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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.

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Chapter V

The loud murmur of the ocean filtered through the dense forest growth. It was music to Erestor’s ears as he stood on the balcony of the bedchamber he and Glorfindel shared.

Southern Valinor’s great virgin forest did not lie many leagues inland but nigh hugged the long coastline that marked its eastern bounds. It was largely untamed land, hardly explored by any of the Eldar. Perfect for Wood-elves still in the process of weaning themselves from the incertitude of the mortal lands and the battle-eagerness that came with it. As they had once struggled to preserve themselves against the threats that had encroached upon their Greenwood realm, now they diverted their strength and energy to carving out a niche of their own in the Undying Lands.

This was the newly founded realm of the last of the Mirkwood Elves. The most stubborn of the Firstborn and least willing to forsake Middle-earth in favor of Aman. Here Thranduil’s eldest son had chosen to settle with those of their people who did not care for the relative placidity of Taur Galen. ‘Twas this rugged kingdom that Melthoron and his valorous mate Haldorn called home.

He heard soft laughter from below and peered over the balustrade. He descried Elrohir and Legolas walking down the main path that led from the royal compound. They were headed for the beach. Erestor grinned. They were certainly taking their time getting there judging from the many stops they indulged in on the way. Stops caused by one or the other stealing a kiss or caress as they went.

It was kind of them to take him and Glorfindel along on their long-awaited holiday, Erestor thought. And so hospitable of Melthoron and Haldorn to provide a large suite of rooms for them in their large tree-top pavilion. They had even offered to secure a cabin for the captain and steward but Glorfindel had assured them that they were not as raucous as Legolas and Elrohir to need a place to themselves. That had left Legolas red-cheeked and scowling, Elrohir smirking and Melthoron and Haldorn snickering. It was apparent that the tales of their much too ardent relationship had already been recounted even this far south.

Erestor smiled as the two finally disappeared from eyesight and earshot. Mayhap he and Glorfindel would join them in a while. He glanced back into the bedroom. The warrior still lay in restful repose on the wide bed, wearied no doubt by their exertions of the night before. The auburn-haired counsellor chuckled to himself at the memory.

He’d taken over their coupling for the first time in a long time. Taken Glorfindel as he had not in more months than he cared to count. That had not been due to Glorfindel’s reluctance to yield but his own lamentable inclination to just let the captain have his way with him that they might be done soonest. Erestor’s smile faded at the thought.

He had a long way to go to make amends to his golden warrior. Elbereth willing, he would pay his due in full and even more. This time alone away from their son, their various cares and duties and Glorfindel’s family was all the more valuable for the time and space it afforded Erestor to evaluate his relationship with his spouse. In particular, it had given him the chance to reassess the strength of the binding-pull between them.

It could be fought as Legolas had once done long ago though the effects of resistance to it were anything but desirable to say the least. It could be ignored if the affection between two spouses was diminished as happened during serious spats and the like. And it was always muted when a mate entered the Halls of Awaiting to spare the widowed Elf more than what could be borne of unfulfilled longing.

In his case, he had simply circumvented it by occasionally giving in to it. He had never lost awareness of its presence and when it had become too strong to set aside, had yielded to the urge. In each yielding, the intensity of the pull would subside for a while to a controllable level and he would go on as before. To Glorfindel’s detriment, he admitted with regret.

He realized it now. He had depended on the pull to keep him on this side of proper behavior as a spouse. He had failed to consider that the urge was but a guide; nature’s way of reminding bound Elves of their obligations to their partners. Allowed free rein, it was a powerful force and an essential aid for espousals wrought for eternity. But a bond could also be rendered inutile; even elven marriages could suffer the loss of love and passion should one partner or both cease to put effort into sustaining either.

They were very few, these hollow bindings, but they did exist and the tragedy of such cases was that the vows of fidelity were forever and virtually unbreakable. Only the passage of a spouse into Námo’s care opened the possibility of the surviving mate gaining freedom to love another. But what Elf could wish for such a thing to occur unless a seed of evil or malice existed in his or her heart to begin with?

Erestor shivered. He had weakened his bond with Glorfindel to an alarming degree; he could not deny it. Mayhap the warrior would not have betrayed his oath of faithfulness. But he could have wearied of waiting fruitlessly for Erestor to come around and simply returned to his family seat. They would have remained espoused but only in name. And there might have come a time that even the pull between them would have diminished significantly as to no longer have much influence on either of them.

The shiver turned into a shudder. The very idea of no longer feeling that special connection was enough to send cold chills racing up Erestor’s spine. He had not considered all these consequences in his zeal to nurture his only child, as he himself had not experienced in full. He had taken both Glorfindel and the binding-pull for granted, forgetting that in all things, Eru’s sentient creatures still possessed free will and could make or break their lives and destinies.

The pull was rooted in instinct. The success of a marriage lay in one’s conscious effort to abide by it. He would not make the mistake again of thinking it would take care of everything. The cost would be unendurable.

His breath hitched when strong arms slipped around him from behind and he was gently pulled back against a slender but powerful body. He let out a shaky breath. Glorfindel had drawn on a shirt to cover his bare form but he had not bothered to fasten it. Clad only in a thin bed-robe, Erestor could feel the warrior’s hard body all too easily. Including the beginnings of an early morning arousal. He fought to still his suddenly racing heart.

“‘Tis a wonderful day to wake up to,” Glorfindel murmured against his ear.

Erestor smiled even as a tremor coursed through his limbs. “Aye, it is. Legolas and Elrohir have already headed for the beach. Mayhap we could join them after breakfast?”

“Mmm, if they will care to have company,” Glorfindel chortled. “We have seen precious little of them these many days.”

Erestor laughed softly. “They indulge themselves rather fulsomely,” he conceded. “Never have I seen another bond as strong as that which they possess.”

Glorfindel sighed. “They are especially blessed,” he remarked. “But I think myself bountifully compensated as well – with you. And ‘tis a blessing that you were able to steal some time to be alone with me,” he softly added. “‘Twill tide me over when we return to Artirion and our duties.”

Erestor stiffened at the warrior’s words. Guilt washed over him once more and he swiftly turned in Glorfindel’s arms to face him. His eyes flashed with emerald flame as he beseechingly gazed at his mate.

“Do not speak so,” he pleaded. “You should not have to settle for mere crumbs of anything. You deserve only the best, melethron.”—lover.

“I do have the best,” the captain murmured, tracing a finger along Erestor’s jaw.

Erestor bit his suddenly trembling lip. “And I have but tasted of the worst,” he whispered. “If you ever stop loving me, I will know it in full measure. I never want to cause you such pain again, Glorfindel.”

“I do not think you will,” Glorfindel smiled. “You have been so attentive to me I scarce know how I survived all those centuries before we bound to each other.” He pressed a kiss to Erestor’s mouth. “And this holiday is a lovely gift, seron vell.”—beloved. “I will always cherish this time with you.”

“Yet I do not wish for this to be only a cherished memory, Glorfindel,” Erestor quietly insisted. “I intend for this to be but part of the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?” Glorfindel inquired, his hands working their way beneath the steward’s robe to catch him by his bottom and pull him flush against his own body.

Erestor gasped as he felt the warrior’s hardness nose up against his belly. There was no mistaking who would do the taking this morning. But first…

“The beginning of my efforts toward redemption,” Erestor whispered. He planted his hands on Glorfindel’s chest and firmly pushed the captain backwards towards the wood-woven divan on one side of the balcony.

Glorfindel eyed him questioningly but made no protest when Erestor urged him to sit down amidst the cushions. His gaze darkened when the steward knelt before him between his legs. And then he hissed when Erestor proceeded to put his lips and tongue to where they would do the most good.

Minutes later, the steward had made his searing way down to the captain’s groin. Glorfindel let out a low groan as he was engulfed in moist silken heat and steadily but gently drawn upon.

“Valar, I will be good for nothing else if you do not stop!” he finally growled after several more minutes of near unbearable bliss.

The counsellor raised his slightly tousled head and smiled. “That will not do,” he murmured.

He rose to his feet and, to Glorfindel’s amazement and delight, straddled the warrior’s lap. His gaze riveted on his golden spouse, Erestor lowered himself onto the shaft he had assiduously prepared and sheathed Glorfindel in the velvet warmth of his body.

They held still for several heartbeats, each adjusting to the sensations of their joining. And then Glorfindel grasped Erestor’s hips and, with a peremptory tug, silently requested him to move. The steward obeyed and thence started a dance that neither would stop until the very last strains of the song in their joined bodies faded away.

Naught but the sounds of their gasping breaths and husky moans broke the quiet. Sword and sheath. Taker and taken. Yet neither conquering nor conquered. The pleasure of the one who yielded was as great as that of the one who breached. It was shared. It was almost one and the same.

Erestor unravelled first, coming all undone when Glorfindel snuck a hand between them and stroked him to shuddery, breath-stealing rapture. With a soft cry, he found his release and spilled himself into the warrior’s fist. The waves of Erestor's climax inundating him coupled with the feeling of warm cream on his skin and the repeated enfolding of his tightly wrought shaft promptly impelled Glorfindel’s own pleasure to spiral wildly. He grabbed Erestor and held him so closely as to almost meld their bodies together. An instant later, he thrust up into the steward’s body and spent himself copiously. Fighting to stifle a much too telling shout of ecstasy, he suckled hard at Erestor’s throat instead, leaving a blatant bruise on the auburn-haired Edhel’s creamy flesh.

Raising himself off Glorfindel’s thighs, Erestor limply settled on his lap and sank into his spouse’s cradling embrace. They stayed thusly for the better part of the next quarter hour, kissing, nuzzling and caressing each other in utmost affection.

“If we go to the beach, ‘twill not be to swim,” Glorfindel warned with a rakish smile. “At least, not at once.”

Erestor chuckled. “Methinks, Elrohir and Legolas had the same thing in mind,” he grinned. “I do not hear a sound coming from yonder. Not so much as a squeal of laughter.”

Glorfindel grinned back. “They are insatiable, those two,” he commented with a shake of his golden head. “Astonishingly so.”

“And you are not?” Erestor shot back, eyebrows rising in mock scorn. “I can recall being unable to ride for days on end after enduring your more prolonged ministrations.”

Golden eyebrows rose as well. “Is that a complaint?” he questioned.

Erestor laughed. “Nay, ‘tis not,” he said. “Besides, I have never been much for riding.”

“Yet you do so most admirably,” Glorfindel smirked. His smile widened as a hint of color stained Erestor’s cheeks. “Indeed, you would put any of the Rohirrim to shame with your considerable abilities. From start to finish, you do not falter and only improve with every buck of your steed.”

“Shush, Glorfindel,” Erestor chided, his cheeks blossoming with color. “I am not one of Elrond’s sons to not be discomposed by such language.”

“But you could pass for one of them with your wanton, lusty display of—” He was summarily cut off by a hasty kiss from the now crimson-faced steward.

When Erestor at last drew back, Glorfindel was looking at him with suspiciously darkened eyes.

“I think we shall pass up the beach this morn,” he decided. “I seem to hear our bed calling to us to return without delay.”

With that, he shifted Erestor and hoisted the shocked steward over his shoulder as he rose from the divan.

“Glorfindel, put me down!” Erestor exclaimed as he was carried into the bedroom.

He gasped as he was quite unceremoniously dumped on the bed. Partly winded by so abrupt a landing, he stared up speechlessly at Glorfindel. The warrior shed his shirt then straddled the stunned steward.

“With pleasure, meleth”—love—he murmured huskily. He divested a suddenly anticipative Erestor of his robe. “Yours and mine.”

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

Glossary:

Edhel - Elf

The End
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Twilight Tales - Stolen Moments