Title: By the Horns
Author: Ezra's Persian Kitty
Email: ezraspersiankitty@yahoo.com
Type: FPS
Pairing: Haldir/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warning: Some violence.
Summary: The fox is crafty.
Author's Note: For Jaiden and Mirasaui.

BY THE HORNS

The fox has a crafty spirit. The fox prepares her den
for winter, and knows how to steal food from others.
The fox may lead hunting dogs astray and hide her cubs
from predators. She uses her eyes and her ears. She
may outwit owls, distract raccoons, bargain with
crows, and even negotiate between bulls.

In the animal kingdom, there are all manner of shows
and games to determine authority, territory, and
mates. It is rare that the stallion mauls the colt,
the eagle eats the egret, the stag locks horns with
stag. When it happens, it is complete and absolute and
over in moments.

The way of Elves will never be as simple,
straightforward, or swift as that of the lower
creatures.

Still, there are moments when the fox wonders. There
are moments, even, when she may outfox Elves.

= = = = =

"It's NOT my FAULT!"

"Well, it certainly wasn't mine!"

"Clothing doesn't just disappear!"

"Stop repeating yourself."

"Stop harassing me!"

Two Elves were stomping through the undergrowth.

Both were relatively tall. Both were broad, and
muscular. The warrior's physique. One was built like a
swordsman; the other, like an archer. One had purely
golden hair; the other, hair more akin to tainted
moonlight. One had eyes of versatile blue; the other,
eyes of harsher hazel.

Both were naked.

Except for their boots.

One carried a belt and scabbard with a sheathed sword.
The other had a quiver strapped about his naked torso
and carried a slender longbow.

Both were covered in the red lines of claw marks.

Both were furious.

"Could it have been your brother?"

"No! Could it have been your Counselor?"

"First of all," Glorfindel huffed, "Erestor is not MY
Counselor. Second of all, this isn't his style. Third
of all, he can't cover his tracks worth shit."

Haldir chuckled. "I can't believe I am mistaken. I
thought Erestor WAS your Counselor, if you catch my
drift."

"Stop 'drifting' in that direction; you're way off
course."

"Rumors aren't all their cracked up to be, then?"
Haldir wondered, his ire momentarily cooling. "An
awful persistent falsehood it is."

Glorfindel allowed himself a grudging smile. "People
are romanticized by the notion," he calmly explained.
"Two Elves, so different, but of equal standing. Seen
together often enough to make people wonder. They see
passion where there is only ideological friction. Love
where there is friendship. They see what they want to
see. It is simple."

"So, he wasn't interested," Haldir inferred.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes. "Neither was I. There's
nothing between us. At first, the rumors were amusing.
They have since grown annoyingly stagnant."

"Well," Haldir grumpily huffed, changing the subject
with droll sarcasm, "I can't wait until we arrive
within sight of the telain." He groaned. "I'll never
live this down."

Not knowing how angry Haldir actually was, Glorfindel
risked a hearty laugh. "We'll start some rumors of our
own! I can hear the questions already: 'what do you
mean you weren't doing anything? You were both naked,
weren't you?'"

Haldir nodded grimly. "We never got along well enough
for people to believe we were amiably bathing
together."

"Well, it wasn't amiable."

"Doesn't matter," Haldir pointed out, gruffness in his
normally purr-like tones.

They were walking roughly side-by-side. Parallel
enough to keep each other in their peripheral vision.
Without actually looking.

"Damn bloody awful badgers," Haldir continued,
mumbling. "I think I'm still bleeding." Then, even
lower. "Your fault."

Glorfindel dug in his feet, turning to face Haldir.
"My fault? No! No! YOUR fault! This is YOUR territory,
Haldir! You should know where these things live!"

"I'm a border guard; I DON'T know every corner of the
Wood. YOU were the one who approached the damn
burrow!"

"Well, I've never seen so many in one place!"
Glorfindel protested. "I never thought there'd be THAT
many in ONE den! Besides, they had NO reason to
attack! I was friendly!"

"Glorfindel! We're five times bigger than a badger! No
wonder they didn't want us in their territory!"

They were standing several paces apart now, glaring
fiercely at one another, churning with frustration not
only at the situation, but at its absurdity.

Despite the fact that Glorfindel had been closer to
the den, Haldir had more scratches, mostly on his
lower legs and forearms, some still bleeding, even
with the salve they'd applied after the rinse in the
stream. He really did look a mess. And his hazel eyes
were grown flecked with brown and blue-gold in his
anger. "You really are as idiotic as you pretend to
be," he snarled.

"I'm not the one who begged, 'don't kill them!
They're just animals!' You wouldn't even let me DEFEND
myself!"

"Well, they ARE just animals!" Haldir shouted. "And we
weren't hungry! It was your stupidity, not their
anger, that got us in this fix!"

Glorfindel threw his hands up and roared, short and
guttural. "Argh! All I want now is just to know where
our clothes went!"

"Give it up. They're gone. Just leave it." And Haldir
stalked off.

Practically stomping his feet in anger, Glorfindel
charged after him. "Yeah. Leave it." He caught
Haldir's shoulder and spun him around. "You're right,
you know. We're going to be the laughing stocks of
Elvendom."

Haldir roughly pulled away, practically recoiling from
the physical contact. "DON'T. Touch me." The warning
in his eyes matched the warning in his voice. Don't
touch me, or else.

Glorfindel growled, unwilling to step back, unwilling
to give ground.

= = =

On many levels, life is an act. Elves may choose to
act professional or friendly, calm or generous,
sarcastic or cold. Animals do not employ such careful
controls. Animals do not choose what to show or what
to hide. Animals simply are. They obey only instinct;
they fear only pain.

All Elves have similar instincts and fears. All Elves
exert control over them. All Elves may choose not to.
But few do.

Glorfindel and Haldir were reaching the choose-not-to
moment, the moment when words become irrelevant, when
actions speak for all, when instinct takes over and
fears are in control.

= = =

In this moment, they are angry, they are frustrated.
They are cold and uncomfortable; they feel exposed and
vulnerable.

Neither Elf is accustomed to, nor welcomes,
vulnerability.

Both feel that they are in the right, that they should
somehow win, somehow dominate, somehow prove their
victory. Both know, against their pride, that the
other is a little bit right, too.

Glorfindel feels hot on the inside, cold on the
outside. Feels a little stupid, a little dangerous.
Feels more and more, thinks less and less.

Haldir feels intruded upon, his space violated. He
feels he must defend himself, defend his pride, defend
his honor. He, too, is moving away from thought and
into feeling.

= = =

Taking a bull by the horns is never a good idea, even
if you too are a bull with an equally large set of
horns.

= = =

Glorfindel punched Haldir's shoulder. Not hard enough
to hurt, not even hard enough to make him stagger. But
hard enough to make him wince, hard enough to say, `I
can touch you if I like; what are you gonna do about
it?'

Some part of Haldir realized he was going to do
something very petty. A far larger part realized he
didn't care. He punched Glorfindel. In the jaw. Hard.

Glorfindel stumbled back, threw his belt and sword
aside. Spat red-tinged saliva to the ground. Growled.

Haldir dug his boots into the earth, tossed his bow to
the grass and unhooked the quiver, letting it fall.

Unbeknownst to the pair of Elves, they were not alone.
They were surrounded by trees that had been around
long enough to know what was coming, by birds that
were smart enough to flee, by small animals who sensed
the tension in the air and slunk far away from the
meeting of bulls who glared their fire eyes and reared
their sharp horns and stamped their angry hoofs.

In their animalistic fervor, decency lay abandoned,
fairness forgot, common sense tossed aside. There was
no finesse and little style.

There was haste.

Glorfindel charged, sprinting forward the short
distance to ram his entire bulk into Haldir's not
inconsiderable mass, forcing the Galadhel to the
ground.

There was viciousness.

Haldir grabbed Glorfindel's nearest leg and sunk his
teeth into the skin just above his boot.

There was nastiness.

Glorfindel reached down to grab a handful of tainted
moonlight hair and tug, thereby removing Haldir's
teeth from Glorfindel's leg.

There was retaliation.

Haldir aimed a punch at Glorfindel's head. Missed.
Attempted to knee his groin. Missed. Delivered a
brutal kidney punch. Glorfindel let go his hair.

There was sloppiness.

Glorfindel sent a roundhouse kick toward Haldir's
shoulder. Missed. Haldir tried to catch the foot.
Didn't.

There was crudeness.

Glorfindel tackled Haldir, sending them both to the
forest floor, scratching and snarling and fumbling.

There was cruelty.

Glorfindel spit in Haldir's face. Haldir wiped it away
and boxed Glorfindel's ears, leaving him dazed,
reversed their positions.

There was swearing.

"Ah! My fucking ears! Bastard!"

There was all manner of messiness.

Haldir shoved Glorfindel's cheek into the dirt.
Glorfindel ripped out a few strands of Haldir's hair.
Haldir howled. Blood leaked from his temple. He
scratched at Glorfindel's eyes; Glorfindel caught his
wrists and twisted him away.

There was renewed vigor.

They crouched on booted feet before attacking again,
charging like rabid, thoughtless beasts, regardless of
who or where or when or what, concerned only with the
vastly angered here and now.

There was arousal.

They were hard. At first -- it was funny -- at first
they didn't even notice. Everything else was too loud,
the I-need-to, I-have-to, the push and pull and shove.
It was the second time when they were rolling around
on the ground, vicious and snarling, that they
noticed. First, they only noticed the other's
reaction, and it enraged them. It took further
wordless screaming and struggling to realize that they
themselves had also grown stiff with sexual desire.

There was a moment.

Haldir, on his back with Glorfindel laying over him,
froze first, eyes wide, motionless except for the
heavy panting breaths. Sensing the sudden change,
Glorfindel stilled as well, his eyes staring not at
Haldir, but at the patch of grass over his shoulder.

Reason returned. Momentarily.

"This is pretty foolish, huh?" Glorfindel grumbled,
hot breath puffing at Haldir's shoulder.

"No better than animals," Haldir agreed, wide hazel
eyes darting toward Glorfindel's face, his hair, his
pointed ear, the sky above, the overarching branches.

"Why are we . . . ?"

"I don't know."

Glorfindel shifted, unintentionally building the
pleasurable friction between them. "Shit."

"Arh, fuck," Haldir agreed.

Maybe they thought that if they just stayed very
still, it would go away.

"I'm going to get off you now," said Glorfindel.

"All right."

Neither moved.

"You said you're going to move."

"I am," Glorfindel agreed.

Neither moved.

"I really want to kiss you," Glorfindel confessed
without grace or restraint, desire evident in the
husky tones of his voice.

Haldir did not answer. He was still looking at the
pattern the criss-crossing branches made against the
so blue sky.

"Can I kiss you?"

Haldir blinked, letting his focus fuzz into something
less distinct. "You don't ask if you can hit me, but
you ask if you can kiss me?"

"Well. Yeah."

Haldir rolled his eyes, forced Glorfindel over and
onto his back, straddled the golden Elf and leaned
down to brutally attach his lips to Glorfindel's
mouth.

Funny how swiftly some urges may overcome others.

Whether it was a transformation of need, or the
outweighing of one over another, didn't matter. Past
was passed. This was now.

Hands that had wanted to hurt now wanted to touch, to
explore, to stimulate and, yes, claim to a certain
degree.

Glorfindel didn't want to be on his back. With Haldir
over him like that. It was too confining, too
compliant. He fought restlessly to turn the tables,
but Haldir was using his body to the best of his
knowledge, keeping the golden Elf pinned to the forest
floor, still plundering the hot mouth that tasted like
the copper of blood from teeth that had jarred against
the skin when Haldir had punched him.

"How're we gonna do this?" Haldir rumbled against
Glorfindel's reddened lips.

"Do what?" Glorfindel whined as Haldir's fingers
stroked an ear.

Haldir reached down between them to grasp Glorfindel's
engorged cock. "This," Haldir pointedly told him.

"Oh," Glorfindel wondered, "That."

Haldir grinned wickedly and began stroking him,
enjoying all the animalistic sounds wrung from
Glorfindel's throat, the wild expressions on his
handsome face, the writhing of the strong, hardened
body beneath him.

"Just," Glorfindel gasped, "By Elbereth! Just . . .
make me come!"

Nodding, Haldir slid a leg between Glorfindel's,
straddling his thigh so that their cocks could rub
together between taut bellies.

Such pure stimulation drove all lingering thought
away. Such complete and easy pleasure drowned all
memory of pain or anger. Such a wealth of feeling,
from such a vicious struggle between two such prideful
beings.

= = =

If neither felt they had lost, it was because neither
felt they had won. The battle was done, the
competition become an alliance. An alliance of
something mutual, born of a lifetime of opposition.

= = =


There was haste, but no viciousness.

There was crudeness, but no nastiness.

There was swearing, but no cruelty.

There was sloppiness, but no retaliation.

There was all manner of messiness.

There was renewed vigor.

There was arousal.

"Glorfindel!"

"Yes!"

"Elbereth . . ."

"Don't stop."

"Ah . . ."

"Fuck!"

There was a moment.

They came within seconds of one another, moving with
the fervor of any rutting animal, harsh and steady.
Eyes locked. Breathing secondary to feeling.

Eyes too wide, eyes showing too much.

They pushed away, rolling away on the sun-goldened
grass they had flattened, naked chests heaving, eyes
taking in with sudden appreciation the brilliance of
the distant forest canopy.

= = =

Animals who mate do so because of primal instinct to
procreate. They may perform courtship rituals, or
fight for the right to copulate. They may stay
together afterward, to share the burden of parentship.
Or they may kill one another. Or they may part, never
to be seen again. Or they may stay together ever
afterward, returning always to one another. But never
do they have to fight against propriety, duty, or
friendship.

Elves do not have that luxury.

= = =

There were questions; of course there were. This was
unprecedented, this was without explanation, this was
insane and unpredictable and complicated.

"Back to the stream?" Glorfindel asked.

"Back to the stream," Haldir agreed.

= = = = =

In a little nook of the Golden Wood, there is a fox
den. In the fox den is a mother and three cubs. The
lining of the den is made of the finest gray cloth
made by Galadriel's handmaidens, and the cruder fabric
of an Imladrian traveler.

= = = = =

The end.