Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Ai Elbereth	By : tehta Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 627 -:- 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-Ai Elbereth
- 1
Author's note: This fic is meant as a gap-filler between my fics
"Flawed and Fair" and "Strange Fortunes," and might well be
incomprehensible to people who have not read at least the former.

-----
Ai Elbereth
-----

Ecthelion and Glorfindel were arguing.

"It is blasphemy!" said Ecthelion.

"Perhaps," said Glorfindel. "But, if so, you
yourself are a habitual blasphemer. When we learned that the new sword
consignment was a dozen short, for example, I distinctly heard you say--"

"I may occasionally invoke the names of the Valar, yes, but
never under such impious circumstances!"

"Well, neither do I, usually. It is just that I saw stars,
and--"

"Be that as it may..." Ecthelion shut his eyes, fighting
down the surge of self-satisfaction Glorfindel's words provoked. "We
should not be trying to attract the attention of the Valar. Quite the opposite.
Even you must see that."

"Even I, hmm? I suppose you are right. So, I solemnly promise
that I will try to refrain from saying 'Ai, Elbereth' under circumstances that
may be construed as impious, such as, for example--"

"And please stop talking about it."

"Sorry. I keep forgetting that Elbereth is probably listening
to us right now. Looking at us, too, I expect." Glorfindel pushed a strand
of hair behind one ear and glanced around. "In that case, she must be
wondering why we are naked. We might want to think up a pretext... something
about trying on each other's clothes, perhaps? Speaking of which--is that my
shirt hanging off the candelabra?"

"No, that is mine. If you remember, I... never mind,"
said Ecthelion. "I think yours is under that chair."

Ecthelion made a point of not watching Glorfindel get dressed.
Instead, he pulled on a robe and set about putting the room in order. Although
the silence was a waste of hard-won private time, he could think of nothing
conciliatory to say. He knew he was right.

He was retrieving his shirt when Glorfindel appeared beside him,
neat and composed once more.

"Ecthelion." Glorfindel's hand hovered for a bit before
settling on a shoulder squeeze. "Sorry about all the sarcasm. I am feeling
frustrated. On several levels. So, what do we do now? Would you like me to
stay? Or..." He wanted to leave. His glance towards the door made it
plain.

"I will see you after I return from the Great Gate,"
said Ecthelion quietly. Eight weeks from now; eight weeks of regretting such a
parting. But Glorfindel wanted to leave. Ecthelion looked away, weighing pride
against need.

"I cannot send you away like this," he said to the
candelabra.

"Then do not," Glorfindel replied with unexpected force,
his hold on Ecthelion's shoulder tightening. "Look, Ecthelion, I am tired
of this. I am tired of talking you out of your doubts." He shifted in
place, obviously uncomfortable with expressing--or even feeling--grievance.
Ecthelion liked him all the more for it, and longed to ease his discomfort.

"That is understandable," he said. "You have done a
great deal of talking to get us to this point, and I wish that... But if you
are tired of all this--of me--then you should feel free to tell me so. Or to
take a break."

"To walk out of here, you mean? The problem is that I can see
what will happen then: I will leave feeling annoyed, miss you when you go to
the Gate, grow contrite by the time you return, and fall back into the same
pattern, which will get more irritating each time, until... Oh, I do not
know." Glorfindel released Ecthelion's shoulder and folded his arms.
"I am not sure why I am even telling you this; it sounds so appallingly
dramatic."

"Perhaps you want me to take my turn at talking you out of
doubts?"

"Do you feel up to it, then?"

"Let me try. You know, this is not really a pattern... No,
hear me out. Look, we have just discovered--and experienced--a new unnatural
act. You know such things bother me a great deal, but we are unlikely to
encounter them all that often. Unless, of course, you believe that there is a
limitless supply of unnatural acts to discover."

This feeble attempt at humour seemed to work; Glorfindel smiled,
if a little forcedly. "Well, I will do my best, but no promises.
However..." His face took on a familiar expression--the 'I Have Found an
Irrefutable Argument' look. "I wanted to point out that an act that
feels... well, good beyond the simple pleasure of sensual touch... cannot be
entirely unnatural. If Eru Il�vatar gave our bodies the capacity to experience
physical pleasure unrelated to the begetting of children, then surely this is a
natural part of the world's song. And please do not say that it must be one of
Morgoth's corrupt variations."

"I was not going to." The point had occurred to
Ecthelion, but this was not the time to make it. "I was thinking about the
irony of calling such acts a part of Eru's song when you yourself are learning
about them from the bawdy songs written by malicious bards to discredit their
enemies."

"That is true, yes, but is it relevant? Many of those songs
mention women, as well."

"They also mention Orcs and sheep. You see, the point they
are making is that giving in to the needs of the body too freely is laughable,
and therefore wrong."

Glorfindel ran a hand through his hair. "I know you consider
bad music morally suspect, but surely it is not something to base an ethical
decision on. And I hope you are not implying that the needs of your body
include Orcs and sheep, not to mention women. Quite apart from anything else, I
doubt I would enjoy dressing up as a sheep."

"Now that is one doubt I refuse to talk you out of."

The smiles they exchanged then were natural; the evening had been
saved. They stepped closer and embraced lightly, like brothers.

"Eight weeks, then," said Glorfindel.

"Yes. Thank you for being so understanding." Ecthelion
did feel grateful, profoundly so. Grateful, and determined not to fall into the
pattern Glorfindel feared.

Well, eight weeks would give him plenty of time to think about the
situation.

---

Glorfindel was up on the city wall, talking to some of the men on
duty, when the returning guards appeared on the Gate road. In the morning sun,
they glittered like metal filings, tiny and indistinguishable. Glorfindel's
eyes were drawn to the figure at their head: so, Ecthelion would be back in the
city by evening. He would be busy, of course, but Glorfindel resolved to seek
him out the following morning. With luck, they might arrange to meet soon
after.

In an attempt to suppress his growing impatience, Glorfindel
devoted his day to all the small administrative tasks he had been ignoring.
This proved just as mind-numbing and time-consuming as expected. It was well
past sunset by the time he returned home to find his lamps lit, some of his
clutter cleared--and Ecthelion sitting at his table, busily writing.

Glorfindel blinked a few times. Reunions were often disorienting.
He was used to finding the real Ecthelion subtly different from the images his
mind constructed when they were apart--for instance, the imaginary Ecthelion
tended to wear less clothing. Still, this time the confusion was particularly
powerful. Sneaking into Glorfindel's rooms uninvited and without a plausible
excuse seemed such a risky and un-Ecthelion-like activity. But the strangeness
faded when Ecthelion turned towards Glorfindel, dark hair sliding across one
shoulder.

"Ah, you are back," he said.

"Isn't that my line?" Glorfindel crossed the room,
placed a hand on the back of the chair, and glanced down at the documents
spread out on the table. Official paperwork--the very thing he himself had just
been suffering through. He wanted to make a joke about this, but one of the
piles of paper Ecthelion had moved aside reminded him why familiarity still
felt somewhat out of place.

"I got your letter," he said instead. "I believe I
still have it around here somewhere. Ah, yes." He picked up the sheet and
shook it out, one-handed. "'Glorfindel, I have enclosed the reports on the
new automatic crossbow. The weather continues fair. Respectfully, Ecthelion.' I
have to admit, I am glad you respect me still, after all the unnatural
acts."

"Yes, I remember writing that." Ecthelion frowned.
"It took several attempts. I had done some thinking, and I wanted to tell
you about it, but, well, not in a letter some captain of yours might read. I
did not imagine that-- Did my brevity truly bother you?"

"What truly bothered me was Egalmoth asking me for my opinion
of Elemmakil's latest adventure. I felt embarrassed to find that he knew more
about your life at the Gate than I."

"Sorry. The next time one of my men mistakes his patrol
leader for a bear, I will make sure that you are the first to know."
Ecthelion reached up to touch Glorfindel's arm at the elbow. "Are we
arguing still? I did not think so, but I will understand if--"

"No, it is all right." Glorfindel responded to the
contact by moving his hand onto Ecthelion's shoulder. "I did miss your
usual letters, but having you here in person is compensation enough."

Ecthelion looked up as if surprised. "I am glad to hear that,
because I have been thinking about our last meeting. And, well." While his
fingers slid higher, he averted his eyes. "I want us to make another
attempt. Only this time the other way round."

He sounded serious--and if he had given the matter so much
thought, he probably was. Glorfindel felt thrilled, but skeptical, since the
suggestion did not seem entirely feasible. Ecthelion's shoulder was hard,
tense.

"I really appreciate the gesture," said Glorfindel,
"but--"

"It is not a 'gesture.' It is a proposition. A considered and
sincere one." Ecthelion stood up. "I am curious. You said I had to try
it--I remember that quite clearly. Anyway, this might allow me to demonstrate
that at least one of us has enough self-control to avoid blasphemy."

Their eyes were level now; Ecthelion's held a challenge.
Confronted in this way, Glorfindel could not refuse. "If you are
sure," he said.

"Quite sure."

They moved towards each other, reaching forward. It was not a
graceful motion: both were hesitant, and the chair, forgotten in their
preoccupation, seemed to insinuate itself between them with hard-cornered spite.
They exchanged half-smiles as they pushed it aside. To their relief, much of
the awkwardness seemed to go with it. The rest disappeared as they leaned into
one another, kissing deeply.

Glorfindel's hands sought out favourite resting-points--the nape
of Ecthelion's neck, the small of his back--as he tried to press as much of
their bodies together as possible in a standing embrace. It never felt like
enough, of course, but the attempt was worthwhile, since each small adjustment
brought a burst of sensation: a hand sliding down his hip, a shift in the warm
pressure against his chest, a brush of friction against his groin. He hummed
with pleasure, and felt rather than heard Ecthelion's answering moan. The
muffled vibration reminded him that everything would feel better, sharper,
without the intervening layers of fabric. He let one arm begin tugging at
clothing while the other tried to keep Ecthelion in place. But Ecthelion
stepped back anyway, so that cold air filled the gap between them.

"The bed, I think," said Ecthelion.

He touched Glorfindel's shoulder, then led the way to the other
room, stopping at one of the weapon stands to pick up a jar of grease. This
practicality seemed to sober him: when he sat down on the bed he looked grimly
resolute, as if undressing was a chore. He approached the task methodically,
folding his tunic and shirt before placing them carefully on the floor beside
his feet.

Glorfindel suppressed a smile. He could not tell whether the
amusement was appropriate, or due to his own lightheaded nervousness. What was
certainly appropriate was the spine-tingling pleasure he got from watching the
lines of Ecthelion's back shift as he bent forward, this time to remove his
boots, then craned his neck upwards to meet Glorfindel's eyes.

"What about you?" Ecthelion asked. "Were you
planning to keep your clothes on? No, do not tell me." He sat up. "I
know--you are feeling ashamed because, in my absence, you have neglected the
exercise yard to the point where your body has atrophied completely."

"Hah."

Peeling off his own clothes was the work of a moment. Then
Glorfindel slid onto the bed and demonstrated his unatrophied condition by
dragging Ecthelion down beside him, pulling them together in another familiar
way: the horizontal embrace, with its dynamic give and take and vague evocation
of honourable combat. Or, rather, dishonourable combat. Glorfindel lost his
initial advantage when Ecthelion feinted, drawing one arm down as if to brace
himself for an attack and then reaching below the belt instead. But Glorfindel
could not resent this. The main thing was that everything was all right again.
It seemed that discord could exist only in the air; that, when no space
separated them, they understood each other completely. There was no other explanation
for the way Ecthelion took him in hand just as friction ceased to be enough.
Glorfindel arched into the touch and tried to reciprocate--but Ecthelion moved
away again.

"No, wait," said Ecthelion before twisting towards the
bedside chest where he had placed the grease-jar.

With a little effort, Glorfindel remembered what they had
intended. Now that things were going so well it seemed unnecessary, and likely
to cause complications. He reached forward, attempting to pull them close once
more, and ended up pressed against Ecthelion's back, aligned just right to
slide in between his thighs. Or perhaps even deeper--would that work?
Glorfindel tightened his hold. He had wanted this even before he had deciphered
the songs--had wanted to claim any part of Ecthelion that could be claimed. His
commitment to the plan renewed, he thanked Elbereth for her part in bringing it
about, and kissed Ecthelion's neck encouragingly.

Ecthelion responded by turning to face him. They worked together
then, drawing on the experience of their previous encounter to rearrange
themselves until Ecthelion lay on his back and Glorfindel knelt between his
legs. Some of the awkwardness returned as they puzzled out the best position
for various limbs, but it was a different sort of awkwardness, more
companionable and far less grim; at least, so it seemed to Glorfindel when
Ecthelion reached up to coat him with grease and guide him into position.
Glorfindel took a deep breath, and pushed forward.

For a moment, he found it hard to focus on anything but the
sensation, a pleasure more all-encompassing than he had expected. He knew it
would feel even better when he moved again, but some part of his overwhelmed
mind made him hold still and concentrate on Ecthelion's braids, which lay in
disorder upon the pillow.

"Glorfindel." Ecthelion's voice was muted but even.
"It is all right. I knew it would be."

"Mmm?" was all Glorfindel could manage.

"Yes. I have been practicing."

"Practicing?" Glorfindel's capacity for speech returned.
"Alone? Out at the Gate?"

"Yes."

Imagining that, Glorfindel could not help moving, just a little.
Ecthelion inhaled sharply, but he looked surprised, not pained, so Glorfindel
kept going, thrusting slowly and trying not to think about what he did or how
it felt. After a few moments, a hand on his hip urged him to alter his course;
he sat back, to make it easier. He knew he had it right when the hand gripped
tighter and Ecthelion's breathing grew heavier yet more controlled, the way it
did when he held back louder sounds.

They began to move together, settling into a rhythm. Their eyes
met; for a few moments, they looked at each other in wonder. Then Glorfindel
let his eyes drift lower, to where their bodies were joined, and felt his
heart-rate accelerate. It was too much, that Ecthelion let him do this, that it
brought pleasure to them both. In equal measure? He wanted to be sure: reaching
forward, he wrapped one hand around Ecthelion's member.

"No," said Ecthelion. "No, I... Ah. Ah, Eru!"
He fell into incoherence as his body spasmed.

Watching him--feeling him--Glorfindel began to thrust faster, as
if to catch up with his drumming heart. And then it seemed he had: for a moment
he felt quite still and detached, poised above Ecthelion, who for once looked
at ease, as if he knew he belonged here. Ah Eru indeed, thought Glorfindel with
strange clarity. I will come inside him.

And he did. The pulse of it pulled him back into his body, rocking
and confusing him until he was left with the illusion that he had spilled from
his very heart.

The pride he felt at managing to slide off to one side before
collapsing was surely perfectly justified.

---

They lay there facing each other for a little while. Ecthelion's
mind was pleasantly blank. It was such a relief not to think, to simply exist
and luxuriate in the heavy, relaxed feeling in his limbs. His reverie broke
only when Glorfindel waved a hand before his eyes.

Ecthelion caught it in his own. "I'm not asleep."

"Good. Then you can appreciate the self-restraint I am
exercising as I nobly refrain from commenting on anything."

"From commenting on what? The fact that I did not invoke any
of the Valar?"

"Yes, I was very impressed. You went straight over their
heads. Or do you not remember?"

"I remember." Ecthelion spent a moment trying to locate
the usual regret. Its pull had been fading lately, abandoning him for hours--or
even days--at a time; today, it did not seem to be there at all. True, he had
just demonstrated that he could match Glorfindel perversion for perversion, but
in doing so he had stepped off the easy path, the one where Glorfindel took
most of the initiative and hence the bulk of the guilt, so there was virtue
mixed in with the vice. Perhaps this explained why he felt so happy.

"Yes, I remember everything. For example..." Ecthelion
sat up higher. "I remember you referring to my crossbow report. So, what
did you think? I am not convinced that--"

Glorfindel sent him a look as piercing and lethal as a crossbow
bolt. "I know we need an excuse for your visit, but do we really have to
work on it right now? I would much rather discuss all the things you left out
of your letter."

"What, like Elemmakil? Or like the ridiculous way I counted
the days until my return to the city?" Ecthelion reached down to run a
hand through Glorfindel�s hair, smoothing out the tangles.

"No, more like this �practicing� you mentioned."

"Ai, Elbereth," said Ecthelion.

-----
---
-
--
----

Author's notes:
0) Constructive criticism is always welcome. As is praise,
randomness, and destructive criticism.
1) I do know that "seeing stars" is a very clich� way of
describing certain sexual sensations, but I was rather amused by the way it
fitted in with the Elbereth theme.
3) The journey from the gates to the city took about a day, at
least according to "Of the Coming of Tuor to Gondolin" in "The
Lost Tales."
4) Much thanks to Aayesha, Born on Sofa, and Eveiya for the beta.
And to Maggie for other betas and spider smut.
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Ai Elbereth