Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Mine	By : IdrilsSecret Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3170 -:- 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
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- 2
- 3
Chapter 2 - Stay

The meeting should not have lasted this long. Lord Elrond had gathered all the usual parties involved for the preparations of a guest, or guests in this case. Normally, Elrond would inform everyone about the guest, who the person was, their likes and dislikes, habits and such, all done well in advance to make the visitor feel welcome. In this case, there were quite a few people, and all of different races, whose personal requirements would need to be met. Larger quantities of staff would be recruited in order to carry this out. The meeting was called to begin the organization of this Gathering, and it should have ended an hour ago, but questions kept flying towards Elrond from all directions around the long table in the Hall of Fire, and most were not about these future visitors.
“We have heard that an injured person was brought here a few nights ago,” inquired one.
“A hobbit, from what I was told,” said another.
Those who didn’t know gasped. Others nodded in silence or asked more questions. The volume of overlapping voices rose up through the rafters of the vaulted ceiling until it sounded like the buzzing of bees, Erestor thought. He clamped his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He was used to the quiet of the library. This racket was giving him a headache. And why was he called upon to attend a meeting that was mostly for the servant staff. Being the chief counselor, Elrond would have held a separate meeting with Erestor and all of the counselors. There was something more to this than meeting the needs of guests, and he knew it had something to do with Glorfindel and this weapon that the twins spoke of. Order was needed. Elrond was being bombarded with questions about a supposed injured hobbit. Erestor stood up from his chair, clasped his hands together, interlocking his fingers and waited for the chatter to die down. When it was quiet, he smiled professionally around the table, his gaze ending on Elrond.
“My Lord, I think it has been established how many dwelling places we will need for the various guests who will be joining us. Might we get on with other matters? Your counselors would like to know what purpose we may serve.”
Elrond nodded to Erestor, “Thank you Chief Counselor.” He then paused and glanced around the table. “I can see that secrets do not stay secret for long under my roof. To answer your many questions … yes, we have an injured guest in our Healing House, a Hobbit by the name of Frodo Baggins.”
Whispers spread around the table momentarily— the name Baggins was recognized right away—and then died away as the elves waited for more information. Elrond continued, “You will know the name Baggins, I am sure. Frodo is nephew to our beloved hobbit friend, Bilbo.”
Elrond turned to Glorfindel, who sat next to the Lord of Imladris, and gestured for him to stand, “Perhaps Lord Glorfindel would like to continue.”
Glorfindel stood from his chair, his long golden mane falling over his shoulders. Not a single person spoke, moved, or seemed to breathe as they waited for the High Elf to speak. Glorfindel nodded to Elrond, who took a seat, “I was the one who found Frodo and his traveling companions, and brought the injured hobbit to Rivendell. I had been out,” he paused and glanced at Erestor, “wandering,” then continued to his audience, “and came across Estel and a group of young hobbits. Frodo had already been injured … stabbed by an enemy’s poisoned blade. The hobbit was in danger of succumbing to his wound. Three other hobbits traveled with Frodo, none of whom was injured, outside of a few cuts and bruises. I saw Frodo quickly and safely to Rivendell, while Estel brought the rest of the travelers along later.”
“When did this happen?” someone called out.
“Yes, and where?” said another with concern.
Glorfindel looked down to his folded hands, and then settled his eyes upon Erestor, “Lord Elrond and I have watched over Frodo for the past two days.”
Erestor’s eyes narrowed. So, Glorfindel had been in Rivendell for two days, and had not told him he was here. It was understandable if he could not come to Erestor, since he was assisting Elrond in saving the hobbit’s life, but he could have sent a messenger, damn him.
Glorfindel shrugged one shoulder in apology to Erestor, as he turned back to the other members of the meeting, “The attack took place at Weathertop, and I found the traveling party some ways east of there, in a glade near the main path to the city.”
“And the enemy?” someone asked.
“We have patrols out looking, but none have been found,” Glorfindel answered.
At that point, Elrohir stood and continued where Glorfindel left off, answering questions about orc sightings and possible attacks. For now, Rivendell was safe.
* * *
It was quite late by the time the meeting ended. The elves would start their duties in the morning. For now, everyone gathered at the feasting hall or went home to their families. Erestor waited for everyone to leave the hall, as did Glorfindel, and they separately made their way to the veranda at the back of the Last Homely House.
Erestor arrived first, pushing the veranda doors open and stepping outside. The porch overlooked a beautiful garden, now lit by lanterns, and the soft pale light of a half-moon above. The counselor’s ears were thankful for a rest. After so many hours of endless chatter, the silence was a welcomed luxury.
The autumn flowers were in full bloom. Erestor caught the scent of the sweet clematis that covered the archways in the garden below. Blue and purple aster, goldenrod, toad lilies, all of the flowers of fall were in abundance, though now, they were covered by the dark of night. Another scent drifted onto the veranda, the recognizable spice that was Glorfindel.
He joined Erestor at the railing, leaning on his arms, and looking out over the garden, “My favorite time of year,” Glorfindel said through a smile, “What is yours?”
“I have always been partial to the stirring, the early spring,” Erestor replied.
Glorfindel laughed, “It mimics our ages. You are spring. I am fall.”
“Winter is more like it,” Erestor jested, but his face sobered in an instant. There was still the matter of this errand to discuss, and the more he thought about it, the more perturbed he became, “So, you have been in Rivendell for a few days.”
Glorfindel moved slightly, and Erestor observed how the moonlight played with the shades of gold in his lover’s hair. Now it looked like honey fresh from the comb, and it flowed down his back just as smoothly. Erestor longed to feel it spilling across his thighs and—
Damnit, he thought to himself, Glorfindel was a difficult person to stay mad at, “Why did you not tell me you had come back?”
“For the same reasons that I could not tell you I had left,” Glorfindel answered.
Erestor pushed away from the railing and glared at Fin, who was still gazing out over the garden, eyes half closed as he breathed in the scent of the clematis. Erestor was upset with how unconcerned Glorfindel seemed to be about the situation, “You do not trust me, is that it? It seems even Elrohir and Elladan were more informed than I was.”
“I came across the sons of Elrond as I was bringing the hobbit Frodo here. They did not know anything other than that.”
Erestor was beginning to see red, “They know about the enemy’s weapon.”
Glorfindel turned his head to the side, looking at Erestor from the corner of his eye. Finally, a reaction, Erestor told himself, “They told me before the meeting took place. So it seems you can discuss important matters with them, but not with me.”
“I did not tell them of this accursed thing. Elrond must have discussed it with them,” Glorfindel said in a calm and even tone. His eyes shifted back to the garden, but he seemed to look past it, as if remembering something. Then he rose from the railing and faced Erestor, “I could not say anything to you or to anyone. Lord Elrond sent for me in private, and asked me to leave right away. He knew of the hobbits and Estel. He knew Frodo was injured, and he knew … he knew of the weapon. That is why he asked me to go out and find them, to bring them to safety.” Glorfindel stopped and reclined on the railing once again.
“All of this I can understand, but why didn’t you tell me when you came back? Surely, your errand was completed. The hobbit was in Elrond’s very capable hands. You could have sent word, even if you could not come and tell me in person. I thought you had gone away again, like you always do.”
“Is that why you tolerated Lastar’s advances?” Glorfindel asked gently.
Erestor stepped away from Glorfindel, and turned to the veranda doors, noticing that they were closed. Fin must have done it, hoping for a private moment. Just as well, Erestor thought. No one needed to hear their little spat, “Maybe I would have stopped it sooner had I known you were here, in Rivendell.”
“That should not have mattered, Erestor,” Glorfindel said in a raised voice, “I may leave from time to time. Should I assume you will go to whoever approaches you while I am absent?”
“I knew we were not past this,” Erestor murmured, “I thought you had left me. I thought you had tired of me, or decided to drift across the countries once again. It is what you do, Fin. It is who you are, and sometimes I am inclined to think I could not change that about you. I am not a traveler, or a warrior, or a hunter, or a lordly elf. I am chief counselor, a master of Imladris’ libraries.”
Erestor swung around and found Glorfindel standing behind him. The counselor’s ire was about to peak, “What else am I to think? Look at you. You are a warrior, a legend. The Valar have blessed you with special abilities that no other elf possesses. You are strength and power. You should want someone equal to your own capacity, and I know they are out there. I know you have sought comfort from some of them. Your warrior friends, for example, when you are with them you are different. You become that warrior who fought against the forces of Morgoth. I see the bloodlust return to your eyes when you speak of fighting side by side with others like yourself, and I think, that is who you should be with.” As he finished speaking, Erestor went back to the railing, turning his back to Glorfindel, to leave him standing alone.
Glorfindel went to him and reached out, touching his back.
“Don’t,” whispered Erestor, “I will not give in to your touch this time.”
Glorfindel stood behind Erestor, close enough that they could feel the heat of their bodies through their clothes, “Fine then, I will not touch you if that is what you want.”
The mighty elf lord was silent as he observed Erestor’s rounded shoulders, his slim waist, and lightly muscled arms, but he would not touch him. Instead, he spoke, “Do you think that because you chose a career within the courts that you should only be with others like yourself?”
“No,” Erestor answered.
“Hmm, because that is what it sounds like to me. I am a warrior so I should be with a warrior.” Glorfindel lowered his head to whisper behind Erestor’s ear, “You are right about one thing though, I have had warriors as lovers. I know what it is like to feel the flex and pull of muscle beneath me, to take an ellon while the bloodlust courses though my veins, to take him while we are both covered by our enemy’s blood as well as our own. It is not like this,” he gestured to the garden, “with the sweet smell of flowers to encourage the senses. It is quite the opposite. There is the stench of rotting flesh, the iron taste of blood, a warm breeze from burning fires making it hard to breathe, and a cockstand as hard as mithril.” Glorfindel paused and watched Erestor’s reaction. His chest seemed to rise and fall a little quicker, “Shall I continue?”
Erestor really didn’t want to hear about Glorfindel’s lustful after-battle tryst, but a sketch had been drawn in the counselor’s mind. “Go on,” he answered in a choked whisper.
Glorfindel’s mouth curled into a smile as he ran his tongue across his lip. He stood up straight, and went on, “Smoke surrounded us like a veil, the darkness of a hidden tunnel sheltered us from the enemy. My battle mate stood before me, both of us filled with the lust. He did not resist when I pushed him against the cold stone.”
Erestor could almost smell the smoke, the marble railing beneath his palms like the stone wall Glorfindel spoke of. He allowed his mind to imagine the scene, Fin’s words carrying him into the story.
“There is something carnal about taking an individual in such a frenzied state. There’s no game to play, no questions, no seducing, nothing but undisciplined need.”
Erestor twisted slightly at the waist, readjusting himself as he cock jumped to life at the sound of Glorfindel’s voice. He knew what this battle mate must have felt. Glorfindel was very convincing and overpowering. He had made Erestor beg a time or two, maybe three now, if the gilded warrior continued his story.
“Is everything alright?” Fin asked.
Remembering that he was supposed to be mad, Erestor cleared his throat, as he tried to regain some of his composure, “Quite fine,” he answered. He waited for Glorfindel to continue. Damn him again, he was going to make the counselor ask. Erestor tried for defiance, but lost out to desire, “You may continue, if you like.”
Glorfindel could see that Erestor was trying very hard to sound uninterested, but the heat from his body and the constant fidgeting told him otherwise, “I reached around, took him in my hand, and gave him his pleasure first, capturing his essence in my palm.” He paused and let out a short laugh, “You have to be creative on the battlefield.” He pressed lightly against Erestor’s back and went on, “I prepared us both, and then brought myself to him, pausing before I went any further. You see, it was his first time with an ellon. I told him that we didn’t have to do it this way. There were other ways, but he said the pain would help him forget all that had happened, the death, the blood, fallen comrades. It had been too much … for both of us. We needed to forget.”
Erestor stayed facing the garden, his hands squeezing the railing, the ache in his balls excruciating, and his cock begging to be free of his trousers. Glorfindel was aroused too. His body pushed against Erestor’s back just enough so that he could feel the hard bulge through the fabric.
“I positioned myself and pushed in slowly. I could feel him tense, and I whispered to him what to do. I can remember seeing his fingers clawing at the wall, his head bowed, and the sound of a quiet whimper as I thrust into him, and all the while, my own body was reacting with wanton abandonment. I was not gentle, but he wanted the punishment I was inflicting upon him.” Glorfindel wrapped some of Erestor’s hair around his finger and tugged lightly, “I took his hair in my hand and pulled his head back. I wanted to see his face as I fucked him, his eyes shut tight in pain, his mouth wide open in a silent scream of ecstasy. The two mingle together quite well, don’t you think?”
Erestor’s breath was heavy and audible. He could just imagine the sight of these two young warriors, one pinned against the wall and the other driving violently into his body. By the gods, Erestor wanted Glorfindel to do the same thing to him now. He wanted to be that soldier, completely submitting to Fin’s expertise. If he could only hold out for a little longer, to play this game of wills. It always started with an argument, and ended with Erestor calling out the elf lord’s name repeatedly with glorified satisfaction. The sex had usually been this way, and it was euphoric, but it meant losing the argument.
Erestor tried his best to not give in, but his body deceived him, and he pushed back against Glorfindel, needing to feel their bodies rub against each other.
Glorfindel, remembering Erestor’s harsh tone a moment ago, pulled away, “I thought you did not want me to touch you.”
It was a warning, and Erestor ceased all movement. Give in now, and Glorfindel won yet again, bloody seductive bastard. Last chance to make a stand, he thought to himself. What would Glorfindel give him for being the victor, or rather, what would Erestor give to Fin. Erestor glanced over his shoulder, “I … don’t … I … I—” It all seemed so much easier in his mind. To Angband with it! He was giving in.
Erestor swung around, the blood returning to his tingling fingers. His hands were cold from the marble. He hadn’t realized he had been clutching the railing so tight. Glorfindel’s eyes were blazing vivid blue, shards of gold striking from the center like a circle of tiny lightning bolts.
“You tell me this … this story in such dynamic detail, and you expect me not to react? Gods, Glorfindel, my body is singing right now. I’m wound so tight, I could explode from the tension,” Erestor admitted reluctantly, “I want you, Glorfindel,” he said in a desperate whisper, “You win.”
Erestor stepped towards him, and reached out with eager hands, needing to feel warm flesh beneath his cold palms, but something in Glorfindel’s mood changed unexpectedly.
He moved quicker than a flint strike, and grabbed Erestor’s wrist with one hand. With the other, he grabbed the counselor’s shoulder and whirled him around, pushing him roughly against the hard railing. Glorfindel’s heaving breath washed over the back of Erestor’s neck, taut lips grazed the back of his ear, and his arm was trapped behind his back, held like a vice by the warriors grip. Erestor was frightened by Fin’s strength, but at the same time aroused by his fierceness. Yet, something was not quite right. Anger began to radiate from the elf lord.
Through clenched teeth, Glorfindel spoke, “Is this what you, Erestor, for me to take you like some savage beast, to shove my cock up your arse so violently that you think you’ll split in two? Do you want to know what that feels like, because I know it well? But there is no love involved in a merciless fuck, and that’s what the bloodlust does. It makes you callous. When there is no more blood to spill, you spill your seed, nothing more,” he paused, looking down and away. Glorfindel’s voice softened, “I know how many times we’ve made love, and I know how many of those times were the rough result of a heated argument. Is that all you want me for, Counselor, because that is not enough for me?”
Glorfindel released his hold on Erestor and stepped away. Erestor felt the absence of his warmth, but his anger hung on the air like a thick fog. The counselor was taken aback. He had no idea Fin felt so strongly. He had taken the warrior back to a time that he must have wished to never visit again, and here he was antagonizing the gilded elf lord. There were no words to be found, no actions to take. Erestor just stood there, as he had been when Glorfindel found him on the veranda, looking out across the garden, but now the night seemed much darker. Erestor shoulders slumped, and he hung his head in defeat. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, “Glorfindel, I didn’t mean to—” he said as he turned, but he found the veranda empty.
* * *
Erestor stood outside of Glorfindel’s room, and reached to knock, but stopped himself. Should he have come so soon? Should he just go back to his own quarters and speak with Fin in the morning? A horrible fear washed over him that the warrior might decide to leave Rivendell, and Erestor couldn’t let things go unresolved like that. Erestor needed to apologize, but it hadn’t all been his fault. They had both been wrong this evening. Erestor hadn’t given Glorfindel a chance to explain his reasons for leaving. Neither had Glorfindel given him a chance to explain about Lastar. As usual, the night had ended with their bodies raging with anger, and thrumming for release.
Glorfindel was right of course, they often settled an argument in bed. Erestor wouldn’t deny the fact that he enjoyed the challenge. They were two completely different people. Erestor liked calm and order, while Glorfindel liked spontaneity and conflict. He had told Erestor once that the counselor needed to remember what it was like to live as the ancient elves had once, free and wild. Perhaps engaging Glorfindel in an altercation, to anger him and then make love while their emotions were running high was not what he’d meant by wild. Still, Erestor had to admit that when they coupled in this way, he felt very much alive. The air would be filled with a static charge that made his skin tingle. One touch from Glorfindel was like an explosive lightning strike. It was very addicting, but now Erestor was beginning to see that it might be damaging, and that was why he was here now, to set things straight.
The counselor decided not to knock, and tried the door handle instead, finding it unlocked. He pushed the door open slowly and looked inside. The room was dark but for the light of the half-moon shining through the window. Glorfindel’s bed was made. The room was tidy. His pack and weapons were still sitting in the corner. That was good, Erestor thought as he slipped into the room, he was still in the city.
Erestor had been to Glorfindel’s room before, but he’d never taken the time to look closely. It was a simply decorated, comfortable place, but lacking that homey, lived in feel. There were only a few mementos sitting here and there. The most noticeable was a long beautifully sleek sword hanging above the hearth. The silver blade was polished as clear as a looking glass. The grip, made of mumakil tusk, he presumed, was decorated with ornate designs carved into the yellowed ivory. A large sapphire, affixed by what looked like an eagle’s claw made up the pommel. A pair of dusky rose, silken tassels hung down from the guard, which told him this instrument of war was merely a showpiece. Erestor touched the sword’s edge. It was very sharp, a legitimate weapon. He wondered where it might have come from.
“It was a gift,” said Glorfindel from the doorway, as if summoned by Erestor’s curious mind, “from King Eärnil II of Gondor. Polished steel blade, ivory hilt, and the eagle’s claw holding the sapphire is made of mithril.”
Erestor froze at the sound of the voice. Glorfindel spoke as if nothing had just transpired between them. Erestor must add unpredictable to the list of words he used to describe the elf lord. Without turning to him, Erestor spoke, “The Battle of Fornost, I presume?”
“Yes,” Glorfindel answered.
“It is a very beautiful weapon,” Erestor commented.
“It’s not quite meant for battle though,” Glorfindel laughed.
“No, I don’t suppose so. The tassels might be an obstruction,” Erestor jested in return, “Or they might dazzle your enemy.” He heard Glorfindel walk across the room, and come to stand beside him at the hearth. He still couldn’t look at the elf lord, afraid to see into those sultry blue eyes just yet. Once captured, he might not be able to say what he needed to say. As usual, Glorfindel broke the silence.
“I should not have left you on the veranda.”
“No, I think I might have deserved it,” Erestor answered, “We were both a little out of line.”
“Yes, I agree.”
Erestor knew he would say that. After an argument, they always owned up to their mistakes, and Fin was always in agreement, “I’m not sure what I should say. We are such opposites sometimes.”
“Most of the time,” Glorfindel interrupted.
Erestor went on as if the elf lord hadn’t spoken, “And you overwhelm me at times, but we have been through this before, haven’t we?”
Glorfindel shifted and Erestor felt the warrior’s boot come to rest beside his own. Glorfindel had a distinct aura, a combination of spices, a masculine scent that was very recognizable. Whether he bathed with soap infused with it or dabbed oil made from the spice upon his skin, Erestor was not sure, but the ancient elf always smelled deliciously enticing.
“What are you saying then? Has it become too much for you?” Glorfindel asked.
How would Erestor answer that question? The truth was, sometimes it was too much. Glorfindel stirred such strong feelings within him that he felt out of control at times. He wanted to be consumed by him, and then there were times when Erestor thought Glorfindel needed to be controlled. He was so aloof, and Erestor was so orderly. With Glorfindel, emotions surged from one extreme to another, high and low, love and loathing. It could be completely exhausting.
“I don’t know,” Erestor finally answered. His voice sounded defeated, and he did not want Glorfindel to hear it come out that way, but there it was, floating in the air between them.
Erestor heard Glorfindel swivel and face him. Those eyes … the counselor didn’t have to look to know Fin was gazing intensely upon him. He could feel his skin tingling under the elf lord’s fixed stare; hear an intake of breath, and the rustle of golden hair falling over a broad shoulder. Could he end this whirlwind affair simply because he was frightened of taking a chance on something extraordinary? Could he deny himself the kind of love that most others only fantasized about?
Erestor felt the lightest touch of a single finger under his chin, then his chin lift to Glorfindel’s youthful but ancient face. His eyes remained closed, afraid to look into those blue depths and lose himself again.
“You are not my first love, and I think you know that. I have been fulfilled by love, and I have experienced its affliction. I have lived too long not to know all of the different faces it wears, and through it all, I have persevered. Then there you were … a new face in an ancient ritual. You enchant me in a way I have never known. You say you are overwhelmed, but it is I who drowns in your light. Still, I am not easily defeated, and if you should cast me from your sight, I will survive yet again. But I say to you, Erestor that I should not like to know the pain it would cause my heart to go on without you, for it would be the most excruciating of all love’s wounds, and that is a loss that I should not like to endure.”
Erestor slowly opened his eyes, and found Glorfindel gazing upon him with such love as he had never known. All of his doubt was erased within those shining blue pools. He managed to find his voice, and cupped his hand to the elf lord’s fair and beautiful face, “You shall never know that kind of pain,” he said to Glorfindel, kissing him lightly, “not because of me.”
Glorfindel breathed a sigh, as if relieved by Erestor’s words, “Stay,” the elf lord said, as he embraced Erestor, drawing him close.
“Always,” Erestor replied, and he allowed Glorfindel to lead him to the bed.
The darkest part of the night happened before the sun began its routine journey into the sky, and during that silent hour, Erestor and Glorfindel found their oneness, slowly and gently. Doubt and dismay had no place within their relationship now. Trust and respect was their new foundation. They would awaken to a new love in their hearts, and nurture the bond that had developed between them.
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