Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Mine	By : IdrilsSecret Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3171 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or places of Lord of the Rings/Tolkien. No money is being made. This is for personal enjoyment only.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Chapter 13 – Getting On

The elves left the lands of the Rhovanion and were traveling back to Lothlórien. They moved slowly with the injured in tow. What carts they had were used to transport those who could not walk or ride. Glorfindel, though he protested, was amongst the injured. Erestor rode his horse, always staying close to the cart that Glorfindel was in. When they stopped and made camp for the night, Erestor was always at Fin’s fire, though the elf lord would often not be there himself, always off on some personal mission. Things hadn’t been … right … between them ever since their capture, and neither one could find a moment to discuss matters.
Astarion was made to travel by himself with only guards as companions. The Lothlórien elves did not trust Astarion, and they made him travel blindfolded. Many thought him to be a weapon of the enemy, saying that no one enslaved by the dark ones for as long as Astarion could be considered trustworthy. The ancient elf had spent countless centuries being tortured, used, brainwashed, and whatever else he might have endured. They saw him as a spy, able to be overcome by the Nazgûl, using his eyes to see and his ears to hear as they tracked back to Lothlórien.
Glorfindel had wanted to travel with Astarion, to try and begin whatever healing he could administer. In the end, he was denied this privilege and forced to ride with the injured. Even one as great as Glorfindel was not given everything he wanted, and he made his displeasure well known.
It was at night when the elves made camp that were the hardest for Erestor. While he tried to spend a quiet moment with Glorfindel, he never had him to himself for very long. When he was not being called away by one of the Lothlórien elves, he was being summoned by Astarion, who frequently suffered nightmares that it seemed only Glorfindel could chase away.
Erestor was tiring quickly of the routine, and even thought that Astarion was deceiving them, just to have Glorfindel to himself. Perhaps things would be different once they returned to the city.
They finally reached the borders of Lothlórien, and not by a welcoming crew. The wardens had been given strict instructions to allow all to enter except for the ruined one. Erestor stood by and watched as Glorfindel argued for the sake of his ancient love, that Astarion should be allowed to be seen by healers. The counselor was struck by Glorfindel’s persistence over the care of this … this thing, as he had come to inwardly refer to Astarion.
Lastar was never far during these uncomfortable scenes. He never approached Erestor, but his eyes evoked a kindly sorrow for the counselor’s one sided suffering. In an odd way, Erestor was glad Lastar was there to witness what he thought only he saw. But it seemed to confirm the uncertainty about his relationship with Glorfindel, and Erestor felt himself becoming infinitesimal with every moment that passed. Astarion was Fin’s main concern now, he thought to himself, as he left Glorfindel at the border and entered Lothlórien.
Finally settled into his guest quarters, Erestor sat at a small writing desk, a half empty bottle of wine on one side, and a feather and quill on the other. Laying in front of him was a clean piece of parchment, and he stared at it as though it was full of words. He was contemplating whether or not he should return to Rivendell. Should he leave without Glorfindel? Should he leave behind a note so Fin would not worry? Would Fin even notice he was gone if he left no note at all?
So far, there’d been no sign of Glorfindel. Still at the border, he figured. Still fighting for something that should have been put out of its misery … and his own. Erestor hated these jealous thoughts. They elicited memories of the Seeing Stone and the conversation he had heard between Glorfindel and Astarion. He felt the darkness creep back into his chest, though that entity had been cast out back in Dol Guldur.
“Why should I be jealous of a corpse?” Erestor asked himself. “Certainly Fin will realize what he has been doing, and come to admit that there is no amount of medicine, no spell that can return Astarion back to the elf Glorfindel remembered him as.”
A thought crossed his mind, like a black shadow. “What if Glorfindel has been affected as I was?” Perhaps that was why Fin was so determined to see Astarion allowed into Lothlórien. If the Nazgûl could implant himself in Erestor’s mind, certainly the same thing could have happened to Fin.
“No evil has stepped into Caras Galadhon, least not in its pure form. But if what the others predict to be true about Astarion being the eyes and ears of the enemy, then Glorfindel’s will could be bent towards being his guard.”
* * *
A few days had passed, and there had been no sign of Glorfindel until one evening, late into the night. Erestor was deep in dreams, when he awoke to the feel of someone curled against his back. The woodsy scent easily gave away the identity of this intruder. Glorfindel had come to him, and was now spooned against him, one strong arm wrapped possessively around his waist. Erestor stirred and a nose nuzzled behind his ear.
“I did not mean to wake you,” Glorfindel whispered, his voice sounding gravelly from too many nights sleeping in the elements.
“It’s alright. I wish you had awakened me sooner. How long have you been here?” Erestor asked, though the chill still clinging to Glorfindel’s flesh told him it hadn’t been long.
Glorfindel did not answer, but instead pushed the evidence of his visit firmly against Erestor’s back. “I need you, meldanya. It’s been far too long.”
How easy it would be to let his gilded lover seduce him, but Erestor could not overlook their last conversation when Glorfindel had told him to go away. “What do you want, Glorfindel?”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
“Do you not remember our last conversation?” Erestor rolled onto his back to face him.
“You’re not still upset about that, are you?”
Erestor moved himself up onto his elbows, and looked down at Glorfindel. “You told me to go away. You told me to leave, and you have not spoken to me since then, except for polite conversation. Now you come to my bed, pretending that nothing has happened in the last few weeks.”
“Do you want me to apologize? Fine then, I’m sorry.”
Erestor squirmed out from under Glorfindel and stood from his bed. “You think you can cast me from your side, ignore me for days on end, and then come back here looking to satisfy your needs? I don’t know what has come over you, but even this is uncharacteristic of you.”
“You know what has been happening since we left Dol Guldur. You know I must tend to Astarion, and that has taken up a great deal of my personal time.” Glorfindel sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “No one else around here will see to him,” he muttered.
“That’s because they all know it is a lost cause. The elves do not trust him, and neither do I.”
Glorfindel’s head rose slowly, his eyes looking dangerous as he settled them on Erestor. “Of all people, I thought you would understand my situation. I cannot abandon Astarion, and if that is what you want from me, then perhaps I should go.”
“What is it, Glorfindel? What good do you see in him that the rest of us cannot detect? Did they do something to you … the Wraiths? Did they put you under some dark spell?”
“They did not,” Fin answered with irritation.
“They must have done something to you. You are not yourself.”
“Do you want to know what happened?” Glorfindel asked as he rose from the bed. He walked slowly towards Erestor and circled him. “They stuck me in one of those cells where we found the others. I could still smell their blood, though the bodies were gone. The thought of killing them filled my mind, as though they were still there, begging me for an end to their suffering. And I thought back even further, to the last time I saw Astarion in that tunnel, a flood of black orcs swallowing him. I saw his eyes pleading for me to fire … just one shot, that’s all I had. He’d sacrificed himself so that I could get away and lead our people to safety, but that last glance into his eyes had been a plea for an end, just like those we found in the cells. And … and I failed him. I could not do it. I could not kill him because … because I loved him.”
“And do you still?” Erestor whispered regrettably, afraid to know his answer.
“I feel as though I’ve been given another chance to save him. He’s alive, Erestor, and it is my responsibility to see to him. No one else will do it because it has been left up to me. It is unfinished business.”
“Avoiding my question is an answer in and of itself,” Erestor said with ire on the rise.
“There was a connection between Astarion and me. We bonded as soldiers, as Gondolindrim, and as friends. It is something that you cannot understand, something I share with only him, and if there is only the slightest possibility of saving him, then I must do so.”
“And if you save him then what? Where does that leave us? Have you given any thought to how I feel about any of this?”
“It does not concern you. It happened a very long time ago, and now it is my responsibility to see to him. But if you cannot understand that, then maybe I have been wrong about you, Erestor. Maybe you are not the compassionate elf that I thought you were.”
Erestor rounded on him, eyes shooting sharp shards of hazel. “I am not the compassionate one? It was you who cast me from your side when I questioned your decision to help Astarion. As soon as I inquired, you told me to leave. You ignored me for weeks, no messages, no visits. Not until your cock swells do you think of me, and here you are in my bed. Well, if you want to fuck something, then go back to that thing and rut around on the filthy ground. Or better yet, why don’t you go fuck yourself, Glorfindel.”
Glorfindel walked slowly up to Erestor, standing within inches of him, looking at him with menacing intensity. Erestor could feel Fin’s anger emanating from him like some kind of fire red energy. It would take nothing for the great warrior to snap his neck like a twig, and the look in Glorfindel’s eyes seemed to mirror that thought. Murder, Erestor thought, was not far from his thoughts. But Erestor stood his ground, and he did not flinch. And just when he thought Glorfindel might explode into a rampage, the warrior lifted his head and looked at the door. Then he walked out without looking back, not a word spoken in response to Erestor’s insults.
Erestor could not let it end in silence. He needed to tell him one last thing before he disappeared again. “You are being used, Glorfindel. Whether by the Nazgûl or by Astarion, I cannot say. Make your choice soon. Live in the darkness with him, or come hail in the light with me, but you cannot have both.”
Erestor was answered with the door slamming shut, and Glorfindel was gone. He stood alone in the darkness of his guest quarters, not breathing, not seeing, only hearing the sound of the slamming door. What had he just done? Could he not have gone about it a different way? Suddenly, his lungs started working again, and he exhaled the breath he’d been holding. A tight knot formed in his stomach, and he thought he might heave up the contents of his supper. The walls felt like they were closing in. He walked over to a carafe of wine and tried to pour a glass, but his hands shook violently, and it spilled all over the table. Instead, he went to the wardrobe and hastily put on his counselor robes and boots. He sat on the edge of the chair next to the closet, waiting until he was sure it had been long enough that he would not find Glorfindel anywhere near the guest quarters. He had no doubt that the warrior would not stay in the city, and that he would be off to the borders, back to his camp, back to Astarion.
After getting his breathing under control, Erestor left his room and walked along the endless bridges and walkways of Caras Galadhon. Celebrations were still going on in honor of their victory at Dol Guldur. Erestor should have felt victorious too. He’d fought well, especially after living a peaceful non-confrontational lifestyle for so long. Yet, he could have killed a thousand more orcs on the spot, and still felt he’d not finished his business. He kept thinking back to when he first discovered Astarion, before he knew who or what he was. For one single moment, the Gondolin elf had looked into Erestor’s eyes and begged for relief from the tortured life he’d been a part of for so long. Erestor was prepared to give it to him, but Glorfindel had come into the cell when he heard the others voice. He’d told the counselor to stop, to let him speak to the prisoned elf. That’s when it all changed, though at the time Erestor hadn’t known it.
So deep in his thoughts he was that Erestor hadn’t known that he wasn’t alone on the platform where he stopped. A hand touched his shoulder and Erestor jumped, throwing himself against the railing.
“Easy Counselor, it’s just me,” Lastar said. He could not help but notice Erestor’s unusual behavior. “Is everything alright? You seem a bit startled.” When Erestor did not respond, Lastar became concerned. “Erestor, it is only me. What has happened? You look as though you’ve seen a ghoul.
Erestor was out of sorts, too deep in his thoughts, and having difficulty recovering from the shock of seeing Glorfindel’s cold-blooded eyes. He could not form words and shook his head. Lastar took his arm, and his cold hands brought back memories of the coolness of Glorfindel’s skin. He wanted to pull away from Lastar, but he was afraid he might not be able to support himself. Instead, he used the railing to help keep upright while he regained his balance.
“I … I, I … I’m not sure what happened,” he stammered.
“You are cold, Erestor. You should get back inside. How long have you been wandering out here, and why aren’t you resting?”
“I needed the fresh air. I needed to be outside to collect myself, but now I find that I need to rest. Help me back to my quarters, Lastar, if you will?”
Lastar wasted no time and led Erestor back to his room. He decided it was best to wait until he got Erestor warm and let him gather himself before asking what had happened.
Once back inside, Lastar made a fire in the hearth and threw a blanket around Erestor’s shoulders. He poured a glass of wine, finding some had spilled onto the table, making the surface sticky and sweet smelling. He quickly glanced around the room to see if anything else was out of place. Erestor’s bed was unmade. He must have been sleeping earlier.
Lastar handed the glass to Erestor, who looked up only as far as the glass, and thanked him. Then the young elf brought a stool up to Erestor’s chair and took a seat next to him, watching as the counselor gulped the wine.
“Was it another vision?” Lastar asked. “Did you dream of something that awoke you in the night?”
Erestor shook his head in answer. He took another sip from the glass, closed his eyes and breathed deep. “It’s Glorfindel.”
“Oh,” Lastar said, sounding disappointed. He caught himself and continued to cover his emotion. “Has something happened at the border?” He knew that was where Astarion had been ordered to stay, and that Glorfindel had been with him this whole time.
Erestor remained silent for a long time, staring into the fire, and let the warmth of the wine purl in his stomach. When he finally spoke, his voice was cracked with tiredness. “It was his eyes, Lastar. I’ve never seen them like that before, so intense, so full of rage. It scared me. I thought for a moment that he might cleave me over the head, but he left without saying a word.”
“Glorfindel was here? But I thought he was at the border with his charge.”
“His charge,” Erestor mumbled. “You make it sound as though he was ordered to guard Astarion. He does it because he wants to, and he’ll let no one else near that elf.”
“No one else wants to go near Astarion. The others fear him, or fear what he might do. He is not a complete elf anymore. He has been transformed. He is like a wild animal in the black of night. You know he is there, and you are just waiting for him to sink his fangs into your flesh. The elves are nervous, and they want him gone from Lothlórien. He is a danger to us all.”
“I know that, you know that, and so does everyone else, but Glorfindel. He’s determined to save him. Says he can heal him over time, turn him into the elf he once lov–, once knew,” Erestor corrected himself.
Lastar leaned towards Erestor and said in a very quiet voice, “What happened between you and Glorfindel?”
“I wish I knew, Lastar. He was here when I awoke, and he seemed like himself, but then suddenly he wasn’t. I tried to talk some sense into him, tried to get him to change his mind about Astarion, but he became angry and defensive of him. I was so angry at him for defending Astarion, and I said some things that perhaps I shouldn’t have. And then his eyes settled on me as he stood in front of me, and for the first time I actually feared for my life.” Erestor leaned back in his chair, eyes still focused on the fire. “He’s changed, Lastar, but whether it is his doing or that of unseen forces I do not know. Not even I could pull him from his strange state.”
“I too have noticed this change. I didn’t want to say anything, for it was not my place to do so, but I felt his reserve as we traveled back to Lothlórien, and I saw his coldness towards you. I’m sorry Erestor. I know how much this must sting, but perhaps once things settle–”
“It is over, I think,” Erestor interrupted in a whispered breath.
Lastar gave a huffed laugh and a smile of disbelief. “Not you and Glorfindel. You are soul mates. I can think of no two elves ever so perfectly matched. Of course it is not over. You’ve only had an argument and that–”
“It’s different this time, Lastar.” Erestor stood from his chair and went to the hearth. He reached for the edge of the mantle, and he laid his head upon the back of his hand. The heat from the fire rose against his face. It should have been a comfort, fire’s warmth had always felt that way, but all he could think of was the belligerent heat that Glorfindel emitted as he stared at him. That look was none other than hate, a look that Erestor had only seen him give to his enemies. “He has made his choice.”
Erestor expected Lastar to join him, to touch his shoulder or give comforting words. Instead, he heard the quiet tread of the young elf moving towards the door. Erestor looked over his shoulder. “Where are you going?” he said in a panic.
“Someone needs to tell Glorfindel what he has done here. He cannot treat you like this and not give you some kind of explanation,” Lastar said perturbed.
“Please, no. Let it go for now.”
“No!” Lastar shouted. “Time and time again I have seen him hurt you in one way or another. Sometimes it is just a disagreement. Sometimes it is a little more serious. But this … this is unacceptable.”
“Lastar,” Erestor said in a raised voice, “I demand that you stay out of this. You are out of line in this matter.”
“Glorfindel is the one who’s out of line, and someone needs to tell him.”
“It is not your place to say anything.”
Lastar sighed deeply and let go of the door handle. “Alright,” he whispered. “Fine then. I will keep my mouth shut … for now. But Erestor, you cannot let yourself live in a place of oblivion, to wonder what happened, what will follow, and if he means it this time. Glorfindel may choose to wallow in misery, to waste his days trying to help someone that is well beyond anyone’s help, but you must go on. You have to know for sure if it is through so you can grieve and move on. Don’t let yourself waste away for his sake.” With that said, Lastar left.
* * *
Weeks passed, and in that time, Erestor returned to Rivendell. Lastar went with him, but Glorfindel remained outside of Lothlórien with Astarion. Erestor said nothing when he left, but Glorfindel had seen him leave the city, bags packed and securely fitted to his horse. There was no question that Erestor was going home, and Glorfindel did not try to stop him.
Once settled back in Rivendell, Erestor took up his usual duties within Lord Elrond’s libraries. He tried to put aside his feelings and all that had happened since being captured in Dol Guldur, but it was not easy. What he ignored during the waking hours seemed to find a way in through dreams. It was not just Glorfindel that he dreamt of. He continually relived his time in captivity, when the Witch-king tried to turn him against everyone and everything. Those visions that the Seeing Stone had implanted in his mind returned often, along with a small voice that always reminded him what he could have had if he’d only given in to the darkness. Erestor thought it was utter rubbish. He would never have let the Nazgûl sway him, to trade eternal power for the lives of his very kin. But what if he’d let just a small portion of it into his soul. He could have had Astarion destroyed, and had Glorfindel back in his heart. Fin would have seen, eventually, that Astarion was no good, that he was only using him to find a way into those places that evil could not touch. And in the deepest, darkest hours of the night, Erestor knew that what he wanted most was to have Fin to himself again. It was worth almost anything to set their love and their lives straight … almost.
Erestor had a new apprentice, a youthful and … for lack of a better word … elegant ellon named Canyo. He was slight of frame, long chestnut hair, thin faced with prominent cheek bones. He seemed almost fragile, Erestor thought to himself, not an ounce of soldiering in this one. But he was excited about his job and eager to learn. It seemed to work out well for both of them, and their working relationship had developed easily. Canyo put in long hours when needed, and he was catching on to Erestor’s little quirks and preferences. Just the day before, he had remembered to light the incense that the counselor was so fond of, and the library once again smelled the way Erestor always remembered. Now, he would teach Canyo how to prepare his favorite orchid tea, and life would be back to normal … almost.
Erestor found himself using that word too often, but what did he expect? Without Glorfindel around, things would never be quite right. Perhaps he needed to heed Lastar’s advice and not waste away. He was trying, but it would take a long time to heal from such an intense relationship … if he would heal. There were times he thought it would never happen, and he’d spend the rest of his days figuring out how to go on. It was the choice he gave Glorfindel that kept Erestor from wasting away. Some part of him still held out hope that Fin would return, that it would be alright once more.
“Not much has changed around here,” said Lastar from Erestor’s office doorway.
“Lastar,” Erestor smiled. “Come in. What brings you here?”
“Oh, well … I haven’t been to the libraries since … well, since–”
“Since I dismissed you from your avocation?” Erestor finished for him.
Lastar seemed to blush as he looked to the ground in embarrassment, and the corner of his mouth curled in the slightest of smiles. “Yes, since then, and I admit that I rather miss it.” He could see that he was already causing the atmosphere to become an uncomfortable one, and he quickly relented. “But, of course, I understand your reasoning.”
Erestor watched Lastar behave awkwardly, and he realized just how devastating it must have been. At the time, Erestor was upset with Lastar for disobeying him and following him to Dol Guldur. But the young elf’s reasons for doing so were out of concern and an unyielding love he held for the counselor. That made it all the more difficult between them, for Erestor would not, could not return those feelings. Yet, he always found himself wanting to at least be Lastar’s friend. Even now, he wished they could sit comfortably with each other, and not have the underlying tension of knowing the other pined for him.
As they spoke, Canyo came into the room with a pot of tea and two cups. It had undoubtedly been prepared for him and the counselor, but when he saw there was a guest, he relinquished his serving. “Tea for you and your company, my lord.”
The scent of the tea reached Erestor’s nostrils. Not the orchid that he so desired, but the haughty aroma of a bold mountain tea, the kind brewed from the leaves of a shrub instead of delicate flowers. It was all well and good, though. Erestor needed something a bit invigorating rather than relaxing. “Smells delightful,” he said kindly, and Canyo smiled, satisfied with his choice.
As Canyo entered the room, Lastar turned to greet the new apprentice. Canyo’s eyes met Lastar’s and Erestor saw that very first connection between two souls, or at least one soul noticing another. Lastar remained on the friendly side, while Canyo looked in awe of the black haired ellon.
“I’d like you to meet my … friend, Lastar,” Erestor said carefully to Canyo. He had become used to referring to Lastar as his apprentice because he’d never referred to him as anything else.
Canyo carefully set the tea tray on Erestor’s desk and turned to Lastar. He bowed respectfully, and when he stood straight again, his eyes settled on Lastar’s. “Nice to meet you. I am–”
“My replacement,” Lastar interrupted, as he enjoyed making the other elf uncomfortable.
“Oh, you are … uh, were … that is, I … um,” Canyo stammered.
Lastar huffed a laugh. “You are quite charming–”
“Canyo,” he finished, recollecting himself when he realized that he was talking to the former apprentice of the Chief Counselor.
“Very nice to meet you, Canyo. You have your work cut out for you. Lord Erestor is a demanding employer, but he is most fair,” Lastar said with a crooked smile to the counselor.
“Won’t you be joining us?” Erestor asked when he saw only two cups on the tray.
“Perhaps another time.” Canyo’s eyes met Lastar’s once more. “Most definitely.”
Erestor found the exchange between Canyo and Lastar quite intriguing, and it gave him an idea. Once he and Lastar were alone in the office and satisfied with teacups in hand, he began his matchmaking. “A handsome one, that.”
“He is lovely, if I do say so myself.”
“It’s the chestnut hair. Not all that common in the region,” Erestor said, making small talk and leading Lastar into his plan.
“Perhaps a bit of wood elf in his blood. Not a bad thing to be.”
Erestor took a sip of the strong tea. “You know what they say about wood elves … dangerous in more ways than one.”
Lastar peeked over the edge of his cup to where Erestor sat opposite him. “Why, Erestor, breaking out of your solitary bubble already? I’m surprised.”
It was actually Erestor who was surprised by the comment, and he quickly corrected Lastar. “I was not implying to myself.”
“Me?” Lastar said shocked.
“He seems interested in you. Did you not notice his eyes upon you the whole time he was in the room?” Erestor asked.
“Oh, well, I’m not sure I–”
“And why not? You are not with anyone, are you?” Erestor said convincingly. “And you are young and handsome. What’s the harm in asking him to join you for dinner one evening?”
“No harm, I suppose,” Lastar said cynically. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” Erestor defended. “I would just like to see you happy.”
“I am happy,” Lastar said, though it came across a little harshly. He surrendered and corrected his tone. “I’m happy, Erestor, but it is you who I worry for. We’ve been home for weeks now, and I’ve hardly seen you leave the libraries.”
“I’m fine, Lastar. Besides, you don’t expect me to pick up everything and move on so quickly, do you?”
“I would if it was me,” Lastar murmured.
“You know nothing of true love if you can say that.”
“I apologize. You’re right, of course. I’ve always been too hasty with my words, which is why I am no longer your apprentice. But I do understand, and I realize it is better this way. And so, to make you … happy … I will take your advice and ask Canyo to dinner if you’ll join me for a bit of musical entertainment and storytelling later in the week. You need to get away from this dusty old place once in a while.”
“You’ll speak with Canyo right now?” Erestor asked.
“Yes.”
“Very well.”
Lastar stood from his chair, replaced the teacup on its tray and made his way to the door. As Erestor watched him go, he couldn’t help feel that Lastar had changed considerably since first meeting him. He’d matured, grown in body and in mind. It seemed to happen overnight, but then, meeting a Nazgûl face to face and risking your life had a tendency to make one less timid.
“Lastar,” Erestor called to him. He stopped and turned back around. “I’m not sure I ever properly thanked you for what you did for me. You truly saved my life.”
“I am always there for you, Erestor, whatever you may need.” Lastar smiled, his eyes shining in the lamplight, and left the office.
- 12
- 13
- 14
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Mine