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Kisses on the Brow	By : Lauand Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1435 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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              Title: Kisses on the Brow
- Chapter 1: The Arrival.


Author: Lauand


Beta: Knellis


Rating: PG to NC-17, depending
on the chapter.


Summary: The obnoxious and
arrogant apprentice of minstrel Lindir arrives in the valley and
Imladris has
to deal with him.


Pairings:
Elrohir/Lindir, Glorfindel/Erestor


Disclaimer: I own nothing.


N/A: Continuation to
�Glorfindel�s Haircut�. There�s a few references to that fic in here,
so I
strongly recommend you read it before you start with this. Thank you again to Knellis, my
wonderful beta, for all her hard work and good advice. And the red marks. I
just love the red marks ;P.



    KISSES ON THE BROW

             Ch1: The Arrival.

�Please tell Lord Elrond that I�ll
be there in a moment.�

With a polite smile, he dismissed
the servant and started to file all his papers back in their respective
locations, all the while cursing his lord.

Not that Erestor didn�t love
Elrond. He did. As his lord and friend, that is. But that didn�t help him to
understand why the half-elf always waited until he had all these reports,
missives and law volumes neatly spread out on his solid mahogany desk to summon
him to his presence. While his office was next door his Lord�s, more often than
not he worked in the room adjoining the library where all the records,
archives, old correspondence and reference books were kept. It was just
logical. What wasn�t logical was the fact that the library and his office were
the two rooms farthest away from each other in all the household. So why the
hell couldn�t Elrond call him either first thing in the morning, before he had
scattered all his material around and started working or when he had already
finished??

Damn.

Once all the things had been
returned to their safe places, he sighed and exited the library.

�It had better be something
important, Elrond��
he thought grumpily while walking briskly along the corridors.

          He heard
his voice before actually seeing him, and without Erestor�s conscious command,
his feet stopped dead in their tracks and his heart intensified its pounding
while his ears strained to listen. What was Glorfindel doing here instead of
training the rookies on the fields?

The question became irrelevant as he
heard the other voices. Female voices. Paying attention, he could make out
their conversation with the blond Seneschal. They were praising the warrior�s
new look and giggling in a silly manner as Glorfindel gallantly redirected
their compliments back toward them. Damned rogue. Erestor could even imagine
the seductive grin on the idiot�s face. Why the whole House (himself included)
found the Balrog-Slayer irresistible was beyond him.

Erestor silently sighed. What a
morning� first, Elrond�s inopportune summoning and now getting stuck in the
middle of the corridor because his legs refused to walk on and interrupt
Glorfindel�s flirting with the house maidens.

�Erestor,� he tried to reason
with himself, �how old are you?�

Once he had answered himself and
concluded that he was indeed adult enough to confront this kind of situation
maturely (that being said, also restraining himself from throttling those
air-headed maidens), he put on his old, comfortable, aloof mask again and
turned the corner.

Glorfindel was indeed dressed for
training (leather pants, boots and a plain shirt) and had gathered his now short
tresses into a stubby pony-tail that protruded rather ridiculously from the
back of his head. Erestor supposed that the point was to prevent the golden
locks from falling into his face during the sparring, but the tail failed
miserably to accomplish its task and the rebellious, curly hair framed the
warrior�s smiling face in disarray.

When he came near, he couldn�t help
but notice that the maidens (two of them) were as close to the blond elf as
decorum allowed them, all moo-eyes and batting eyelashes. They weren�t even
aware of his own presence.

�Sheep,� he thought
disdainfully.

He knew that it wasn�t rational at
all to compare them to such a dumb animal, or to be angry with Glorfindel, who
obviously hadn�t gone looking for the attention he was receiving and was
completely free to enjoy it, but he couldn�t help feeling a brief pang of
resentment toward the three of them, when, at the moment he reached the point
where they were standing, one of the maidens tucked an errand lock (one of the
many) behind the Seneschal�s ear.

Fortunately, the dark haired advisor
was an expert diplomat and none of the ugly emotions he was feeling inside
showed in his face or body language. He could be as expressive as a dead fish
if he so chose, and, well, the time had come to prove it.

�Good morning,� greeted Erestor
impassively, without slackening his speed.

�Good morning, Master Erestor.� The
maidens sobered instantly upon noticing him and hastily curtsied as they
lowered their eyes.

�Good morning, Advisor,� was Glorfindel�s
happy reply, as always oblivious to what paraded in Erestor�s head and unable
to understand why people feared his friend so.

The stern counsellor had barely
turned the corner when he heard Glorfindel�s casual calling.

�Ah, Erestor!�

He looked back to see a disembodied
golden head pop around the corner. Then Glorfindel squeezed his eyes shut and
stuck out his tongue as far as he could, to show the advisor that he still had
fans and that they indeed liked his new hairstyle.
Trying to fight the silly grin that
threatened to break his calm fa�ade at the idiocy of his blond friend, Erestor
mouthed a word to the floating head as the warrior opened his eyes and looked
at him with a delicious smug smile on his lips.

�Hairclips!�

When understanding dawned on
Glorfindel as to what Erestor meant - that he just had to wear the promised
hairclips to see his admirers desert him - the blond head poked its tongue out
again and disappeared from where it had come.

Erestor couldn�t help but grin at
the silliness of his best friend and with a hint of evil in his thoughts, he
mentally rubbed it in the maidens� faces the fact that Glorfindel might have
been flirting with them, but it was him for whom he had stopped paying them any
attention and him to whom he had stuck out his tongue at. Twice.

Not very sure how such a gesture
could be regarded as a higher honour, he shook his head at his own stupidity
and climbing the stairs, he reflected on how his feelings were worsening.

True, he had always been physically
attracted to Glorfindel, but that was easily ignored. The blond had a beautiful
body and a fair face (not to mention that tight, muscled, delicious-looking
ass). He was plainly Erestor�s type and contrary to common belief, the advisor
was not made of stone. But the physical attraction was all, wasn�t it?

At least it was in the first
years. Then, in a moment that he would
never be able to pinpoint, he had started considering the other elf a friend.
And a good one at that. People didn�t always see beyond others� masks, but he
had had the opportunity to know the real Glorfindel. Most of the elves in
Imladris saw only what the Seneschal wanted them to see. Just as Erestor hid behind his aloofness and
silence, Glorfindel hid behind his openness. He was such an extroverted elf
that nobody suspected that he could show part of himself only to keep the most
personal pieces secret. Not even to Erestor or Elrond did he give himself
completely, but the Chief Advisor knew him well, exactly as well as Glorfindel
knew him, and that was enough.

Or so Erestor had thought. But after
an indeterminate period of time (because� when had this obsession really
begun?), it seemed that he had become greedy. He could settle no more for the
warrior�s friendship. The banters, the jokes, the shared wine, the confessions
and the similar sense of humour were not enough now. He wanted more. He craved
for more.

Sometimes he found himself needing a
smile or a touch, longing for warm breath and sweet whispers in his ear, for
knowing hands and hungry lips, for the weight of a solid body upon his� and in
a moment of distraction, when he was looking elsewhere, his heart had decided
that the smile, the breath, the hands, the lips and the body had to be that of
the blond oaf�s.

�Stop!�

See? He was obsessed. He had to
drown these damned feelings before they began to drown him. Not letting this
turmoil of feelings crack his cool, perfect mask for a second, he kept his
steady pace toward Elrond�s office. He was very near now, so he tried to focus
the last meters of his way on his dear Lord and his bad habit of interrupting
Erestor�s work.

If only to calm himself and expel
the thought of blond idiots from his head, he stopped to knock at the door. Of
course, the fact that the door belonged to one�s Lord helped, too, to make him
keep his manners, but it was a frequent occurrence that the serious Advisor
entered the office without asking first. He and Elrond were that close.

�Enter,� came the distracted reply.

Closing the door behind him, Erestor
waited patiently for Elrond to finish writing. In the meanwhile he entertained
himself by taking in his surroundings with a resigned sigh. Not that he didn�t
love Elrond�s office, it was beautiful and decorated tastefully, but really, he
had more important things on which to spend his time.

His eyes roamed around delicately
carved furniture, elegant bookshelves with exactly the right amount of volumes
each, tapestries with historical motives, featuring past battles and heroic
deeds� Erestor�s favourite was the one depicting the fall of Gondolin� the dark
haired advisor suppressed the urge to shake his head. He was really hopeless;
everything reminded him of Glorfindel.

The tapestries were not the only pieces of art in the room. There were
paintings too: a peaceful landscape painted by the Lady Celebrian herself and a
portrait of Elros, his shining eyes giving him a roguish air that Elrond
himself lacked but that Elros�s
nephews, the twins Elladan and Elrohir, had definitely inherited.

Yes, Erestor liked this office with
its large windows and glass showcases containing presents from Greenwood and
Lothl�rien, as well as more ancient mementos of now fallen cities and dead
kings, all of them proudly, but not arrogantly, displayed.

When his look finally fell onto Elrond�s
large desk, the Lord of Imladris finished his writing and, sighing, laid the
freshly prepared scroll aside to dry, then searching through the papers neatly
spread on the table, took what he was looking for and placed the letter on the
desk near his Chief Advisor.

�Please, sit down, Erestor, and take
a look.� he asked him. �And for all that�s worthy, stop glaring at me that way.
I�m sorry that I interrupted you again, but this is important and came rather
unexpectedly.�

One of the things Erestor loved
about his Lord was the respect Elrond showed to all his employees. Even if
others deemed it strange that Elrond apologized at all, being the Lord of the
Land, Erestor had always found it extremely gratifying to work for someone like
E�rendil�s son, one who knew his own power but didn�t act as if that made him
any better than others.

�What is it?� murmured the
councillor, taking the carefully folded letter and recognizing the broken seal
at once. �It�s from the Lady Galadriel.�

Elrond sighed before replying. �Yes,
you know that personal correspondence is delivered directly to my hands, and
this,� he said, pointing to the letter Erestor had in his hands, �arrived this
morning� with a delegation from the Golden Wood.�

�A what?� Erestor�s eyes, wide and shocked,
suddenly rose from the paper to fix on Elrond�s. �Why wasn�t I informed of
their arrival? I need to��

�You need to finish reading, my
friend; there are more pressing matters than welcoming a delegation that is
already here, anyway.�

Inwardly railing and trying not to
think of all the things that should have already been done, Erestor did as he
was told and read the letter, setting it on the desk again when he was
finished. Leaning back in the chair, a slight frown marred his brow while he
talked to Elrond.

�I don�t understand it. Galadriel is
sending a difficult youth for us to straighten out? Why us? Why not his
parents? Why send him away?�

Elrond adopted a careful tone in his
answer. �His parents are an important Lord and Lady in Galadriel�s Court, and
they have agreed that Imladris could be a good influence on him.�

Erestor raised an eyebrow at that.
Maybe he was reading between the lines a bit too much, but he had the distinct
impression that they just wanted to get rid of the boy. Judging by what the
letter explained about the youth, it seemed as if they wished to distance
themselves from their son, in order to keep his actions from tarnishing the
family name any longer, or something similar. With that kind of parents, what
child wouldn�t become difficult?

�And,� pressed the advisor slowly,
tapping his lips with his index finger, mentally archiving all the information
he was receiving, �what is written in the letter is true?�

�You mean, the rumours of him
bedding half of the L�rien male population before being of age?�

Erestor silently nodded and Elrond
continued. �I suppose they could be an exaggeration, but one can never be
sure. More than that, what worries me
is the fact that Galadriel had to send him to me, ME, when I�m not even able to
raise my own children properly.�
The Advisor�s facial tension
disappeared at his Lord�s unaccustomed self-doubt, and he couldn�t suppress a
fond smile. �Come now, my friend. It�s not that bad, you�re a capable father
and your children are good. Elrohir is a little bit naughty but��

His Lord interrupted him with a
snort. �Naughty! One can be naughty at 10, 20 or even 30, but Elrohir is 158
years old!! He can�t be called �naughty� anymore!�

�What is he then?�

�A pain in the ass!�

Erestor, with great diplomacy,
pretended a fit of coughing to prevent his laughter from escaping, and listened
to the concerned tone of Elrond�s voice.

�Why me, Erestor? I�ve fathered a
spoiled little princess, a know-it-all smart-ass and a
�let�s-see-what-happens-if-we-catch-fire-to-the-curtains-of-the-dining-room�
rascal. Galadriel is the wise and
firm disciplinarian, so why would she send a difficult elf to ME?�

Elrond didn�t whine. He was a Lord
and Lords didn�t whine. But Erestor guessed that this was the closest a Lord
got to complaining without actually whining.

�You said it yourself.� Strangely enough, it was when the rest of
the people lost their nerve that Erestor became calmest and coldest himself.
�Galadriel is wise, as you said, and she has that pretty mirror of hers� maybe
she foresaw that this boy�s future is here. And please, Elrond, don�t forget
that your children are all happy and loved. Even with all their flaws, they�re
good and have kind spirits. You can�t have done it all wrong if they�re like
that.�

Elrond�s lips curved in a little
smile at Erestor�s gentle words. His weak point had always been his family. It
always helped him calm down when he was reminded of the true nature of his
children behind the pranks and naughtiness.

Reassured once more, he resumed the
main thread. �Well, the boy - Lindir, I think his name is - will receive
musical instruction here.� Elrond took the letter again and reread some
paragraphs. �He�s supposed to be amazingly talented and he has been forbidden
to be trained as a soldier. Why do you think that is?�

Erestor shrugged. �Maybe he dislikes
warfare? Or his old tutors were afraid of him ruining his fingers? I don�t
know. Perhaps he goes berserk when holding a weapon. By the way, when is he due
to come?�

Putting the letter back on the
table, Elrond cleared his throat. �Well, you see� do you remember the
conversation about the L�rien delegation?�

The Advisor�s eyes widened and he
sat upright abruptly to lean on the desk. �Please, don�t tell me that he�s
already here��

�Ok, I won�t,� sighed his Lord, �but
you should think about where to place him anyway, and remember he�s a noble and
needs some quarters that��

�Elrond, I can do my work, I�ve read
the letter, too. If he hasn�t been assigned a room yet, where is he?�

Elrond couldn�t help a smirk at
that. �Didn�t you say that you didn�t want me to tell you that he�?�

�Please, spare me,� Erestor
interrupted him.

�Alright,� the Lord indulged him.
�He�s in the waiting room; as a noble he�s got the right to be welcomed
personally by me and��

Erestor�s eyes grew even wider at
that. �Are you implying that he�s been waiting for an hour while we discussed
this??!�

Erestor�s sense of propriety
screamed at that, but Elrond calmly raised his hand a little to indicate that
he should cool down, and explained. �Erestor, I needed to have this
conversation, and I want you to be present during the interview. I would like
to share impressions with you afterwards.�

The Advisor lowered his gaze and
admitted that his Lord was right. He didn�t blush because� well, he just never
blushed, but he felt slightly ashamed for implying that Elrond�s actions had
been inadequate.

�Of course, milord. Forgive my
outburst.�

Elrond only chuckled at that. �Do
you know that you always fall back to politeness when you�re embarrassed or
distressed?� he teased his Advisor. �Now, go arrange whatever you need to, and
when you�re ready, fetch him and come back here.�

Erestor smiled a bit at the fondness
in Elrond�s voice. Yes, it was a joy to work for him. �Yes, my Lord.�

And with that, he left the room.

--------

He came back shortly thereafter,
having told the nearest servant which rooms were to be prepared, and how and
when they were expected to be ready.

After him walked in the famous
youth: Lindir.

He was beautiful and he knew it. It
was evident as he walked elegantly behind the dark haired Advisor, conscious of
his own graceful gait and the delicate, not too obvious, perfectly balanced,
swaying of his slim hips. As he came near, Elrond could appreciate the silver
shine of his long, straight ice-blond hair falling, unbound but carefully
brushed, to the small of his back. He had a narrow waist and a slender build
with frail looking bones, and his delicate limbs moved in synchronized
coordination as he walked.

But what really bordered on physical
perfection was his face. Thin lips, straight little nose, clear forehead and
fine snowy eyebrows were all dominated by the honey-coloured eyes. Hard and
intelligent. It struck Elrond as truly strange that such a warm colour could
transmit such coldness in an elf so young. The corners of Lindir�s fine lips
were upturned in a rather smug expression. Galadriel was right; this young elf
bore the word �problem� branded on his adorable forehead.

�Please, take a seat,� Elrond
offered as Erestor took his place standing beside his Lord.

The silver haired elf walked to the
chair and sat down with feline elegance. He crossed his legs and waited for
Elrond to talk again.

�Welcome to Imladris, Lindir
o�Lothl�rien. I�m Elrond Peredhel, Lord of this valley and this is Erestor, my
Chief Advisor.� The dark haired counsellor and Lindir nodded to each other in
acknowledgment. �I wish your stay to be pleasant and joyful.�

Lindir repressed a yawn. It was not
so obvious as to be taken as an offence, but both dark haired elves in the room
knew that it had been intentional and calculated.

Elrond forced himself to smile and
ignored the insolence as he kept speaking. �As you well know, you�ve been sent
here to continue your artistic studies and receive instruction as a minst��

�As I well know,� Lindir interrupted
with a soft, high tenor voice and a wicked gleam in his cold eyes, �I�ve been
sent here to not embarrass my illustrious father any further, as well as to
stop bothering my Lady and her consort with my� behaviour.�

So he knew. Elrond had the
impression that it was that sharp intelligence he seemed to possess what made
the beautiful elf so dangerous and difficult to handle.

�So you admit that your� behaviour
is not the proper to your station.�

�So you admit that this is the real
cause of my staying here.�

Damn. He had just recognized
Lindir�s intelligence, why wasn�t he more careful then? He would have
appreciated a little help from Erestor�s sharp mind, but he was the Lord of
Imladris and it was he who was holding this conversation. His Advisor knew and
wouldn�t intervene, thus risking Elrond�s authority. Besides, no elfling would
triumph over him in a discussion, no matter how intelligent and testy that
child proved to be. Elrond was too old and too wise, and had seen too many
things to be beaten by an insolent brat.

The silver haired elf had leaned
back deeper in his seat, the smugness of his lips even more evident.

Elrond continued, �You will start
your classes next week; meanwhile, you�re free to visit any place inside the
borders of the valley and get accustomed to your new home.�

�And to my new comrades,� Lindir
leaned forward and stated with a smirk. �I�m looking forward to seeing if your
subjects are as fair as Lady Galadriel�s� and as tasty.�

He licked his lips as if thinking
about it already.
Ignoring the bait, Elrond replied,
�I couldn�t tell you, I haven�t tried them all out.�

Lindir blinked. He didn�t expect the
Lord to humour him.

�And regarding your first days
here,� Elrond went on, �you�ll need someone to show you the Last Homely House,
so I�ll send a guide to your chambers tomorrow morning.�

Lindir frowned at that. �I don�t
need a baby-sitter,� he snapped, all the smugness gone.

�Then stop acting like an elfling,�
Elrond answered calmly.

�Go to hell!� the apprentice of
minstrel muttered, seething, and stood up, the smug fa�ade gone now, although
he kept his gracefulness as he went to the door.

That was, however, the last straw
for Elrond�s patience to bear, and before the youth got to the exit, he raised
his voice slightly to firmly state, �I didn�t give you my leave.�

Something in Elrond�s ominous tone
made Lindir stop before he reached for the doorknob, and he turned to face the
Lord of the Valley and his Advisor.

�And how do you suppose you�re going
to prevent me from leaving this room?�

�Come back here and sit down,�
Elrond ordered. Were it necessary, he would use the Ring of Power to stop him
from leaving; he wouldn�t permit such an attitude toward him from any elf in
his own House.

There was, as expected, a duel of
wills; silence resounded in the office clearer than any sound as Erestor
witnessed the exchange of looks, one daring and the other firm. The time flowed
slowly while they simply gazed at each other, until finally, Lindir gave in. He
could be petulant, but he was clever enough to acknowledge Elrond�s power. He
was no match for the Lord of Imladris. He had tested his boundaries and finally
found the limits.

He walked back to the chair but
didn�t sit down. He just stood there glaring daggers at the Lord of the Valley,
not even acknowledging Erestor�s presence.

�Sit down.�

Lindir didn�t move. After a few
seconds, he stated, �I�m not your dog.�

Elrond suppressed the urge to sigh. �Lindir,
I�m not your father and I won�t try to tame you or change your ways.�

The future minstrel narrowed his
eyes slightly, unsure of the outcome of Elrond�s lecture.

�But I�m the Lord of this valley,
and as such, I demand some respect from you. You don�t have to like me, nor do
I expect blind obedience from you, but, as I said, I won�t tolerate any
disrespect that defies my authority. I�m the Lord here. You�re not. Live with
that.�

Lindir let out a sort of half-snort
and snapped derisively, �How do you want me to offer respect to someone
egocentric enough to have a self-portrait the size of a mallorn in his working
place?�

The minstrel apprentice had made a
gross miscalculation and, although Erestor was impressed at the quickness of
thought, capacity of observation and sheer brazenness of the silver haired
beauty, he turned his look to his Lord to watch him closely in case Lindir had
finally overstretched Elrond�s proverbial patience.

His worries were unfounded, though,
as the wise Peredhel draw his lips into a dangerous smile and answered. �I
don�t keep any self-portrait here, son.�

After the first glint of stubborn
denial in the musician�s eyes, shocked understanding dawned, and without
thinking, his eyes returned to the portrait.
He had only had a glimpse before, but he couldn�t have been so careless
as to say such an insult and be wrong, could he?

But no, the portrait clearly
portrayed Lord Elrond� oh, no� Elbereth, how could he have been so stupid???

�Yes, the elf in the painting had a
remarkable resemblance to me. That usually happens with twins. That�s my
brother Elros, unfortunately no longer among us.�

Although Elrond kept his voice firm
and unattached, Lindir seemed to adopt a guilty air, as if knowing that he had
brought to the Lord�s mind a painful memory. That lasted but a fraction of a
heartbeat, though, and then he returned again to his defiant attitude.

�Lindir,� Elrond repeated patiently,
�please, sit down.�

The rebellious young elf stood a
moment longer, not giving any hint as to what he was really thinking, until
finally, making it look as if it were his own idea and not an order given, he
elegantly took his seat again.

Glad to see that neither Elrond nor
his gloomy advisor wore the slightest hint of a smile at his capitulation, the
silver haired elf relaxed a little bit and waited quietly for Elrond�s next
words.

�Imladris is not like Lothl�rien,
Lindir. Here, there are no stern norms or protocols; we hold no formal court,
but instead have friendly councils. You will find that your title won�t give
you privileges; instead, it will be your actions that will be judged. Here,
people are who they are and are respected in accordance with that, not with
what title they hold. Keep that in mind, please.�

Lindir seemed to make an effort to
act completely disinterested without resorting to yawning, fidgeting or letting
his look roam astray. Against his better judgement, Erestor found himself
amused by Lindir�s insolence, and even surprised himself by admiring him a
little by the control he held on his emotions and the sheer intelligence of one
so young. In the meanwhile, Elrond continued with his speech.

�This is a small community and I
don�t deem it necessary to hold strict control over it. But there are still
limits. Cross the line and you�ll find yourself sitting in that chair again. As
I said, I�m the Lord of Imladris and I will be obeyed. That�s neither a dare
nor a threat, it�s a fact. Do I make myself clear, Lindir?�

The youth knew well that Elrond was
trying to make him agree to his terms, not just to listen to them, but he
didn�t see a reason to deny him what he wanted. He would feel in no way bound
to anything by his reply, so he answered, obviously unimpressed, �Yes, sir.�

He was mildly surprised to see
honest warmth in Elrond�s eyes when he next spoke. �Your things have already
been sent to your new rooms.� � �or so I hope� he thought, trusting
blindly in his faithful Advisor about this � �Erestor will now see you to them.
Feel free to come to me if you need something, or ask Erestor in my stead.�

Lindir�s beautiful lips twisted
again in an ugly smirk. �Do I have your leave now, my Lord?�

The words were dripping sarcasm, but
Elrond ignored it altogether. �Yes, you have.�

With that, the future minstrel stood
up gracefully and walked to the door, followed by the dark haired Advisor. Just
before closing the door behind himself, Erestor cast a playful wink at his
Lord, and he answered him with a heartfelt sigh.

Alright, one thing behind us. And
now, the delegation�

----

Erestor didn�t bother starting a
conversation. He was not prone to small talk and knew that Lindir wasn�t
either, so they walked in silence through the Imladrian corridors.

The Chief Advisor tried to calculate
mentally how long the interview had taken and if there had been enough time to
clear the rooms he had assigned to the young noble. He hoped so, otherwise, he
had an embarrassing situation ahead of him.

Used as he was to hiding his
thoughts, his worries didn�t reflect on his cool mask, as Lindir�s own didn�t
show on his. Both were beyond feeling uncomfortable in forced silence so they
strode relaxed, side by side, till Erestor finally stopped in front of a
beautifully carved door.

�This will be your chambers from now
on, Lord Lindir.� Although it was nearly an aberration to call one so young
�Lord,�,
it was what protocol dictated, and Erestor was nothing if not proper. �As Lord
Elrond announced to you, an elf will fetch you tomorrow to show you around your
new home. Today at noon you will also be guided to the Halls for lunch, if you
so desire.�

Absentmindedly nodding, Lindir
opened the door to his new rooms and Erestor let out a mental sigh of relief as
he confirmed that the chambers were ready to be lived in. However, these
thoughts didn�t prevent him from noticing the sudden wicked grin that creased
the face of the silver haired youth, and he wondered what the pale elf was
plotting. He
soon discovered it as the musician produced a silver coin out of nowhere and
threw it arrogantly at Erestor.

�Here you are, for the bother,� the
melodious voice said with a slight hint of superiority as Erestor, only by
sheer instinct, caught the coin in midair.

          The dark
haired counsellor needed just a fraction of a heartbeat to realize both the
insult and the calculated intention behind it. Lindir was not an obnoxious
noble being magnanimous. He was deliberately trying to outrage him;,
the only thing he didn�t know yet was why, but the advisor was determined to
find out soon.

What, from another elf would have
angered him to no end and brought out the ugliest and coldest side of himself,
only amused him from the silver haired minstrel. So, deliberately entering his
game, he seriously replied, �Thank you, milord. I�ll go and buy myself some
pretty trinkets with this.�

And with that, he turned around and
left a dumbstruck Lindir wondering why Erestor, proud Chief Advisor to Lord
Elrond of Imladris didn�t miss a beat at being treated as a butler.

Reliving again the counsellor�s
words, Lindir had to suppress a sincere smile. He was beginning to like
Imladris�s strange elves.

-----

�He did WHAT??!�

�I said that he gave me a tip,�
Erestor calmly replied.

�I can�t believe you didn�t kill him
on the spot,� Glorfindel replied with a teasing smile in his voice.

�Indeed, I didn�t,� and he related
to his friend the exact response he had given Lindir and the bewildered
expression the elfling had worn at hearing it.

Glorfindel laughed and Erestor
smiled behind his glass of wine. He had always loved that sound. It was a
blessing that it was so easy to bring the warrior to laughter. He was so
handsome when doing so.

�I can�t understand why you didn�t
take offence,� commented the Seneschal, �I thought you couldn�t stand
arrogance. I remember you saying awful things about King Thranduil for that
same reason.�

Erestor snorted at that. �It�s not
the same. Lindir was trying to antagonize me. It was a carefully planned
insult; there was no real superiority behind his gesture. It was nearly�
endearing.�

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at that
and sipped at his own glass of wine, but didn�t say anything.

�Thranduil is another matter
altogether,� Erestor�s voice grew noticeably darker when talking about the
Greenwood King. �He was not intentionally offending me, he�s just an arrogant
ass.�

�Are you comparing the High Monarch
of the Wood Elves with a donkey?� a highly amused Seneschal asked.

�No, of course not,� Erestor
replied, deadly serious. Then, as an afterthought, he added, �Rather with a
backside.�

Glorfindel laughed and Erestor chuckled,
and they shared a moment of pleasant complicity. As on many other nights, they
spent a little time together after dinner to talk about their days, and, most
importantly, to vent about their problems and tension with a glass of wine and
a good dose of humour.
So long ago, when they had just
started getting to know each other, it had come as a shocking surprise when one
day Glorfindel had nearly choked himself to death with a fit of laughter at
some obscure joke the stern Advisor had uttered under his breath. Of all the
people in Arda, the one Erestor least expected to understand his twisted jokes
was the apparently simple warrior. After that, it hadn�t take him long to
realize that Glorfindel was anything but simple, and that the reborn hero of
Gondolin was one of the few elves in all Imladris who shared his sarcastic
sense of humour.

They understood each other so well�
again, a wave of longing invaded the dark haired Advisor, while drinking in the
sight of his long time friend. The light seemed to love the golden tresses as
much as Erestor did � �well, and all the inhabitants of the valley, for that
matter,� the cynical councillor reminded himself � and cast hypnotic
reflections that caught Erestor�s eye. And heart. And soul. And�

�Enough,� he had to stop his
thoughts again.

It was getting so much worse� the
craving, the hunger, the obsession� how he wished to stop thinking, to stop
feeling, to stop this silliness before the Seneschal noticed, before he
destroyed his world and the life he knew and cherished for a stupid crush. Just
like an elfling, just like a fool. Oh, Valar, how he wished�

�Erestor?�

�Huh?�

The dark haired elf shook his head
as if his thoughts had been far, far away, and not on the smiling elf sitting
across from him, the same elf that was looking patiently at him, as if it was
common occurrence that Erestor indulged himself in daydreaming.

�Come back to me.�

�Oh, please, don�t ask twice.�

Controlling the natural urge to blush, Erestor let himself smile back at
his friend. Even when he knew that the blond hadn�t the slightest idea about
what silly images were plaguing his mind, he always felt at ease in his
presence.

�Sorry,� he excused himself, sipping
again from his wine. �It�s been a trying day and I got distracted.�

Glorfindel playfully snorted. �I
can�t believe you think anything worthier of your attention than ME!� and he
made a big show of pointing to himself as the most important thing in Eru�s
creation.

Erestor rolled his eyes, smiled and
threw a cushion at him that the seasoned warrior purposefully let hit him in
his poised face.

�If only you knew�� Erestor
thought as the silliness of the dignified Balrog-Slayer made him laugh again.
�Idiot,� he called him instead lovingly.

�Thank you,� the blonde replied as
if he had just been complimented. With a poignant look at his now empty glass,
he asked to the other elf, �Shall we have another drink?�

Erestor shrugged in response,
finished the rest of his wine and handed the glass to Glorfindel, who, taking
the crystal receptacle, stood up and approached the place where Erestor kept
his spirits.

�More wine or would you prefer
something more exotic?� asked the warrior, eyeing Erestor�s collection and
asking as though the bottles, glasses and in fact the whole room were his instead
of his dark haired friend�s.

The Advisor�s repeated shrug was
lost, since the Seneschal�s back was still turned toward him as he rummaged
through Erestor�s liquors, so he replied aloud, �Wine is fine.�

Glorfindel turned to him, grinning
at Erestor�s choice of words. �Oooh, Erestor, you�re such a poet!�

The Advisor scowled and muttered
�dumb-head� at the silly blond as he realized the stupid rhyme that his words
had formed, and with a resigned sigh accepted the new glass of wine that the
warrior offered him. One could run out of insults when talking to Glorfindel.

�Sooo�. Who will be the fortunate
elf to show our esteemed and docile minstrel our home, sweet homely home?� the
blond asked, taking his seat again on the couch across from the Advisor.

Erestor let his lips turn up in a
wicked smile, ignoring the idiotic phrasing of the question and getting highly
amused by the answer.

�Give it a guess,� he dared, sipping
from his now full glass.

�Well, I suppose it won�t be our
shy, timid Melpomaen,� Glorfindel reflected aloud, �since from what you have
told me of your interview with the minstrel, Lindir could just eat him alive.�

It never ceased to amaze Erestor
that the warrior knew by given name, occupation and character every inhabitant
of the valley, even the scribes, artisans and cooks. Truth be told, he, Chief
Advisor of Imladris, knew most of them only because of his work, but the
Seneschal seemed to know them (and personally) just because he wanted to.
Because of that, the accurate comment about Erestor�s young apprentice didn�t
come as a surprise.

�Of course not! We need to fight
fire with fire here� so who do you think the best candidate would be?�

�Hmmm�� Glorfindel circled the rim
of his glass with his finger, thinking for a short time until the light in his
eyes revealed that he had come up with an answer, and grinning like mad, he
guessed, �Elrohir!!�

Erestor nodded and, slapping his
thigh with joy, the blond began to laugh. The dark haired Advisor took another
sip of his wine as he listened to his friend.

�Oh, by Elbereth! This surely will
be fun! I can�t wait to see them interact! I�m already dying to train them
together!�

Erestor frowned at that. �Well, I�m
afraid you won�t have that pleasure, my friend, Lindir is not allowed to train
as a warrior.�

Glorfindel blinked at that. �Well, I
know you said that he was a promising musician, but he�s still of the age to
receive weapon training, with the rest of the Imladris population. You know the
law and why it was decreed. Sauron, though defeated, is not annihilated. Basic
knowledge of how to defend oneself is not recommended, it�s needed.�

The joyful tone in Fin�s voice was
all gone now, Erestor realized. The dark haired Advisor could understand his
friend�s worry perfectly. He was old too, and had seen warfare and death. He
knew what the Seneschal thought of training the youths. From his own
experience, Glorfindel o�Gondolin was painfully conscious of his own inability
to protect all that he cherished, and was adamant in his opinion that if he
couldn�t save them all himself, at least he could teach them to save
themselves. They had been granted a reprieve, but the darkness would come back
again.

Erestor, knowing and understanding
all this, just sighed. �There are specific instructions about it in Galadriel�s
missive, Fin. We can�t go against that��

�We�re not a district of the Golden
Wood, we don�t have to receive orders from the Lady Galadriel, and Lindir is of
age. I�ll write personally to the Lady if it�s necessary.�

�Just please,� Erestor pleaded, with
the bitter taste of knowing that he had somehow darkened the evening with this,
�talk to Elrond before you do, alright?�

Glorfindel looked at him as if
realizing that he had become too serious and ruined the night by dropping the
clown-role that he so gladly played. With a quick sketch of a smile, he
promised. �Yes, of course I will.�

For a short moment, silence reigned
while both friends drank their wine. Looking up again from the glass he had
been staring at, Erestor asked, trying to lighten the conversation, �So, who do
you think will prevail, the local champion or the foreigner candidate?�

�You mean Elrohir and Lindir?�
Glorfindel asked before narrowing his eyes slightly in concentration, trying to
compare what he knew of both of them. �I would say Lindir is more intelligent
and bad tempered, but Elrohir CAN really grate on one�s nerves� I would think
that Elrond�s House will win.�

�Mmm�� Erestor gave it more than a
thought. �I don�t know� Elrohir can definitely be - and I�m quoting the words
of his illustrious father - a pain in the ass, but I sense a deep power inside
our minstrel. I wouldn�t underestimate
his brains, so I vote for Lindir.�

Glorfindel, who was used to
disagreeing with Erestor�s opinion as much as he was used to agreeing, smirked
at his dark haired companion and asked, projecting his trademark
self-confidence, �Shall we bet?�

Sipping from his wine again, Erestor
shook his head slowly. �You know that I dislike betting on real people.�

Glorfindel�s smile grew wider at
that. �Mmm� always the self-righteous counsellor, are we?�

Erestor lifted an elegant eyebrow at
that. �Better that than the shallowness of the flippant warriors, always eager
to bet, even on their own mothers.
Remember what happened, Lord of the Golden Flower, the last time we made
a wager.�

Glorfindel�s grin changed to a
childish pout at the mention of that particular event, when he lost the long
tresses that gave him his name. �I�ve been thinking very hard about it�� the
warrior began contemplatively.

�Really,� came the unimpressed
reply.

��and I already know which kind of
return match I�ll demand.�

The patient Advisor was silent while
Glorfindel sipped his wine, until he concluded that his friend was purposefully
waiting for his prodding. And the good boy that he was, he obliged. ��and that
is?�

He didn�t trust the naughty glimmer
that the Seneschal�s eyes had adopted.

�This time I�m not letting luck
decide the result of the wager. This time it will be a match of ability, a
battle of intelligence, a measure of power��

�Whatever.�

Ignoring his friend�s cynicism,
Glorfindel concluded, ��we will play a chess game!!�

After at least ten seconds of
silence, Erestor having dipped his head down slightly to give the blond warrior
a very sceptical look, the dark haired advisor chose to ignore the fact that
the former wager hadn�t been a matter of luck at all, and preferred to reply to
the most important misconception.
�Fin,� he started carefully, �I
don�t mean to be disrespectful toward your illustrious self, or arrogant by any
means, but I really think that you have a better chance with the luck thing.�

�Oh, don�t be so full of yourself��

�Fin, if you beat me at a game of
chess, I�ll eat my own shoes.�

The golden haired warrior rolled his
eyes at Erestor�s supreme self-confidence. True, in the past they had played on
numerous occasions, but Glorfindel hadn�t won a single match. In fact, they had
stopped playing together because it lacked the thrill of competition. But that
was a long time ago� the Seneschal had practiced with Elrond and most of his
friends, and was sure of his chances if only Erestor would give him the
opportunity� and a bit of advantage.

�I�ll take that as an addition to
the wager,� Glorfindel grinned, bringing his glass to his lips again.

Without being conscious of it,
Erestor�s eyes followed the motion and became fixated on Glorfindel�s mouth as
the blond licked the excess of wine out of his lips.

�So full, so ripe, so utterly
sinful��

Suddenly aware of his own line of
thoughts and unabashed staring, he tore his eyes from his friend�s shapely
mouth and fixed them instead on his own glass. His heart drummed like crazy in
his chest and the blood pounded in his ears, not so much for the sensual
feeling he got when ogling his golden haired friend as for the sudden fear, the
terrible panic at being caught by Glorfindel in his desire for him.

He thanked the Valar again for being
able to control his blushing and tried to remember what they were talking about
before he became distracted. Oh, yes, the wager�

Pasting a little self-confident
smile on his face, he dared to lift his eyes again and sipped his wine as if
nothing had just happened.

Fortunately, Glorfindel seemed
oblivious to the changes in his behaviour and kept on talking. �Of course,
being so sure of your victory, you wouldn�t mind if we establish some tiny,
insignificant new rules��

This time Erestor raised his other
eyebrow (it was tiring to always lift the same one) and the Seneschal took that
as a signal to elaborate.

�For example, having to drink a shot
of Dwarvish brandy every time a piece of yours is sacrificed. You know, like a
delicate metaphor to the pain that punishes you when you�re leading one of your
battle units to a glorious death��

�How epic.�

�Yes, I think so, too.�

�Fin, you know you can drop the
silliness, don�t you? It�s me, after all��

�It�s for that reason that I keep
it, you idiot,� The Seneschal answered in an affectionate tone, a warm smile
gracing his features. �If there�s an elf in Imladris in dire need of a buffoon,
that�s you.�

Erestor�s infallible cold mask
cracked at that. Glorfindel was saying that in front of everyone else, he
played the fool for himself, but alone with Erestor, he did it for the
too-serious counsellor. Not for his own protection but for his friend�s
distraction. Glorfindel had rendered him speechless, and that was not an easy
task. He didn�t deserve such a good friend.

�Alright,� he accepted without
thinking, just because he didn�t know what else to say. �I�ll take the wager.�

And with that, he gulped the last of
his wine and left the empty glass on the near-by table.

Watching his friend�s distress and
marvelling at how stiff the stern Advisor became when showed the tiniest bit of
affection, Glorfindel decided to throw a cushion at his face, now that the
glass of wine was empty and safe.

Not paying too much attention and
having already drunk too many glasses of wine, Erestor didn�t see the cushion
coming, and it hit him roundly in the face.

Suddenly lamenting the extinction of
the Balrogs, Erestor glared darkly at his friend, wondering what made
Glorfindel think that he wished to get hit by a cushion right now.

As though reading his thoughts, a
very happy warrior replied, echoing Erestor�s previous words, �Oh, come on,
Erestor, relax a little, will you? It�s me, after all��

�It�s for that that I don�t
relax, idiot,� the dark haired councillor thought, but bit
his tongue to keep from replying. Instead, he rolled his eyes again and threw
the cushion back to the unbearable blond.

�Tsk, tsk, tsk,� the Seneschal shook
his head as he caught the cushion in mid-air, �aren�t you too old for
pillow-fights?�

Not bothering to answer that he was
not the one to start it (well, actually he was, but Fin had thrown it back at
him), Erestor simply watched as the gorgeous blond gulped the last of his wine,
then stood up and left the empty glass on the same table that Erestor had
placed his.

�Well,� he began, �I believe I�ll
call it a night then��

Erestor opened his mouth to bid him
a good night but Glorfindel cut him short.

�No!� he looked away then and put
the back of his hand dramatically on his forehead. �You know that I can�t stay,
so don�t insist!�

�Fin�� Erestor started patiently, as
if talking to a child, although his amused smile gave him away.

�No!� the warrior exclaimed again.
�You know that I��

Then, as if trying to think of more
nonsense he could utter, but not being able to come up with any, he muttered,
�Well� what the hell.�

And it was in that precise moment
that Erestor noticed what Glorfindel�s hand held and realized, just a fraction
of a heartbeat too late, that his last stupidity was only a manoeuvre to
distract him, and then the cushion collided soundly with his face again.

�Glorfindel!!!�

He threw the cushion back at the
warrior, but this was, of course, expected and caught, then thrown again at the
Chief Advisor, who, giggling and cursing Glorfindel�s name, grabbed another
cushion and gracefully ducked the one he was being attacked with.

�Remember!� the blond warrior said
hastily while opening the door, �tomorrow night, my rooms, brandy-chess!�

He had barely pronounced the last
words when he quickly slammed the door, and the cushion that Erestor threw at
him hit the wooden frame instead of his grinning face.

Smiling like the brainless fool he
knew he was, Erestor picked up the cushions from the floor, placed them where
they belonged and let himself fall onto the couch sighing.

�Ah, Fin��

---------

TBC


By the way, if someone is interested in helping me with this in the
form of a second beta, to contrast opinions and such, please, let me
know!! ^^
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Kisses on the Brow