Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Greenleaf&Imladris 11-In the Silence of Our Hearts	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 2536 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 1
- 2
- 3
Part II

Glorfindel came out of his room the following morning, wincing as each step jarred his aching head. He was surprised to find Erestor awaiting him on the porch just outside his quarters. The dark-haired Elf was seated at the small table therein, a goblet in front of him. He looked none-the-worse for the headache he must have surely experienced the night before.

“You look rather well,” Glorfindel commented a little resentfully.

To his amazement, Erestor smiled brightly and said, “Lord Elrond provided me with a most efficacious remedy. Here, drink this,” he advised, indicating the goblet. “It will ease your headache quite quickly.”

Glorfindel took a seat and reached dubiously for the goblet. Glancing sceptically at the counsellor, he raised it and downed its content swiftly. His grimace eloquently expressed his opinion of the draught.

“Are you certain you aren’t trying to get rid of me?” he scowled.

Erestor actually chuckled, making the golden-haired Elda stare at him. “If I wanted to get rid of you, meldir, I wouldn’t resort to something as unreliable as poison,” he replied rather smugly.

“No? Then what would you use?”

“Any number of measures that you know well. You taught them to me after all.”

Glorfindel smiled. The reply had been uttered with warmth and – could it be? – affection?

“Aye, you were always a most able student. My very best, in fact.” His heart gladdened further when Erestor’s eyes gleamed with pleasure at the compliment. This was certainly a welcome development.

He suddenly sighed with relief as his headache dissipated. “Ai, thank the Powers! I thought my head would burst.” He glanced at Erestor questioningly. “What in Arda happened yesterday? Do you know?”

Erestor nodded. "'Twas the drink.”

“But it was just Iorwen’s fruit nectar.”

“So Arwen told us. But I spoke to Iorwen about this and she said the twins asked her to make up a pitcher for them.”

Glorfindel sat back with a comprehending sigh. “Why does that not surprise me?” he remarked. “I wonder what they put in it.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Erestor commented wryly. He continued, “They neglected to remove the pitcher from the library and I was able to examine the remaining contents.”

“And?”

“It had separated during the night and the nectar settled on the bottom. The liquid on top was miruvor.”

“Miruvor!” Glorfindel stared at the steward in disbelief.

“In equal proportion to the nectar itself.”

The fair-haired Elda let out his breath. “Elbereth!” he muttered. “No wonder we—” He stopped, his fair face flushing with embarrassment.

“Aye, no wonder,” Erestor agreed with a small smile.

Glorfindel wondered at the steward’s mellow mood. Mayhap he was still affected by the cordial? He felt his cheeks burn as he again remembered what had nearly happened the day before.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Since this was obviously a jest on their part, were they...?” He trailed off, discomfited by the thought that their former charges had most likely been at the very doors of the library listening in on the results of their ingenious scheme.

Some trace of color stained the steward's cheeks. A very becoming sight, Glorfindel absently noted.

“I thought of that,” Erestor admitted. “‘Tis most likely they were just outside.”

“Until Elrond approached.”

“Aye.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “I do not know whether to strangle them or salute them for their creativity.” He glanced his companion ruefully. “I apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he offered. “It was unseemly of me.”

Again Erestor surprised him by beaming good-humoredly. “Do not apologize. We were not ourselves.”

“That we were not,” Glorfindel vigorously agreed. “Not for all the mithril in Arda would I have ever done that if not for that confounded concoction!”

With his words, the good humor abruptly seeped out of Erestor’s expression. He frowned and sat back in his chair, shoulders stiffening discernibly. Glorfindel was startled by the sudden transformation.

“Erestor, what is wrong?”

Erestor’s mouth tightened. “It seems things have not changed after all,” he said so softly, Glorfindel had to strain to hear him. “I should have known.”

Glorfindel stared at him perplexed. “Should have known what?”

The slate green eyes narrowed. “I should have known better than to fool myself.” Bitterness crept into the steward’s voice. His face settled into his well-known reserved mask.

“What are you talking about?”

“I shall speak to the young ones and ensure they never repeat this,” Erestor responded coldly. “I would not have you experience such unpleasantness again.”

Glorfindel was aghast. With belated enlightenment, he realized what his words must have imparted to the auburn-haired Elf. But before he could speak, Erestor rose from his chair and began to walk away. Glorfindel caught him by the wrist.

“Erestor, I did not mean it that way,” he said ruefully.

He winced inwardly when the counsellor plucked his hand from his grip as if he had been scalded by his touch.

“Spare me your bogus apologies,” Erestor retorted. “You always mean exactly what you say.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Glorfindel demanded indignantly.

“Turn your fancy elsewhere, pen neth. You are not up to my exacting standards,” Erestor hissed. “Have you forgotten your words, Glorfindel? I have not. But you need not fear another distasteful encounter for, I assure you, this will never happen again!”

With those scathing words, he turned away and strode swiftly from the porch leaving Glorfindel impaled on the remorse-tipped spear of painful memories. The Elda did not stir from his seat, immobilized by regret and hopelessness. He did not hear the approach of others until they were practically upon him.

“Glorfindel?”

He glanced up to see Elrond’s children and the Mirkwood prince standing before him, faces limned with concern and distress. Suspicion coursed through his mind.

“Are you all right?” Elladan added.

Glorfindel scowled. “You heard?”

The four glanced at each other guiltily. Elrohir explained: “We did not mean to. We were planning to speak to you but Erestor was already waiting for you.”

“We did not want to interrupt your conversation,” Arwen murmured.

“And so you eavesdropped instead,” Glorfindel said caustically.

“We are sorry,” Elladan offered. "'Twas not our intention.

“But we are glad we did,” Elrohir finished.

“Glad?” Glorfindel repeated incredulously.

“Aye. Because now we can help you.”

“You have already helped too much!” Glorfindel bellowed.

The quartet flinched, convinced that that roar had been heard all the way to the Golden Wood. Legolas hastily said: “We only thought to get you and Erestor to relax and become closer to each other. For too long have you two suffered in loneliness.”

Glorfindel was taken aback. “I do not know what you are talking about, Legolas,” he replied.

“Oh, stuff it, Glorfindel!” Ignoring the four pairs of shocked eyes that descended on her, Arwen pressed on. “We know you too well not to recognize how lonely you are though the Valar know how hard you try to hide it.”

“Erestor is even worse,” Elladan remarked. “He pretends not to care but we know better.”

“Please, let us help you,” Elrohir said. “If we caused you trouble with our actions then we are truly sorry. At least, allow us to make amends in whatever way we can.”

Glorfindel sighed wearily. He knew they would not relent until he had acquiesced. “What do you want then?”

“The truth. What drove you to say such a cruel thing to him?”

"'Tis a long story,” Glorfindel said unhappily.

Legolas smiled encouragingly. “We have all morning.”

Glorfindel almost groaned as the four settled themselves around the table. They were determined to hear the tale.

“From the jest you played on us, I assume you already know something of our past,” Glorfindel scowled.

They had the grace to flush in chagrin.

“We found out he was one of your students,” Elladan admitted.

“And that he was quite attached to you,” Arwen added.

Glorfindel stared at them then nodded. “He was not merely one of my students,” he said. “He was the best of them. My favorite because of his intelligence and wit.”

“And beauty?” Elladan ventured.

Glorfindel glared at him at first then exhaled in resigned exasperation. “The things you think of...”

“Father says you tried to temper his attachment to you,” Elrohir prodded.

The captain grimaced uncomfortably. “I was uneasy with his devotion,” he explained. “He was so vulnerable and at an age when his feelings were at their most turbulent. I did not want him to get hurt. Not after he’d lost his parents so cruelly.”

Arwen frowned. “Would he have gotten hurt?” she softly asked.

Her query made Glorfindel catch his breath. He paused uncertainly. “I am not certain...” he murmured. “I only did what I thought was right for him.” He looked at their attentive expressions. He finally gave in, recognizing the futility of stalling with these four.

********

He was in his room, abed, unwinding after a long day of training young warriors. He had not been expecting anything untoward to happen. It was then that Erestor had come to him heralded by a timid knock on his door. He swiftly rose after bidding the youth to enter.

The Elf had just returned from a short visit to Lindon where some of his distant kin resided under Círdan’s lordship. He had enjoyed his stay at the Grey Havens and the company of his father’s cousins. But even the beauty of the sea had not assuaged his yearning for Rivendell, the one place he considered his true home, and he had come back sooner than expected.

The painfully shy adolescent had blossomed into a warm and affectionate man-child. Erestor, with his silken hair of darkest auburn, slate green cat-like eyes, proud, aquiline nose and thin yet sinuous lips, was of uncommon handsomeness. Glorfindel did not know much about his forebears but oft thought that it was a glorious fusion of

Vanyarin, Noldorin and Sindarin blood that must have gone into the lad’s making.

The young Elf was also swiftly gaining the body of an Elven warrior thanks to Glorfindel’s diligent instructions. But his main interest still lay in the scholarly pursuits rather than in warfare. That combination of sensuous features, physically trained form and serious, knowledge-hungry eyes was nothing less than breathtaking. Erestor did not seem to take notice, indeed seemed wholly immune to it, but he garnered the admiration of more and more Elf-males and maids alike as he matured.

The youth now approached his teacher with hesitation, his cheeks coloring ever so slightly in bashfulness. The fading light of Anôr shining through the paned windows to his right brought out the lush dark red of his burnished hair. Glorfindel had to smile at the charming apparition that neared him.

“What is it, pen neth?”—young one?—Glorfindel asked gently.

“I-I have something for you, hir nîn”—my lord—Erestor half stammered.

“Something for me?” Glorfindel’s smile widened. “What is the occasion?’

“No occasion. ‘Tis only a token of gratitude for all the time and effort you have spent on me.”

The youth shyly presented a small velvety bundle tied with a delicate ribbon. Glorfindel accepted it with gravity softened by the small smile on his lips. He opened the bundle slowly, giving the present due reverence. He paused in amazement when the enclosing fabric fell open.

Against the dark cloth lay a pendant hung from a thin chain of gold. It was highly unusual and therefore quite unique. As unique as its giver, the golden-haired Elda mused.

It was an oval stone of varied hues of green and slate grey with a few streaks of black. It reminded Glorfindel of the color of Erestor’s eyes. The young Elf had had it polished to a fine sheen and mounted within a delicate circlet of gold.

Glorfindel gazed at it, immensely moved. He had no doubts that Erestor had patiently combed the pebbled beaches of the Gulf of Lhûn, searching for this one perfect creation of nature. It was in keeping with his scholarly tendencies that he should have perceived the intrinsic beauty of what others would have disparagingly called a mere colored stone.

"'Tis wondrous fair, Erestor,” he murmured, a catch in his voice. “I will always treasure it.”

The rapturous smile that answered his praise heightened the boyish beauty of the young Elf. Glorfindel had to school himself not to show too much appreciation for his student’s comeliness.

“I am glad you like it,” Erestor whispered. “Though there is nothing that could possibly match you in—in magnificence.”

The Noldorin Elf was taken aback. The compliment was more than heartfelt. It was adoring. Indeed, he now realized that the feline eyes were openly, innocently worshipping him. He caught his breath. This he had not expected. This he was not prepared for.

“Hir nîn? Lord Elrond wants me to live for a while in Lórien. He says you think it will further my education. Is this true?”

“Aye, I suggested it to him,” Glorfindel replied, relieved that the youth’s interest seemed to have shifted elsewhere.

“But I do not wish to leave Imladris,” Erestor said earnestly. “I do not wish to leave you.”

The warrior stiffened with alarm once more. The youth’s interest had not changed after all. “Erestor, you have learned all that I can possibly teach you,” he said. "'Tis time you came under the tutelage of others. Celeborn and Galadriel are excellent teachers.”

“But I hardly know them,” Erestor protested. “I do not care for them the way I – I care for you,” he added in a hushed voice.

Glorfindel swallowed hard. There. It had been said. Trying to preempt any more like declarations, he reproved the youth. “You must not say such things!”

Instantly the cat-like eyes dimmed with hurt. It was all Glorfindel could do not to pull the lad into a comforting embrace. He bit back the apology that leaped to his lips. But Erestor’s next words shattered his resolve.

“I did not know it was wrong to care for someone,” he whispered with heart-wrenching dejection.

Guilt washed over Glorfindel. “‘Tis not wrong at all, pen neth,” he replied gently.

“Then why were you angered by what I said?” the young Elf asked dolefully.

“I was not angered,” Glorfindel assured him. “Indeed, I am touched that you should think so highly of me.”

“I do not merely think highly of you,” Erestor objected with heart-stopping innocence. “I-I love you. I have loved you these past many years!”

Valar! Glorfindel was now thoroughly alarmed. “You are much too young to know your heart,” he said, trying to let the lad down as gently as possible.

“But you always say that I know my heart better than most,” Erestor argued. “That I am old beyond my years.”

The Elda silently cursed himself for having been so fulsome in his praise of the young Elf however sincere he’d been when he’d uttered it.

“This is not right,“ he said, trying to sound firm. “I do not think this a wise course for you to follow.”

“You disapprove?” Erestor said painfully. “Perhaps you have no liking for a half-breed Sinda with no noble blood or illustrious heritage to recommend him to a high-born Noldo like yourself. A nobody of little worth.”

Glorfindel gasped in indignation. “You are neither a nobody nor of little worth!” he swiftly countered. “Never think yourself less than anyone else. You are most precious, Erestor. Always believe that.”

“You think me precious?” The query was uttered with such joy and awe that it rendered the warrior speechless for several seconds.

It took a moment before the stupefied Elven captain could recover his madly scattered wits. When he regained his tongue, he found it suddenly less articulate than usual. “Well, of course, yes—” he floundered. “That is to say—”

Erestor neared him and took the pendant from his hand. With a smile that was fatally endearing, he raised it to hang about his teacher’s neck. He said softly, “May I?”

Glorfindel could only nod his acquiescence, stricken silent by the tempting proximity of the youth. He had to take a deep steadying breath as Erestor slowly drew the chain down until the pendant hung against his chest. He locked gazes with the young Elf, found himself unable to tear his eyes away.

Erestor, his hands still holding the chain, hesitated, then, with a small, shy smile, pressed his lips against his teacher’s mouth. The contact was electrifying. In that instant, desire surged through Glorfindel’s every vein. Against his volition, against every principle he had ever adhered to, he caught the young Elf to himself and returned the kiss. His mind clouded by the youth’s innocent beguilement, he could not stop himself from plundering the other’s mouth. He felt Erestor trembling in his arms, was faintly aware of his own body’s dastardly reaction.

How in Arda could an Elf still ten cycles of the sun short of his majority have such a devastating effect on someone as jaded as him?

Ten cycles of the sun! The thought jolted him out of his lust-fogged state. With a tremendous effort he brought himself under control once more, dragged his lips from Erestor’s all-too-tempting mouth and released the youth from his embrace.

Erestor was flushed and panting erratically. The slate green eyes were brilliant with newly awakened passion. Glorfindel berated himself for having been so weak as to give in to his base desires. Schooling his expression, he forced a cool, detached mask upon his countenance. The change did not go unnoticed by Erestor. The youth stared at his teacher in puzzlement.

“That was pleasant,” Glorfindel made himself remark. “But not good enough, I fear.”

Erestor’s eyes widened with increasing perplexity and the beginnings of hurt. “What – what do you mean?” he stammered.

Staunchly ignoring the youth’s confused reaction, Glorfindel coolly said, “Turn your fancy elsewhere, pen neth. You are not to my exacting standards.”

Erestor gasped in shock. His eyes suddenly brightened with pained tears. There was no mistaking the sense of betrayal in their depths. He stepped away, his body flinching as if Glorfindel had dealt him a physical blow.

The warrior felt his heart clench at the misery in the youth’s eyes. Yet Erestor did him proud, refusing to give in to the agonizing need to shed tears. He would not do so in his teacher’s presence.

Glorfindel swallowed the urge to take back his words and pull the young Elf into his arms. “Mayhap you would like your gift back?” he asked softly, not trusting his voice to remain steady.

Erestor stared uncomprehendingly at him for a moment. Then suddenly the feline eyes glared at him in hurt fury. "'Tis a gift!” he hissed. “It would be discourteous to take it back!”

On that angry note, he swiftly departed leaving Glorfindel numbed and shaken by the rapid change in his demeanor.

Within the week he left for Lothlórien. He did not speak with his teacher before he departed, did not so much as glance back at Glorfindel as he rode out of the courtyard of the Last Homely House.

He returned a decade later in time to celebrate his coming-of-age in Rivendell. He came home a virtual stranger. Gone was the sweet, smiling Elf who had shown himself capable of so much love and open affection. In his place was a cool, intelligent young adult whose smile did not always reach his eyes. Gone, too, was his warm, easy relationship with the Imladrin captain. He was cordial, willing to converse as the need arose even to the extent of bantering or jesting with him on occasion and showed nothing but utmost respect for his former tutor. But that was all. The Erestor of old had vanished.

********

Note: Miruvor, the cordial of Rivendell, was not just an alcoholic drink. It also had the virtue of warming the body. Gandalf gave miruvor to the members of the Company of the Ring during their unsuccessful attempt to use the Redhorn Pass on snowbound Caradhras.

To be continued…
- 1
- 2
- 3
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

Greenleaf&Imladris 11-In the Silence of Our Hearts