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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
- 4
- 5
Part V

Glorfindel undid his tunic a little wearily. He was not tired in body so much as he was drained in spirit. Nothing seemed to lift them nowadays. Nothing since... He mentally shook his head. Useless to dwell on that. He shrugged off the tunic.

He started and inadvertently dropped it to the floor when Erestor entered his room without bothering to knock. For a moment, he stared at the steward, amazed at the other’s lack of propriety. Erestor never behaved with anything less than utmost decorum.

“You seem to have mislaid your manners,” he commented.

To his bemusement, the counsellor blushed. He’d half expected Erestor to come back with some acerbic reply.

“If I did not knock ‘tis because I was uncertain that you would let me in,” the steward admitted.

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows in surprise. “And what, pray tell, was your purpose in coming here?” he inquired evenly.

Disconcerted by the captain’s demeanor, Erestor nearly bolted. But he forced himself to go on. It was either that or face the four young Elves again. He could not decide which was more daunting.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he finally said.

“What could you possibly want to say that you did not already tell me?” Glorfindel said. The barest hint of hurt tinged his words. A flicker of pain showed in his eyes.

For the first time Erestor realized just how much Glorfindel had humbled himself in going to him that day. He lowered himself before me, sought my forgiveness, cast aside his pride to make amends and instead of trying to understand, I hurled back his apology in his teeth. Erestor shuddered inwardly.

“Erestor?” Glorfindel said quietly. “What is it you wish to talk about?”

The steward drew a calming breath. “I wanted to say I am sorry for the way I behaved toward you,” he explained haltingly. “Before you left on patrol.”

Glorfindel sighed. “You had every right to act as you did,” he said. “There was just cause.”

He bent down to pick up his tunic. As he did so, the stone pendant slipped out from under his shirt and hung in plain sight of the steward. Erestor’s eyes homed in on it. He caught his breath. His former teacher still had it after all these millennia.

It could only mean one thing. Glorfindel had cared for him and still did. Erestor was thoroughly shaken. He told me the truth.

He hesitated then said: “Glorfindel, I am no longer untouched as you put it. Yet in one matter I am still as innocent as I was the day I approached you.”

“What matter is this?” The Elda looked up with dulled eyes. The sight made Erestor’s heart ache with regret and self-reproach.

“I have never lain with an ellon”—male Elf—he said, reddening slightly at making so personal an admission.

Glorfindel shook his head. “Please, Erestor, I am not blind. I have seen the company you have kept in all these many years.”

Erestor swallowed hard at the pain in the other’s voice. “True, but ‘tis only ellith”—Elf-maids—“I bedded,” he tightly clarified. “I could be intimate with them for there was no comparing any woman with you.” Glorfindel stared at him. The tiniest spark of a response showed in his eyes. Encouraged by that reaction, Erestor plunged on. “But I could not take any Elf-male to my bed. It did not feel right.” He had to pause for another deep breath. “They were not you.”

Glorfindel’s stare if anything grew even more intense. Erestor suddenly found it hard to breathe evenly. He said shakily: “I...I suppose I was...saving that part of myself...for you. Should...should you ever want it.” He added almost inaudibly: “I love you, my lord.”

For the length of a heartbeat they gazed at each other. Then, of a sudden, Glorfindel surged forward, eyes flashing with unholy brilliance. Startled, Erestor took a step backward. But before he could move any further, the Noldo had reached him, pulling him into an embrace that brooked no resistance.

Lips crashed against his possessively, ravenously. In that instant, Erestor felt as if he’d been swept back in time to when he’d been but a lovesick young Elf offering his heart to his beloved tutor. But this was nothing like that past. In this present, Glorfindel did not push him away, did not tell him to turn his fancy elsewhere. In this present, his former teacher accepted, nay, claimed his gift with breathtaking urgency. And he was claiming it in a manner that made it patently clear that there would be no turning back.

Erestor gasped as his mouth was invaded, as it had never been before. He did not resist. What he had denied every other lover he now yielded. It was simply right.

They never made it to the bed. Erestor’s soon discarded robe provided all the bedding they needed on the floor upon which Glorfindel lowered him with understandable haste. He followed the steward down closely to mold their bodies together as intimately as possible.

Casting aside all the grief and regrets of two millennia past, the Elvenlord had to summon all his self-control not to give in to the irresistible urge to ravish the dark-haired counsellor and take once and for all what he had denied himself for far too long. Only the knowledge that Erestor had never lain with another male Elf kept him from taking so peremptorily that which he craved. He had caused enough hurt to the steward; he would not do so now and mar this joyous reconciliation. Glorfindel forced himself to slow down, to pleasure the other first until he was certain Erestor was ready to yield.

Erestor felt sentience desert him in the face of Glorfindel’s tender onslaught. Haughtiness had no place here or reserve or self-control. He found himself writhing wantonly under the touch of possessive hands, bucking helplessly into the heat of a demanding mouth, clutching at the robe beneath him as he was delved by a questing tongue. All thoughts of decorum vanished as he gave himself up to the only Elf who’d ever held his heart.

Sheer ecstasy at the moment of their joining was sweet reward for Glorfindel’s efforts. Incomparable rapture coursed through his body as he buried himself deep in Erestor’s flesh. Together they moved as one, enjoying each other’s pleasure, savoring the inimitable bliss of union. When Erestor hoarsely cried out his name in delight at the height of their coupling, Glorfindel knew boundless joy. And when his own release followed but a moment later, he found it the purest, most intense sensation he had ever experienced in his immortal life.

********

Erestor awoke in a bed not his own. Alarm might have taken him then but for the scent on the sheet that covered him. Glorfindel. He remembered what had passed the night before. They’d moved to the bed after that first joyous coupling and engaged in more loving. After centuries of denial and heartache they could not get enough of each other. It was near dawn when they finally surrendered to the pull of slumber.

He turned his head and saw the captain reclining on the lounging chair in the small enclosed terrace outside his chamber. Almost at the same time, Glorfindel happened to look at him. He smiled invitingly.

Blushing slightly, Erestor rose and pulled on the bed-robe Glorfindel had laid on the covers for him. He joined the other Elf and was at once drawn down into an intimate embrace. Tucking his head into the crook of Glorfindel’s neck, he waited quietly, reluctant to break the tranquil silence of the morning.

At length, Glorfindel stirred and bent his head to take a draught of his lips. The next several minutes were spent in a spate of sweet, languorous kisses. When Glorfindel finally released his lips, Erestor sighed in contentment and gazed at him with devotion-flecked eyes. Glorfindel felt his heart swell at this evidence of the other’s deep-seated affection.

The golden Elda said: “When Manwë sent me back to these shores, I wondered why he required me to serve Elrond. It seemed strange that he desired me to do this for the son of him for whom I had already given my life to save. Not that I begrudged my service here,” Glorfindel smiled. “I found all that I had lost in Gondolin – friends, family, a sense of purpose. But now I realize Manwë meant for me to find my greatest reward in Elrond’s home. You.”

Erestor felt his throat tighten, moved by the warrior’s declaration. It brought home to him just how providential fate could be given the right circumstances. Not to mention a helpful push by the Powers that be.

“You have never talked to anyone about that time in your life,” he murmured. “Your passing, the Halls of Awaiting or even your return to Middle-earth. Will you not tell me at least? I would be of comfort to you, knowing what you must have suffered. Will you trust me?”

Glorfindel gazed into the feline eyes; their sea green depths were limpid with steadfast love and utter devotion. He had never cared to be so open with anyone about that period in his life – the horror, the trauma and the loneliness. But in Erestor he had found his haven from all the hurts of his long and eventful life. He knew then that it was time to unburden himself of the secrets of two ages and uncounted centuries.

And so he told him everything. Spoke of the searing agony of the Balrog’s flames and the horrendous fall from Cirith Thoronath to both their ruins. Held in Erestor’s comforting arms, he recounted the centuries long stay in the timeless halls, thinking, reflecting, always waiting, and then his release and the terms that had secured it. An oath of service to the son of Eärendil, rebirth and the swift growth to his second majority, the return of memories and the upholding of his oath and, finally, the journey back to a vastly changed Middle-earth and his long service to Elrond from the realm of Gil-galad in Lindon to the wars in Eregion to the founding of Rivendell.

“Even then I was alone and lonely,” Glorfindel quietly admitted. “Though I took many to my bed, warriors and maids alike, I never did so in love. Only once before did I give my heart but she was meant for another.”

Erestor felt a pang of jealousy, which dissipated as soon as he saw the sorrow in his lover’s eyes. “Who was she?” he softly asked.

“Turgon’s daughter.”

“Idril Celebrindal?” Erestor gaped. “Elrond’s grandmother? Then your defense of her family against the Balrog was—” He stopped, astounded by the implications.

“For love of her, aye,” Glorfindel said. “I could not let harm come to her or he whom she loved and still less to her only child. I counted the forfeit of my life well worth it if it thereby saved her and hers.” He stroked Erestor’s jaw with a slender finger. “When I returned to this life, I hoped I would know love once more. But the years passed without even a glimmer of hope and I began to believe that ‘twas not my fate. Until you came along.”

“I did not fully understand why I was so drawn to you. I thought ‘twas but the fondness of a teacher for a most able student. But when you came to me that day and offered yourself, I knew then I had found what I had been seeking all these long years.”

Erestor gazed at him with pained eyes. “If I had not been so distant when I returned from Lórien, what would you have done?” he asked in a hushed voice.

The warrior bit his lip. “I would have gone down on my knees and apologized for the hurt I caused you,” he honestly replied. “And, if you had accepted it, I would have told you that my heart was yours and asked if you would still have me.”

Erestor looked at him, stricken. He gave a low moan and pressed his face into the captain’s neck, his body trembling.

“Erestor! What is it?” Glorfindel asked in alarm.

The steward drew away, his eyes glittering with anguish. “If I had given you that chance,” he said sorrowfully. “If I had not pretended indifference, you would have been mine and I, yours long ago.” He closed his eyes tightly as if to shut out all the hurt and frustration of the past.

Pain briefly limned Glorfindel’s features. “Do not blame yourself. If I had paused to consider the consequences of my words...” he said under his breath. “It broke my heart to break yours. But your declaration of love was my undoing. I knew that if I gave you any hope at all, you would not desist and I would then have taken your innocence. I could not do that to you, Erestor, not then. But I could have chosen a less offensive way to turn you down instead of hurting you so deeply. Forgive me, beloved.”

Erestor felt his heart swell at the intimate endearment. “Nay, you were only trying to protect me in my impetuous youth,” he murmured. “Had I used my wits I would have discerned your motive and not held your words against you all these centuries.”

“You were young and innocent,” Glorfindel protested.

“And old beyond my years as you used to tell me,” Erestor reminded him. “I should never have let my anger rule me. And I rue even more my confounded pride knowing now how much you treasured the innocence I would have given you. But instead of biding my time, I spent myself in the arms of others.”

Glorfindel stared at him in surprise. “What do you—?”

The steward cut him off. “‘Twas my gift to you though you could not accept it at the time,” he choked. “I should have kept it whole and unspoiled for you. But in my anger, I tarnished it irrevocably and now ‘tis nothing more than a tawdry trinket that I have given you.”

“How can you believe that?” Glorfindel exclaimed softly. “Think you that I deem your love so low? There is nothing tawdry about yourself, melethron”—lover—“not your body or spirit or heart.”

“But you admitted jealousy of the lovers I kept company with,” Erestor said.

Glorfindel nodded. “Aye, I was jealous. How could I not be? But I never thought you anything less than precious and dearer to me than all the treasures of Middle-earth. That you took no ellon to your bed because of me is a wondrous surprise but the gift I desired most was your love and that you have given me, untouched, unspoiled by any other. What greater innocence can there be than that?”

Erestor gazed at him with ever deepening emotion. “If I had only known that,” he whispered. “Happiness would have been ours even before this age.”

Glorfindel sighed and pressed a kiss to Erestor’s temple. “Ai, ‘tis fruitless to dwell on the past. I would rather ponder the future. And it looks very bright now that you are mine.”

Erestor’s cat-like eyes glimmered with pleasure. The very glow in them spurred Glorfindel to take the next step. “Melethron,” he said in a hushed voice, “I would bind myself to you if you would have me.”

“If I would have you?” Erestor gasped in surprised delight. “I would do it tomorrow if you wished it.”

Glorfindel’s smile lit up his passing fair countenance. “Nay, let us wait the requisite year,” he said. “I would still provide a good example for our pin nith.”—young ones.

Erestor snorted good-humoredly. “Since when have they ever followed anyone’s example, good or bad? They will do as they wish and oft be the first to do it at that.”

“They are highly original,” the warrior agreed with a grin. “Yet I have them to thank for this moment. Without their intervention I should never have gained you at last. They gave me a fearsome scolding after you left me that morning.”

“They scolded you?” Erestor was astonished. He had never thought the young Elves would ever have the temerity to challenge the redoubtable Elda in any way.

“Be warned. Arwen’s tongue can be sharper than my best sword.”

The steward chuckled. “I confess they did the same thing to me before I came to you.”

Glorfindel stared at him. “Let me guess. Arwen gave you a tongue-lashing as well.”

“Aye. She seems to have inherited Elrond’s temper rather than Celebrían’s.”

“We’d best keep that in mind. And the others?”

“More persuasive than a Bree innkeeper trying to sell sour ale.”

The golden-haired warrior laughed out loud at the steward’s succinct portrayal of the younger Elves. “They grow ever more formidable as their years lengthen,” he smiled. “May their tribe increase!”

The End
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Greenleaf&Imladris 11-In the Silence of Our Hearts