Have You Ever?

Title: Have You Ever?
Type: FPS
Author: Ezra's Persian Kitty
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel; Elladan/Elrohir; Lindir
Warning: Incest. There's a little spanking, a little
public nudity . . .
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Erestor 1st person POV.
Summary: The twins want to play a game. Erestor blames
the wine.

= = = = =

HAVE YOU EVER

"Let's play a game!" Elrohir suggested.

"Oh yes!" Elladan crowed, "Let's play Have You
Ever."

Already, I regretted joining them for a midnight
drink. I didn't like the sound of this. All the same,
I let Lindir shove a goblet of wine in my hand. I'd
already had more to drink than usual. And it was late.
And I must have been desperate for company. "What're
the rules?"

Glorfindel looked at me. "You've never played Have You
Ever?" The four of them were shocked.

I shook my head. I held up the clear glass of rich
dark wine. It looked black until I held it to the
light of the kitchen fire, which -- when cast through
the murky substance -- shone red and bright as
Greenwood molasses with a spark of gold, like honey.
"Well, here's to learning something new," I proposed,
and my four companions raised their glasses in turn.
If I had known what the game would become, what it
would immediately lead to, I would not have drunk. I
would not have been there.

(But, looking back much later, I'm glad I was.)

Elladan and Elrohir took turns at explaining the rules
to me. They were simple, straightforward, and
sophomoric, as I might have surmised.

"We take turns asking questions. You can ask a
question whenever you like, but not to the same person
twice in a row."

"If someone asks you a question, you have to answer.
If you don't, you take a penalty."

"Also, you may not ask a direct question that does not
start with 'have you ever.'"

"If you do, you take a penalty."

I asked, "What makes up a penalty?"

The twins flashed identical smiles. "A dare."

"I see. How malicious."

They all laughed and Lindir agreed, "Isn't it,
though?"

I settled myself more firmly in my seat. The table was
not large, seating perhaps eight or ten on a good day.
Glorfindel and Lindir sat at either end, the warrior
to my left, the minstrel to my right. I sat in the
middle of one of the longer sides, and the twins were
across from me, Elladan to my left, Elrohir on the
right. The fire that still burned was in the grate
behind them, and at least a dozen uncorked black-glass
bottles stood upright on the table, along with various
scattered kitchen paraphernalia, including two tall
white candles, burning slowly. This room was small,
the family's private cookery and hiding place,
connected to the main kitchen by a swinging door.

At this late hour, even the not-so-distant Hall of
Fire was deserted. Imladris was quiet. I sat back in
the sturdy chair and enjoyed my wine as the twins
argued over who would go first. "No, not Glorfindel,"
I heard one of them say. "Lindir then," replied the
other.

Finally, they all agreed and Lindir sat up straight,
sipping his wine and evaluating each of us in turn
with those pale green eyes. He winked at me. I rolled
my eyes.

I felt as though I'd known Lindir forever, and that
was nearly true.

Eventually, he turned his full attention directly
opposite himself, down the short length of the table.
"Glorfindel. Have you ever had sexual relations with
Erestor?"

Lindir was a fool, I thought, if he didn't know the
answer to that. He'd been listening to too much
gossip.

Glorfindel sighed, as though with slim sorrow. "No."
Then, he turned the question around. "Lindir, have YOU
ever had sexual relations with Erestor?"

I growled into my glass. "I hadn't realized the intent
of the game was humiliate me alone."

"It's not," the twins giggled in one voice. "We're
just curious."

"And to answer the question," Lindir said, "Never."

"But you've known each other forever!" Glorfindel
protested.

"Yes," I replied, "But unlike you, we don't feel the
need to drag everyone we know to our beds."

Glorfindel grunted with wordless mumbles and poured
himself more wine.

"Okay, okay, our turn!" Elrohir piped, entirely too
excited. "Erestor."

`Oh no,' I thought. Though with a touch of mental
sarcasm.

"Have you ever had sex in your office?"

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. "Ah," I
sighed out, recovering myself. "A definite no, there.
Sorry to disappoint."

They did, indeed, seem disappointed. All four of them
did.

"Your turn now!" the twins prompted, grey eyes wide in
anticipation.

"All right." I looked back and forth between them.
When I voiced my question to both as a pair, rather
than to one or the other, I did it unconsciously, and
no one seemed to notice. "Have you ever walked in on a
couple -- or more (come to think of it) -- in the
midst of sexual relations?"

Elladan and Elrohir shared fairly unimpressed looks.
"Yes," they chorused. "Unfortunately."

Merely from the air of their response, I was tempted
to ask who it was. But I remembered the rules and kept
my mouth shut. And, I thought after a moment, that
wasn't something I would normally want to know
anything about.

I blamed the wine.

But I could see from Glorfindel's and Lindir's looks
that they were curious too. Lindir shrugged it off
with a sip of wine and then looked back to me with a
shrug as though to say, `guess we'll never know!'

Glorfindel slapped his hand onto the table and said to
the twins, "Tell me, lads, have either of you ever
enjoyed role-play in your bed games?"

Elrohir nodded, but Elladan shook his head, and that
was all they would say on the matter.

"Hmm," Glorfindel wondered.

"Erestor," Lindir caught me off guard. "Have you ever
turned down a partner because you had work to do?"

"Yes."

All four of them groaned. "Workaholic," Glorfindel
grumbled. "Prude," the twins playfully accused.
"Figures," Lindir chuckled.

"Glorfindel!" the twins declared together. Elladan
continued with, "Have you ever . . . you know. Played
`master'?"

Glorfindel grinned. It was diabolical. "What do you
take me for, an amateur? Of course I have."

The twins flushed red at the thought.

"Glorfindel," Lindir then pointed out, "You asked a
question without `have you ever.'"

"It was rhetorical," Glorfindel argued
matter-of-factly. "Not direct."

"He's right," I defended him; I was far from eager to
see what sort of dares the twins might come up with.

"Fine," Elrohir agreed. "We're not drunk enough for
dares yet anyway. You ask a question, Erestor."

"Okay. Lindir." I thought he was surely the easiest
target. I wouldn't be likely to say anything that he
would take personally, unlike the others. "Have you
ever had sexual fantasies about Elrond?"

Before anyone could react, Lindir smiled with a
twinkle in his eye and said, "Oh yes."

"Ooohh," Glorfindel observed, "good one, Erestor."

The twins were howling with pain, covering their ears.
"Erestor! Why did you ask THAT? Ah! My brain!!"

"Your brains don't add up to all that much, so surely
the pain is not that great," I told them, not
bothering to point out that Elrohir had broken the
rules with his question.

We all took a drink after that one.

The twins wanted revenge.

Elladan turned to me, eyes alight. That was the moment
I knew I'd made a mistake. Just being there was a
mistake. "Erestor," he asked with sincere curiosity,
all attention to me, "Have you ever had sexual
fantasies about anyone in this room?"

"Yes." Dammit! Why couldn't I lie! Lying was easy; it
was something I did everyday to varying degrees; I was
a Counselor!

I blamed the wine.

Glorfindel's eyes were wide with astonishment as the
other three laughed themselves silly. "Erestor, who is
it? Which one of us?" Glorfindel demanded.

Elladan to the rescue. "Glorfindel, the rules!!! No
direct questioning that does not start with `have you
ever!' Penalty! Penalty!"

"Blast!" Glorfindel cursed, banging the table with a
fist.

I smiled sweetly, sliding a spoon across the table.
"Glorfindel, I dare you to perform indecent, sexual
acts with this spoon."

His eyebrows lifted. For a prude, I was impressing
him.

He smiled and took the spoon in one hand, examining
it. I could see his eyes were worried.

Lindir and the twins were watching with bated breath.

Glorfindel lifted his eyes to the glass fronted
cabinets and searched them from where he sat until he
found what he was looking for. "Perfect." He set aside
the spoon and stood to stride in great loping steps to
retrieve a jar of honey. The jar looked small in his
hand. The whole room looked small with him inside it.

A part of myself realized my mind was going off on a
tangent as I thought, `Glorfindel makes any environ
look small. Glorfindel is huge, even for an Elf.
Height and breadth combined, Glorfindel is a force to
be reckoned with, a legend residing in the same house
as myself, an Elf whose strength and power . . .' I
made myself stop then. Strange, drunken thoughts.

I blamed the wine.

Glorfindel unscrewed the jar and dipped in the spoon.
"I trust no one finds the addition of honey to be a
violation of the rules?"

Lindir shook his head and I sighed heavily. The twins
were still waiting, silent, as though the smallest
movement or sound might distract Glorfindel from his
task.

Then, I had to admit, Glorfindel put on quite a show.
Honey, fingers, tongue, searing glances imparted to
each of in turn, and spoon. Lips. Mouth. That mouth. I
shook my head. "Absolutely sinful."

We all laughed and Glorfindel recapped the honey. As
he stood, though, to put it away, Lindir interrupted.
"Leave it out." He shrugged. "You never know. Could
come in handy." Lindir was pouring himself more wine,
and he refilled my cup as well. "Go ahead," he
addressed the twins. "You've got him here. Ask him a
question."

They leaned in across the table to stare at me. In one
voice (always eerie, no matter how much I heard it)
they asked their question together. "Erestor. Have you
ever masturbated while thinking about Lindir?"

Very direct, weren't they?

I sat back in my chair, idly examining the ceiling.
I'd no reason, I thought, to lie here. Lindir and I
had a deep understanding. We'd known each other too
long for such trivialities as this to concern us. I
dug through my recollections until I pulled out the
memory I was looking for. I smiled gently and
addressed the group. "Yes. Once."

"Just the once?" Lindir echoed. "How disappointing."

But he didn't look very disappointed. In fact, he
looked quite pleased with himself.

"Go ahead," Elrohir encouraged me, "Ask Glorfindel
one."

"All right." I shrugged. I sipped my wine as I ran
through the long list of Glorfindel-gossip that I'd
heard over the years. I smiled. "So Glorfindel," here
was one I really wanted to know, "have you ever
perpetuated a rumor about yourself that was not true?"

"Yes," he answered with a smile, "but never when there
are names involved."

"Ah, so the story about the three unnamed Lorien
sentries and tub full of Cook's special icing was
false?"

Glorfindel's grin grew wicked. "You know, Erestor,
that question did not begin with `have you ever.'"

He was right. "Shit."

"Name your penalty!" Elladan, Elrohir, and Lindir
demanded at once.

Perhaps based upon the Lindir-masturbatory-fantasy
question, Glorfindel pointed at me and cried, "I dare
you . . . to kiss Lindir!"

I was relieved in more ways than I could count.

I turned to my old friend. "Well, Lin, what do you
say? Would it be a punishment for you to . . . share a
moment with me?"

"Hardly!"

We leaned in, smiling.

Lindir's lips were soft and inviting; I could still
feel the smile there.

I could sense the disappointment from our audience.
There was nothing sexual in the kiss, it was a bond of
friendship.

"Better'n nothing," Elladan petulantly griped as we
parted.

"Good to hear it," I replied. "All right, Elladan.
Have you ever engaged in indecent activities in a
public place?"

"Sure," he shrugged. But, he blushed.

Elrohir giggled, and saw fit to complete the picture.
"It was right in the middle of Lothlorien, on the
ground, where anyone could see! Grandfather found them
and--"

Elladan slapped him upside the head. "Elrohir! You
little squealer! Fine! Have YOU ever let Haldir tie
you up?"

"Hey!" Elrohir protested. "You promised, Elladan, you
promised you'd never tell anyone!"

Glorfindel and I exchanged looks and raised our
glasses to one another. "Guess the answer to that
one's obvious," I supplied. We drank deeply.

Lindir was doubled over with laughter at the whole
thing.

In an effort to stop the twins' squabbling, I prepared
to raise my voice to ask a question. For a moment, I
was glad of Imladris' constant rumor mongering. So
many possibilities. I turned to the resident Casanova.
"Glorfindel, have you ever used foreign object
penetration in your sexual escapades?"

Elladan and Elrohir silenced themselves at once.

And that handsome face slowly reddened, which would
have given away the answer even if he hadn't
whispered, "yes."

Elladan leaned forward with an excited whoop. "What
did you USE?"

"Ah-ah," I chided him. "That doesn't start with
`have you ever.' Glorfindel, propose your penalty."

If he had been plotting any retaliation, I thought he
might have changed his mind, for he flashed me a smile
and told Elladan, "I dare you to . . . kiss your
brother passionately."

Elladan sat back and rolled his eyes. "A bit
unoriginal, don't you think?"

Elrohir seemed to need to add, "And why should I be
the one to suffer for his lack of restraint?" But
Elladan didn't seem to mind this comment. In fact, he
ignored it entirely.

They turned to one another, still griping. "Do you
know how often we've played this game?"

"Do you know how often people dare us to do this?"

"Since you're such experts," I observed, "it's a
wonder you so often forget the rules. Maybe you like
it," I teased.

They glared at me, but it was not harsh. And the more
they glared, the more the grimaces grew to smiles.
They faced one another, and looked into each other's
eyes. Finally, one of them spoke, saying to the other,
"He had to throw in the word, `passionately' didn't
he?"

Elladan just laughed and said, "I'll do my best!" He
snuck one hand round the back of Elrohir's neck and
wove the other through loose, midnight hair. Then he
drew his twin roughly forward and claimed his lips in
an open-mouthed kiss.

They went at it for at least a full minute, with
moaning and touching and twining of tongues.

I was not unaffected by the sight, and shifted in my
seat, hiding as well as I could my face behind my
glass.

I blamed the wine.

Glorfindel let out a low whistle and Lindir's pale
silver eyebrows slowly climbed his forehead. "They
really go all out, don't they," he asked quietly of
me.

I nodded.

Abruptly, the twins pulled apart with a synchronized
sigh, and downed their nearly full glasses. Then, the
twins turned their identical questioning to me again,
determinedly not looking at one another. "Erestor,
have you ever had sexual relations with a being that
wasn't completely Elven?"

"You've had too much to drink," I saw fit to inform
them.

"Answer the question," Glorfindel demanded.

I rolled my eyes at him. He hated that.

I wondered if the twins always got raunchier as they
got drunker, or if this was a lead-in question, a
roundabout way of eliminating the possibility that I
had slept with their father on occasion. I knew the
rumors were out there. I didn't know what on this poor
Middle Earth had started them, but there you have it.
"No," I told the twins. I smiled just a little to
myself when I added for their benefit, "And that
includes your father."

They grumbled. Apparently, I wasn't impressing anyone.
Good. I wasn't playing this game to impress.

I frowned at myself.

Why WAS I going along with this farce?

"So. Elladan. Elrohir." I had noticed their interested
glances over the course of the evening, and many
previous evenings. "Have you ever had fantasies about
Glorfindel?"

"Yes," they chorused.

I suppose I was only slightly annoyed that the
question hadn't set them to blushing or giggling or
other such adolescent behavior. For once, they were
mature about something. I gave a shrug; can't win `em
all.

Glorfindel had the decency to blush, but didn't look
at all surprised. Lindir shook his head at me. "You
should have known that one's a give-away. Everyone has
fantasies about our dear Balrog slayer."

Suddenly, the jocular mood broke. The small room
thrummed with the sound of Glorfindel pounding the
table with a fist, as he stood to glare with hostile
fire in his eyes, his chair clattering backwards on
the brick floor as the candles sputtered. We were
silent. "Don't. Call me that. Ever."

All the color had drained from Lindir's face. "Sorry,"
he whispered, holding up his glass is if in excuse. "I
forgot."

The silence was suddenly noticeable as Glorfindel
stared down at the minstrel. Then, he lifted a full
bottle of wine and leaned across the length of the
table to gently clink it against Lindir's glass.
"Here's to drunken foolishness then," he offered.

Lindir drank to that, as did we all.

We elders quieted then, as the twins grilled one
another with ridiculous questions. I barely paid them
any mind. I was thinking about Glorfindel, who was
slouched in his seat with a sour look on his face. I
had forgotten -- it was easy to forget -- how
sensitive he could be. He was always so strong, so
fierce. In Council. In battle. And if not that, then
he was easygoing about everything else, from his
tutorials with the upcoming guards to his bedroom
flirtations. It was all too easy to overlook the idea
of deep emotion in him, to look only at the surface,
not seeing those things that inscribed a sensitivity
in him that only revealed itself in sudden, odd
moments like this, unexpected and unlooked-for.

One thought a reborn Elf might revel a bit more in
those things that had made him a legend.

Oh sure, he accepted what praise came his way, but I
think I was one of only a few to see that what
Glorfindel wanted, maybe even more than his duties as
Captain and Counselor -- more than everything he had
by right earned -- he wanted to be normal.

`Normal' was not a word I had ever much cared for, but
for Glorfindel, `normal' was moments like this, doing
silly things with friends who did not see him as a
fantastic myth walked from the pages of history. For
Glorfindel, `normal' was what he didn't have.
`Normal' would be entering into a room without every head
turning, without the whispers. It would be
introductions that were not always laced with awe. It
would be working alongside his guards without
completely enthralling them by everything he did. It
would be the freedom to not only bed whom he chose,
but to do so knowing that gossip would be not flooding
the halls the next day.

For the first time I could recall, I truly pitied him.

I blamed the wine.

The twins had grown quiet and were whispering. The
rest of us, drunker than we had been, watched them
warily. I sighed both with relief and sympathy when
they turned their admiring gazes to their sword
master. "Glorfindel," came the twinned question, "Have
you ever called out the wrong name?"

Glorfindel proudly answered, "Never!" Then he added,
"At least, not to my knowledge."

Lindir smiled at Glorfindel. It was far from sweet.
"Captain, my Captain," he sang. "Have you ever . . .
been involved . . . with a sheep or goat?"

Glorfindel glared. His answer was a firm and
resounding, "No."

Lindir giggled. He turned to me and mock-whispered,
"It was worth it just to see the glare. It rivals
yours, Counselor."

"Don't call me Counselor when you're drunk. It's
weird."

"You think it sounds kinky," Lindir teased.

"I said no such thing."

"But you were thinking it."

"This is silly," I declared. "Someone ask a question."
Lindir loved to tease me. Of course, I loved to tease
him back.

Lindir was staring at Glorfindel. I followed the gaze
to find Glorfindel staring at me.

I gulped. It was reflexive.

I didn't like the way Glorfindel was looking at me.
Half predatory, half thoughtful. It was downright
frightening. If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd
lost all interest in the game as a whole. His sole
concern was me. "Erestor," he interrupted another
drunken squabble between the twins. "Have you ever had
sex with someone above your station? Lord? Prince? . .
. King?" he suggested. I casually wondered if there
was other Erestor-gossip milling about that I was
unaware of.

"No," I dully answered, as though it were the least
interesting thing in the world. Besides, rank and
position seemed to be growing less and less important
in this modern world. I didn't, at the time, see what
it was that so concerned him.

By this point, the twins were completely hammered.
Though they did a good job of hiding it. But I was
surprised to witness their shared mind growing only
more attuned. Not less. Together, they leaned forward
toward me over the table and asked, "Have you ever
thought about US that way?"

"You were my students!" I replied, not exactly
outraged, more mortified that they dared to question
such a thing. "You were like sons to me! No! NO!!"

"You needn't be so upset," they told me. "We were just
wondering."

Without warning, Elladan turned to Elrohir, "Brother,
have you ever fantasized about Erestor?"

"Elladan!" he squealed in liquor-induced hysteria,
"That's NOT appropriate!"

Another quarrel. Lindir and I exchanged glances and
drank our wine.

While they were arguing, I was again running through
the Glorfindel's Sexual Exploits List in my head.
"Glorfindel," I interrupted, turning my darkest glare
on him, in a sudden flash of preternatural insight.
"Have you ever had sex in my office?"

He smiled at me like a damn cat. "Only once or twice.
Or maybe five times. Elrond always liked your desk
best. It's juuuuusssst the right height."

"Oh, I am going to strangle you!"

Lindir grabbed me and pulled me back into my seat as I
lunged for the golden-haired menace. Meanwhile the
twins were consoling themselves, holding one another
and whimpering. "With Glorfindel?" one of them
muttered. "On Erestor's desk?" murmured the other in
traumatized tones.

I crossed my arms and glared at him. "I'll never be
able to work in peace again."

The wine was affecting us all. As surely as I could
smell and taste it, I could feel it. It took such
great effort to perform the simple task of pouring
myself some more wine, not to get the image of
Glorfindel and Elrond having sex on my desk out of my
head, but hopefully to stop the arousal that the
mental picture inspired.

Who took who, I wondered?

Glorfindel was looking at me again. "Erestor," he
slurred, leaning in close, "Do you LUST after me?"

I harrumphed and drank my wine.

"Hey," Lindir slowly drawled, standing on wobbly feet.
"You broke the rules, Glorfindel!" The minstrel found
this exceedingly amusing and fell back into his seat
with a bubbling sort of snorting laughter.

"Yeah!" shouted Elladan, shoving Glorfindel's
shoulder. "Tried to sneak one in."

Elrohir was completely subdued when he turned to me.
"You get a penalty, Erestor," he whispered, wide-eyed.
He hadn't quite reached the `giddy' stage yet,
apparently.

"Hm. Fine. I dare you to answer your own question,
Glorfindel."

He was dumbfounded. "W-what?" And confused.

"Your. Dare." I spoke with affected condescension as
though to a slow child. "Answer. This." I repeated his
thoughtless question to him, "`Do you lust after me?'"

He paled considerably. He glared at me then, and
downed whatever was left in his cup, a considerable
amount. "Only when I'm drunk," he spitted his spiteful
response, eyes dark.

The other three were fairly oblivious to any gravity
the situation might have held for Glorfindel and
myself. They were laughing, and Lindir was poking
Elrohir with a spoon. "Stop that!" the peredhel
demanded. "I'm not a badger!"

Elladan snorted another burst of laughter.

In an effort, perhaps, to distance himself from me,
Glorfindel turned to the others. "A badger? What are
you talking about, Elrohir?"

"Ah-hem," I cleared my throat. "Rules, Glorfindel."

"FUCK!!!"

"Penalty, penalty, Elrohir claims a penalty," Lindir
recited in a singsong voice.

Elladan was still laughing.

Elrohir thunked his head down sideways on the table,
so that his cheek was pressed against the scarred wood
and he was looking cryptically at Glorfindel, as
though all of this might help him think.

Then, he smiled.

It was a slow smile, the sort that starts off in the
corners of the eyes, that you can follow, watching the
mouth curve and widen, the teeth show themselves. "I
dare you to--"

"NO!!" Elladan shrieked, his hand darting out to cover
Elrohir's mouth. "You can't ask him THAT! He's like a
TEACHER!"

Lindir and I exchanged glances again. The twins were
truly a marvel. For all their seeming abilities, there
were times when I was truly spooked, and there were
also the many occasions when they managed to keep
secrets from one another. I just shook my head.

Elrohir slowly sat up and pouted. "Fine. I dare you to
do a striptease for us."

My hand flew to my forehead in one of those
idiosyncratic gestures that I had tried to wean myself
of, but which always returned. I let it. My hand
dropped to cover my eyes and I shook my head as though
in pain. This was the last thing I needed.

"Oooh!" I heard Lindir coo. "Fun."

"Oh Tilion, oh Tilion," I whined to the steersman of
Isil. I hated to take anyone's name in vain, but I
pretended an understanding between myself and the
Maia. Most of my prayers were directed to the moon, so
I was allowed curse it on occasion. A fair trade. The
twins had really outdone themselves.

I didn't look up at the scraping of chair-legs. I
refused.

Motion to my right pulled my attention though, as
Lindir jumped up, not as light on his feet as usual.
"I'll be RIGHT. BACK." he said slowly, then ran behind
me and past Glorfindel and out the door.

The twins were confused. So was Glorfindel for that
matter.

"Well," I pointed out, "I suppose a proper . . .
striptease," I ground out the word between my teeth,
"would need the accompaniment of music."

"With Glorfindel's dare pending," Elladan said,
turning to me, "let's resume the game."

"Oh Tilion," I whimpered.

"Erestor," Elladan persisted.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever engaged in sexual activity with a fruit
or vegetable?"

I groaned at the sheer stupidity of the question.
"No."

Elrohir was eyeing me closely. "Are you lying?"

Lindir chose that moment to reappear. "Penalty,
Elrohir; you didn't start with `have you ever.'"
Except Lindir slurred his words, so he had actually
said, `howuevah.'

Despite my best intentions, I laughed along with
everything else.

Once he regained his breath, Elladan started, "Have
you ever--"

"Can't-ask-two-in-a-row!" I shouted at him in one
quick stream of air.

"Besides," Elrohir waggled his eyebrows.
"Striptease-time."

I looked at Lindir as he settled himself in his chair.
I looked at his instrument. "Oh, not that thing," I
could hear myself whine. It was a stringed apparatus
from the far east, with a high-pitched twang. "Ach!"

"Oh calm yourself," Lindir shrugged off the insult.
"It's perfect for erotic dances." To demonstrate, he
began plucking the strings. It wasn't even plucking
though, really, more as though his fingers could act
as tiny bows upon the horsehair filaments and weave
each resulting sigh from the instrument as a spider
weaves a gossamer web.

A slow-beated rise and fall rhythm began and
Glorfindel stood there, looking down at us. He was
trying to calm himself.

In the end, he simply sighed and smiled. He closed his
eyes, nodding his head and tapping his thigh with
three fingers to find the beat.

I realized I was staring.

But I couldn't look away.

I blamed the wine.

Glorfindel started . . . swaying. With his hips.

Now, I had seen Glorfindel dance. He LOVED dancing.
Groups, pairs, masses, fast, slow, ceremonial,
spur-of-moment. It shouldn't, therefore, have
surprised me that he could dance like THIS.

I could feel my breath growing shallow, my heart
speeding, my palms sweating. I was more aroused than I
had been all night. Or than I had been in a good long
while, for that matter. I knew that I had grown still
as stone, as though I might blend in with the
surroundings and go unnoticed from thereon out.

Glorfindel moved to the music, as much as Lindir
followed his movements. All embarrassment was gone, as
far as I could see. He flashed us smirking smiles. His
blue eyes met mine and the smile widened.

Impertinent imp. I was hard as a rock and he hadn't
even taken off any clothes.

He danced over to me and slithered his way onto my
lap. He was perched on the end of my knees, his legs
off to one side. He was heavy. I glared.

He smiled at me and threw his arms about my neck and
leaned in.

I still glared.

Even though my blood ran hot and cold at the same
time, even though I trembled.

He moved his lips to my ear, kissed the tip, and
whispered, "Unlace my shirt."

I swallowed convulsively and it felt as though an
apple was lodged in my throat. I couldn't hide the
shaking of my hands as Glorfindel squirmed in my lap.

I was fairly confident he couldn't feel my erection,
but only fairly.

I could hardly stand having him that close. His heat.
His scent.

Had I had fantasies about Glorfindel? Did I lust after
him? Of course, of course I did, and for longer than I
cared to recall. But my confounded pride couldn't bear
such a weakness, and so it was something I thought I
had hidden and hidden well, for a long time. Maybe
not. And probably not after this night.

My fingers were clumsy as I pulled at the laces to his
pale cotton shirt until it was open nearly to his
navel. He braced his hands on my shoulders and slid
off me, rubbing against me and at the moment, for just
an instant, I hated the clothes between us.

He moved sensually around the table, caressing Lindir
as he waltzed by. The song faltered for only a second.
Glorfindel left his shirt somewhere on that side of
the kitchen. He leaned back up against a counter to
toe off his boots.

He did unspeakable things with a cucumber that had
been resting on the windowsill.

I covered my mouth in shock.

Then he danced over to the twins and stood between
them, encouraging their curious touches. Elladan
pulled the tie to his leggings and then Glorfindel
moved away, caressing the tabletop. He braced one foot
on the seat of his chair and thrust to the beat of the
music. His hands flickered over his own skin, touching
himself.

Then, he turned his back to us, lowered his leggings
to bare his absolutely delectable ass and slid over to
hide behind his chair, which was a solid piece of oak,
unlike the barred beast of maple that I was sitting
in.

The song halted and Glorfindel rested his elbows on
the back of the chair, smirking.

"But, we didn't see--" Elladan began.

"That's why they call it a tease," Glorfindel told
him, laughing. Still concealed behind the chair, he
pulled his britches back on and then swung around to
plop back into the chair and drink deeply from his
glass.

His skin, a deep tan and darker than most, shone with
the lightest filament of sweat.

The four of them continued the game without addressing
me, a miracle but a welcome one, and I spent a few
moments staring resolutely into my cup, ignoring
Glorfindel as much as was possible.

"Lindir," Glorfindel asked the first question, a
sweetness in his voice, "Have you ever done . . .
naughty things, with a musical instrument?"

"Um. Yes."

I spared my friend a glance to find that poor drunken
Lindir was red as a radish.

"If I recall," Lindir then said, eyeing Elrohir with
interest, "Elrohir asked Erestor a question without
`have you ever.'"

"That's riiiiiiight," Glorfindel remembered.
Glorfindel smiled vindictively. He looked to me and I
had no choice but to look back, and he asked, "Make it
a good one. For me. Please."

"All right." I stood. I slowly wandered the perimeter
of the small kitchen, eyeing all my options.
"Elrohir," I slowly ordered, "I dare you to lay down
on the table. Face-up. I'll take care of the rest."

I heard whispering behind me. I ignored it. Either he
would do it or he wouldn't. I found a promising item
drying in the dish rack, and my other inspiration was
hiding in a lower cabinet with the confections.

When I turned around, Elrohir was laying on the table
as instructed, his knees at Lindir's end of the table,
lower legs dangling, hands fisted beside him, eyes
clenched shut. Lindir had scooted his chair to one
side and was waiting, watching me. The empty bottles
had been removed to the floor, the rest lined up in
rows at Glorfindel's end of the table with a candle on
either side of him. Elladan, Glorfindel, and Lindir
were holding their wine glasses in hand; Elrohir's
rested to one side of his head.

Elrohir let his eyes squeeze open to squint at me.
They widened with curiosity at what I held in my
hands. "What's that?"

"This," I held up what appeared to be a paintbrush,
"Is for icing. And this," I held up a small metallic
jar, "is icing. Chocolate, I believe. Lift up your
shirt."

Elrohir shuddered out a sigh and pulled the dark blue
velvet from the band of his breeches.

I came over and set my tools aside. With two fingers,
I pulled the tie to the drawstring of his trousers and
then wiggled my fingers into the band to pull down the
fabric until it was only just covering the important
bits.

"Erestor . . .?"

"That'll do," I told him.

I eyed the place between groin and navel. Smooth, pale
skin stretched taut over muscles heaving with
nervousness. I unscrewed the jar and mixed the almost
powder-like substance with the long handle of the
brush.

I dipped the brush in and swirled it about until I was
content that it was suitably covered.

Without warning, I turned to Lindir and tested it on
his cheek. The smooth bristles left a thin, perfectly
sculpted line of chocolate along the minstrel's rosy
cheek. "Hey," he complained, but was smiling.

Then, I held the brush as a calligraphy pen and braced
the ball of my palm on Elrohir's skin, swiftly
sketching a few words along that desirable stretch of
skin that was exposed to us.

"It tickles," he complained, laughing.

I pulled away from my work and I cocked my head to
survey the results. I felt one my lopsided smiles
curling in approval.

Elladan leaned over to see what I had written. And
burst out laughing.

`Erestor wuz here.' The handwriting, I thought, was
impeccable. For someone more than half drunk painting
chocolate on a squirming canvas. I popped the brush's
smooth bristles into my mouth to suck off the
chocolate.

Everyone crowded round to laugh and Elrohir groaned
with amused chagrin.

"Erestor," Lindir chuckled with appreciation, "where
DID you come up with that one?"

Elladan and Glorfindel pointed at Lindir and shouted,
"PENALTY!"

"Melian!" he swore, throwing up his hands.

Then they all looked at me.

I grinned.

I left the brush by the sink and returned the icing to
its place. I poured some more wine and retook my seat.
I looked at my friend, into his worried green eyes.
"Okay, Lindir, I dare you to lick it off." I needn't
have pointed to Elrohir sprawled across the table. My
intent was obvious.

Lindir pursed his lips and looked at Elrohir. Who
blushed.

"Well," the minstrel observed, setting his wineglass
between Elrohir's legs, near his crotch, "It's hardly
a penalty to do so."

Lindir came around to Elladan's side of the table. He
placed one hand on either side of Elrohir's head to
hover over him and lean in and whisper in his ear.
Whatever it was calmed him and the peredhel smiled and
nodded. Lindir kissed his cheek and then moved down.
He shook his head and smiled. He held his moon-pale
silver hair back with one hand, braced the other on
the table, and leaned down to touch a pink tongue to
the pale flesh of Elrohir's belly.

That's when the door opened.

The five of us turned our heads like hawks, frozen.
The first thing I noticed were the largest pair of
pale blue eyes I'd ever seen.

The scullery maid stood, immobile, halfway through the
door, staring at the sight in what could have been
anything from horror to hilarity, but foremost was
that utter and overwhelming shock always present when
you walk in on a scene of drunken debauchery.

Glorfindel, dear Glorfindel (DEAR Glorfindel? What was
I thinking?) stood and bowed and flashed his most
charming smile. "Good eve, young maid. Esellen, isn't
it? I'm so sorry that we've chosen such a poor place
for our boyish antics." THAT'S what he called this?
"Wine?" he offered, holding up a bottle.

"You're incorrigible," I spat at him. And he was still
shirtless.

Esellen regained momentum. She shook her pretty head,
eyes still wide, pale as a sheet, and slowly backed
out of the room, the swinging door oscillating just
the tiniest bit before it ceased completely.

Everyone burst into paroxysms of laughter. The more we
laughed, the funnier it became until Lindir started
choking and I had to thump his back with a heavy hand.

By the time we recovered, we were all slouched in our
seats, shaking our heads and chuckling, except
Elrohir, who remained loyalty spread on the table,
legs swinging. "Guys? Hey guys? Is, uh, is Lindir
gonna finish, or can I get up?"

Lindir responded by standing from the seat he had
crashed into. He moved his wine so that he could rest
between Elrohir's spread legs, his silver-white head
like ocean's foam drifting above that luscious,
chocolate-written place between navel and groin.

The sight quieted the rest of us. We watched with
bated breath as Lindir darted out his tongue to test
the line of my name. He hummed his approval and then
dragged his tongue in a long slide across the whole
mess, smearing the words to smudged meaninglessness as
Elrohir's skin jumped and shifted beneath the surefire
tongue.

Encouraging cheers rose from our mouths at the sight,
and Lindir finished the job with tiny swipes of his
tongue and little kisses.

When he pulled away, his lips were smeared with
chocolate and his eyes were bright.

Elrohir swiftly righted himself, practically melted
off the table and into his seat, and grabbed up his
cup to drink.

"Glorfindel," I asked, looking into my wine, "Have you
ever been chased by an irate husband? Or wife?"

"Only once," he admitted. "It was a wife," he added to
the twins. He thought to point out, "I learn from my
mistakes." I could hear the smile in his voice, though
I did not look up to see it.

Elladan was chuckling. "Elrohir, have you ever let
Chief Counselor Erestor write on your body with
chocolate and then let Master Minstrel Lindir lick it
off?"

Elrohir glared. "Yes." His answer was quizzical. "You
WERE there."

"Yes," Elladan agreed through his snorts, "And now I
have a really good question to ask you the next time
we play this game with the guards!"

Elrohir backhanded his shoulder, but not hard.
"Tramp."

"Pushover."

"Boys," I said in my warning voice. They ceased.

"Lindir," Elladan piped up, "have you ever licked an
edible substance off someone's body previous to
tonight?"

"Why yes," he amiably agreed. "Just ask your father."

The twins shrieked.

"Wow," was my response. "You told us you'd had
fantasies about Elrond, Lindir. Have you ever acted
any of them out?"

"Yes. And Glorfindel was right, Elrond DOES like the
height of your desk. It's just right."

I suspected he was pulling my leg, (Elrond couldn't be
THAT promiscuous) but I glared just the same.

Glorfindel was laughing with uncontrollable glee at
the whole thing.

"Huh," Elrohir had recovered, "If I were you, Erestor,
I'd start locking my office."

"Very funny."

"Elrohir," asked his brother, "have you ever had sex
with more than two people at once?"

"No." He was not offended or unnerved by the question,
but seemed curious as to what had prompted it. "Have
you ever?"

Elladan shrugged. "No. Not technically."

Elrohir raised a brow.

"I'm not going to clarify."

"All right then."

"Erestor," Elladan broke in again, "have you ever
instigated an orgy?"

I sighed. Was this yet another rumor? Or were the
twins inadvertently voicing their own fantasies now?
"No," I told them.

They seemed disappointed. "Why not?" Elladan intoned
in a long, high-pitched whine.

I smiled a little smile as the other three lifted
their glasses as though to toast and shouted,
"Penalty!"

Elladan hung his head. He still whined. "Oh no."

I stared at him and hid my smile. "I dare you to come
over here, and lay across my lap."

"What?" It was a squeak. The tone of the air suddenly
changed. Everyone was quiet.

"You have earned a spanking for your impertinence.
It's less than you deserve. Come." It seemed a
perfectly good idea at the time. I pushed my chair
back from the table and held up my hand in a welcoming
manner. "I dare you." I was as monotone and firm as I
had ever been as their tutor. I knew the twins would
recognize the manner and the tone of voice.

Elladan stood from his chair. Elrohir's hand was on
his twin's arm, and I did not know if it was there in
encouragement or restraint. Elladan stood. But he did
not move round the table.

I could sense Glorfindel and Lindir looking back and
forth between us. The warrior was smiling. The
minstrel was silent.

I did not waver as I stared Elladan down. Our gazes
were bound in a contest of wills. Ought he bear the
humiliation in good fun? It would be simple to refuse,
we were drunk. Or did the idea intrigue him? I spoke
then, when I could see the sweat beading on his brow.
"You asked me before. Had I ever thought about you?
Fantasized about you? I spoke truth when I denied it.
I've never thought of you or your brother in any way
but paternal or friendly. Until tonight. Come here."

I hoped it was a charming speech. If nothing else, it
was truthful.

Elladan stepped aside, and I saw as if in a dream the
image of Elrohir's hand following the velvet of
Elladan's sleeve, as though unable to call him back.
The fire lit them from behind. And Elrohir's eyes were
wide.

I wondered if I'd sobered them.

Elladan's steps were slow. Step by slothful step, he
walked round Glorfindel and came toward me. There was
fear in his light grey eyes, yes. And curiosity too.
And a drunken lust.

He stood at my side, so close I could feel the heat of
him. I stared up at him, expressionless. I know I was.
I practice.

Without warning, Elladan caught my head in his hands
like a vice and leaned down to kiss me, forcing his
tongue into my mouth. I didn't really think about it.
I kissed him back, tasting the wine mingled between
us. I fancied I could taste the curiosity on his
tongue, the teasing of his lips.

The other three were hooting and hollering and
cheering him on.

When he pulled away, he smiled at me. I felt a bit
dazed. Then, he crouched somewhat awkwardly before
draping himself across my lap, placid as you please.

My hand automatically settled on his rear.

I made a mistake when I looked up to Elrohir's eyes,
which were stormy but otherwise unreadable. I didn't
want to know what he was thinking.

I massaged the flesh under my hand. Firm. And the
fabric of his leggings was thin. I pulled back my hand
and slapped. Hard.

He jumped in my lap and choked back a shocked sound in
his throat.

Glorfindel was watching avidly and Lindir looked
utterly dumbfounded that I'd actually followed
through.

I tried, then, to distance myself, but most of my
reason was gone, as evinced by the fact that I was
actually doing this. And I couldn't avoid the fact
that I was enjoying it. At least, I couldn't hide it
from myself. I kept my face a mask of non-emotion,
perhaps purposely tainted by a faint, noncommittal
amusement.

I varied speed, intensity, location, to keep him
guessing. Within moments, I felt him grow hard against
my thigh.

His entire body was rigid, as though to keep himself
steady, but he was trembling.

I stopped. "Get up." My voice was shaking.

He scrambled off my lap, brushing at his cheeks. I was
shocked to see tears there, and I felt my lips part in
astonishment. I wanted to apologize, tell him it was a
natural physical response. I felt suddenly disgusted
with myself.

Elladan stood uncertainly beside me, trembling.
Looking at the floor. He clutched at one elbow with
the opposite hand and was chewing on his lower lip.
His face was flushed with shame and he knew not what
to do. I felt guiltier than I had ever done, and was
already regretting the evening as a whole, and this
incident in particular.

Then, Lindir opened his mouth. I couldn't know why he
then said what he did. Whether it be some drunken
insanity, or if it was his own manipulative design
from the very start. I thought either to be incredibly
stupid. But his were the words that ended the game,
and the words that spooked the twins more than I had
ever seen them. "Elrohir," he said. Elrohir's head
canted toward him, but those grey eyes were still
trained on his blushing brother. "Elrohir," Lindir
repeated, "Have you ever had a fantasy . . . a fantasy
that you acted out only in the dead of night, and far
from any other living thing, in the depths of a
shuttered room, lit only by a candle, nude and wanton
and touching yourself, as you stood before a mirror,
dreaming it was your twin who you saw there, rather
than your very own reflection?"

As the last word fell, Elrohir's reaction was
immediate. He jumped up, sending his chair back into
the fire, which leapt and crackled angrily as intense
orange sparks zipped into the air. For another
dreamlike moment, his eyes flashed up over to
Elladan's.

Shocked grey and shocked grey.

Elrohir fled, swift and wild as a terrified rabbit,
and just as quiet. His feet hardly seemed to touch the
red brick floor in the four steps that carried him to
the door. He shot through it, the crack of the
swinging door against the distant wall resounding like
thunder.

The door swung wild as a panicked birdwing, flashing
to me glimpses of Elrohir's retreating form down the
darkened kitchen.

Elladan looked as though he'd been betrayed. His look
was for Lindir, not for me, and he asked of the
minstrel in a broken voice, "What have you done?"

Solemn, and quiet as the grave, he left the room. When
he moved through the swinging door, he did so with no
more force or effort than a will o' the wisp.

The scent of burning paint sickened the close air, and
Glorfindel jumped up, seizing the singed chair and
pulling it out of the fire. He cursed and spun about,
sucking a finger into his mouth.

I trusted Lindir only enough to give him one chance.
"What was that?"

Lindir pushed away his cup, the wine sloshing messily
over the side to spatter the table in droplets like
blood. He looked nearly ill. "It's all for the good,"
he told me. "If you can't believe that, I don't know
what else to tell you."

"For the good?" Glorfindel asked. I was glad that he
sounded calmer than I felt. Glorfindel was, in fact,
nearly nonchalant. His voice was cool and interested,
his countenance concerned and his eyes worried. He was
not angry. In my heart, I thanked him for maintaining
a tranquility that I could not. I was glad that he had
spoken, and not I. "For the good? According to who?"

Lindir answered the question, but he was addressing
me. Not Glorfindel. "According to their father. I
delivered a message. One that he could not." Lindir
pushed away from the table. "Now," he said, standing,
"If you'll excuse me, I am wearied and think I will
retire for the night."

Glorfindel resumed sucking his burnt finger and I
still sat, staring into the dying fire as Lindir moved
slowly and around me and to the door with shaky,
wobbling steps.

Then, it was just me and Glorfindel. He took up the
last bottle and moved as if to pour himself another
glass. "Ah. Fuck it." He put the mouth of the bottle
to his lips and took a long pull. "Mmm," he sighed.
"Better." He sat down again in his place at the left
end of the table. "So, it's just you and me." He
leered at me, as though the last few minutes hadn't
happened. "And? I felt your eyes upon me as I
performed Elrohir's little dare. HAVE you ever lusted
after me, Erestor?"

I slowly stood and his eyes darkened. "I think the
game is over, Glorfindel."

And I left.

I resolved to blame the whole damn night on the wine.

= = = = =

There was a knock upon the door. No one bothered me at
night. There was no reason to. I thought there must be
some kind of emergency, so I jumped out of bed and
slung on my robe to dance across the freezing floor
and open the door.

To find Glorfindel standing there, fully clothed once
more, all fierce fire in his eyes, a bottle of wine in
his hand. "I thought we could continue the game," he
brusquely suggested.

"Is that supposed to convince me to let you in?" I
huffed, unimpressed. I had opened the door only a few
inches, and braced my foot against the door and floor
together. But Glorfindel was drunk and strong. He
could still force his way in if he wanted.

And that's precisely what he did.

One firm, flat-handed shove forced the door open. I
pulled back my unshod foot to prevent injury.
Glorfindel waltzed in as though he owned the place,
and slammed the door behind him.

The way he looked at me made me shudder, recoil. I
didn't know what fire had overtaken him, but I was
terrified by it. "You've no right to trespass here," I
hissed, pulling my robe closer about my otherwise
naked form as I fearfully withdrew across the room.

"You opened the door," he told me, as though this in
itself was justification.

"I did NOT invite you in," I told him, coming to a
stop in the middle of my chambers, halfway between the
bed and the door. "You are NOT welcome here."

He shrugged and set the bottle of wine on the nearest
surface, my desk. "So make me leave."

"What?"

"Force me out," he challenged.

"I can't," I willingly told him. "You're stronger
than I am."

He laughed. "I know."

"Beast!" I accused murderously.

"You think so?"

"I do now. Are not your common conquests enough?
You've come to torment me?"

"To taunt and overpower you?" he asked me, smiling.
"No. I only want to play the game."

"You're drunk."

"So?"

"So, you'll regret your foolishness on the morrow."

"You think so?"

"I do."

He advanced on me then. I trembled, but held my
ground. He filled a room like a bull fills a stall
built to hold something smaller, threatening to break
the whole thing any moment. `Tremble' is a weak word
for what I did; I could practically feel my knees
knocking together. "Come on, Erestor," he cajoled, "I
just want to continue the game."

I felt some measure of intelligence or control (or
possibly both) break within me. "Glorfindel," I
growled, surprised when he actually halted and took a
step back, "you are not a child, you are not an
adolescent. I don't know why the only way you can
justify asking me questions is by playing games,
except that they are questions you have no business
asking. There is something seriously wrong with your
state of mind if you think this is the proper way to
interact with a fellow living thing, barging into my
home and threatening me by your very presence.
Glorfindel, I've never seen you use your size to
intimidate, unless it be an enemy. I did not know you
considered me an enemy. Or a conquest."

"Conquest, no," Glorfindel stuttered, his eyes
widening with shock, sobering. He held up his hands
and hunched in on himself and took another step back.
"No, not an enemy, I just wanted . . ."

He stared hopelessly at me.

"What?" I grunted angrily. "Why ARE you here? What do
you want?"

"The game," he half-heartedly offered, gesturing over
his shoulder in the vague direction of the little
kitchen-offshoot we had settled ourselves in. "The
questions you answered. I wondered . . . You've never
had sex, have you?"

I stood.

I stared.

I glowered at him.

I couldn't think of a proper answer. So, in my
foolish, half-drunken anger, I told him, "Your
question didn't begin with `have you ever.'"

He was surprised. He drew himself together, standing
tall, but not imposing as before. He bowed. "My
mistake. I suppose it is your turn to demand a penalty
of me."

Fools. Both of us.

"And what should I ask? You've humiliated yourself
enough tonight." I jerkily nodded to the door. "I dare
you to leave. And never mention it again."

Glorfindel looked over his shoulder, as though
confused about where his exit might be. He turned back
to me. "That's not acceptable."

I could feel my eyes widen and jaw drop of their own
accord. "Not acceptable?" I repeated in a sputter.
"Glorfindel!" I shouted, utterly fed up. "Get OUT of
my ROOM!"

"No." He was calm.

I was not. "Why?!"

"I'm sorry, Erestor." He was calm, but confused. "I
don't . . . I just wanted . . . I'm sorry. I should
go."

"Yeah. Yeah, you should."

He turned his back on me then and shuffled to the
door, no more ferocious than a mouse. He stalled, with
his hand upon the curving, vine-like handle of brass.
He glanced to the side, to the desk. To the bottle of
wine. "I made a mistake."

I shook my head, taking pity on him. "We all made
mistakes tonight. S'what happens when you drink to
excess."

He smiled sadly and nodded. "Yes, you're right. I'll
make sure I'm sober the next time I barge into your
room in the middle of the night." Then, he said
nothing more. And he stood there unmoving, hand upon
the door handle, eyes upon the wine.

I sighed, thoughts sifting clumsily through my mind.
Since he had stopped functioning, I stood forward and
said, "I hate to part on such bad terms. Let us take
one more drink together, and forget the thing
entirely."

His golden head shot up. "Really?"

"Sure." I shrugged and walked aside, fetching two
glasses from a cabinet. At Glorfindel's raised
eyebrows, I explained, "Glorfindel, I'm second in
command to all of Imladris. You think I prefer to do
all my drinking in the Halls?"

"I suppose not."

I nodded and took up the bottle to pull the cork. I
held both glasses in one hand and poured with the
other, a trick I'd picked up from Glorfindel himself.
"No indeed. Putting up with the same discussions and
arguments and answers year after year? You can bet I
come straight home to enjoy a quiet drink by myself.
Probably too often."

Glorfindel took the glass I offered him after putting
aside the bottle. We raised our glasses to one
another, but neither of us offered a toast. We looked
into each other's eyes. "Here's to . . ." I began, but
couldn't think of anything.

"To foolish friends," he suggested.

I touched my glass to his. "Is that what we are?" I
asked with a hint of . . . something. Even I didn't
know what. And I drank.

So did he.

We sat. I at my desk, and he in a wooden wicker chair
that was used for piling dirty clothes upon. The
glasses were emptied and filled and emptied again.
Quickly. With nary a word passed between us.

If I'd ever drunk as much as I had that night, I
couldn't recall the occasion. And while I was feeling
no pain, so to speak, I was still distantly wary that
we were in a unique situation, and swiftly marching
into foreign territory that had yet not been
identified, let alone covered in all our previous
associations.

Glorfindel took the final step, glancing over to the
canopied four-poster. "Your bed looks mighty inviting,
Counselor."

I couldn't help myself, looking over my shoulder at
the rumpled bed, lit only by moonlight, pale ruffled
sheets glimmering silver.

"You, on the other hand," he continued, "are as
approachable as a porcupine."

I turned back to look at him. He looked delicious.
Huge beast that he was, sprawled on my extra chair,
wild gold hair, skin flushed rosy with liquor and
maybe something more, eyes bright.

"What are you . . ." I changed my mind and said
something else: "That's not a good idea."

"What's not a good idea?"

He always had to push me.

"This isn't," I told him. "You, being here in my rooms
in the dead of the night. Being drunk together."

"Of course it's not a GOOD idea," Glorfindel agreed.
"This is many things, but -- granted -- it's not a
good idea."

"What would you call it?" I asked him, curious beyond
sobriety.

"It's . . . an adventure. A test. A game. A truth. And
. . ."

"And what?" I asked when he lost his nerve and glanced
away.

He met my eyes directly. "An inevitability," he
claimed. His nostrils flared a bit at the challenge.

"An inevitability?" I pondered. "How do you figure?"

"We were always going to end up here. One way or
another."

"Where is `here?'"

"Here, this place where we are. Knowing that we want
one another, but not brave enough to say it, or act on
it." He held up his empty glass. "Even drowned in this
stuff, we're not brave enough."

"Want? That's a very . . . ambiguous word."

"I don't think so," he easily contended. Though he was
looking away again, concentrating on what he was
saying. "I think it's a very clean word. Easy. Want is
easy. Find yourself a synonym, if you prefer. I . . .
desire you. I lust after you, as you so deftly turned
my words upon me earlier. I long. I crave. I yearn."
Then, he looked into my eyes again. Looked into me.
"Don't you?"

With such a declaration finally set before me so
artlessly and yet carefully, after all that we had
said and done, how could I say nay? "Aye. I do."

I felt a rush inside my chest, like fire burning up
from my gullet. There it was. Lay bare between us. I
felt naked. An emotional nudity. I wondered if he felt
the same way.

Not even emotional though, I thought. Merely sensual.
What we had been talking about, it had nothing to do
with emotion.

Should it?

Glorfindel was worrying his lower lip. "What are you
thinking so ponderously about, Erestor? I can hear the
gears turning, but I don't know what you're working on
in there." He reached forward to affectionately tap
the side of my head with two gentle fingers. I inhaled
the musk of him. He was Glorfindel, and he smelled of
wine and honey and chocolate, and of rose soap and
lavender water. The scent of the stable clung to his
clothes, and hearthsmoke.

I caught his wrist in my hand as he was pulling back.
It was the hand he had burned retrieving the chair
from the fire. I tilted my head and brought the hand
closer, examining the angry red patch of skin on the
pad of his middle finger. It was tiny, really. "I was
thinking . . ." I suddenly couldn't remember. I licked
the burn, caressing his finger with my tongue, and
then blew on it, to cool and sooth.

I felt Glorfindel's instinct to pull back in the
shocked flinch of his arm, and I heard his indrawn
breath. I looked into startled blue eyes. "I was
thinking, well." My eyes flicked toward the bed, "if
things go badly, we could just . . . blame the wine."

"Good. Yes. A plan," he whispered with a tight breath.
"But first you have to answer my question."

"Which one?"

"HAVE you ever had sex?"

"No."

Glorfindel couldn't help himself. He laughed.

I was not offended. It was not mocking. And I could
see the humor of it, after the night we'd had.

I laughed with him.

"Why ever not, Erestor?"

I shrugged, but I'd come this far. Besides, with all
the wine that had loosened my tongue, I doubted I
could concentrate enough to lie. "I was afraid. I grew
up in a time when sex was practically regarded as
sinful. No one ever seemed much interested. I had work
to do. Take your pick. They're all true."

"You poor Elf."

I chuckled and shook my head. "I don't feel like less
of a person for it. Just . . . less experienced than
most."

Glorfindel was edging closer, so that he was perched
upon the very brink of his seat, leaning in to me,
reaching out to me. "And, though we be hopelessly
drunk, are you ready to rectify this inexperience?"

Having been in a state of half-arousal most of the
night, and made only more so by the sight of him, by
his words, by his offer, it would have been near
impossible to deny him.

"With you? Yes."

"Then kiss me," he begged, dropping to his knees
between my legs, clasping my face in his large, gentle
hands to pull me in.

I went more than willingly. And bowed my head to meet
his passionate kiss.

Kissing. That was something I knew. Something I
enjoyed on occasion, with those who I trusted and who
showed any willingness.

Glorfindel's kiss was more than anything I'd ever
known. I'd known kisses that were sweet, deep, or
tender. Kisses that were fierce, possessive, or
brutal. I'd never known one single kiss to be all
these things together. But that's what this was.

My body had never reacted, either, so sure and swift
to the mere meeting of mouths. The tingle that most
kisses excited in me was nothing compared to the
lightening-zap that spread through me when
Glorfindel's mouth was opened over mine, unnaturally
soft lips sealed to mine, warlike tongue invading. I
strove to match him. And funny little needles seemed
to prick every inch of my skin as I hardened with a
hasty heat between my legs.

I couldn't have said how long we stayed like that, but
we were desperate for breath when we parted. I rested
my cheek beside his and thoughtlessly whispered toward
his ear, "You taste like honey and wine." I rubbed my
cheek alongside his, because it felt so good, and
stole fingers into his golden hair. My tongue snuck
out and I leaned forward to taste the tip of his ear.
"You smell good, like soap and smoke." My other hand
pulled helplessly at his half-done up shirt. "I want
you."

He breathed heavily close to my ear. "`Want' IS a good
word, isn't it?" he whispered. His voice was rougher
than usual, abraded with lust and breathlessness.

I nodded against him and pulled at his shirt again, as
though I couldn't fathom how such a thing had got
there. Or how to remove it.

I wanted to look into his eyes, and it took me a
minute to figure out that I'd have to pull back in
order to do so. I did, leaning back and framing his
handsome face in my hands. I was trying to be gentle,
but I worried that I might misjudge my strength, what
with the wine. I openly stared into sky-blue eyes,
glancing from one to the other. "You're pretty."

"No," he corrected me with a smile. "YOU'RE pretty.
I'm handsome."

"I'm not pretty," I lightly argued.

"Beautiful then."

I shook my head.

"Why do you shake your head?" he asked. "You are," he
took my hands away from his face and reached out to
tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. I shivered.
"You are beautiful."

I'd never considered myself particularly attractive.
When I looked into mirrors, I just saw me. I looked
much like my mother. "You would be the first to think
so."

Glorfindel laughed and shook his head. "Maybe only the
first brave enough to tell you so." His gaze was
innocently lecherous as he looked from my face to my
neck, where my robe gaped open. "I've never seen you
naked."

"I prefer the bathhouse at night."

"Prude."

"Yes."

But I stood then, and he sat back on his heels, still
on the floor. I pulled at the cord that was my belt
and let my robe pool to the floor. I never would have
done if I'd let myself think about it, if I'd been
sober.

Glorfindel gasped and I could see his eyes widened.

I thought I would be embarrassed. I wasn't. But I was
a little nervous. My hands twisted together before me
and I looked down at him. "Well don't just sit there,"
I begged in a whisper. "Do something."

Slowly, he stood. He still looked too surprised to
manage much of a smile. He tugged his shirt over his
head.

I gasped, as though surprised. I was merely reminded
of the height of him, the broadness of shoulders and
chest. He didn't quite tower over me, but it felt that
way. And he was easily twice as wide as myself.

They said he was the strongest Elf that ever lived,
and the only Elf that ever lived twice. I believed it.

He must have seen fear in my eyes, though I wasn't
aware of it. He looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Will it hurt?" I asked abruptly.

"You mean . . . ? Depends on what we do." He shook his
head and smiled. "It won't hurt."

"Good."

We stood there for a moment. I felt the blood coursing
through me, and it seemed I could feel the heaviness
of the liquor in my veins. I turned away and walked to
the bed with heavy steps and ungainly arms. I pulled
away the rumpled covers and sat upon the mattress.

With more distance between us, there seemed to be more
awkwardness as well. Glorfindel used the desk to brace
himself as he removed the rest of his clothes.

He took a step toward me and stopped. "What do you
want . . . what do you want to do?" he asked me.

I didn't really know. "I just . . . whatever feels
good. I want to feel good."

"No no," he corrected me, stalking toward the bed,
"you want to feel GREAT. That's what you mean."

"If you say so." I felt the smile on my face tremble.

Glorfindel frowned a bit as he sat a decent distance
away on the bed. "Still afraid?"

I nodded.

"I hope you don't always have to be this drunk to have
sex."

I was confused. "Why?"

"Because I'm not always patient."

I felt another one of those thick, reflexive swallows
in my throat. "You planning to do this again? W-with
me?"

Glorfindel shifted slowly closer, as though I wouldn't
notice. I did notice that he -- to my eyes -- was
extraordinarily well endowed, with an organ to match
his size, and a very aroused one at that. "Because,
Erestorrr," he purred my name and I shuddered, "I
thought you were a perfectionist. And you know that
practice makes perfect. And of course," he added,
"Perfection is such a hard thing to judge when it
comes to food, art, and sex, so we'll just have to
keep at it, till we're sure."

"You're rambling."

"Do you have oil?"

I raised a brow.

"Silly question," he said of himself. "Anything?" he
asked. "Lantern oil? Lotion?"

"Oh wait," I remembered, standing from the bed. "I use
this on my hair sometimes." I fetched the bottle from
the top of the dresser. I smiled at him and held it
up. "Oil."

"Must be expensive." He didn't actually seem that
concerned.

"Worth it," I told him of the indulgence.

A part of me wondered that we were still talking and
relatively coherent when all I wanted to do was throw
myself at him.

Unfortunately, I wouldn't really know what to do with
him once I had him. So I took out the stopper and set
the vial down on the bedside cabinet.

I sat down again, unable to stop myself looking at
him, as he did me. I pressed my knees together and
hunched over in my nervousness. They were unconscious
gestures I wasn't aware of until Glorfindel set his
great paw on my shoulder and snuck around to massage
the base of my skull. "Relax."

I thought of the wine. I could still feel it, a
sluggish clumsy thrill all through me. I scooted back
and lay down, aligning myself on the bed. I let my
legs fall apart, my arms loose at my sides. I had
closed my eyes.

"What are you doing?"

I opened them again. I saw Glorfindel leaning
worriedly over me. "I have no idea," I told him.
"Thought I'd let you lead."

"Well," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "It is
a bit like dancing. All right. I'll lead. But you
still have to dance."

I reached out to caress his cheek. "I can do that."
Curious, I let my hand drift. The backs of my knuckles
ran along a strong throat. The pads of my fingers
dragged along a prominent collarbone. My thumb
hesitantly scraped one of the pebbled nubs on his
chest and he groaned, low and deep, a sound that
resonated straight to my cock like a tuning fork.

I let my hand fall away then, too frightened to do
anything more. I'd never touched anyone in such a way.

He came nearer, and I gasped. "What's wrong?" he
managed to whisper through his lust.

"You're so huge," I met his whisper, "I fear
you'll half-crush me to death." It was true. He loomed over
me like a creature out of a fairytale, a nightmare to
press the life out of me. Though a shockingly
beautiful one.

He grinned down at me and then fell onto his back
beside me. Before I could comment, he rolled me atop
him and we groaned and writhed and thrust when our
organs were mashed between our bellies. It was
suddenly thoughtless, and -- at the same time -- I
suddenly understood. I didn't know what to do, but my
body did. Like a memory already inscribed at birth, an
instinct, like animals have. I knew how to kiss all
along his jaw and how to suckle the soft skin at his
neck. I knew that I was allowed to touch him anywhere,
and virtually however I wished. I knew how to wrap my
legs about his so that we were touching all over and I
knew how to kiss him at the same time.

"Do you want . . . to do anything else?" he huffed
heavily between kisses.

I blinked and slowed the heavenly friction. "There's
more?"

He laughed.

My eyes seemed a bit unfocused as I looked down at
him.

He reached between us, snaking between our sweat-slick
bodies, to cradle my hardness in his huge hand. His
lips hovered at my ear. "You could put this inside
me."

I nearly came.

I know I cried out, wordless at the very suggestion,
the mere thought.

Glorfindel smiled up at me. "I'll get the oil."

I let him push me aside so that he could grab the vial
and sit up. It seemed surreal, unreal. He poured oil
into his hand and then sheathed my cock with it. I
thrust. It was awkward. I was half on my back and half
on my side and didn't think to find a better position.
"That's you," he said. "Now for me," as though
this was something he did everyday. (Which it was, if you
believed the more ambitious rumors.)

I backed up toward the headboard and roughly pushed
and piled the pillows behind me. I watched as
Glorfindel kneeled upright on the bed, facing away
from me. I watched him slide two oiled fingers toward
the tiny, puckered entrance. He massaged the spot and
then breached himself. "By Tilion's chariot," I cursed
under my breath. I'd never seen anything like it.

My hips were moving in helpless little thrusts, though
I refrained from touching myself.

I could hear myself, making some noises in my throat,
though I tried to suppress them. I suppose you could
call them whimpers. "Glorfindel," I whispered. He
moaned and forced his fingers deeper. "Aiya!"

It was funny, I thought, how I could feel light and
heavy at the same time. My limbs were heavy, my body.
But my head felt distant and floating. And my cock
wanted. My body wanted. I wanted. `Want' was a good
word, I decided.

Glorfindel must have decided he was ready. He
stretched out on his knees to reach for the bedside
cabinet and put down the oil. He looked over at me
with heavy, hooded eyes. "How do you want me?"

I laughed. It struck me as exceptionally amusing.

Glorfindel's eyebrows rose. The corners of his mouth
lifted. "What?"

"I just WANT you," I told him, trying to suppress the
jittery nervous laughter that welled up hopelessly
from my lungs. I reached out and cupped his chin. I
was barely touching him. I looked into his eyes as he
looked into mine. "Want," I whispered.

His eyes burned.

He growled and moved over me.

But I was not afraid, as before. I wanted him there. I
just wanted him.

He straddled my hips and sat up, deliberately moving
the cleft of his ass against my engorged cock. I moved
in response.

I saw him reach behind, and then felt him take me in
hand. He guided me. I had to do nothing.

I did nothing but feel. Heat. Tight. Hot. Need. Words
were lost to me. I moaned something like his name.
Like before, my body knew what to do. I thrust. He
groaned. My hands grabbed for his hips. He braced
himself on my shoulders. That's how we moved.

There was an intensity of touch. I felt everything,
every nuance, every flaw of his skin, every sweat drop
on my body, every flash of pleasure that struck at me
where we were joined and then coiled about us.

I yelped when one of his hands left its post,
smoothing down my chest to rub my nipple in circles
with his palm.

I followed his lead. Of their own accord, my hands
slid a trail up his belly to return the favor
double-fold. I smiled to hear the moans that escaped
his mouth.

My body knew what to do. I dropped one of my hands to
encircle his organ. It felt different to mine in a
way. More textured. Definitely larger. Hot and hard
and I just gently touched it. He whined, a high
keening noise. "Not so light," he begged with a gasp,
"touch me harder."

I firmed my grip and stroked him even as I stroked
within him, as he rose and fell and touched my chest.

I could sense our movements growing more frantic,
loosing what control we attempted to maintain. Our
bodies took over completely, as though there was no
will left in us. I thought it was frightening, if I
thought at all. I felt more than I thought. I was
frightened and exhilarated. Thrilled.

"Kiss me," I demanded, unthinking.

But he did. He leaned down and I leaned up. We were
connected in more ways than I could count, all of them
physical.

I couldn't remember specifics after that. Just pure,
blinding pleasure.

= = = = =

It was nothing like I'd ever known. Compared to this,
the pleasure occasionally sought by my own hand paled
like a dove beside a swan. The dove is beautiful, but
so is the swan, and the swan is just a whole lot
bigger.

I felt his body contract around me, I felt him spill
himself over my hand, and I felt his moan in my mouth
more surely than I heard it.

My answering release was precisely that, a release. Of
so much.

Glorfindel was considerate enough to loose me from his
body slowly and then move off to lie beside me.

I turned my head to the side to hide my tears. I
didn't know what caused them. An instinctual response
that I did not understand as waves of
I-did-not-know-what rolled through my body to crash
just this side of madness.

When Glorfindel forced my head around to face him and
kissed those tears away, I only wept all the harder. I
felt like a child.

Glorfindel slung his arm over my shoulder to comfort
me, but it was a light touch, so I knew that he was
nervous, and nearly as uncertain as myself. I rubbed
my tears away into the pillows to look at him and saw
that he didn't quite know what to do. I forced the
tears to an end.

He tried not to look relieved.

I curled up into a ball. He was close to me, but no
longer touching. I could see sleep dancing at the
edges of his eyes. He whispered in a coarsened voice,
"Erestor, would you like me to stay or to go?"

Go? It hadn't occurred to me that he would leave.

"Stay."

The room was silence. Then:

"All right." He reached down and pulled the covers
over both of us.

= = = = = = = = = =

Glorfindel woke me very early the next morning to tell
me he was going. I didn't say anything; I didn't know
what to say.

That week, things were awkward between us. We did not
avoid one another, or seek one another out. We did not
blush in one another's presence or antagonize one
another. We did not stutter in our dealings or touch
one another at all. We were just . . . quiet. And
slow. If he asked me a question, it took me longer
than usual to make my response. When he walked by me,
it was with carefully measured steps.

It was one week to the day. I caught his elbow as we
were leaving in one great mass the Hall of Fire.

He jumped. I didn't say anything, but nodded down the
hall. He followed without question.

Once we were alone in the corridor, I stopped. So did
he.

I said, "I have four bottles of wine in my room. And a
jar of oil. If you're interested." And I walked away.

He followed me.

= = = = =

We sat as before, I at my desk and he in the wicker
chair. We drank without speaking. For the first glass.
Then, I told him, "You've been different this week.
Not just around me. You've been quieter. Why?"

He shook his head. "It's silly."

"Tell me anyway."

"Erestor. You know the gossip. About me. You know what
they say." It was almost a question.

"I know what they say," I agreed.

"It's not all true. I don't . . . I'm not . . ."

"You're not a slut," I agreed. "But in Imladris, there
is little distinction between truth and rumor."

"I don't . . ." he agreed. "Not with everyone.
It's not like that. I like sharing my body, but . . ."

I shook my head. "But what?"

"It was different with you," he whispered, wide blue
eyes seeking me out from the frame of golden hair.

I was caught. I was worried. What was he saying?
"Different, why?"

"I . . . never take people back to my own room. And,
if we make it to theirs, I always ask them . . ."

"What?"

"`Would you like me to stay or go?' You . . . you were
the first one, to ask me to stay."

"What does that mean?" I begged.

"I don't know. You were the first one to ask me to
stay, and it was the first time I wanted to. I didn't
want to leave in the morning. I didn't want to leave
you."

"What are you telling me?"

He shrugged. "It can wait. So," he leered, looking
over at the new bottle of slick oil at my bedside.
"What were your plans for the night?"

"Do you want me?" I asked.

He nodded.

"This time, I want you inside me," I told him.

"It will hurt."

"That's okay." I held up my glass. "This will
help." I nodded at the oil. "So will that."

"All right."

We finished our wine, and when we set the empty
glasses aside, we stood. With lust and liquor in our
veins, we each disrobed and watched the other. We were
in bed before I'd taken three breaths.

And the intensity he'd shared with me before was again
dulled by the experience of taking him with pain and
pleasure into my body. He thrust into me and I did not
feel intruded upon or violated. I felt stretched,
filled, and I thrilled with it.

This time, I welcomed his huge presence above me. I
clung to him for all the world as though he was the
only thing to keep me from floating away. And this
time, as we stroked toward completion together, we did
not kiss and we did not let our bodies take over. I
saw and felt the sweat in droplets over all his skin
as he maintained this solid rhythm, almost slow. And
through the whole of it, we maintained the contact of
our eyes. Once it started, I hardly dared to blink,
let alone close my eyes to the sight of him looking
into me. His eyes. My eyes. That's how we came.

And, of course, I asked him to stay.

= = = = =

And for once, the rumor-mill overlooked Glorfindel's
forays, preferring instead to cycle whispers of love,
a forbidden love, between Elrond's sons. And though I
never spoke to them on the matter, and though they
never publicly displayed anything other than brotherly
affection, I hoped with all my heart the rumors were
absolutely true.

It was only after all incestuous fire fled the wagging
tongues that the people of Imladris returned their
attentions to the resident hero and his bedroom
escapades.

It was with an underlying sense of awe that I realized
our lives were changing. For all the bed partners he'd
ever had, I was the only one repeatedly returned to.

For all the experience I'd never had, I knew I was
falling in love.

And it was good.

Glorfindel and I never really talked.

For someone who so embraced logic and schedule and
understanding, I -- remarkably -- said nothing.

We entered a relationship without defining its
barriers. I didn't realize at the time how foolish we
were. Fortunately, we never had to pay for that
foolishness. Glorfindel forsook all others in favor of
me.

And, aside from the thoughtless words shouted in
half-coherency at the heights of passion we frequently
shared, we never said that we loved one another. It
was, strangely, accepted as given.

It had started with a game. Or, as I was beginning to
suspect, it had started when we met. That must be when
love always starts, that must be when the threads of
lovers first are woven together. Entwining into
something that can never fully unravel. The game
merely tied those first irreversible knots.

And though I was never again enticed into any sort of
game that involved questions or liquor, I grudgingly
allowed myself to be thankful that I had played that
first time.

I was glad we never had to blame the wine after all.

= = = = =

The end.

Please send feedback!

web host