good will

following him into the night.



Pengolodh cleared his throat and snickered. "That went well. You performed a

convincing statue, and I am now known as the idiot of Gondolin!"



Erestor could not respond to him nor could he even twitch, or blink, but his

breath panted forth in distressing gasps. The courage it had taken for

Glorfindel to organize this event stunned the breath from him.



"Little brother! Here now move carefully, aye very good. Breathe deeply."



He assisted Erestor into a slightly bent position with elbows resting on the

table and head down. Pengolodh drew soothing circles across his back.



"You are overreacting, Erestor. My goodness but you are well suited for the

drama required to be a minstrel. This night is brilliantly orchestrated by the

elf who loves you. What magnificently fine gifts and loving words he has spoken

through specially picked messengers. We should be excited and drunk yet your

distress is palpable." He sighed.



"Come now. More deep breaths."



They continued in this way for well upon an hour until Erestor broke the

silence.



"He desires parity, brother."



Pengolodh clapped his hands together. "Excellent! I knew Lord Glorfindel

possessed a distinguished and fair mind in addition to his superb taste in bond

mates!"



Erestor sat up fully and gulped down the entire serving of wine. Pengolodh

mimicked his actions.



"Nay, you do not understand. He insists on complete equality outside AND inside

our bedroom."



Pengolodh frowned. "Are we really back to that old worn subject? Have you not

yet spread your legs for him? Tsk, tsk what a pathetic waste of a year.

Honestly, Erestor you must --."



"I cannot!"



"You can, brother and you will with Lord Glorfindel's guidance. If there is one

thing I do know about our kind lord is his reputation for stubbornness and

persistence. You cannot change him because like the weather he is unchangeable.

And as he has already stated his intentions, your objections though surely noted

have been discarded. You suit him and it is clear he bides his time wearing you

down, breaking you slowly because he finds you worthy of the effort. You must

prepare your mind to accept the parity he demands."



The wail of an elfling cut off their conversation and the brothers peered into

the crowd of elves just as it parted to make way for Lady Berendes. She

hesitated briefly; set down the basket she carried, swung the child from her

hip, barred her left breast for the infant's seemingly desperate suckling mouth,

picked up the basket and continued toward them.



"Oh, Valar!" Erestor whispered under his breath before plastering a wary smile

on his face. He and Pengolodh jumped to their feet.



She did not look amused and raised a demanding eyebrow when they hesitated in

finding her a chair. Once seated she huffed and mumbled and squirmed until she

finally appeared to find a comfortable position.



When she looked up and saw Erestor and Pengolodh nervously hovering she rolled

her eyes and waived an impatient hand at them.



"Sit down, for Valar's sake! Nay, not you Loremaster, fetch me ale first."



Pengolodh hurried off and Erestor sat slowly, reluctant to be left alone with

Glorfindel's sister.



Berendes picked up the wooden basket and slammed it down on the table, her

elfling and Erestor both startled by the sound, flinched. The infant's piercing

scream distracted her enough that Erestor's slight yelp was lost in the squall,

and he received a minor reprieve as she ignored him and quieted her son.



Too soon for his liking, she returned her attention to him and leaned forward.



"My brother loves you, Songmaster. Why I cannot fathom as you seem a pompous,

arrogant horse's behind. Nevertheless he does and spends his time swooning over

you, dreaming of the day you will be bonded. And he sings! Have you heard him?

Though Valar blessed in many ways when he sings it is as if those hideous

creatures of Tol-in-Gaurhoth have channeled their screechings through his mouth.

Over and over he runs through the repertoire of tunes you have penned. Do you

know how annoying, `The Articulate Croaking Frog" sounds in the wee hours of the

morning? Or `The Lay of the Cad'?" She spit the words out of her mouth as if

distasteful.



"No matter what you have heard know that I adore my brother, and I have spent my

life protecting him from those who would abuse him --."



Erestor interrupted her, "My lady I would never --."



"Hush! I have no patience for your words! It is your actions that concern me,

and I have seen your reluctance when it comes to my brother's love. If you

cannot return the depth and breadth of his feelings end it now!"



Berendes sat back then, stroked her son's head and eyed Erestor suspiciously.

"Thank the Valar we are not currently under attack, for the House of the Golden

Flower would surely fall around my brother while he sits and hums and sings with

that ever-present annoyingly stupid look of contentment on his face."



She pounded her fist on the table. "What kind of fool are you that you would

even hesitate to accept Glorfindel's affection? I suspect you are somehow

defective and have mentioned this to him. But his head currently resides up his

backside and he will not abide any ill-spoken words of you."



She then snapped to attention, stood and bent over placing her face directly in

front of Erestor's. "Let me tell you what kind of fool you are. The kind who

plays loose with his affections. The kind who has stumbled into the sibling of a

lover who will ruin you should her brother even so much as frown. The kind of

fool who licks at old unknown wounds and refuses to open himself to a bright

future. The kind who has underestimated his lover's commitment to a permanent

bond. Make no mistake, fool, my brother is forward, strong, and openly honest

about his desires. He could crush your foolish resistance with one finger and

confuse you with his intellectual superiority, but he chooses to coddle and

lovingly prod you into comprehension!!"



Erestor vaguely sensed Pengolodh's return, his attention still locked on

Berendes. The lady loomed menacingly over him yet he sat passive under her

threatening stare. The air sparked lively with aggressive tension.



Erestor's gaze never wavered and he finally whispered. "I do love Glorfindel, my

lady."



She searched his face after that statement until a sly smile graced her lips.

Berendes stood tall and pushed her blonde hair behind delicate ears.



"Well then, good. That is settled."



The lady plucked her son from her breast and thrust the squirming infant into

Erestor's arms. With practiced efficiency she pulled up her bodice and covered

herself, reached for the tankard, quickly drained the ale in two gulps, and then

delved into the basket.



"If my brother asks you will tell him that I delivered his message regarding the

smooth richness of your voice and how he admires your creativity."



She threw down a bound packet and it flew open from the force. Erestor's breath

caught. Glorfindel had specially made a songbook with oversized paper and ready

made clefts for a score. Entranced he shifted the infant to one side, reached

out and flipped through it, each page was embossed with a different

scene…musical notes tumbled down a water fall, insects and birds with musical

notes as bodies hovered around a golden bloom, there was even a fish with barbed

whiskers, and on several pages musical notes alternating with celandines

bordered the page. The variety of designs was endless, and the message was

clear. He jumped when Glorfindel's sister interrupted his musings.



"Welcome to the family, Songmaster!" And the whirlwind that was Lady Berendes

snatched up her son, marched through the tavern, elves scattering from her path,

and out the door.



Erestor and Pengolodh each noisily released their breath when the door closed

behind her. They looked at each other and laughter erupted from them both. Only

Erestor's grip held his brother from falling off his chair onto the floor. When

the fit finally subsided and the tears had been wiped from their faces, Erestor

once again sobered.



"What will I do, Pengolodh?"



"Chase away your fears, Erestor. This need for control is unnatural and

unnecessary. Clearly your love is safe and secure with Glorfindel. So tonight I

will assist you in your quest to allow him fully into your life by accepting and

partaking of his generous and loving gifts!"



Pengolodh pulled the blade from the table. He cut thick slices of the iced cake

for both he and Erestor, and then refilled their glasses with the dandelion

wine.



While they ate and his brother chatted, Erestor thought. No reason to deny it

now, he had fallen so completely for Glorfindel that it left him floundering and

insecure. But tonight had changed him profoundly and he was already mentally

composing his next most personal love song.



*end flashback*



Erestor twined the yellow flower through his fingers. Indeed that night had been

the start of their ill-fated courtship. And for five years they had publicly

pursued one another.



"You were correct, Berendes I am a fool. The kind of fool who believed your

brother truly loved him!" hissed Erestor. He stripped the flower of its petals

and dashed the ruins into the fire.





Chapter 6

Imladris, III 1974



Frustrated and groggy, Erestor hesitated in the midst of his morning routine. It

seemed he could not erase the taint of Glorfindel, neither in slumber or

arousal. His past stood before him like an infinite parasite and it would not

surrender him until it had consumed him alive.



He stood gazing into the dark, cold space of the hearth and shook his head in

disgust. Amongst the ashes laid two bright golden-colored petals. Not burned,

not even singed but perfectly formed as if still attached to the living flower.

The image offended him. He had expected all evidence from Glorfindel's second

gift to be destroyed so he hissed a *tsk*, extended his foot and stirred the

ashes around until the petals were covered. When that did not fix the problem he

bent down, picked up the hand broom, swept everything into the bin and then

walked it to the corner of the room. Out of his sight, finally, he could place

his mind elsewhere and allow Gwennuial to empty it from his quarters.



Late again, he hurried from his rooms and through the corridors. No one hailed

him and he kept his eyes straight forward. He had no desire to exchange

pleasantries on this or any morning in the future. Still he could not ignore the

excited mumblings he heard as he passed toward his office; something or someone

had generated this perturbation.



Arriving out of breath and in a half run, Erestor slid to a halt when he came

face to face with Gandalf. A long pipe dangled from his lips, lips raised in a

welcoming smile so wide the skin around his eyes crinkled, and arms open to

receive an embrace. Behind Gandalf, Elrond leaned against Erestor's desk.



Erestor held back. He desired nothing more than to run into those arms for

Gandalf's visits throughout the years had brought them a comfortable friendship,

but he could not. Could not allow himself any emotion other than sorrow, too

near was the source of his pain.



Gandalf cocked his head to the side, lowered his arms, frowned and removed the

pipe from his mouth.



"I see. It is as bad as Elrond has said, my friend?"



"I do not know what Elrond has told you, Gandalf but I assure you it is none of

your concern."



Lord Elrond moved past them both, softly closed the door, and then placed a firm

hand on Erestor's lower back. He gestured them towards the chairs. "Come let us

sit and speak."



Erestor moved stiffly and only with prompting from his lord. He did not desire

any further conversations regarding his personal endeavors or lack thereof. And

certainly Gandalf had more pressing issues, as did he.



He had barely seated himself when Gandalf continued their conversation.



"You are wrong, Erestor. I do have a concern, several actually regarding your

misunderstanding with Lord Glorfindel."



Erestor cut off his next statement. "There is no misunderstanding between us. I

know exactly what he has done!"



Gandalf sat back and scrutinized Erestor, who met his stare for only a brief

moment before he was compelled to look away.



"You know exactly what he has done?" Gandalf murmured. "That seems impossible in

light of what I have been told by Glorfindel and Elrond." He appeared to

contemplate before he spoke further.



"A question for you, chief counselor. Have you never wondered why I initiated a

friendship with you? What possible reasons could I have? Granted you possess a

fine mind and advise your lord well but other than that who are you really? An

elf with humble beginnings but no real pedigree or credentials except for an

interesting musical past and an ada with a fine head for business. Yet, on first

arriving here I clearly sought you out and ingratiated myself into your life.

And, I must tell you that I was and am completely disappointed by your lack of

curiosity in my interest. For if you had asked, I would have explained.

Glorfindel knew I would not lie to you, as I made it a condition of our

agreement."



Erestor's attention focused on Gandalf. The old wizard played unknown games at

times and he could not yet discern if this was one. He narrowed his eyes in

suspicion but allowed a victory to his curiosity and asked, "What agreement?"



He saw Gandalf's face brighten with faint hope. "Why the agreement to keep watch

over you, of course. Ah, I can see you are surprised and yet had you opened your

mind and questioned my motives, the truth would have been revealed to you long

ago."



Gandalf reached a hand behind his collar and withdrew a flask that hung from a

chain. Cut into a multitude of facets, the container sparkled even in the

window-filtered rays of Anor. Erestor could see it held a clear liquid that

appeared viscous as it clung to the sides of the glass. And when it moved, it

pricked his ears for he heard the faint whispers of a sob. The Maia leaned

forward in his chair, and thrust the flask toward him until it rested mere

inches from his face.



"The tears of Nienna, shed for Glorfindel's heroic fate, wept at the

consequences and gathered for his benefit. Oh yes, the Valar dictated my first

actions upon reaching the shores of Middle Earth…find Lord Glorfindel and offer

him healing. And I have, every year for the past nine hundred and seventy-four,

and Glorfindel has always refused. Yet, each time we met Glorfindel did have one

ongoing demand. A demand I am sure you can guess. Yes? Can you find it in your

heart to speak the words, to accept that you have been wrong in your assessment

of him?"



Erestor leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest. He turned his face

away from Gandalf and towards the window. "It changes nothing."



Gandalf blew a gale of frustrated breath before he tucked the flask back inside

his shirt. "Foolish elf. Fool, fool, fool…" He continued to mumble before he

abruptly cleared his throat and spoke loudly.



"Lord Glorfindel has only one desire, to keep those he loves safe. And per his

request, I came to you each year and monitored your safety and happiness. Oh

yes, he especially needed to know if you had joy in your life. It mattered to

him that you were not unhappy.



"He has kept every letter I sent to him regarding you and insisted on carrying

them when he moved here. How unwise of him to worry about someone so selfish,

who cares not enough to even listen --."



Erestor stood and moved toward the window and glared out at the perfect day. The

leaves displayed the effects of autumn and many wore a brilliant golden hue. How

fitting. Erestor sighed in concert with Gandalf and he heard the shuffling of

robes before a warm hand slid into his. It executed a gentle squeeze before it

left him. Another pressed its solace to his shoulder.



When his office fell silent, he ran a hand across his face, turned to his desk

and assembled the papers for today's agenda. Another moment he would be forced

to spend time with Glorfindel and yet it still distressed him all these months

later. He could not deny the bond between them, could not shake it free from his

being and yet he could not allow it.







~o0o~



He recognized the signs in himself without delight. The heightened awareness,

the constant looks for a glance his way, the secret smiles, conscious every

moment of Glorfindel's presence, the warm wanted fondness he remembered from

long ago. And he found he instinctively played for Glorfindel's attentions,

something he found very difficult to prevent. He had not felt this way since

Gondolin and yet he could not allow it to come to fruition. No matter Gandalf's

words. Surely they meant nothing, only Glorfindel's pathetic attempts to assuage

his guilt.



Still, these disturbing desires crept through his mind with frightening

regularity. He craved a touch, a thousand touches. Dreamed of putting his hands

on Glorfindel's chest to watch it rise and fall as he breathed, alive. To feel

the warmth of life that pulsed through his body, to confirm he lived. Glorfindel

remained the sum of all his yearnings, no matter how he wished it was not so.



The struggles continued daily, and Glorfindel fed them. Today, an accidental

touch, a heated stare in his direction, hints dropped in seemingly innocent

conversations. It all served to keep him on edge and reactive and their quarrels

rang through the halls on many occasions, though the shouting alone came from

him. Glorfindel remained utterly calm and soothing. Erestor found it all quite

annoying and bitter. But the stinging fact remained that Glorfindel had clearly

rejected his love once and would get no further opportunity to do so again.

Gandalf though wise, had no practical experience that he knew of in the ways of

love and could never understand.



Yet though his mind continued to deny, here he was scurrying through the

corridors once more, while a giddy light excitation sparked through him. Two

small meaningful gifts had hooked him so securely he spent his days thinking of

what might await him each night. Fixated, he could not and would not break this

habit, and he raced to his obsession.



He saw them on first entering his quarters, perched on the small table faced

toward him and there were many.



Swiftly he strode the remaining distance and snatched up one of what appeared to

be fifty or more statuettes. The likeness hinted that this was an ellon clad

only in a shift, no coverings on his feet. Erestor picked up the second carving.

This appeared to be an elleth in repose, wiping the sleep from her eyes. She was

also dressed in a simple loose-fitting dress. The third was on its knees, eyes

trained upward, mouth open, and arms raised above its head. He picked up a

couple tangled in congress and marveled at the articulate designs until a

distraught frantic laugh burst forth. He knew those faces!



Astonished, Erestor sat hard upon the floor and the statuettes tumbled into his

lap. These were figurines of the First Awakening. Cautiously, yet smiling in

amazed wonder he picked up more of the carvings. The intricate detail spoke of

long hours in the making. He had never seen Glorfindel carve nor had he ever

indicated an interest in learning this art. But, Erestor acknowledged, much had

changed about his former love. There were so many secrets he did not know, so

many unanswered questions. So many "whys" floated through his mind each day and

followed him into his dreams.



He tipped several over and immediately the embossed golden flower twinkled at

him. One question, at least was answered. Artwork from Glorfindel's own hands

and Erestor had no doubt the message these conveyed. His advances grew bolder

with each passing day and this gift showed how confident he must feel.



Erestor needed little prompting to recall the glorious memory, and he had no

doubt Glorfindel absolutely knew that, but he read the accompanying line of the

poem anyway.



"Yearning to trace every minute detail of your exquisite body, to once again be

awakened…"





Unable to look away from the haunting words, a day from the past crowded its

memories forward to the present.





*flashback*

Gondolin, I 507



Glorfindel ran behind him. The chase took them through the city, around the

Square and all the fountains. He made straight away for the palace fountains and

foolishly jumped into one. The pressure threw him a full fathom through the air

before spitting him out into a large copse of bushes. But before Glorfindel

could react, Erestor leapt to his feet and sprinted away, fleet of foot, out of

breath, scratched and bleeding from dozens of minor wounds but laughing

hysterically. Behind him he heard Glorfindel's astonished cry, "Maniac!" and it

only served to fuel his euphoria.



Elves stopped to watch with open-mouthed awe or annoyance as they raced by. Some

shouted encouragement to Glorfindel others to Erestor.



Couples were allowed outrageous activities while courting, the one time an adult

elf was granted what could only be termed willful public silliness, and they

gleefully took advantage of this permission. Exhilaratingly happy Erestor ran

and taunted Glorfindel, boundless with life, and energy and excitement.



Until finally Erestor settled on a destination for a perfect end to this

game…the Lake of Awakenings.



The valley of Tumladen was dotted with small ponds, remnants of an ancient body

of water that had once filled the vale. In addition, Gondolin well planned in

every aspect included a dammed portion of the small tributary of the Mindeb that

flowed down from the surrounding mountains. The resulting large, deep lake

served not only as a water source but teamed with aquatic kelvar and attracted

migrating water fowl. It also lured those seeking a private nook for indecorous

public activities.



But its ultimate striking features were the artworks that graced the edges of

the lake. Statutes of the elf-fathers and all those original One Hundred

Forty-Four stood around the perimeter of this lake. The most talented and sought

after artists had painstakingly constructed each sculpture down to minute

details. Their hues progressed through each station from those utterly stark

white to those completely colored including eyes inlaid with gems. Each scene

gradually added more tint as the elf-fathers wandered and were joined by other

awakened elves. Wrought from various rocks mined locally, the stones were chosen

to match the coloring of skin and hair and clothing as envisioned by each

sculptor. The sheer power and planning necessary to move the stones from quarry

to each artist's work room and then to the edge of the lake had taken decades.

But the result was breathtaking and never failed to inspire the inhabitants of

the hidden city.



Well out of the city now he could hear Glorfindel gaining on him, playful

calling out all manner of evil doings that awaited Erestor once captured. He

craved Glorfindel do exactly as he threatened and the mere thoughts caused his

erection to enlarge and it rubbed painful against his thigh, but he would not

stop until he reached the area he sought.



As they crested the slight hill he spied the first station of art. Two purest

white marble statues gleamed starkly against the surrounding green of the land

and blue of the deep-watered lake. The original awakening scene depicted Imin on

his knees a serene look on his face as he stared down at his sleeping wife,

Iminyë.



Erestor streaked past to the subsequent scene, his head spun from exertion and

he stumbled briefly. Here Imin and Iminyë stood over a dazed Tata whose grey

eyes reflected his confusion. He was forever in a crouched position with his

wife Tatië raised on an elbow beside him. Both figures carved from a stone of

stainless white except for the gray gems as eyes.



Erestor continued on to the third grouping where both Imin and Tata stood with

the third elf-father, Enel. Hands gathered in one tight grip, their mouths

smiled and Tata appeared to be speaking. More color was added in this scene as

dark or light hair graced their heads. Iminyë and Tatië knelt beside Enel's

wife, Enelyë, their hands on her shoulders rousing her. The three elf-fathers

and their wives fully awakened and together for the first time.



He rounded the curve of the lake and headed for the next scene. In this Imin,

Tata, and Enel approached a group that stood close together, some with eyes

trained toward the stars and several held up their arms in an expression of awe.

Others gazed into the eyes of strangers who would soon become comrades or lovers

while still others tentatively touched. A few knelt at the water's edge with a

fingertip or a hand dipped into the water. Each carving bloomed with differently

tinted tunics, eyes, and hair.



But even this inspiring scene was not the station Erestor desired. He continued

on, his breath loud now and he felt Glorfindel's hand skim down his hair and his

back and give a playful swat on his rear. He yelped and moved faster, laughing

breathlessly and exhilarated. He finally spied the group of elves he desired and

sprinted even faster.



The perfect place for the perfect ending to a perfect evening. This penultimate

grouping held special appeal to him for it depicted a large gathering of elves

with mouths opened in song. According to legend, the artist in charge of this

scene had personally known one of the elves from this group. She had carved the

figurines exactly as he had remembered. Twenty-four pairs of elves, palms

pressed against the palms of those who stood next to them and raised above their

heads. The entire group arranged in a large circle that appeared to sway. Their

eyes of the lightest blue that twinkled in the rays of Ithil, their hair the

most golden-blonde, their mouths forever held in rendition of pleasing smiles,

and pristine joy radiated from their countenance. The elf-fathers and their

wives stood amongst them.



He ducked under a pair of raised arms and entered the circle of statues,

followed closely by Glorfindel for he could feel the heat of his near body and

hear the ragged breathing. Erestor changed his tactic and turned on Glorfindel.

He lunged.



"Oh!" cried out Glorfindel, his eyes widened in surprise and they fell back

hard, Erestor on top. Immediately he brought his mouth down on Glorfindel's,

careful at first then rough and greedy. He deepened the kiss before pulling away

and brushing his lips over Glorfindel's cheek.



Erestor flung off his tunic and lifted briefly to slide off his leggings, then

reached down and mindlessly tore at Glorfindel's clothing, until he too lay

nude.



"You owe me a new outfit, Songmaster," growled Glorfindel.



He felt Glorfindel brace as if to surge upwards, but Erestor shifted his weight

and forced him back into a fully horizontal position. Bending down, he explored

the hard curves of his love's slender body. Gliding his tongue across

Glorfindel's chest he bit down on a distended nipple and smiled at the answering

hiss. Apologetically he sucked at the nub until the previous displeasure turned

to needy moans.



It had not taken Erestor long to discern his lover's preference for this type of

play, and Glorfindel would be content to let him do it for hours. Early on he

discovered that Glorfindel enjoyed lingering over pleasure and found a quirky

sense of arousal in delaying their final release. Erestor was more often quite

opposite, so they frequently fought to dominate the pace.



Slowly he slid downward and he laid his full weight and length upon Glorfindel,

face to face, their mouths met in another kiss. Glorfindel's rising voice broke

the quiet; he could feel that noise like a series of lightning strikes flaring

inside his groin. And then Erestor also broke, with a muffled cry into

Glorfindel's mouth. They explored each other gently yet demanding sweetly yet

urgent. Glorfindel parted his thighs; his arms embraced Erestor and ran

sensually up and down his spine until they settled on his buttocks and

encouraged his small thrusts. The touch sent little shocks racing through

Erestor's nerves and raised all the minute hairs on his skin. He shivered in

response.



With steady pressure Glorfindel forced them together, shifting and rubbing they

contrived a kind of sharp, dissonant music. Heavy excited breath scorched

Erestor's ear and then blew light yet warm on his face as Glorfindel put a hand

behind his head and pulled him down for another kiss. He explored Glorfindel

again, caressed the inside of his mouth, passionate and ardent, possessively,

until Glorfindel moaned, sweet and capitulating.



"Someone might come," Glorfindel murmured against his mouth when they paused to

draw breath.



"Aye," Erestor choked out with lewd indifference for this was their moment and

an audience would be no impediment to their finale.



Glorfindel chuckled, the need in his voice low and raw. He brought his hand up

to cup Erestor's chin, and he in turn caught Glorfindel's fingers and kissed

them gently. Eyes dark with desire stared up at him pleading, and the ripening

scents of lust pushed Erestor into a sitting position. He slowly he ran his

thumbs over Glorfindel's silken flesh - his arms, his chest, his belly, and down

towards the powerful curves of his thighs, feeling the music of Glorfindel's

body under his fingertips Glorfindel arched, presented himself. Erestor knew the

touch he craved but refused him the gratification, for now.



"Please."



The husky whispered plea was muted by Erestor's finger over Glorfindel's lips.

Not often did he make such an open demand. Erestor smiled kindly, knowing the

agony and thrill of delay, marveled that Glorfindel seemed unable to stall his

release this eve, for this was Glorfindel's own game.



Tonight it seemed that his too gorgeous lover, who at once could be mysterious

and dangerous but also generous to a fault, preferred a more submissive role.

And this was to Erestor's liking. He reveled in the dichotomy of Glorfindel,

slender and delicately graceful yet he possessed great physical strength. And a

powerful sensuality that could change from frenzied participation to the

sweetest most passionately thrilling seduction in the flicker of a candle's

flame. Erestor placed his ear on Glorfindel's chest, strong and steady thumped

the heartbeat of a killer, the heartbeat of a lover. Erotic sensations crawled

across his skin and he shivered once more.



Arms braced on either side of Glorfindel's face, he looked down on his wild

creature of the night. The silent rays of Ithil, which drifted in and out of the

gathering clouds, seemed to slide off his riotous hair, yet were caught and then

reflected by Glorfindel`s gleaming eyes. The wanton mouth a little fuller than

normal opened and closed as little gasps escaped and Glorfindel's shaft pulsed

hot against his belly, already hard and leaking for him.



Dreams were made of this.



A tight knot of yearning caught hold of Erestor and he breathed in the scent of

Glorfindel, the scent that, these days, clung to every piece of clothing he

removed at night.



Thunder rumbled in the distance. In response his heart stormed thunderously and

Erestor fell against Glorfindel. Glorfindel's breath left him in a long gusting

sigh, and Erestor's own groin throbbed heavy and slick as they slid across each

other in a steady rhythm.



Skilled sure fingers lightly traced across Erestor's entrance, questing, asking

silent permission for entry.



Erestor tensed, relaxed and then grinned slyly.



"I am saving that," he emphasized the word, "for the one special elf who slides

a ring on my right index finger." He wiggled said finger for dramatic

presentation.



But Glorfindel, instead of smiling and acknowledging the humor responded with a

solemn nod of his head and a slight frown on his face. And before Erestor could

explain, he found himself flat on his back, his shaft in Glorfindel's firm grip

being guided into Glorfindel's welcoming body.



His eyes closed at the tight entry and opened them wide at the exquisite feel of

his cock deep, deep inside Glorfindel. He reached up and cradled him with gentle

hands, smoothing away the lines of stress that wove Glorfindel's face into a

grimace. This was new to their relationship. Exciting and breathtaking he

marveled each time his lover allowed this sacred union. Erestor knew with some

lingering trepidation that someday he would return the bliss, equal participants

in all things.



Their eyes still trained only on each other, Glorfindel began to slowly lift up

and slide down. Quiet gratified moans symphonized with each distant thunder clap

as he continued this steady rhythm and also began to thrust into the tunnel of

Erestor's hands. Eventually the gripping tautness eased and Erestor felt the

moment Glorfindel relaxed fully and welcomed an increase to their pace. On a

long exhalation, Glorfindel hiss out a strong satisfied sigh, and slumped

forward slightly. Erestor saw the outline of intense pleasure marked upon his

lover's face, the strain of a painful breaching long gone. He lifted one hand

and touched Glorfindel's chest, and let it stroke down the velvet-soft skin,

reaffirming and reassuring.



With a glance of simmering desire from Glorfindel, Erestor's patience fled, and

he could no longer lie passively. Thrusting hard upwards again and again, he

broke the slow, languid rhythm and it became a struggle, wild, and desperate to

please them both. Erestor's body danced, wracked with tremors, and he trembled

and muttered senselessly, while stars flitted before his eyes. With one last

powerful shove, he burst with the pleasure.



Lightning flashed outlining Glorfindel in the perfect silhouette of ecstasy,

head thrown back; hair a wild mane, as he thrashed in the sudden glare and a cry

split the air along with the crash of thunder above. The images of Tata and

Tatië behind him their arms skyward as they too appeared to rejoice in their

love, the after-images burned into Erestor's mind. Feeling all Glorfindel's

muscle and skin and heart under his control was incredible but holding onto it

as it came apart under his hands was utterly shattering.



A sudden, drenching rush of rain descended upon them. Glorfindel tumbled onto

his chest, wet and panting and Erestor wrapped him in comforting arms.



They stayed that way through the night, bodies huddled in curves of each other's

embrace, protective and protected, and let the warm summer rain soothe and wash

them clean.



*end flashback*



Erestor gazed out at the drizzle falling upon Imladris. He shivered even though

Imladris lay wrapped in a surprising heat of mid-autumn. The memories seemed

agonizingly real, but no matter how painful he knew he would never forget their

first fierce, sweet awkward coupling or any of those that had followed.



And then a surprised chuckled escaped him, for this memory was not yet complete.

When they awoke that next morning it was to remember that Glorfindel's clothing

lay in tatters. Erestor had quickly donned his own shirt and leggings and dashed

away before Glorfindel fully understood the implications.



Later, he reveled in the whisperings as Gondolin came alive with the gossip of

glorious Lord Glorfindel proudly walking nude through the market place, stopping

at stalls to barter food and drink to break his fast before strolling into his

House. A debauched, shameless exhibition of self, pure Glorfindel.



And for years thereafter, Erestor encountered frequent glances of envy from

those elves who had witnessed Glorfindel's naked stroll. Looks that had begun

anew now that the inhabitants of Imladris understood him to be the object of

Glorfindel's desire.





Chapter 7

Imladris, III 1975



Weeks and months lingered on. Gandalf's visit ended quickly and Arda continued

its trek through Ilúvatar's musical heavens and Erestor, an unwilling passenger

continued to suffer. Anor rose and set, Ithil filled and disappeared, and he

continued to rage. Evil consumed Middle Earth, as always, yet this threat had

raised its ugly head and demanded attention. And Imladris would respond with

Glorfindel in command but not until the obligatory festivities concluded.

Indeed, another newest year had arrived with its Mereth Tui celebrations and

special events, still the bitterness continued to consume him, such that he had

refused any assignment from Lady Celebrían this year.



And ever present his second shadow…Glorfindel. Nothing Erestor did seemed to

affect him. He smiled lovingly, remained placid no matter the wrath Erestor spit

at him, yet there had not been another gift since early autumn.



He understood the tactic and acknowledged Glorfindel's mastery of such. Unable

to prevent it his countenance, though acidic slipped toward anguish. The rage,

and bitterness, and suffering that should be consuming him on this day, exactly

one year after the worst moment of his life, were muted. They paled in

comparison to the desperation that consumed him now. Why had Glorfindel stopped

leaving gifts? Was Glorfindel finished with his pursuit?



Erestor stepped outside to clear his head and tilted his face to the lightly

snowing sky. He opened his mouth allowing the flakes to melt on his tongue and

tasted the earth, the sky, the unique song of each. He desperately wanted to

sing again, but those who are dead inside do not compose music.



Shaking his robes, Erestor moved back indoors. Cloistered in his office,

deliberately separated from all others, his emotions continued to slice through

him riotously. And he would reminded himself that even though he received no

further presents for many months, Glorfindel continued to force himself into his

life, and insisted Erestor should be celebrating their survival, not ignoring

it. In addition, Lord Elrond, his lady, and his sons persisted in hounding him

albeit gently. They cajoled and soothed but ultimately he would drive them away

unable to concede to their wishes that he allow Glorfindel his say.



It was during these ruminations that Glorfindel stepped silently into Erestor's

office, a daily visit but late today, hence his unrest. Erestor knew immediately

when he entered, as an annoying thread of awareness existed between them. Yet he

startled when Glorfindel began his soft speech.



"I did come to love her. She is the sole memory of brightness in my life since

you and I were parted, and I will never speak badly of her. But you Erestor are

my life, the reason for my existence. Why do you continue this madness? No

matter that we briefly separated, for it was but a fleeting moment compared to

our life spans…YOU are my forever. You always were and always will be.



"I know I have handled this poorly and you are loathe to listen to me, but I beg

you for just one evening. Let us sit, and --."



Erestor waived a dismissive hand at Glorfindel, and yawned at the same time. He

knew Glorfindel spoke of his wife and this was a topic he would never welcome.



"Remove yourself from my presence, hideous being. Cook has promised a delightful

meal before the dance, and I find your presence nauseating."



Erestor presented a cruel mocking smile though his words tasted bitter and his

heart beat wildly at being so close to Glorfindel. His fëa cried out for

completion, and it took all his strength not to run to his former lover and beg

him to explain away all the hurt and confusion. But he could not open his mouth

except to continually insult Glorfindel's appearance, could not elucidate this

weakness.



Glorfindel paled at the insult but as always he remained calm and poised. He

executed a respectable bow and uttered, "As you wish."



As he bent, Erestor glimpsed a brief flash and his ever present curiosity;

especially where Glorfindel was concerned forced his eyes to peer more closely.

The gasp surprised him so that he could not prevent it and the raspy breath tore

from his lips. For when Glorfindel had bowed, a gold chain slipped from beneath

his jacket, and at the end swayed Erestor's ring. The ring now lay perfectly

over Glorfindel's heart.



In time slowed by high emotions, he realized Glorfindel followed his sight.

Glorfindel reached for it and lifted it to his face. Erestor could not tear his

vision away and tracked the ring as Glorfindel placed it upon his lips and

kissed it. Erestor closed his eyes tightly.



"You may shut your eyes, my love, but I will always be here. My home is anywhere

you are."



Yet when Erestor dared look, Glorfindel had indeed gone. Frustrated, he laid his

head on the desk, his hands clinched, his appetite fled. And tonight he must

appear, per a direct order from Lord Elrond, at an event, another celebration to

welcome the newest year. Until now he had purposefully stayed away from all

public gatherings, cowardice playing a large part in that. Hoping to avoid

Glorfindel, who would certainly be in attendance this evening.



~o0o~



Erestor tried to ignore the rumblings and tight knot that gripped his belly and

instead forged ahead readying for the dance. He had forgone any dinner, unable

to bear another moment near Glorfindel. Inside he knew he tread dangerous waters

and was close to suffocating beneath the waves that crashed upon him. He could

maintain the aloof facade, but it bore a hefty price and he needed something to

distract his mind from Glorfindel. A diversion, something or someone to help him

regain a measure of balance in his life, to mask his present behavior and if

luck shone upon him mayhap he could actually begin to forget.



Shaking with hysterical mirth, he laughed out loud. Not for a single day would

he ever be successful at putting Glorfindel from his mind. He knew a lover would

only acutely remind him of what he so desperately desired yet would never have.

Nay, he could not pretend forever. But, because he suffered Glorfindel would

too, perfect harmonious despair. And that is exactly as he wanted it.



~o0o~



The riotous sounds of gaiety pierced him well before he reached the celebration.

Elves dressed in bright swirling costumes of yellow, gold, ivory, and cream

declared the renewal of Anor's dominance. He remained in black, from head to

toe.



It appeared much wine had flowed as many were draped over their companions or

reclined upon divans. He cut a path straight through the madness and into the

Hall of Fire. Here a multitude of couples circled around the floor in graceful

dance while hired musicians droned out the same tired songs. Already the entire

scene irritated him, and he absconded a large bottle of wine and a glass from a

young serving elf, who thought to protest but when he saw Erestor's face he

startled, executed a respectful dip of the head and retreated quickly.



Erestor smiled at the elf's reaction while he unpopped the cork. His grin

widened as he inhaled the sweet fragrance of his bliss for the evening. Surely

there would be no other way to survive tonight but mildly inebriated.



He felt the gaze bore into him before he saw Glorfindel and leisurely spun to

survey the room, immediately he spied the Elda. Glorfindel commanded a group of

adoring warriors who hung upon his every word, yet he had eyes only for Erestor.



Erestor lifted the bottle in a mock toast and gulped half the contents, then

poured more into the glass and emptied it quickly. He could not tear his vision

from Glorfindel's ruined hand as it swung through the air to emphasize the story

he told. Tried hard not to imagine that hand on him again, stroking his…



"Chief counselor."



Blushing guilty heat, he turned and greeted Lady Aevar, who stood behind him

with a sleepy Melpomaen in her arms. Elladan approached with Faelon, who

appeared already in slumber.



She smiled fondly at him. "It is good to see you tonight, and I regret we cannot

stay as I have always enjoyed our dances, Erestor."



"As have I, my lady. But tonight you miss nothing for I will stay where I am

watching and drinking our lord's fine vintages."



Erestor remained stoic, determined to attend to this duty as directed by Elrond,

but nothing further.



He did not miss the frown that appeared on Melpomaen's face. And his answer

appeared to fluster Lady Aevar. She wished him a good evening before she sped

past. Melpomaen's small hand reached out and brushed his arm, a fleeting

gesture. Erestor flinched away and moved further to the side when the now

glaring Elladan passed, to prevent any further touches.



But the quick caress of a fingertip against the nape of his neck startled a yelp

from his lips and he turned on the offender, still shuddering from the slivers

of pleasure that stroke had caused.



"Glorfindel!" he hissed and tread backwards.



"My love," the blue eyes sparkled at him.



"Stop saying that!"



"Why? It is the truth. You are my love!" Glorfindel's tone was fierce,

passionate.



"Open your ears, detestable monstrosity. Your words mean nothing as your actions

have spoken clearly. Move away, stay away and find another idiot who will

believe your lies!"



Like a sleek panther, Glorfindel stalked forward. He seemed leaner, more

menacing. Erestor met Glorfindel's eyes and they raged at him, yet a calm

relaxed smile belied the look.



"Is it action you desire, my love?"



And in one quick motion, Glorfindel clamped forceful arms around him and his

tongue stroked strongly past Erestor's lips before he swiftly pulled away.

Erestor gasped at the heat, the living heat of those lips even while his now

damp mouth cooled in the air. Glorfindel's maddening sensual fingers, taking

liberties not afforded grazed his temple, skimmed his cheek, and as they passed

down one side of Erestor's face, brushing the outside edge of his lips, desire

slammed to the surface. The evidence of his weakness angered Erestor and he

startled into action.



Erestor's gaze snapped around frantically, and he crossed his arms in front of

himself shaking from the unwanted contact, banking down the need that had sprung

loose. He spied his escape and found his voice.



"Counselor!" Erestor cried and rushed past Glorfindel toward Berengardh.



He gulped the final bit of wine and rid himself of the bottle and glass before

he swooped down upon Berengardh, gathered her into his arms and moved them to

the dancing space.



"Chief counselor!" she laughed. "You have only been here for a short time and

already you are --."



"Happy." He cut her off and then his lips suckled that sensitive juncture where

neck meets shoulder. Berengardh shook slightly before she stiffened noticeably,

yet he continued and ran his tongue up towards her mouth, tasting her.



"You know this can never be, chief counselor," her stilted voice low and hollow.



"Erestor," he breathed the word into her hair. "For tonight, I prefer a less

formal title."



"You will regret this in the morning for you love another and you always shall."



"Aye, but who is it you love, Berengardh? I have seen the way you gaze upon me

when you think I am unaware. You desire me. You want me, and I am here. Let us

explore together."



He ran his hands lightly across her back, felt her responding shiver and he

smiled wickedly. Until she stepped away from him and he glimpsed her bitter,

hard eyes.



"Never did I guess you as cruel."



Suddenly the room turned icy cold yet his body flushed hot in shame, and the

wine caused his head to pound. Misery coursed through him and his knees

weakened. Erestor dropped his eyes to the floor as all her words finally

registered in his mind.



"Oh, Berengardh please forgive me," he whispered.



It was the counselor who now gathered him into her arms for a comforting

embrace. "Let me accompany you back to your quarters."



He nodded and slumped dejectedly but grateful that Berengardh had not rejected

his apology; desperately hoping he had not permanently damaged their

relationship.



They walked silently but swiftly and his thoughts swirled. He should have defied

Elrond's order for his emotional outbursts were clearly beyond his control,

solitude his only safe bastion. In time too short the warmth of her body left

him and his skin prickled cold from the absence. Efficiently, Berengardh rolled

him into bed and under the covers. He grabbed her arm as she turned to leave.



"Stay."



He hated the pleading he heard in his voice but laid vulnerable and unable to

deny the need, for he could not imagine spending this night alone.



She sighed and sat down beside him, his hand in hers. "Chief counselor…Erestor,

what am I to do with you? If only Pengolodh were here," she sighed wistfully.

"You always listened to his counsel. But now you refuse to heed those of us who

care for you, who adore you. Nay, instead you continue to be stubborn,

unreasonable, and miserable. I cannot help you. You must find the strength."



Berengardh placed a chaste kiss upon his brow, squeezed his hand before

releasing it and moved to leave his rooms.



Erestor closed his eyes against the pity he saw in her face and only opened them

when he heard the soft *click* of the door closing. Frustrated he threw his arms

out to the side and pounded on the bed. He stopped, confused when the fingers of

his right hand brushed against some unknown rough textured object. It appeared

to be tied to his bed post.



Slowly, to prevent his head from spinning, Erestor glanced toward the article

and what he saw twisted his stomach. Hithlain, secured in an intricate knot

clearly designed for binding something together.



It was a knot Glorfindel had once used on him.



His heart thumped madly, and he shivered not wanting to recall the specifics of

that night, for he had brought the resulting consequences fully upon himself by

allowing unwarranted irrational thoughts to rule his mind. But such lovely

repercussions they had been. Unfortunately on this day, in this Age, there was

to be no repeat of that happy pleasure. He lay awake feeling the chill of

loneliness seep into the place in his heart that his dying rage left undefended.

He ran questing fingers over his lips, his other hand crawled along the

bedcovers. And then he felt the slip of paper.



Reluctantly he unfolded it and read the next line of Glorfindel's poem.



"Haunted by a rope that briefly tied us yet led to the rings that bind us

forever…"



He swiftly rolled away onto his side, flung an arm across his eyes and groaned,

"Oh, Valar not this."



*flashback*

Gondolin, I 507



Erestor flashed a bright smile at the passing duo. This pair had shadowed him

the entire evening. All night he had admired the sights when they purposefully

struck seductive poses as they moved to the music, and still felt the flush of

desire flair from his groin. These two radiated an air of submissiveness that

beckoned to him. His mind decided he threw a heated stare their way and

approached the table where they now sat ensconced in a secluded corner of the

ballroom. Warily he flit sideways glances around the room but as usual these

days Glorfindel remained occupied with others.



Glorfindel, since their glorious night at the Lake of Awakenings had seemingly

avoided him. Always busy either in a meeting or training or entertaining some

unknown visitor with whom he was not to be disturbed. His behavior could only be

described as strange. So Erestor had taken to quietly stalking him, and on the

few moments he caught him unaware and alone, Glorfindel seemed moody, pouting

even. It had all served to create an atmosphere of insecurity on Erestor's part.

And the tiny ripples of dissatisfaction had risen into a flood of doubts that

trickled through his mind continually and led him to his current state of being.



Mostly he thought of Glorfindel with such overwhelming love that he craved and

sought the power to protect him from anything that might make him unhappy or

hurt. But tonight he was done, finished with the agonizingly jealous and

possessive ruminations. This evening his thoughts ran to retribution and

revenge. If Glorfindel thought to push him aside then Erestor would provide him

with the final reason to do so. And as a bonus he could slake his ever ravenous

appetite and chase away the hurt with not one but two gloriously willing bodies.



He slid into the empty seat and purposefully raked his eyes, from head to toe,

over both elves. "Is this taken?" he asked unnecessarily.



Only the young maid giggled but they both dropped their eyes. A predatory smile

split his face. Perfect. An ellon and an elleth his, for at least the night and

it would take both of them to purge the angry lust which pulsed through him.



He drew a lazy finger around the table on a specific course toward his prey.



"I find these," he waived his free hand toward the celebrating masses,

"occasions so very typical and boring. But then you two arrived."



Erestor's questing finger finally found its treasures and he drew it lightly

across the back of their hands. He noted, with much satisfaction their quick

intakes of breath.



"Shall we leave to --?"



A strong hand gripped his and violently jerked it away from the two elves. And

then a warm body thumped down into the chair next to his, an arm snaked around

him and pressed him close.



"Ruinhigil, Sílaros leave us."



The duo hesitated, their eyes frantically flicked between Glorfindel and

Erestor. Until Glorfindel leaned forward, his face a twisted snarl of fury and

rasped, "Now!" the menacing threat clear in his tone.



They flailed backwards and a frightened gasp escaped them both.



"Yes, my lord," squeaked Ruinhigil. And the now skittish pair arose, frantically

clutched hands and fled.



Glorfindel sprung to his feet in one hard, angry movement. His chair crashed

down behind him. He grasped Erestor, dragged him up, and confined him in a hard

grip, one arm twisted tightly behind his back.



"Move," he hissed and drove Erestor forward.



Erestor stumbled but walked swiftly, propelled onward. He ignored the looks of

surprise on the elves they passed, ignored the shooting flairs of agony in his

arm and focused on Glorfindel. He knew Glorfindel had the reputation for an

occasional nasty temper yet it had never been directed toward him. His bitter

hurt had surely blinded him but he never expected this erratic fury, this

violent reaction, this intensive fiery streak of possessiveness. There must be

some way to soften the situation.



"Glorfindel," he ground out from between clenched teeth. "Will you listen to

me?"



The only response was irritated growls as Glorfindel pushed him up the stairs,

around the first corner and kicked open the doors to his quarters. He shoved

Erestor in, turned to fling the doors shut, and in a heartbeat was on Erestor,

pinning him to the wall.



Glorfindel kissed him, hard and hungry, with savage dominance. Within moments

there was no question of resistance. Erestor's mouth opened, just as hungry, and

the moan deep in his throat echoed his passion.



"Hush!" Glorfindel demanded and there was a finality to his tone that silenced

Erestor. Glorfindel pushed him back against the wall and started ripping the

clothing from his body.



"Elflings should never play with fire, Erestor!" Glorfindel's voice was husky

and defiant.



Erestor fought him then, frightened at Glorfindel's wild explosive responses,

unprepared for the consequences. He lashed out with swinging fists and squirmed

in Glorfindel's grip desperately searching for an escape route as they struggled

through the rooms. But he had been surprised and at a disadvantage since the

beginning and Glorfindel's command of him never wavered.



Erestor's defiance failed him when he noticed Glorfindel's outfit. He had

dressed for him. Tonight he wore the robe Erestor so admired for its understated

brilliance and the way it brought out the sparkle in Glorfindel's eyes. Eyes

that had fascinated him from the beginning - radiantly blue with a continual

hint of mirth, suspicion, and ingenuity. Tonight the suspicion had won.



Nude and exposed, it was not difficult for Glorfindel to drive him to his knees.

He remained still, head down, regaining his breath when an unusual movement

caught his gaze. Cautiously, he dared look at the menacing presence before him,

now half-naked, hair escaped from its braids tangled and wild, eyes narrowed and

intimidating, yet worse was the long piece of hithlain that Glorfindel swung in

rapid circles.



He snapped the rope to a halt, stepped forward and captured Erestor's head

between his thighs. Glorfindel cruelly wrenched Erestor's arms backwards and

bound his wrists together tightly. Erestor cried out in pain but that only

seemed to spur Glorfindel to further tighten the binding.



Arms strained and trembling behind his back, knees raw and throbbing he pled for

release.



Erestor took a quick, quivery breath. "Please, Glorfindel. Listen to me." The

words came out choked and breathy.



Glorfindel stopped his erratic pacing and pointed an accusing finger at him.

"Not tonight! Nay, for once you will close your mouth and hear me!!" his shout

echoed through the room and then he started mumbling. "I cannot trust you. You

have proven that, but I will change that."



"You can trust me! Please! It is you who refused to see me. Glorfindel, nay!!"



Any further protests were muffled as Glorfindel forced a crudely torn muzzle

between his teeth and tied it securely around his head. Long ragged threads

dangled down Erestor's throat and he choked and gasped until Glorfindel swiped a

finger inside his mouth and ripped them from the fabric.



Erestor panicked and threw himself on the ground in a crazed frenzy, desperate

to be freed. He rubbed the side of his face against the floor in an effort to

displace the gag and worked his wrists up and down to loosen the hithlain, until

defeated he fell still and sobbed.



But Glorfindel was not moved and hauled Erestor back to his knees. He placed a

hand on either side of his face. "Your drama will find no audience tonight,

Songmaster!"



And he held Erestor there. Forced to face his captor, Erestor willed himself to

calmness. There was to be no reprieve and he must try to accept whatever outcome

tonight brought. So, he searched Glorfindel's countenance for some sign of hope

and found the turbulent devotion. This was the elf who loved him, who would

never harm him. He inhaled a deep breath and relaxed.



Glorfindel blinked, released him, and then circled him like a predator, talking

at him the entire time.



"Stupid, incredibly stupid! I swear by the Valar you are a menace to my sanity!



"You propositioned two elves in my full view. Were you serious? OR did you

merely intend to catch my attention. Well you have it, Erestor. You have always

had it!"



He paced now, back and forth, furious anger pinched his face and his arms

flailed. Glorfindel stopped suddenly and sprinted toward his bathing chamber.

The clanking of glass heralded his quick return.



In his arms were cradled a multitude of small bottles.



"I thought to please you. To find ways to excite you into our lovemaking, to

relax you, to ensure you found immense pleasure the first time, so I shopped. Oh

aye, only the best and highest quality for you. Stupid, predictable, Glorfindel

wagging his tail begging for a treat from his wary master, willing to go to any

length for your comfort!"



A bottle crashed near him, shattered and oil sprayed his legs. Startled, Erestor

jumped and turned alarmed eyes to Glorfindel. But Glorfindel ignored him and

continued his fury, a humorless smile on his lips.



"Lemon grass!"



He flung another.



"Lilac!"



And another.



"Eglantine!"



And another, and another, and another. He shouted out the names in rapid

succession.



"Iris! Asphodel! Elanor! Lissuin!"



Until finally all the bottles were smashed to ruins, and the scents transformed

the room into a field of wildflowers, riotous smells blending and clashing.



Glorfindel panted heavily as he leaned down and put his mouth to Erestor's dry

lips, soft and open. He broke the contact but stayed close and whispered.



"Tough as Huorn bark, you are. Never admitting you need anyone, but it is all a

lie. You need me."



And then he pulled back and reached out with his fingers and gently touched

Erestor.



"Your mouth. So perfect, beautifully shaped."



Glorfindel leaned down again, and his mouth grabbed at Erestor--temple, ear,

neck--with its own erotic volition, before his rough tongue intruded around the

fabric invading Erestor's mouth, hungry and lewd. Erestor drowned in

exhilaration and released a sound, not quite a moan, not quite a sob. Glorfindel

chuckled wickedly and leered at him.



"You like it. The loss of control excites you."



Glorfindel rubbed a finger down Erestor's erection and immediately it hardened

further, jumped to a full-blooded ache. He wished to deny it, yet the truth lay

throbbing against his belly and all he could do was pant around the gag.



"It is time you fully understood how it stands between us." Glorfindel whispered

hot into his ear.



He erupted in a burst of aggressive motion, lifted and threw Erestor onto the

bed, hands still tied behind his back, and muzzle still in place.



Glorfindel stood to his full height and stepped in close. He bent one knee on

the bed, while hands unlaced his breeches and freed his shaft, which sprang

forth, erect and dangerous. He reached out, smeared his fingers through the oil

dripping down Erestor's legs and coated his arousal.



He pierced Erestor with a predatory gaze. "All for you."



Glorfindel stroked himself purposefully, languorously putting on a menacing

display.



"Tonight I take you and make you mine."



Glorfindel stretched sinuously and laid his aggressive weight fully upon

Erestor. The shock of Glorfindel's partially naked and blatantly aroused body

rutting against his stunned him, the feel of the taut muscle stretched over made

him shudder with arousal. Erestor surged upwards, relieving the pressure on his

arms and slid hard flesh against hard flesh, until he teetered on the edge of

release. A moan full of longing and desire issued from his throat.



And then Glorfindel's thumbnails flicked across his nipples, followed by tongue

and teeth. Erestor groaned again, each kiss an invitation to writhe. He arched

his back in response, begging to be touched. And Glorfindel did touch him,

everywhere. His expert tongue tasted and his nose sniffed every patch of skin

making Erestor tremble and gasp as tiny bolts of lightning flowed through him.



When Glorfindel ran the tip of his tongue provocatively down Erestor's shaft,

Erestor panted tiny catches of breath over and over, his climax so near.

Unyielding fingers, rough and callused, closed around the base of his cock, and

Glorfindel's exquisite mouth took him deep, with perfect pressure, swirled and

teased. His breath came faster and he felt his body tighten, tense and

quivering, aching for release.



A slick finger grazed his opening, the sensation both disturbing and exciting.

Suddenly it pushed into him and Glorfindel's delicious mouth moved away. He hips

twisted upwards with greed, searching for that warm haven of pleasure. Blinking

frustrated tears away, he sought Glorfindel's eyes, to plead silently while his

fingers clutched at the rough bindings biting at his wrists. But Glorfindel's

smile, already beaming down upon him turned to a delightful leer and a wild

glint sparked in his eyes. Another large finger drove into Erestor and stilled

his racing, ragged breaths. Glorfindel's fingers, thick and warm, stretched and

widened him, and any pain he might have felt was chased away by this violently

thrilling dance.



A hand pressed against the back of his head, fingers weaved through his hair and

the golden head leaned towards him. A sweet touch of velvet lips was quickly

replaced as Glorfindel forced his mouth arrogantly and brutally onto Erestor's.



In one quick movement, Glorfindel's fingers and mouth left him. His legs were

pushed apart and Glorfindel slithered between them, spreading them wide. Then

Erestor blinked, confused when the muzzle was ripped away. He froze when the

blunt snub of Glorfindel's erection nudge his entrance.



"Sing for me, Erestor."



Glorfindel gripped his hips hard and breached him in one firm thrust.



And sing he did. An involuntary scream tore from his throat, his head tossed

from side to side, chest heaving for breath. Every thrum of his vocal cords

forced a song from him, stroking excitations of air across a taut bow. His own

voice - the cries, the groans, the howls, the wails - rang strange to his ears,

strangled as he struggled with the ripping discomfort. But Glorfindel clearly

wanted to hear every variation on this theme, and drove onward.



There was no mistaking the grunts of pleasure and the moans of satisfaction that

issued forth from Glorfindel as he began to move. Slow shallow strokes that

turned to faster, deeper, relentless thrusts. Erestor's world narrowed to the

sounds of flesh striking flesh, to the feel of his own shaft slapping against

his belly, stubbornly hard and demanding.



It hurt and burned and he questioned, through a veil of agony and distress if he

could ever find pleasure in this torment. He flew on the pain, willed his

breathing to deepen, remembered the love and lunged upward meeting and

accommodating Glorfindel's rhythm. His mind obviously gripped by hysteria filled

with trite poetic thoughts that had no place here, tonight. Forever, the misery

seemed to last.



Then, in a most glorious amazing moment Glorfindel's shaft rubbed deep inside,

and the thrill of shocking pleasure burst through him. Erestor gasped the sound

lush with arousal as the ecstasy increased. And in the blink of an eye, the pain

faded to insignificance and sweet gratification joined them, bound them



Nothing before had ever felt this right.



Glorfindel's moans gradually changed to half-cries and breathy whispers. He fell

onto Erestor's chest while his strong penetrating assault continued unmitigated.

Glorfindel's mouth moved hot and soothing against Erestor's neck.



"Valar!" Glorfindel grunted, and then murmured. "So tight, oh Valar, aye! Do you

understand now, my Songmaster?"



His breath seared a path up to Erestor's mouth.



"You should see yourself, Erestor like some wild animal, writhing and untamed,

my shaft splitting you open. So alluring, magnificent, a work of art. You are

beautiful.



"Mine!" one word, a dollop of rich cream on the sweetest dessert.



Glorfindel gusted a searing growl into his ear, stiffened over him, their bodies

pressed tight, and a spasm of intense joy crossed his features. The cock, thrust

hard inside him throbbed hot and Erestor's body stretched wide by Glorfindel,

followed quickly and he came in great straining pulses.



Minutes, hours, days later Glorfindel reached beneath him, with one yank easily

loosened the knot, and entwined their hands. He slid their joined hands out from

underneath Erestor, and Erestor released a sigh of relief. His body went

completely lax with pleasure. They kissed unhesitatingly, Glorfindel's lips

conveyed something wordless with his mouth, and Erestor's lips wore a brilliant

satisfied smile as he basked in the warmth of love.



He did not hear Glorfindel at first, not ready to leave the afterglow but

finally the tones of undisguised concern registered in his mind.



"Erestor, look at me."



The stern voice shook him from his ruminations and he stretched and rolled onto

his side. Erestor stroked a leisurely hand through Glorfindel's blond hair,

smoothed back the fine hairs along his brow, soothing him without words.



"Alright?" Glorfindel asked softly, his voice laced with slight uncertainty.



"Nay," answered Erestor, and a little worried frown wrinkled Glorfindel's

temple.



"It is not alright," he emphasized the word. "It is fantastic! Wonderful!

Brilliant!"



A sound - amused, exasperated, and affectionate - choked from Glorfindel who

attacked him and pinned him into submission. When the laughter subsided Erestor

gathered Glorfindel into his arms and pulled the covers over them.



The inviting certainty of where he belonged chased him to slumber.



~o0o~



The next morning he awoke with irritating wounds at the corners of his mouth and

a deliciously sore ache between his buttocks. But when he lifted his arms to

inspect the rope burns on his wrists he gaped at the golden ring that now

circled his right index finger.



"Glorfindel, you mad lunatic," he whispered, his voice breaking into a muffled

sob. And then immediately elated, he chuckled at the absurdity of the proposal.



But the laugh caught in his throat when he rolled over and gathered Glorfindel

near. For on Glorfindel's right index finger gleamed a golden ring to match

Erestor's. Reverently, he placed his hand over Glorfindel's so the rings touched

and met, two perfect circles connected forever.



Glorfindel had indeed laid claim to him, completely.



*end flashback*



The sounds ripped from his throat that night still rang in his head, and for a

fortnight after he had been unable to sing. And speaking was nigh impossible so

sore was his throat. Barely able to sit or walk but satisfied beyond compare his

feet sprouted wings for months after, and he floated through life with pure

satisfaction for company. From that night forward their communication was never

better, their commitment never wavered.



Even now Glorfindel swore his commitment was as strong as ever. If only Erestor

would see past the evidence of his abandonment. But could he survive if he

actually understood Glorfindel's reasons? Or handle the intensity of the

feelings between them?



Erestor shivered shaky yet a bit euphoric. He felt it - deep down inside where

the truth lived undisturbed - until now. Oh how he craved to hear more of

Glorfindel's confession! To believe that their love still lived and could be

salvaged anew.





Chapter 8

Imladris, III 1975



Erestor sat quietly in a straight-back chair facing the open window. His eyes

were shut tight and he concentrated on breathing. In and out, for hours he had

repeated this mantra convincing himself he would not collapse into an emotional

heap and weep the day away.



The lyre lay in his lap yet he could not bring himself to strum his fingers

across the strings. Instead his hands ran across its surface, memorizing every

nuance of the instrument. Finely crafted from ink-black lebethron wood with

solid gold trimming and polished to a brilliant shine, it still bore a faint

mint smell for which lebethron was so famous. Its sound quality unknown but

Erestor knew that it would be perfection for Glorfindel expected such in any

piece he commissioned. As perfect as the inlaid markings that decorated the

lyre, a golden bloom surrounded by musical notes.



Another gift from Glorfindel but this one left for him in his office, in plain

sight, the first thing he saw upon entering for work early this morning. This

present a second lucky token on of all days today, a day he had immediately upon

waking dreaded for it followed his shameful performance at yesterday's dance.

The first, that he did not deserve, had already found him as counselor

Berengardh waived off his pathetic attempts to apologize and dragged him to the

kitchen for an early meal and pleasant conversation. Erestor came away even more

devoted to Berengardh and more determined to see her desires fulfilled.



Glorfindel too was obviously not swayed by Erestor's poor behavior as evidenced

by this newest present, fresh on the heels of last night's bold gift. Another

memory of the desire Glorfindel insisted had never died. Love that he demanded

Erestor admit, love that Glorfindel refused to allow Erestor to deny. And yet he

found he could only think of Pengolodh and desperately wished his brother still

resided close for he needed his counsel.



A beam of warm light settled upon him and finally he opened his eyes. Anor

blazed a brilliant red in the horizon as it sunk low on the brink of setting for

the day. The music of life drifted in - elflings at play, songbirds chirping,

the waterfalls of Imladris, laughter, and the unmistakable sound of singing as

another Mereth Tui was well underway.



Hesitantly he smiled, released a shaky breath, and let his gaze drift down to

the two lines of poetry that had accompanied this latest offering. And surely it

was the last gift for the warriors left soon to battle the Witch-king.

Glorfindel had assumed his natural role as leader and would be at the head of

those who departed. Erestor squeezed his eyes shut once more. Could he allow

Glorfindel to leave, again, when things remained unsettled between them? Could

he survive if Glorfindel again fell in battle? Could he take another chance and

trust that Glorfindel did indeed love him and had loved him even while

purposefully staying away?



Lord Elrond trusted Glorfindel. Everyone who met Glorfindel seemed to trust him,

all the counselors and officers, Lords Elrohir and Elladan, and many other elves

that Erestor admired for their discerningly good judgment. His own memories

trusted Glorfindel and they taunted him with their clarity. He absolutely wanted

to trust him again. Desired it with an aching ferocity but he did not seem able

to move beyond the pain, the hurt he felt at being abandoned.



He recalled the other lines of poetry from the previous gifts. Indeed he had run

them through his head everyday since their arrivals, and now he had the final

two lines that completed it.



"My heart swims in your brilliant colors as I recall questing lips soothing my

aching hand…

And when you first embraced a timid ardor for your beloved and imperfect golden

flower…



Yearning to trace every minute detail of your exquisite body, to once again be

awakened…

Haunted by a rope that briefly tied us yet led to the rings that bind us

forever…



Entrancing me with your persuasive harmonies, as you master this hopeful

instrument…

Listening to the notes of possibilities that remain, as I am evermore - Yours

for a song…"



Finally he allowed some of his bitter fears to wash out with the tears that

streamed down his face, Erestor moved the lyre into playing position and softly

strummed an old composition from a time long ago…



*flashback*

Gondolin, I 510



Erestor fidgeted with his tunic and pulled at the collar where it constricted

his throat. He stepped back from the looking glass and admired his outfit. The

hem of his tunic ended at the waist, and his tights were scandalously snug. His

clothing sparkled with metallic threads of silver and gold woven through the

bright blue, red, and green pied cloth. The seamstress had followed his

directions implicitly.



He moved out onto the balcony and into Anor's direct beams. The rays glittered

off the threads in a brilliant flash. This outfit was an excellent choice for

next weeks' dawn performance during the festival of Tarnin Austa. Erestor

chuckled as he thought of his fellow minstrels and how outraged they would be

when Anor rose, caught on his tunic and blinded them as they sang!



Still snickering, he walked back into his quarters and carefully removed the

outfit. After meticulously folding it, he covered it in thin paper and placed it

in the back of his wardrobe. Erestor then curled up in bed, threw a light cover

over himself, and thought through tonight's show. Special was not quite the word

he searched for to describe how he felt about this evening, for he performed at

the House of the Golden Flower.



Erestor reached over and retrieved the contract from his bedside table. Written

in Glorfindel's own pen it offered him generous compensation for a performance

of three songs. It specified that they must be new and original compositions and

must specifically include mention of all twelve houses of Gondolin. His

benefactor preferred that they not be bawdy or overtly scandalous, though a

thread of humor would be appreciated. And, in a more specific yet subtle demand,

Glorfindel sincerely hoped and fervently wished that Erestor might be moved to

include a love ballad.



He rolled his eyes. Already he found it difficult to not spout poetry anytime he

was near his love. And over the past five years, he had penned several hundred

tunes of desire and want and need for Glorfindel. Surely one more would be

complete melodrama. It turned out however that Erestor was a strict adherent of

overindulgence, and had eagerly honored the contract and wrote the request.

Although he would never reach the level of hopeless romantic as Glorfindel so

fondly embraced, he intended to reciprocate when possible.



Almost too late he realized that time had flown from him and he surged upward

with an annoyed *tsk* on his lips. This was new for him, these too frequent

moments where he lazily reclined, twirled the golden ring on his index finger,

and thought exclusively of Glorfindel. Days passed now where he accomplished

nothing but ruminations on a life, in the near future, where he woke every

morning next to his vibrant lover. It scared him a bit but excited him more.



He ran for the wardrobe and quickly donned the subdued honey-colored ensemble he

knew Glorfindel preferred. Tonight he would forgo the ostentatious garb of

bardic tradition in deference to his love's partiality for simpler garments,

except for his footwear. Those were covered with dangling bells that he needed

as accompaniment for one of the tunes.



And then he hopped around the room and pulled on his jangling boots as he

retrieved the music sheets and his lyre. Erestor stopped at the mirror and

swiftly tied his hair back in a tail before he raced from his rooms, down the

stairs, out the door, and across the Square to the House of the Golden Flower.



The night air hung close and so hot it shimmered and the stifling heat had

Erestor continually pulling at his clothes. They clung to his sticky, wet skin.

The fountains stirred up by strong winds had sprayed a thin layer of water all

over him, and the lyre slipped in his grip. Irritated and grumbling he arrived

at the rear entrance of the House.



As he scurried past the cacophonous kitchen, Maluthros called out and ran to

greet him.



"Songmaster, a good eve!"



"Aye, Maluthros. But the winds blow erratically, and I fear my lyre has

sustained damage from the fountain's drizzle."



She threw him a flannel and he vigorously wiped the instrument dry, and re-tuned

it. An irritated *tsk* escaped him when he saw the state of the music sheets.



"These were meant to be a keepsake for, Lord Glorfindel. A remembrance of the

songs I penned specially for him. But look at them, Maluthros! They are ruined

before I can even gift them."



The cook took the papers from his hands and made a close inspection.



"Nay, see?" She held them out for his perusal. "The ink has not yet run. I can

do no further harm if you leave them here. Let me place them near a warm stove

to dry, and they will be deposited in his lordship's quarters before you finish

your performance."



"You are Valar sent. Thank you, but why are you not in the Great Hall? Surely

you cannot bear to miss my production as it is commissioned for your House."



Maluthros eyed him strangely before she replied. "I will not be attending the

show, but I know your audience will greatly appreciate your efforts. Mayhap

later after you dine with our lord and are replete from my culinary creations

you will be moved to a repeat performance," she hesitated and a wicked grin lit

up her face. "Or perhaps you will be otherwise engaged."



She winked and cackled as she walked back into the kitchen and bellowed out

orders to her staff.



Erestor smiled all the way to the Great Hall and skirted around to an entry near

the rear of the dais. The area seemed exceedingly quiet not the usual hustle and

bustle he expected before a large show. Curious, he halted and turned towards a

door that led to the main gallery of the Hall, but his movement was cut short by

Limmae, the steward of Glorfindel's House.



"Songmaster, welcome!" She rushed forward and pulled him into a warm embrace

before stepping back and nodding her approval of his appearance. Limmae steered

him away from the door and back towards his initial destination of the stage

entry.



"We have been anticipating this day for weeks now."



"Limmae, my lady. Thank you!" He leaned forward and whispered, "But it does seem

the audience is extremely reserved for I cannot hear even a murmur of voices."



"Oh nay, Songmaster. I do believe the excitement level of this evening's

audience will exceed your expectations. We have spoken of nothing but this event

since you accepted the commission. If you would allow me to be so bold, I

predict a wonderfully successful performance awaits you!"



"You have always been a great friend, Limmae, and a great believer in my

talents."



She threw her head back and laughed heartily. "Erestor, my friend, I have known

you since you were an elfling toddling along after your eldest brother. And I

remember well the awful screechings you once called singing. Surely, we prayed,

the Valar would not allow it to continue but would nudge you to follow your lord

Adar as a mariner. But you are stubborn and persisted. I am a believer, Erestor,

because you toiled hard and continue to do so. And now you command a voice that

has seduced multitudes, including my lord and you make him exceedingly happy.

Aye, your talents are to be admired."



Erestor gasped at the leer that passed fleetingly over her face and marveled

when she chuckled anew.



"Songmaster, forgive me but surely you are not surprised at my comments. Your

courting antics have been quite public and much commented upon."



Limmae waived a dismissive hand through the air. "But enough of this idle

chatter. You have an eager audience awaiting your performance. The stage and

Hall are prepared to your specifications, but I will be right here if you

require any further assistance."



She placed a firm hand in the small of his back and with a gentle shove pushed

him up the first step.



He turned to give her a suspicious glare. "Lord Glorfindel employs such an odd

collection of assistants. Of which I consider you one. I will find out why you

are behaving so strangely. You know I will!"



Limmae just smiled back at him innocent and bright. He scowled and stomped up

the remaining stars to the side-wing of the dais, his mini-tantrum deflated by

the gay tinkling of the bells on his boots.



The consummate professional he took in a slow deep breath, wiped all concerns

from his mind, and concentrated on the list of tunes he would perform. First the

lively `March of the Mad Hare", which he considered only a thinly veiled

statement of their King's infamous antics. The bells on his boots combined with

many well-planned and purposefully erratic movements figured prominently in this

song. The second, a more solemn piece followed a theme wherein he included all

the best attributes each House offered their great city. This had been

exceedingly difficult to write considering the vile feelings he had towards the

leaders of two Houses. Still, for Glorfindel's sake and the commission, he

remained optimistic yet had somberly titled it `Duodecuple'. And finally `Snow

on the Flower' named for his and Glorfindel's House allegiances and penned

specifically as a tribute to Glorfindel's romantic leanings. Something Erestor

greatly appreciated even though he felt entirely unworthy and was unable to

match in reciprocity. This song would be his meager offering to the love that

pulsed strong and vibrant between them.



With a final cleansing breath, Erestor positioned the lyre on his left hip and

shook both legs to herald his entrance onto center stage. He proceeded forward

while strumming progressive semitones building on a modified diatonic scale for

dramatic presentation. The bells kept a perfect four-four time and undermined

the tense chords with a hint of mischief.



Once he had marched to center stage he turned to face his audience. Only his

experience at performing kept him from dropping the instrument though he could

not utter a single vocal note and he knew he stared slack jawed at the scene

before him.



The Great Hall of the House of the Golden Flower had undergone a complete

transformation since the last time he had seen it. It was brilliantly lit with

thousands of candles which were dropped into colored glasses. Some glowed

subdued and some so bright he had to turn his eyes from them. A mild sweet

fragrance permeated the room, and he identified it as iris, a rare and hard to

grow flower at the height of Gondolin. The sheer audacity of the combined effect

awed him, and surely this feat had taken months to coordinate.



But the walls took his breath away. Once painted a pale unimaginative yellow

they were now alive with murals depicting a variety of scenes. The room exploded

with busy color and made it difficult to decide where to rest one's gaze. He ran

his eyes around the Hall and cataloged the different paintings. Sleek otters

frolicked in a sky-blue river that gurgled through a wooded area bright with

yellow and orange and gold autumnal leaves. Male musk deer with wide and vicious

racks intertwined in a dance for mating rights. Eagles, proud and secure, soared

and dove through dark menacing clouds that poured rain onto the scene below,

which pictured furry kelvar like hares and squirrels and foxes who raced through

a meadow in search of cover. On and on the scenes seemed to never end, and he

knew it would take years to see the detail in every mural.



He looked up to the ceiling and gasped. Great chandeliers of candles had been

hoisted upward, secured and illuminated the entire vaulting. A riot of huge

painted musical notes frolicked overhead. Outlined with shimmering gems they

cast rhythmic shadows with every flicker of the numerous candles. As if they

composed their own music.



Still playing the same notes over and over he finally allowed his gaze to roam

the audience. Joy surged through him swift and electrifying like a lightning

bolt strike. A smile finally found his face, and he grinned like a fool at his

audience of one. His stomach flipped and roiled at the sight of his captivating

love. Glorfindel dressed in black from head to toe sat front and center, his

left ankle rested on his right knee and his arms were spread wide on the back of

the divan. No other chairs, no other elves occupied the theater. They were

alone.



He ceased his monotonous performance and stared at his lover. With that meeting

of the eyes, the connection between them deepened, and enclosed them as if

everything else had disappeared. Glorfindel had an odd expression on his face

but his eyes were wide and hopeful, yet a seemingly menacing and predatory

posture radiated from him. Finally, he tipped his head slightly and his hair

sparkled in the erratically dancing light of the candles.



Erestor's breath caught, he gulped loudly and brought his lyre upwards in front

of his hardening shaft. Not knowing what else to do, he decided the show must

continue. Glorfindel seemed to desire it, and indeed Erestor was unsure he could

even hold a conversation at this moment.



Retreating into the songs helped him regain his composure and he played his

heart out for Glorfindel, who clapped politely at the conclusion of each tune.

And at the end, he rose for an ovation and extended his right hand indicating

that Erestor should join him.



Eagerly, Erestor hopped from the dais and into his embrace. Glorfindel raised a

finger to trace the outline of his lips and Erestor chased it with his teeth.

But the finger was quickly followed by Glorfindel's mouth, which settled on his

in a gentle, sweet kiss.



"Perfect," whispered Glorfindel and then he twined his fingers amongst Erestor's

and walked him toward the exit.



They strolled in silence and nodded to all those who greeted them along the way.

And they continued in this way even through their dinner. Idle chat replaced by

touches and smiles, content to let the surprises of the evening settle between

them and secure enough that long silences were comfortable and even welcomed.



When dessert concluded they moved to a deep cushioned reclining divan hidden in

the corner of Glorfindel's bedroom. Glorfindel reached around and loosed

Erestor's hair from its tail and Erestor in turn removed the clasp from

Glorfindel's. The hair fastener was a gift from Erestor and it gleamed in his

hand. He had chosen a stylized fish symbol for the clasp, to honor not only his

ada's status but their first encounter at the river. He was not naturally as

romantically demonstrative or prone to gift-giving, but Erestor tried to change

that with each passing day as Glorfindel's affection seemed to know no bounds.

And his life now centered on pleasing the one who held his heart.



Glorfindel did not remain long on the divan. He ran his hands through Erestor's

hair, followed by his nose, before he left a kiss on his forehead. Glorfindel

then rose and disappeared into another room. When he returned, his once empty

hands were now full.



He solemnly presented the lute to Erestor. Awed and shaking, Erestor examined

the exquisite gift. The wood shone pure white in its polished state, and the

smallish pear-shaped body was fitted to perfection. Embedded within the wood

appeared to be a cluster of golden flowers. He moved next to the fretted neck,

which he closely appraised. There was a medium sized sliver of something golden

there, but he could not identify it more clearly. He turned the lute sideways

and whistled his amazement. The head was bent at a precise right angle away from

the fingerboard and it was intricately decorated with gold trim.



Quickly he tuned his new instrument and played a silly ditty he knew to be a

favorite of Glorfindel's, though he did not sing the words. He was too choked

with emotion to even contemplate speaking.



When the song ended, Glorfindel removed the lute from Erestor's hands and

transferred it to his lap. He then knelt between Erestor's knees and pointed to

the blooms embedded within the lute's body.



"The flowers are dropped directly from Laurelin. They fell in clusters every

autumn but few were lucky enough to catch them for if they touched the ground

they dissolved into shimmering dew. My ada caught this bunch."



Glorfindel then pointed to the golden sliver in the fretboard. "And this is an

actual piece of Laurelin's wood. How my ada came upon this he would never say

but he passed these both to me for luck. And I now gift them to you, my love,

and my life. Hold this lute close to you at all times, and I know you will be

safe. For I could not survive if any harm befell you."



Erestor sat stunned and he shook so violently the lute threatened to fall to the

floor. Glorfindel quickly rescued the instrument and placed it on the divan. He

gently took hold of Erestor's hands, kissed them and spoke further.



"No matter what comes, always remember my love for you is never ending. That I

am forever yours," he smiled softly before he continued, "For a song."



*end flashback*



A sharp knock pulled him from his musings.



Erestor quickly swiped away the tears and shouted. "Come!"



The door opened and Elrohir stepped in with an apologetic look upon his face and

a pitcher of goat's milk in his hand.



"They would not be denied, Erestor," he canted his head to the side.



Following him through the door were Melpomaen who carried three drinking glasses

and Faelon who carefully balanced a plate stacked high with brightly decorated

cookies.



Erestor looked at Elrohir who placed the container on his desk and then shrugged

his shoulders. He clearly had no idea why the elflings wanted to come here.



The plate of cookies was deposited on his desk along with the glasses and then

each twin came around and stood in front of him.



Melpomaen turned to Elrohir. "You will leave now, Uncle. Thank you."



Elrohir raised an eyebrow to Erestor then bent in a low bow. "If it pleases my

young lord nephews, chief counselor."



Erestor turned from the departing form of Elrohir to confront his two little

problems, whom he had not seen much over the last year. They appeared more

mature, possibly even more serious. And obviously here on a weighty mission for

they were voluntarily missing out on the celebration. He cared for them dearly

but truly at this moment he desired nothing more than to be alone for further

contemplation.



"Melpomaen, Faelon, my lords. Unfortunately I do not have the time --."



Faelon thrust a finger to his own chest and yelled, "I am Lonny!"



His brother followed suit. "And I am Figgy! You never call us by our real names

unless you are angry with us," his mouth drooped down into a frown. "Do you hate

us now, Erestor? You never come to see us and you don't read to us anymore and

you don't say anything to anyone and no one even says `Hi!' to you anymore."



"Hate you? Never! What would give you that idea?"



Faelon stepped toward him. "You don't smile anymore either."



He then lifted a hand and started ticking off names with each finger. "Ada and

Nana and Uncle Elrohir and Aunt Arwen are sad every time they look at you. So

are Grandada Elrond and Grandnana Celebrían and everyone who looks at you is

sad. Even that elf without hair and the funny hand is sad and he looks at you a

lot. I am sad right now looking at you and so is Figgy. Why are you so sad all

the time?"



Melpomaen moved to his brother's side and thrust a cookie towards Erestor.



"Your silly is lost, Erestor. And we miss it, everyone misses it, and we think

you miss it too? But we can help you get it back because you told us how!"



"My silly…?" Erestor looked at the cookie Melpomaen waived in front of his face

and gasped. His throw away comment all those months ago. They had not forgotten.



The sting of further tears blurred his vision as he reached down and gathered

the twins into a fierce hug. They squealed with laughter when he lifted them to

his lap and with a big push he scooted the chair back to his desk.



"Aye! My valiant lords Figgy and Lonny have come to my rescue. It IS time for my

silly to return. And you did remember even though I had not. Thank you. Thank

you for reminding me!"



He squeezed them again and surreptitiously wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his

robe before he poured milk into the glasses and served the cookies.



After their bellies were filled, the twins spent hours with him and questioned

him about every aspect of his life for this last year. Amazed at their insight,

it appeared their young eyes and ears had missed nothing.



They had deduced a solid connection between him and Glorfindel. Though they did

not actually understand the relationship, they knew Glorfindel was important and

quizzed him incessantly. It took all his skill to deflect them from the ultimate

truth and even then he could feel their questioning suspicious eyes lingering

upon him.



The twins clung to Erestor during their interrogation, and if he so much as let

his mouth fall into a neutral position one of them would jump to his feet and

begin some impromptu frenetic routine or dance. When Lonny attempted to sing

`Mewlips Bones' (a tune Erestor had penned thousands of years before), he fell

to the floor in such hysterics it took both of them to assist him back into a

chair. Erestor had never seen the twins attempt such comedy, so stoic was their

usual demeanor. Nor could he recall the last time he had laughed so long or so

hard and his stomach ached from it, as well as being overfull with cookies.



Not deterred even by fatigue, the twins had insisted on following him to his

quarters and when Lady Aevar arrived and thought to intercede they fastened onto

Erestor and sent her away.



His little protectors now lay together fast asleep on his couch, their heads

rested on his lap and he stroked their soft hair. Their distended,

cookie-stuffed bellies jiggled with every snore that ripped through the silence.



Erestor traced the grin still upon his lips, it would not leave. Such small

beings with such an important message, and such a blessing in his life.



It was time to approach Glorfindel, and he had just enough time before the

soldiers left to battle at Fornost.





Chapter 9

Imladris, III 1975



The night slipped by swiftly while he sat lost in thought. When Elladan carried

off his still sleeping sons in the early morning, Erestor left immediately to

find Glorfindel. Only to be repeatedly frustrated at the hours it took to wade

through the crowds and find him. Reluctantly he sought out and solicited

information from Glorfindel's son. And Lindir, with a knowing glint in his eyes

had directed him here to a small meadow far to the east of the Last Homely

House.



Upon arrival, Erestor looked around in awe for it seemed an exact replica of the

riparian area he and Glorfindel had escaped to when they needed privacy rarely

afforded in the hidden city. But his ruminations were abruptly interrupted by

the harsh sound of heart-wrenching sobs. He had finally found Glorfindel's exact

location.



Careful to make enough noise to warn of his presence, Erestor approached his

love and laid a soothing hand upon his shoulder. The first time he had touched

Glorfindel, not as a foe, in several millennia. He allowed his eyes to close and

the warmth to suffuse through him before he spoke.



"Tears, my lo --," he hesitated. It was difficult to speak over his racing

thoughts and thundering pulse, so he allowed himself a deep breath before

continuing. "Glorfindel? May I assist you in some way?" Erestor stilled his hand

and let it fall to his side though he craved the touch of Glorfindel, and he

ached at seeing him so saddened.



Glorfindel exhaled a shaky breath. "Two years ago, on this day, my wife Garia

died."



Erestor stepped back as if slapped and the smile slipped from his face. His

cheeks burned with heat and anger and he trembled as jealousy seethed through

him. All the goodwill he had convinced himself of vanished immediately. How dare

Glorfindel speak to him of this person! His tongue loosened with contempt, and

the words flowed from his mouth with no anticipation.



"Such emotion over an insignificant life. How touching. Your dainty little human

wife, now dead and rotting in the ground! Truly it is a tragedy. Poor,

Glorfindel."



Unprepared for Glorfindel's immediate wrath, Erestor found himself on his hands

and knees, dazed and hurt and stunned into inaction. A well placed fist to his

stomach and another to his jaw had seen to that. He panicked as he tried to gulp

in air but his lungs felt squeezed in a vice. And he panicked anew when he

realized Glorfindel still stood close by. His hands clutched at the soil and

tears blurred his vision until finally gasping, he gingerly sat back and groaned

when a lance of pain shot thru the left side of his face. After a tentative

glance around to confirm that Glorfindel had indeed departed, he dropped his

head between his knees until the spinning stopped.



Slowly he recovered and limped down numerous paths towards his quarters, unable

to fully stand upright from the torment in his abdomen. Elrond, obviously

notified of his predicament by some unknown elf intercepted him before he

reached the House.



"What happened, Erestor?" Elrond grabbed him around the middle and draped an arm

over his shoulder. He jerked away from the torturous embrace and slapped

Elrond's hands when he reached out to lift Erestor's tunic and examine him. He

wrapped his arms around himself and bent over in an attempt to ease the agony.

Through gasping breaths he pleaded with Elrond.



"I am fine. Please I just need to lie down in my bed."



"Tell me how this occurred."



Erestor let loose an angry hiss. "Can you for once cease questioning me?"



"Considering the bright colors of the bruise currently flaring to life on your

jaw and the obvious discomfort in your belly, I am must assume you either fell,

ran into something, or you were struck. Answer me truthfully so I can treat you

appropriately or I will drag you to the healing wing and employ more persuasive

methods."



"Elrond!" Erestor keened in distress as a nervous chuckle escaped. "I know you

better than anyone alive and you are incapable of purposeful harm."



"Harm? I thought more of administrating a sedative in a way I doubt you would

appreciate."



He slowly straightened and glared at Elrond. "You would not!"



Elrond gave no quarter. "I will if you insist on remaining silent as to the

cause of your injuries. And I would further remind you that I am your lord. If I

must I will command an answer from you."



He searched Elrond's face and slumped over once more. Erestor sobbed in agony

and heartbreak and only desired an end to all the disappointment. Elrond

crouched near him, spoke comforting words, and stroked soothing hands over him.



When he at last composed himself and wiped his nose on his tunic he responded.



"Very well, my lord healer. If you assist me to my quarters I will confess all."



Elrond nodded. "Aye, I agree however you shall rest in my private rooms where we

can speak freely, and I can keep my eyes upon you."



"My lady, Cele --."



"Will gladly bed down with her grandsons," interrupted Elrond.



The walk back was pure torment and he moaned with every step. It felt as if

Glorfindel's punch to his stomach had rearranged everything internal. Their

forward progress was hampered as they had to waive off assistance from counselor

Berengardh, Elladan, Elrohir, several healers and a host of other elves who

rushed them as they approached the House. After an overly extended time

attempting to climb the stairs, Elrond carefully picked him up and carried him

the rest of the way.



Red-faced but grateful, Erestor cried out in pain and relief when he was finally

laid down upon Elrond's bed. But he was not left alone for long. Elrond returned

to his side and undressed him, handling him intimately but without significance.

The consummate healer he ignored Erestor's complaints. From bad to worse - beat

by Glorfindel and denuded - he lay stiff and suffered the examination, flinching

only when Elrond touched his injured areas. But he braced his arms when Elrond

began to turn him over onto his stomach.



"Nay. There is no need. He struck my face and mid-section. You have seen my only

injuries."



"Tell me who."



"Elrond there is no reason to --."



"Now, Erestor."



"It was completely my fault, you see. For some reason, I cannot prevent my mouth

from opening ahead of rational thought. He is not to blame. I need you to

understand and restrain yourself from running off to defend my honor. You must

promise or I remain silent."



Elrond hesitated before giving a terse nod.



"Glorfindel."



Erestor reached out a restraining hand when Elrond moved to rise. But Elrond

laid a comforting hand over his and smiled.



"I must mix an elixir for your discomfort and you must sleep."



"I know you, Elrond. Do not confront him over this. Remember your promise."



Elrond stood and tucked several covers around Erestor. He then moved over to his

desk where he measured out herbs and transferred them into a mortar. He

vigorously pounded them with the pestle, for several minutes before he answered.



"Aye. As agreed, however I will speak to him about this incident. I cannot have

Glorfindel leading our contingency to battle until I am sure he is capable."



"You do not mean that. You know there is none more competent to lead our

warriors and bring them home safely. Let me speak to him and apologize."



"Nay. You are under my care and unable to leave the bed for at least one day."



Elrond strode back to Erestor a glass in hand. He assisted Erestor into a

sitting position so he could administer the draught.



"No further discussion. Rest easy and heal, and I will sit with you through the

night. You have trusted me for many years, my friend, trust me again."



Erestor, immediately drowsy from the potion, could only nod his agreement as he

fell to slumber, his hand rested within Elrond's protective embrace.





~o0o~



He awoke groggily and confused. No pain troubled him, even his back felt

completely healed yet he had aroused from a deep slumber. Sleep still filled his

eyes, when he finally realized a soft touch ran the length of his bruised jaw.

Awareness suddenly flared and panicked he reached for the hand.



"Elrond? Is it late? Has he already departed?" Erestor struggled to rise but a

body blocked his progress and strong arms gently pressed him back onto the bed.



"Nay, not Elrond. I am still here, and I am sorry, Erestor. So very sorry."



Erestor grabbed Glorfindel's deformed hand, squeezed it before he lifted it to

his lips and repeatedly kissed the rough skin. He paused and examined the melted

ruin of the promise ring. His other hand ghosted over the scars that marred the

back of Glorfindel's head and neck. He then lifted his gaze into the bluest eyes

of his desire and wondered how he could have ever thought to deny their love.



He managed a wry grin. "Your left hand is a bit weak."



Glorfindel barked out a sob mingled with a laugh, and Erestor pulled him close.

He could see it in Glorfindel's eyes, so much to explain, to ask, to beg, yet

they were stifled for time.



"Nay, Glorfindel, I am the one who should apologize. My words and actions are

unforgiv --."



Erestor stopped talking abruptly, as two of Glorfindel's fingers pressed over

his lips, stilling them.



"We have both made mistakes but not such that we are forever separated. I would

beg forgiveness for everything, for hurting you needlessly, for the years we

were parted --." He stopped then and swallowed visibly.



"I need your forgiveness. I need you, Erestor. My destiny has always been

aligned with yours, and I cannot and will not be parted from you ever again."



His tone turned fierce and his grip tightened. "I love you, Erestor."



Erestor closed his eyes and let the words warm him. It was a start, a new

beginning of sorts and he knew time, not words, would heal the wounds. Yet he

needed too. Longed for Glorfindel to, in some way understand before he left for

battle. A cyclone of words whirled in his mind and he swallowed them when he

opened his eyes and gasped awed by the sight of the elf he could no longer face

the world without. Elated, he dared speak that which he had desired from the

moment he knew Glorfindel had returned.



"You have taken the words from my mouth," he said softly. "I have always loved

you and as for the years we were parted --," he hesitated, groped for what to

say until Glorfindel's own words from the past drifted through his mind. "I am

still yours…for a song."



Relief spread across Glorfindel's face and he chuckled. "Aye. Forever, my love."

And then he bent close and brushed his smiling lips against Erestor's, leaving a

trail of liquid fire. "Sweet music, for eternity."



~o0o~



A month had passed since the warriors returned without Glorfindel. But the

grandiose stories regarding his bravery in the battle continued to circulate

throughout Imladris. The tales had grown in immensity and Witch-King puns were

currently all the rage. And hobby-horses of white were in such demand; there was

no white fabric or white paint to be found in the realm. Elflings by the score

galloped around shouting `Do not pursue him!' or `Not by the hand of man!' as

they reenacted Glorfindel's now famous words. Words Glorfindel had, according to

the returned warriors, spoken as the Witch-King fled from him frightened by the

mighty Elda. The twins were no exception and he cringed each time they passed

his door screaming at top voice until he decided a kinslaying may be his only

option.



At the end of his patience, Erestor slammed heavy fists on the desk, exited the

house, and stalked out to the woods where he continued to pace. He had been

present when Glorfindel's second in command explained to Lord Elrond that

Glorfindel was unharmed but had left them with only a cryptic statement of some

dealings he need to attend. His second reassured them that Glorfindel clearly

intended to return to Imladris as soon as his business concluded.



Erestor was not convinced and all the old doubts and fears crowded his thoughts

day and night. It seemed history had repeated itself as Glorfindel was once more

being hailed as a hero yet was nowhere to be found. Dead again for all Erestor

knew and he again abandoned. He had dared trust anew and it all appeared for

not.



"You fret for no reason." The small voice came from close behind.



Startled, he turned to behold young Lindir who stood boldly near him with a

smile on his face.



"Ada will return. He loves you. He loves me. Besides he promised."



Erestor could not contain his laughter, loud and tinged with desperation. How

easy life is for the innocent and naive.



"You have not experienced pain yet, Lindir. But you will and this may be your

first lesson."



"No. You are absolutely wrong and stubborn. Ada will return. You can depend on

him and deep inside I believe you know this. Your situation is not desperate yet

still your ears remain deaf and your eyes remain blind to the truth."



Erestor opened his mouth to retort but young Lindir cut him off with a raised

hand and then swung his lyre into playing position. He casually plucked at the

strings.



"May I, Songmaster? My ada taught me a tune you penned specifically for him and

sang for him when he despaired for silly reasons. Actually he spoke of you

often. He needed to speak of you to soften the ache he felt at being separated

from you."



Then Lindir hastily added, "But not in front of mother. She was as jealous of

you as you are of her."



A lopsided grin tinged with sadness graced Lindir's face, catching Erestor's

response in his throat.



"If you allow, it would be my pleasure to try and soothe your fear."



Erestor sat on the ground, nodded his permission and Lindir burst into song.



`Shouting about as you thrashed `round the stream…

Interrupting my peaceful and reflective daydreams…

What a sight, with your flawless rump high in the air…

And a tiny fish conquering you, what a terrible affair…

But you had been tricked by an unseen and clever foe…

For you are no match for a hoax and a mad tom duo…'



Weary but strangely giddy, Erestor wiped away tears, not from sadness but joy.

This song only Glorfindel knew, for Erestor had written it too humorously mark

that eternally special first day they had met outside an official function.

Until today its words had never been sung publicly. He motioned Lindir over to

sit next to him.



"Will you tell me all about your mother, Lindir? About her people and whom she

was and how she lived and how she captured Glorfindel's heart? And then will you

tell me about your ada? You are his son, of his flesh and blood, and I feel as

if you know him better than I ever did. When you are done, if there is a desire

on your part I would speak of our time together in Nevrast and Gondolin. Of the

magnificent elf who loved me…"



"Loves you, Songmaster. Never did a day pass without some mention of you. Never

did a day pass without a haunted look upon his face as he braved another hour

out of your presence. Never did a day pass where he did not question his reasons

for staying away. But never did a day pass where he questioned his love for you.

He is as passionate about you now as he was the first day he mentioned you to

me. Never speak of his love as if it exists only in the past. Never!" scolded

Lindir before his manner turned tender and he grabbed Erestor's hands.



"I plan, with you permission to pen many, many songs proclaiming the desire you

share with my ada."



And then, with Erestor still his willing captive Lindir began to speak of his

ada and the wonderfully full life his mother had lived.



~o0o~



Several months had passed since that night and they still met frequently forging

an ever strengthening bond. Glorfindel's young son had torn down that final

stubborn piece of Erestor's hastily erected wall of defense and after their

initial talk, all his thoughts had fallen in place. He was content to wait. Safe

in the knowledge that his relationship with Glorfindel had only encountered a

slight bump and their feelings remained as strong as they had the day Gondolin

fell. Their bond remained true and only needed the final formality to seal them

forever.



Lindir even gently coerced Erestor into singing again. While gathered with a

small group of friends he had performed two of his most famous compositions,

`Jingle of the Jolly Wolf' and `Lay of the Lay About'. The twins present and

google-eyed over this newest insight into silly Erestor had ever since begged

him for another song. Unable to deny them, and to their delight, he complied.

Further, anytime he seemed unhappy Erestor found them in his quarters with a

plate of cookies.



But beyond these changes all else remained the same. Each day, like today, he

rose and performed his duties though now every minute included a thought for

Glorfindel and an anticipation of his return. Occasionally, on cool days of late

autumn, when he grew weary of his obligations he longed to walk away and rejoin

those who wandered Middle Earth spreading excitement and joy with their songs.



While in his ruminations, Erestor gave only a cursory glance at the first elf he

saw streak past his office window. But after the third group went by, curiosity

piqued, he rose and opened his door to the hallway. The noise deafened him. The

thundering sound of hundreds of feet pounding on the wood floor as elves raced

down stairs and through the corridors, headed towards the exits from the Last

Homely House to the front lawn, reverberated through him.



Counselor Berengardh's arm shot into the air when she saw him. She beckoned him

to come and shouted something until she was jostled around the corner by the

moving crowd. His chin dropped when he saw Habadond grinning and slapping the

back of some unknown companion as they ran the length of the hallway. And then

his name, like a chorus rose above the din.



"Chief counselor! Come quickly!" they called, dozens, hundreds of them, arms

raised as they were pushed forward by the crush.



But, he slammed the door shut when he caught a glimpse of Lord Elrond and Lady

Celebrían arm in arm being swept along in the never ending wave of elves. They

laughed and chattered with everyone.



Cautiously, Erestor moved back through his office toward the glass doors that

opened directly to an outside patio. He pushed aside the curtains and peered

through. Throngs of elves rushed down the hill, clapping and waiving and

cheering as they went but he could not clearly see what caused this seemingly

spontaneous celebration. He flicked the latch and the doors burst open on a

brisk wind that pushed him back and loosened his hair from its clasp. With an

irritated *tsk* he secured the unruly strands behind his ears and strode out

onto the lawn.



It seemed that the blaring noise from within the Last Homely House had been

transferred outside, and Erestor's ears rang from the clamor. The steady beat of

drums vibrated in the wind and instruments played chaotic tunes, a cacophony of

notes filled the air interspersed with the drone of voices shouting and

laughing. He sprinted forward to the crest of the hill.



Anor blinded him as it glinted off the riotous costumes of the bards, at least a

full one hundred streamed across the bridge - males and females of all colors

and all races. Some on horses that stomped and snorted at the commotion, others

walked and sang with instruments strapped to their backs or in the ready

position spewing forth songs in a duel of music.



He cried out in surprise when he caught sight of some of the more famous

minstrels.



The dwarf troupe, known tongue-in-cheek as the Angerthas Audibles stood together

almost hidden by the elves that crowded around them. Preferring to perform tunes

of war and greed they were, however more desired for their loud raucous and

bawdy songs, making them the perfect entertainment selection for fertility

festivals. Erestor had the good fortune of securing them several times here in

Imladris although he did not approve of their odd magical side gatherings where

they would cast the runes for those wishing to know the future.



He clapped enthusiastically when he spied the bard Pelly. Scruffy and huge,

Pelly the Clown Troubadour jiggled through the crowd on surprisingly nimble feet

with a flute upon his lips. His numerous unshaven chins hung half way down his

chest and a monstrous white belly spilled from under his tunic and wiggled over

the waistband of his brilliant silver tights. A round tufted collar with balls

of dangling fluff and bells moved in time with his shaking bulk. But Erestor was

not distracted by Pelly's appearance for he knew that his touch on the reed

flute surpassed any in Middle Earth and he longed to hear even one note above

the din.



Erestor heard their singing before he saw them and when he did he fell back a

step. The Avari twins moved with ethereal grace and left a path of awe in their

wake. Both loomed tall and extraordinarily slender with pale skin so white it

seemed translucent. Their eyes too large for their narrow faces and colored such

a deep brown they appeared black, and their hair cobweb-fine and wispy yet dark

as a starless night fell down their backs to drag upon the ground. Identical

yellow gowns flowed and shifted as their hands undulated in a symbolic

interpretation of whatever tune they sang. So fragile appearing yet their voices

pierced through the clamor, and they harmonized notes so lofty surely they

carried to Ilúvatar's dwelling.



Dark and foreboding Toreth of the Wilds brought up the rear of the procession.

Dressed only in garishly checkered leather breeches, his naked and muscled chest

and arms rippled when his large hands strummed confidently across an instrument

Erestor had seen only once before. The seven-stringed, long-necked bandore had a

unique melancholy sound which Wild Toreth had cultivated into a lucrative sound

as evidenced by the gold and multi-colored gems that shone in his ears, and

around his neck, and on his fingers. From the mysterious territory of Rhûn he

had suddenly emerged thirty years ago. And when he sang all quieted before his

deep and melodious voice. His clever and cryptic lyrics heralded information

about the land of his birth, and many leaders had welcomed his performance if

for no other reason but to garner insight into the wild lands. It was rumored he

preferred to impart his knowledge in private audiences and had bedded every

ruler in Middle Earth.



Erestor smiled and cast a glance at Lord Elrond, who was making a valiant

attempt to welcome each bard as they passed over the bridge. Surely Lord Elrond

had not yet partaken of Wild Toreth's "information."



He chuckled at the thought until his eyes caught the most magnificent sight.

Darting around the musicians pranced a steed of resplendent white, its full mane

swirled in the wind and its tail thrashed in time to the beat of a dozen drums.

The stallion pawed at the ground and puffed breath white on the air when

Glorfindel brought him to a halt. Glorfindel's face then split into a wide grin

and Erestor heard his whoop of joy as he reached down to gather Lindir into his

arms. Glorfindel's luxurious and thick blond hair fell upon his son.



Stunned, Erestor fell to his knees.



Glorfindel shone; Anor come to Middle Earth. Radiant and healed his hair

sparkled brilliantly, abundant and healthy it fell to the middle of his back

just as he remembered it from before the fall of Gondolin. Tall and straight

upon the saddle, he glowed with renewal and elves ran to him, greeted him

enthusiastically, and ran their hands upon him in wonder. And his hand no longer

fused together by warped melted skin but flawless, each finger separate, long

and slender and graceful.



He sobbed and ached to run to Glorfindel yet his legs would not unbuckle and

allow him to move, so he remained on his knees and watched unable to look

anywhere but at his returned love.



Glorfindel had done this. All of this. For him. Not only had he returned whole

but he had come bearing a promise. A promise specifically for Erestor and their

future.



Erestor could see the bright twinkling blue eyes even from the distance, so

piercing as they quested around the crowd. Suddenly Glorfindel turned frantic,

he watched in confused awe as Glorfindel put his steed into a spin, round and

round they went until Erestor realized Glorfindel was searching, a lost panicked

look etched his face.



Erestor put a tentative hand in the air and waved, slowly at first and then

erratically.



"I am here, Glorfindel! Here!"



He screamed his voice raw and his arm burned from the exertion but he continued.



Until their gazes met, and he stared entranced. Into eyes that shone with

affection, unguarded and luring. They watched each other attentively curious,

discovering anew, sharing a moment of perfect peace. And then Erestor blinked

and his arm fell to his side.



The spell broken he heard Glorfindel bellow.



"Make a path!"



He wheeled his horse about, sprinted forward, and charged up the hill, elves

scattered before him. His eyes were immediately drawn to Glorfindel's chest and

the two golden rings that bounced wildly at the end of a long chain.



Unable to stay upright Erestor toppled over onto his back and gazed blankly at

the sky, he fought to catch his breath. All sound faded except the ever

loudening thump of approaching hooves. Enthralled with elation, his thoughts

raced aimlessly yet one truth rang clear through his mind, a truth millennia in

the making, eternity its promise.



His song had arrived.



The End



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