Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Twilight Tales - Stolen Moments	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4131 -:- 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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter IV

Glorfindel left for his father’s halls two days later with an excited Galadon chattering a mile a minute as their steed bore them away from Artirion. Erestor watched them go with a forced smile that faded as soon as they vanished from sight. His unhappiness became apparent then – so apparent that the household staff felt the pall of his gloom enshroud them.

It was not simply that his mate and child would be away for nigh a week. It was also that in the two days ere they departed, Glorfindel did not spend a single night with Erestor. Each evening, after Galadon had been tucked into bed, he had left Erestor and taken off for the Valar only knew where. And the morning after returned to their home always accompanied by that maddeningly unfamiliar scent.

Yet he would not say where he had passed each night, would not say who he had kept company with, would not give so much as a clue as to his nocturnal whereabouts. And Erestor could not force him to speak. Not when each attempt to get something out of the warrior would only be met with a firm “Later, Erestor. When I can bear it.”

The steward would back down then. He was in no position to force the issue since ‘twas he who had precipitated their quarrel in the first place. And truth be told, while part of him desired to know where Glorfindel was spending his nights, another part was deathly afraid of the knowledge.

Elves did not betray their marital vows as easily as mortals sometimes did. Nor did they covet the spouses of others. Erestor repeatedly told himself this was so when his worst fears threatened to overcome him.

But how to explain Maeglin who had not only sought his own cousin Idril but continued to desire her even when she married Tuor? What of Finwë who had taken a second wife in Indis, thus dooming Miriel Serindë to an eternity within the Halls of Awaiting however willing she may have been? And more recently, there had been no shortage of Elves who had attempted to gain entry into Legolas’ bed when they had thought Elrohir out of the way, first by way of his passing into the fastness of the timeless halls and later by dint of the loss of his memories. How did one reconcile these events with the tenet of elven fidelity?

Elves were not perfect beings. There lay the rub. They were more resistant to temptation and folly than mortals but they were not immune to them.

********

He saw Glorfindel four lonely days later. At the weekly High Council meeting.

He had gone through all four days with grim determination, seeing to his duties and efficiently so despite his personal strife. Whether by fortune or fate, his workload was lighter than usual and he was oft able to take a reprieve from keeping his unrelenting professional mask in place. Nevertheless, the effort had proved wearying and the need to maintain it at council wore his spirits down further.

The warrior spotted him from across the chamber just as he was taking his seat. To Erestor’s surprise, he approached him before the day’s proceedings began.

“Are you well?” Glorfindel quietly asked him.

Erestor took a moment to compose himself. “As well as I can be,” he murmured. “Under the circumstances.” He forced himself to meet the captain’s gaze. “And you?”

Glorfindel shrugged dismissively. “Well enough,” he said. He looked at his mate curiously. “‘Tis odd that you have not asked how our son is doing,” he commented.

Erestor stared at him. Yes, it was strange. But his first thought that very morning had been of Glorfindel. And his first emotion had been of anticipation at seeing the warrior at council.

He gazed at Glorfindel, his emerald-hued eyes an open book for the captain to read. “He is in your care,” he said. “I do not think I need worry about him.”

Glorfindel regarded him a while longer. “He is enjoying himself,” he elaborated at last. “It seems he has much in common with his cousins.”

“Your sisters’ sons?” Erestor queried.

“Aye.”

The steward forced a smile. “That is good,” he said. “I am glad he has found friends among them.”

“And you?” Glorfindel asked unexpectedly. “Might you not find friends among my kin?”

Erestor started, taken aback by the unlooked for question. He did not speak at once but let his gaze settle on Herusil who stood across the chamber speaking with Ingwë. He drew a deep breath and looked at Glorfindel once more.

“I do not know if I can,” he answered honestly. “But – I would like to.”

Something glittered in Glorfindel’s eyes, what Erestor could not tell. But the blond warrior suddenly reached out his hand and the steward took it unthinkingly.

“Adar is hosting a dinner in my mother’s honor tonight,” he said. “‘Tis her begetting day.” The cobalt eyes were almost unbearably piercing.

Join me in my father’s house.

Erestor caught his breath as the thought brushed his mind. His dismay must have shown in his eyes for Glorfindel nodded slightly then sighed. “Let us take our seats,” he softly said, releasing Erestor’s hand.

But he did not return to Herusil’s side. Instead he took a place by Elrond not too far from Erestor’s own seat. Erestor sank down into his chair, his gaze returning frequently to the warrior. At least he was not so remote today as he had been before he left for Tirion with Galadon. And he seemed – Erestor considered the best description – serene? Aye, that was it. He seemed more at peace with himself.

It struck him then. It did not seem possible that Glorfindel could look more beautiful than he’d ever been. But it was and he did. And there were not a few who appreciated this and were not hesitant to hide their regard.

The feelings took Erestor completely by surprise. He suddenly seethed with jealousy and indignation of an intensity he had not thought himself capable of.

It did not matter that such attention was but natural for one as comely as Artirion’s fair captain. He did not care that this same scrutiny was accorded Elrond’s sons and Legolas, Galadriel and Celeborn and all other Elves of uncommon beauty, even the High-king himself. All that registered was that it was Glorfindel who drew the eyes of many this morn.

He soldiered through the day with only one thought in mind, bolstered by the brief exchanges he had with Glorfindel during the course of the afternoon. He returned to Artirion only long enough to bathe and change into proper attire for an evening’s gathering and to fetch himself enough clothing for the remainder of his family’s sennight in Lord Herusil’s halls.

********

He arrived at Herusil’s house and was greeted at the grand front entrance by the Elf-lord’s astonished housemaster. He noticed how several servants stopped in their tracks when they saw him. Ignoring their patent curiosity, he quietly but firmly requested that his belongings be deposited in Glorfindel’s room. And then he marched straight to the torch-lit gardens where the party had congregated, leaving the servants to gape after him.

Had he not been deeply frightened and fighting to conceal it, he may very well have laughed at the expressions on the faces of Glorfindel’s parents, siblings and cousins when they caught sight of him. Not to mention the reactions of the guests who knew of Herusil’s opinion of him. As it was, he scarcely managed to keep a spuriously calm façade as he approached the family where they stood loosely gathered around the long table laden with food and drink.

He had dressed with care – he would not give Herusil the satisfaction of criticizing him even for his choice of clothing. He had donned a deep green tunic delicately and sparingly embroidered with silver purl. Matching his eyes, contrasting with the burnished dark red of his hair, emphasizing the creamy fairness of his skin, it served to point up the very things that differentiated him in appearance from most Elves.

He saw Glorfindel almost at the same instant Glorfindel saw him. Clad in muted silver and palest blue, the warrior stood out amongst the guests, a tall, shining figure of peerless beauty. Not even Herusil could compare with his son tonight.

For a moment, Glorfindel stared at him in disbelief. Quelling the queasiness in his belly, Erestor strode to him with all apparent confidence. Only one who knew him well comprehended the quavering uncertainty behind the mask. Glorfindel met him halfway, reaching out a hand in welcome.

“You came,” he said, taking Erestor’s hand in his.

“As you bid me,” the steward replied. “Am I welcome?”

He could have wept then and there when his golden mate smiled long and warmly at him. “Very welcome,” Glorfindel said. His hold on Erestor’s hand tightened. “Come, you must pay your respects to Naneth.”— Mother.

Erestor nodded and allowed the warrior to lead him to his parents. Meeting Herusil’s cold gaze, Erestor could not help but hesitate in his otherwise steady stride. But then he felt Glorfindel’s hand on his back. Supporting him, he realized. A surge of affection coursed through him and he dared to glance gratefully at the captain.

Herusil proved as recalcitrant as ever but Erestor stoically endured his disdain. Instead of dwelling on the older Elf’s continued disapproval of him, he extended his greetings to Glorfindel’s mother with as much warmth and sincerity of intention as he could muster. The good lady could do no less and welcomed him quite graciously. The others greeted him likewise, little of their previous aloofness in evidence.

Erestor did not deceive himself that they had suddenly come to desire his company. He was more inclined to believe that they were kind to him because it was safer to treat him thusly with a certain Balrog slayer all but glaring them into good behavior. But suddenly he did not care. What mattered was that Glorfindel stood by his side, his arm around his waist, refusing to cater to his own father’s wishes. It dawned on Erestor anew just how highly Glorfindel regarded him.

What other Elf of so noble a house would have foregone his birthright for love of his chosen mate? It sealed his determination to mend their rift before the day was done and win back the golden warrior. His golden warrior, he told himself with a stab of possessiveness.

“Ada!” Papa!

Galadon came streaking down the garden path, followed by a passel of Elflings his age. Laughing gleefully, the child leaped into Erestor’s arms and held on tightly while the other children milled around them, looking at the steward wonderingly. Well, that was not surprising since they scarcely knew him.

“I missed you,” Galadon murmured, burying his face in Erestor’s neck. “Just like Ada Glorfindel.”

Erestor’s breath hitched at the child’s revelation. He glanced at Glorfindel, almost expecting a contradiction. But the captain only regarded them with a trace of amusement.

“How do you know he did?” he whispered, his cheeks coloring slightly.

“He said so,” Galadon replied. “He said he was lonely without you.”

The color deepened in his cheeks. He could not quite look at Glorfindel. But he could not stifle the elation that welled up within him. It seemed he was not the only one who yearned for reconciliation.

They put Galadon to bed together, settling the Elfling in the nursery with his cousins. “He insisted on sleeping here our second night,” Glorfindel murmured with a grin as he gazed at his sleepy son.

“I am glad he is happy to be in their company,” Erestor said.

“Children do not judge as harshly as their elders,” Glorfindel remarked. Before Erestor could respond to his tacit criticism of his father, he added: “Let us go, meleth.”—love.

The endearment caught Erestor by surprise. He blinked hard, struggling to keep his eyes from tearing. They walked silently to their bedchamber.

Hardly had they entered when Erestor swiftly bolted the door shut. He turned and leaned against the door as if to keep it closed with his own body. Glorfindel looked at him in surprise.

“What now, Erestor?” he asked.

The steward bit his lip, then said: “I will not let you leave me tonight.”

Glorfindel stared at him. “I was not planning to,” he replied.

“Good. Because we have to talk.”

He did not try to conceal his longing. Now was not the time for pride. He was relieved when Glorfindel did not balk but sat down on the side of the bed and, with a gesture, invited him to begin. He took a deep breath before speaking.

“I have been trying to reach you,” he said tentatively. “To ask for your pardon. But you would not let me.”

The warrior did not deny his allegation. “I was hurt and angry,” he openly admitted. “I needed to calm my soul and I would not have succeeded had I opened myself to you then.”

“You seem at peace now,” Erestor haltingly remarked.

Glorfindel shrugged. “‘Tis fruitless to yearn for what is past and no more. I have come to terms with this.”

The quiet confession was searing beyond belief. Erestor shuddered visibly as he considered the other’s words.

“I love you,” he said suddenly. “Surely you do not doubt that.”

“I do not,” Glorfindel agreed. “But I also know I do not have an equal share of your heart. Galadon comes first with you now, not I.”

Erestor struggled to keep his composure. But his eyes glistened tellingly. “That is not so,” he whispered. “You have ever been the master of my heart.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “I have seen little evidence of that these many years.” Before Erestor could interrupt, he made a slight gesture that silenced the steward. “‘Tis not the first time I will speak of this and I fear ‘twill not be the last. But you have proven over and again that between Galadon and me, ‘tis he you cherish more. I think I need not recall to you all the times when you chose to forego my company rather than be parted from our son.”

Erestor swallowed painfully. Glorfindel was right. There was no need for him to bring up the past. The past came forth to shame him. He lowered his head, unable to meet his mate’s eyes.

“I am sorry,” he whispered.

Glorfindel only looked at him somberly. “Think no more of it,” he said. “I will school myself to be contented with what you can spare me. ‘Tis far better than to have nothing of you at all.”

Erestor’s head jerked up at that. “Do not say that,” he implored. “I have loved no one in all my life as I love you. That has not changed – not even Galadon means as much to me.” His voice dropped and he said imploringly, “I have wronged you grievously. If I have lost your trust, I have none to blame but myself. But I beg you to believe me when I say this will not happen again. And this promise I will not forget, Glorfindel.”

There were no histrionics, no overwrought declarations. Just a quiet heartfelt plea and a pair of emerald eyes that earnestly looked at him.

Glorfindel studied him intently. After a fraught while, he said: “I am glad you changed your mind and came here. I had thought my request too difficult for you to grant.”

The abrupt change in topic startled Erestor. “Why did you request it?” he queried. “You know how it is between your father and me. He blames me for all the ills that have ever befallen our bond, even ones I knew nothing about.”

“Aye, he does. And he will continue to find fault in you. That will not change. He will not change.” The captain sighed resignedly. “But he is still my father and one who has always loved me well. And I love him, Erestor, whatever his most grievous flaws. As you love Galadon.”

Erestor stared at him, for the first time seeing the sadness wrought by the irreconcilable differences between the Elf who had sired him and the Elf he had espoused. Glorfindel had chosen to cast his lot with Erestor and in so doing had gone against his father’s will. The steward had always known that the warrior regretted the circumstances that had warranted his distance from his family. What he had not realized until now was how much those regrets had wounded his mate.

“I will come here with you whenever you wish it,” he vowed. “I will not stand between you and your father.”

A small smile curved Glorfindel’s lips. “You proved yourself the better Elf this evening,” he remarked. “And do so even now. More than ever, I know I chose wisely.”

The urge to propel himself into the warrior’s arms became almost irresistible. But there was one last thing Erestor had to know. Even if it shattered his heart, he had to know.

“Did he – or she – take good care of you?” he tightly asked, fingers stiffly splayed across the intricate carving on the panelling of the door.

Surprise limned Glorfindel’s countenance. He frowned. “What are you talking about?” he said.

“I know you sought solace elsewhere when I denied you,” Erestor bravely pressed on. “As you presumably have each night since then.” He could not help the tremor in his voice as he said this.

Glorfindel looked at him in – what? – guilt? The warrior bowed his head, shaking it. To his shock, Erestor heard a most improbable gust of mirth leave the captain’s lips. He stiffened, wondering what could be so humorous about an imminent confession of infidelity.

The golden-haired Elda looked at him once more. “Aye, I sought solace,” he freely admitted. At Erestor’s pained reaction, he added: “On the couch in Elrond and Celebrían’s sitting room. They refused to let me be by myself in one of the guest chambers for they knew I was in dire need of what comfort and counsel they could give me.”

Erestor gaped at him, speechless at first. “Nay,” he protested finally in a hushed voice. “I know the scents of every bathing soap or oil in Elrond’s halls. ‘Tis I who requisitions them.” He bit his trembling lip. “I did not recognize the scent of the soap you bathed with those nights.”

Glorfindel’s lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “Ah, but are you familiar with Celebrían’s store of herbal soaps from Maltaurë?” he pointed out.

His amusement finally penetrated Erestor’s fogged senses. “You told Elrond and Celebrían?” he managed to say. When Glorfindel nodded, he blurted out: “No wonder they have been so accommodating of late!” A moment later, the more significant point finally registered on him. “You did not – take another – in my stead?” he stammered.

The mirth faded from the warrior’s eyes. “How could you think that I would?” he said. “I desire only you, Erestor. I could never share myself with another. I love you.”

Silence reigned between them for the next few minutes, Erestor braced against the door when his shaking limbs threatened to take him down, Glorfindel gazing at him, waiting. Another minute passed. And then the steward flung himself forward, a sound between a whimper and a groan forcing its way past his lips. At once, Glorfindel was on his feet, catching him in a fierce embrace.

Erestor moaned as his mouth was taken in fearsome hunger, its reaches rapaciously pillaged. He felt Glorfindel’s hands grip the silk of his tunic and, with one powerful tug, rip the material right down his back. Shocked, he instinctively drew away only to be caught back and kissed into near senselessness while the warrior made short work of his shirt as well. The remains of his raiment were swiftly hauled down his arms.

He was almost grateful when Glorfindel lowered him to the bed for he doubted his legs would have supported him much longer. But he hissed with some alarm when the warrior tore his breeches from his hips and yanked it down his legs. In what seemed like mere seconds, he was laid bare upon the bed.

He could not tear his eyes away from Glorfindel as the warrior swiftly stripped, his own gaze never leaving Erestor’s face. Shedding the last of his clothing, he stood a moment, raking the steward’s body with his darkened stare. And then he slid onto the bed, crawling up the length of Erestor’s form in a distinctly predatory manner.

It was then that Erestor lost all awareness of the world beyond the walls of their bedchamber. Glorfindel invaded him with all the ferocity and single-mindedness of a conqueror bent on the total surrender of his object of conquest.

Little of his body was left untouched or untasted. He cried out repeatedly as he was kissed and bitten and mauled. Lips rendered swollen by edacious plundering, nipples reddened from their sensual savaging, fair skin marked with the scarlet smears inflicted by a ravaging mouth and fingers – none would have recognized the cool, collected steward in the debauched-looking Elf who writhed wantonly beneath the golden warrior’s formidable body.

Glorfindel moved steadily downwards until he came to rest between Erestor’s legs. Without preamble, he lowered his head and summarily suckled the steward’s rigid length, drawing upon it so hardily, Erestor let out a strangled keen and tried to pull away. But Glorfindel caught him by the hips and only forced his legs further apart.

Tears streamed down the steward’s cheeks as sensation too strong to bear wracked his frame. Even the endurance of pleasure had its limit and it appeared he had reached his.

“Glorfindel, please – mercy!” he cried out nigh incoherently.

He was afforded respite from the unrelenting ecstasy only for the briefest while. Before he could catch his breath, Glorfindel rolled him onto his belly and tugged his hips up so that he supported himself on his elbows and knees. He gasped as he was enfolded from behind in an embrace that left him utterly helpless. Unable to resist had he wanted to. At Glorfindel’s mercy.

He was taken deep and hard at first breaching. The sudden piercing began his inevitable unravelling. The hand that snaked around his hips to stroke his shaft hastened it. Caught beneath Glorfindel’s powerful body, he could only move as the warrior demanded and bear the brunt of his pounding thrusts. As Glorfindel drove into him repeatedly, it came to him that they had never coupled so wildly or vigorously before. The thought that he had unleashed the full measure of Glorfindel’s passion both terrified and thrilled him. Then all manner of thought were brutally shoved aside as his body yielded at last to the enormous pressure that had built up within with every delve and caress.

He fought the urge to scream his pleasure and lost it a split second later. It was a battle he could not have won and for the first time in his many years, Erestor heard his voice raised in a howl that resounded through the chamber. None who heard him could have mistaken it for anything but an expression of purest bliss. Or imagined that any other than Herusil’s youngest son had wrenched it from him for it was his name Erestor called out hoarsely at the height of his climax.

Near spent to swooning, Erestor sobbed softly as a few more cleaving thrusts brought Glorfindel to his own completion. He was no less vociferous than the steward had been but moments earlier, a choice selection of oaths and lubricious utterances streaming from his lips. The last was conspicuously and exceedingly bawdy and, coupled with Erestor’s name, caused the darkling’s Elf’s cheeks to crimson. Elbereth! Glorfindel had never referred to him thusly before!

It had the decided effect of exciting him all over again. But first, he had to recover from the effects of their love-play. Even elven fortitude needed time to be replenished after so thorough a draining.

Through the haze of his recovering wits, he felt Glorfindel withdraw from him and move off his trembling figure. He was pulled back against the warrior so that he lay on his side, fitting into the curve of his mate’s form. He clutched at the arm that held him, pressed back more closely against Glorfindel’s warm body. His deep sigh spoke volumes of his contentment and joy.

“Do you realize that this is the first time we have coupled in this house?” Glorfindel murmured lazily into his ear.

Erestor started then darted a glance at the near wall. He had completely forgotten who owned the neighboring chamber. “Your father – he must have heard us,” he whispered. “He will chasten you come morn, seron vell.” —beloved.

“He can chasten me until Valinor freezes over if he wishes,” Glorfindel said with a nip at a rosy-tipped ear. Erestor shivered at the sensation. “I refuse to forego our pleasure merely to sooth his sensibilities.”

It was not an act of defiance against Herusil but a re-affirmation of Glorfindel’s commitment to their relationship. Erestor drew a shuddery breath and turned over to face the warrior, still held snugly in his embrace. He lifted a hand and stroked Glorfindel’s cheek.

“I will not forget,” he softly reiterated.

Glorfindel smiled. “I know.”

Erestor gazed at him, love gleaming unabashedly in his eyes. “Still, I must make amends to you,” he murmured. “I know of something that might please you if you can await this summer’s end.”

The captain laughed softly. “I know of something that would please me now,” he drawled.

He pressed Erestor back onto the rumpled sheets, claiming his mate anew and the precious bond they shared.

*********************

Glossary:

Adar – Father

To be continued…
- 3
- 4
- 5
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

Twilight Tales - Stolen Moments