~*~*~*~

"Oh, Glorfindel." Erestor called from the desk with the most irresistible voice he dared to use.

"Yes, my raven?" Glorfindel purred deliciously from the sofa.

Silence.

"Never mind," Erestor replied with the plainest voice of a real councilor, his desire and playfulness disappearing in an instant.

Glorfindel was hurt. He had never before experienced such a change of mood and switching of needs. He was to say the least confused. He wanted to purr, he wanted to talk nonsense, play for as long as they desired, laugh, tickle and be tickled. he wanted to play, like a child, bite and giggle, explore with all of his senses, not think a lot, just let himself go and enjoy those few intimate moments of the afternoon rest.

"My little black kitten," he sang, rising from his rest and moving towards Erestor, who was still sitting, rather distantly. "Why does my kitten refuse to play?"

"Oh, Glorfindel, I am no elfling," Erestor protested. "Grow up, you ARE as old as Arda!" He got up from his chair, started pacing nervously up and down the room.

Glorfindel was very confused now, wearing a face of utter disbelief, as his lover ignored him. What made him behave like that? he wondered, not being able to find a right answer.

"I always thought you saw ME," snapped Erestor, stabbing his thumbs into his chest. "I always thought you loved ME!" he started screaming, while Glorfindel was trying to find ANY words of defense. "I always thought it was ME who attracted you, and not my hair!" And the infuriated elf ran through the door.

A smile appeared on Glorfindel's obviously bedazzled face, as he finally understood what the other was implying, and the smile disappeared the very moment he realized, once again, WHAT the other was implying.

Of course, he remembered, Erestor was always fighting numerous elves who offered many things in return for his love, for an elf of his beauty was a rare treasure; the color of his hair was like a Silmaril among other precious jewels. Black, so dark, like a raven, with a mahogany-red shade; the red played with the light, and one could hardly keep one's eyes away from it. He was beautiful, the most beautiful elf, indeed. Unfortunately, a strong mind and a sharp tongue came in the same package.

Oh, how the elf hated to be put down like that, for centuries; not many looked beneath the beauty, not many cared what was underneath those fiery locks and edible lips, and he had to work four times as hard to be granted the respect others normally had.

Glorfindel worshipped that hair. But Glorfindel also worshiped his eyes, and the lips he had kissed a thousand times, lips that could seal the fates of too many and were fiery in debates. He also adored the mind, which held knowledge of many libraries, and his delicate hands, fingers. Glorfindel worshipped the ground the other walked on.

And for Erestor to think he wanted him as a trophy. he was, in each and every way, furious.

~*~*~*~

At the end of the day, Erestor realized his reaction had been too intense. They had been together for far too long, and Glorfindel would have left after their first fight if his affection was that shallow. No one would stand an angry Erestor unless they were well paid for, or under a threat of counting orcs in Mordor. No, he had to feel at least something.

But Erestor was scared by now, for Glorfindel did not bother interrupting him even once, and he was nowhere in sight all day long. Erestor hurried to their chambers to be devastated by the scene of a half empty bedroom and dressers, all his things intact and none of Glorfindel's in sight. He thought his heart would break as he fell to his knees, shedding rivers of tears. He was in love, much more than he knew, for the pain that was breaking his heart was stronger than the poisoned arrows uruk-hai would use. He was. broken.

~*~*~*~

A dark figure appeared on the door, observing and moving slowly, until it ran towards the elf on the floor. Erestor wondered, for a second, as he noticed someone, covered in cloak from head to toe, run to him, until he heard a familiar voice yelling in despair.

"Erestor, what have I done? Erestor! Please, it was a joke." He was shaking and hugging the crying body. "Erestor! Please, say you are well. Please, say something!"

Erestor's usually sharp mind needed some time to process the new information it was receiving, but the moment it succeeded he hugged his beloved, obvious glee on his face; he was ashamed to admit he was nothing but a slave to his heart. He held the covered body as though his life depended on it, and he knew that just might be true; then he gathered his senses and started yelling.

"You." He was trying to slap the figure by him, but had no heart for it. Instead, he held him, shaking him, and continued yelling. "I WILL kill you! Don't you ever." and he hugged him sloppily again.

And something was amiss, for as the hood fell from Glorfindel's head, there were no golden locks; instead, there were dark red ones.

"Oh, Fin," Erestor sighed while moving his fingers through what once had been gold.

"So. what do you think?" Glorfindel glowed with pride. "I asked Elrond's help with the herbs. It will last maybe one Ithil cycle, but I can do it again."

"Oh, Fin." Erestor held him tight, stroking the silky dark hair, not believing what had happened, what his beloved has done, staring at the dark red tresses, remembering the beautiful gold that had shone under his fingers. Could he really love him that much for this sacrifice?

"I remembered how we all tortured you, how I tortured you at first." Glorfindel kissed him on the ear. "But I never thought about it later; I never wondered if you had been hurt. I. I am sorry."

"No," Erestor pleaded. "I cannot be angry with you. You are." Erestor looked him straight in the eyes. "Fin, I love you more than life! And your hair." He stroked it over and over again. "Please, don't EVER change it again!"

"Oh, Erestor, ever so charming with words," he smiled. "I hoped you would say that."

"Which one?" Erestor cocked his head.

Glorfindel kissed him passionately, lifting him off the floor, and in a pause between kisses he whispered, "Both".

Erestor opened his eyes and backed away, wanting to look at the treasure Valar gave him. He did not know who to thank anymore; he did not know how to form the sacred words. He just knew that his life was set; he could never again love anyone like that.

"So," Glorfindel broke his thought, "who do you think will get more attention now, my BLACK raven?"