Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

The Hunting Trip	By : IdrilsSecret Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2987 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- 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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Chapter 1

“Of all the times for an invitation,” Erestor complained. He had just been invited to accompany Glorfindel on a hunting trip, and now the elf lord was standing there, waiting for an answer. Sitting at his desk, Erestor looked around at the piles of parchments, holding his arms out to show the display, “I have not the time.”

“Make the time,” Glorfindel responded politely, but with an edge of demand in his voice that said there would be no negotiating.

It was Erestor’s job to negotiate, and he ignored him, “There are plenty of others who enjoy the sport. Ask one of them.”

“I am asking you,” Glorfindel said laconically.

Erestor never would have thought that Glorfindel would invite him on such a trip. Of all the elves to ask, Erestor thought himself to be the least likely. Hunting never was a great pastime of his, though he had participated before. He was rather comfortable in the peacefulness of the libraries of the Last Homely House. It was what he had become accustom to.

It wasn’t that he did not enjoy Glorfindel’s company either. Erestor had always looked forward to stories of the elf lord’s travels, on those occasions when Fin was home in Rivendell. A lot of the time, he was away, and everyone anticipated his return. Erestor was one of them, though he kept his feelings to himself. However, he had never really spent any time alone with the golden warrior, and something about the notion made him a bit nervous. What could they possibly have in common?

Erestor was the chief counselor. He enjoyed burying his nose in a book, researching documents, and advising Lord Elrond whenever his talents were needed. He was very opinionated when challenged, especially when it had something to do with his vast knowledge of Middle-earth history. His devoutness insured him a quiet life amongst the elves of Imladris, safe and comfortable.

He was tall and lean, always dressed in many layers of elvish robes and sashes. His long black hair was always neatly braided at the sides to keep it from falling onto the fresh ink of the many papers he drew up every day. Occasionally, he would practice swordplay, just to keep up with his self-defense. Most elves did this, whether they were soldiers or not. He did not travel much, and it had been a very long while since he had left the city, which was why he desperately searched for an excuse to refuse Glorfindel’s offer.

Glorfindel was a warrior, a symbol of strength and courage, a noble elf lord amongst princes. He had led armies in the First and Second ages, defeated a balrog and died, only to be re-embodied by the Valar because of his noble actions and devotion.

He was tall, with a bit more muscle that Erestor, because of his warrior status. His hair was very long, golden and wavy. Though he was long lived, Glorfindel’s features were timelessly youthful, and he was beyond a doubt very handsome. He was always dressed in leggings and leather boots, a short tunic and long fitted sleeves. His sword always hung at his side, as if ready for battle at any moment. When Glorfindel entered a room, it lit with his presence, for he seemed to shine with gilded confidence. He was, in a word, irresistible, and gained the attention of men and women alike … a living legend, not to be questioned, but to be adored. But if asked, he would deny it all, and ask to be treated no different than anyone else.

All of these thoughts and images flashed through Erestor’s mind, as the mighty Glorfindel awaited his answer, “A hunting trip you say? Yes, quite tempting, considering I have not hunted in a thousand years,” he said facetiously, “but as you can see, I have no time to be frivolous.” He picked up a random document and waved it in the air, “There is this document for … uh, well . . . Oh, and I cannot forget the translations for this one.” He picked up another paper with his other hand and flipped it back and forth.

Glorfindel did not say a word as Erestor stuttered and fumbled through countless papers. He merely gazed at him with a steady stare until Erestor started to fold and give in.

Erestor, seeing that Glorfindel would not take no for an answer, silently admitted defeat with a slump of his shoulders, “Fine then, hunting it will be. I’ll have my assistant take over for a few days. When shall we leave?” Erestor replied, feeling like a bumbling fool. He did not like to lose.

Glorfindel gave him a half smile with a twinkle of his bright azure eyes, and Erestor suddenly felt awkward and nervousness in the warrior’s presence.

“Tomorrow morning, meet me at the gates. Be prepared to be away for at least a week. And I do hope you have something more suitable for hunting,” Glorfindel said as he looked Erestor from head to toe.

“A week, for a hunting trip?” Erestor complained again, “That is a long time to be away, and I’m sure Lord Elrond has something of importance he needs me to—”

“Tomorrow,” Glorfindel interrupted in a smooth and even tone. He looked Erestor up and down again. This time, there was something predatory in his gaze that should have been a warning to the counselor, but he mistook it for the thrill of the upcoming hunt.

“Tomorrow then,” Erestor replied with no more resistance. Glorfindel could be intimidating at times. Erestor admitted that it was slightly frightening, and, dare he say, a bit exciting too?

* * *

Erestor felt as though he had not been good company. So far, all he had managed to kill was a couple quail, which they ate for their dinner one night. He felt awkward and clumsy with his bow. It had been many years since he used it, setting it aside for the feel of leather bound books, and the smell of musty parchments. Glorfindel managed to make him feel comfortable, however; always asking him about his work, and making sure the subjects interested him. Erestor was glad that he did, for he felt he had nothing in common with the legend. It put him at ease to know Glorfindel could be entertained by his wealth of knowledge, and if he was only pretending then he played a good game. The outcome had been a pleasurable trip for both of them, as they seemed to get along quite well while telling stories, laughing, and finding a common ground.

Still a couple of days out from Rivendell, and at the end of their weeklong trip, Glorfindel spotted a particular stag that he said he had chased before, but it had gotten away, “But with the both of us, I believe we can take this beast,” he said excitedly to Erestor.

“Oh, well I may have become good at shooting rabbits and birds, but this I am sure I could not succeed at. If you could not manage to catch it, then surely I cannot—”

“I was alone at the time, and the wind shifted. He picked up my scent. What we need is a distraction. He will focus on me as I make myself visible to him, and you come around to take the shot,” Glorfindel advised.

Erestor protested, “Me? Well, I … I think you are the most accurate. You should be the one to shoot, not me. I’ll do the distracting.”

“It will not work, Erestor. He will sense your fear, and dart off before I could notch my arrow.”

The dark haired counselor took offence to that, “Fear, I have no fear of this creature.”

“It is not the stag, but yourself that you fear. Don’t misunderstand me, you are very wise and confident within Elrond’s libraries where you are in control, but out here in the wild your soul seems lost,” explained Glorfindel.

Erestor turned from him, angered by this comment, not because of what the golden elf said, but because it was true. Erestor had devoted all of his time to his duties for Elrond. He worked very hard to earn the respect of his lord, and make a name for himself within the Last Homely House. In the process, however, Erestor had forgotten what it meant to live freely amongst nature and the wilds of Middle-earth.

“I have upset you,” Glorfindel confessed, laying a hand upon Erestor’s shoulder, “Maybe we should abandon the hunt, and return to the city.”

Erestor sighed and rolled his eyes, “No, I will not be the cause of an early return, though I may be the reason we return empty handed.”

Glorfindel gave a hearty laugh, “Confidence, my dear Erestor. If a quill and ink was your weapon, we would be skinning a hide right now.”

Erestor forgot about his anger, and joined Glorfindel in a chuckle over the inanity of the situation. They picked up their weapons, and went deeper into the woods to find the great stag. Whether they would return with the beast was another thing, but it did not seem so important now.

Finally, they spotted it standing within a small opening between trees, grazing upon the early spring grass. It was a magnificent creature with the largest set of antlers Erestor had seen. It had no inclination that it was being watched, and continued to feed without worry.

Glorfindel stood close to Erestor and whispered, “I am going to flank around to the right, and catch his attention without spooking him. While he is focused on me, you take your best shot.”

“My best shot may not be good enough,” Erestor said worriedly.

“It won’t be good enough if you keep thinking like that. Remember, confidence ‘O Master of the Libraries’,” Glorfindel chaffed.

“You are not helping,” countered Erestor.

“How about an accord then? You hit the stag at any point on his body, whether you bring him down or not, and tonight we sleep in comfort at an inn with wine and women. Surely you have not buried yourself so deep beneath tattered documents that you have abandoned that type of sport also.”

“If it is my annoyance you wish to gain from me, then you have succeeded,” Erestor said angrily.

Glorfindel only laughed in answer, “Oh Erestor, you do entertain me.” He nodded to his hunting partner before dashing off quietly into the woods, making his way around to the opposite side of the small glade where the deer stood.

Erestor watched as he went. Such stealth and grace could only be mastered by one as great as Glorfindel. It was as if his feet did not even touch the ground, and in an instant, he was in position. Then the ancient one made a whistle like a chipping sparrow, and waited for a response from the stag. The beast slowly lifted its massive head, and peered into the close growing trees. Glorfindel made no movement or sound until the animal seemed satisfied that the noise was indeed a bird. Another whistle sounded, and this time the deer tensed, and moved its head quickly. It seemed the beast had indeed made eye contact with Glorfindel, and they were locked in a trance. Neither the elf nor the deer moved, but only glared at each other through branches and leaves.

Erestor was so intrigued by this show of control that he almost forgot it was his turn to act. He raised his bow, arrow securely notched, and aimed. He had a clear shot from here, right into the animal’s heart. He pulled his arm back, stared down the length of his arrow, lined up the shot and—

At the sound of the bowstring snapping, the deer broke away from Glorfindel’s trance, and turned towards Erestor, but it would be the last thing the great beast would see as the arrow hit its target, and the animal dropped to the ground. The counselor stood perfectly still, bow still raised, arm pulled back, and watched the creature twitch, as the last few ounces of life left the body. The next thing he heard was Glorfindel cheering as he ran towards the small glade. He came to the deer and kneeled down, examining the placement of the arrow.

“Erestor, come and see your handiwork,” he shouted.

Erestor shook his head, and time resumed to normal speed, “Is it dead?” he shouted back from the trees.

Glorfindel laughed, a sound Erestor was beginning to get used to coming from the gold haired warrior, “Of course he is dead. He is not moving is he? You hit him square in the heart, my friend. It could not have been a better shot. And here you were worried.”

Erestor made his way through the trees, and joined Glorfindel beside the massive stag, “Tell me Glorfindel, if you wanted him so badly, then why did you insist on me taking the shot?”

Glorfindel stood up and faced Erestor. His intense blue eyes caught the counselor by surprise, and he wondered if this was what the deer had experienced just moments ago, “For the same reason I invited you to come along with me. You needed this, Erestor. You needed to be reminded of what it means to be an elf, untamed and wild, free from society, and free to make your own destiny. If we don’t get back to our roots every now and then, we lose that bit of what the Valar bestowed upon us, that part that makes us one with the earth and with each other.”

Erestor was mesmerized by the amount of passion in Glorfindel’s voice, and it left him without a response. He was right of course. Being out in the forest, the thrill of the hunt, and the satisfaction of success made the counselor’s blood race quickly through his veins. Not until Glorfindel dropped his gaze did Erestor find his voice again, “I believe I understand you now. It is very freeing.” He looked down at the stag, the spell broken, “There is one thing that neither of us has considered though.”

“What is that?” Glorfindel asked, smiling enthusiastically.

“This is too much meat for the both of us, and we are miles from home. We should not let it go to spoils.”

“And we won’t. Our furry friend here will secure us a room at the inn, as well as a couple bottles of their finest wine. They will have a feast in our honor.”

Erestor regarded Glorfindel with a shake of his head, “Are you always this sure of yourself?”

Again, the golden warrior answered with a chuckle, and reached for a knife at his side, “We’d better get to work cleaning this fellow. I want to make it to the inn before sundown.”
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The Hunting Trip