Title: Resurrection

Author: Larien Elengasse

Cast: Erestor/Glorfindel, Erestor/Celebrimbor (implied)

Rating: R to start, NC-17 eventually for slashy goodness

Beta: Kenaz

WARNING: Violence, graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, and just a little bit of drama, because this is me, after all.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this.

Author's Notes: My Erestor muse insisted that he be given more attention and another shot at Glorfindel. He's hard to refuse... As usual, I'm not adhering to the rules of Tolkien canon (big surprise, I'm sure), so if that's your thing, this won't entertain you. If not, then I hope you enjoy it. Set in the Second Age. My thanks once again to Claudio's Sindarin Name Generator on Elffetish for Nestagar's (healing blood) name.

Feedback: If you care to share, larienelengasse@yahoo.com

Chapter 1:

Summary: Ost-in-Edhil falls; Erestor finds a new home and a new friend.

Erestor crouched with his arms wrapped around his chest and his hands gripping his elbows. He had stopped trying to block out the sounds around him, for they were far too loud and too horrible for his hands to blot out. His head ached and he could feel the slow trickle of blood running behind his ear and down his neck, soaking the collar of his tunic, and he was cold despite everything around him being on fire. His fellow prisoners also crouched and cowered in their cage; many of them were younger than he was - they were all male, some were not yet of majority.

He was the eldest prisoner, and he was ashamed to be locked up with the young ones while those his age were fighting and dying in vain to save their doomed city. He had tried. He had held the large hammer in his hand and struck at the orc that burst through the door of his master's forge. He was lucky the first time; he had struck the beast in the head and killed it. The second time, however, he was not so lucky; the orc wrested the hammer from him and then hit him on the head with the hilt of his scimitar.

When he awoke, he was being jostled. He opened his eyes to see the sky on fire, and he was then thrown into the cage with the rest of the young males and locked in. It had not escaped his notice that the orcs were not taking females or elflings captive; it also occurred to him that perhaps those who were not captured were the lucky ones - better to go to Mandos' Halls than Sauron's lair.

The battle din grew much louder, and some of the ellon in the cage with him began to whimper in fear. 'Oh, you think you are frightened now,' he thought. 'I fear the worst is yet to come.

Screams grew louder as the voices of ellon and elleth alike mixed together above the din. Drawn by a force he could not explain, Erestor looked up and his already pale face blanched in horror. His fellow captives screamed and began to cry, but Erestor was beyond tears. Upon a pike hung his master's broken and mutilated body, carried like some perverted standard before the monster that had betrayed them all. Erestor grabbed the rough iron bars and screamed in rage, shaking the cage and cursing the name of Annatar at the top of his lungs.

The orc driving the cart laughed, it was a sickening, gurgling sound, and then the cart lurched to one side as it began to slowly roll away from the city gates.

What happened next happened very quickly.

Erestor heard the high-pitched whine of an Elven arrow; they made a distinctive, almost musical sound when they flew. The orc driving the cart growled and sputtered, then fell dead next to the wheels. Next to fall were the wargs that pulled it; they howled and yelped before falling still. The dull foot soldiers of Annatar came rushing forward to protect their lord's prize, but they were overwhelmed by the ranks of Noldor that burst through the line.

Seeing that the battle would end poorly for them, the orcs turned on the cage. Erestor jumped backward as a spear was thrust through the iron bars. Behind him, he heard the dying cry of a young elf as he fell. Quickly, he reached through the bars and grabbed a handful of grimy, coarse hair, and pulled with all his might, bringing the orc's forehead into rough contact with the bars. The beast grunted and fell unconscious, and Erestor caught the beast's spear, turning it so the blade faced out, and he tried to fend off their killers.

Searing pain shot through his back and he cried out in agony, falling to his knees. There was a loud ringing in his ears and his field of vision began to grow white; then the door to the cage opened and he felt warm hands on his face. Struggling to see through the haze of his fading consciousness, he could only make out bright, blue eyes and something that looked like a halo of gold. A diffuse light seemed to shine from behind the elf, and he heard a deep, melodious voice say, "Oh no, my friend, he calls not you. I would hear him if he did." Then Erestor's eyes slid closed and the world went dark.

* * * *

"Easy now," Glorfindel said to the healer. "He has been wounded in the back and his head is bleeding as well." He turned to Gildor. "How many did we save?"

Gildor turned from the cage and violently kicked a dead orc's body as he growled. "Murder young ones?" he cried. "They could not even defend themselves! Is there no limit to the depths of their cruelty?"

"How many?" Glorfindel asked again, his voice growing softer and his eyes dimming with sorrow.

"None but the one you pulled out and that youth lying beside him." Gildor turned south, spying the cloud of dust kicked up by Annatar's retreat. "Curse you, coward! Next we meet I will wear your black heart on my helm!"

"We will have our revenge, my friend," Glorfindel said softly as he laid a hand on Gildor's shoulder. "But now we must care for the young ones."

Gildor looked at the ground and nodded, then he wiped the tears from his face and took a deep breath before turning and retrieving the first body out of the cage.

* * * *

Elrond smoothed the hair back from the last pale face, and then watched as his healers wrapped the body in linen and placed it upon the unlit pyre. He gained his feet, swallowing a lump in his throat before clasping his hands behind his back and nodding his ascent to the soldiers who held the torches. The warriors under his command stood in silence as the bodies of females, elflings, and warriors alike burned side by side.

A young Noldo, the only other survivor that had been in the cage, hobbled forward, leaning heavily on a crutch. He took a deep breath and lifted his voice in song, singing the departing souls to the Halls of Mandos.

Elrond looked at the youth, so frail and just in the blossom of his time. He was pale and he had a wounded look in his eye, yet his voice was the purest, most beautiful thing the elf lord had ever heard. They stayed until the fire was nothing more than smoldering ash, then Elrond mounted his horse and rode to the head of the line, and lead the refugees from the ruins of Ost-in-Edhil.

* * * *

Erestor gasped as he opened his eyes. Everything was white; he blinked and tried to adjust to the light. "I thought it was a cave," he murmured in a hoarse whisper, "or a fortress of some sort."

"What is this now?"

He slowly turned his head and groaned, then he saw a young, dark-haired elf standing by his bed. "Where am I?"

"You are in the Hidden Valley, my friend," the elf replied.

"Where?"

"The Hidden Valley, the land of Elrond. I am Nestagar; I have been attending to you these past days. And what might your name be?"

"Erestor." He blinked. "Days? How long have I been asleep? Am I not dead?"

"No, Master Erestor, you are not dead. You have been sleeping for these past six days; we gave you something to keep you asleep while your body healed."

Erestor licked his lips. "I am thirsty."

"Here," the healer said as he helped Erestor sit up and propped pillows behind him. "I am not surprised that you are; I have not been able to give you drink while you were asleep. I suppose you are hungry as well?"

Erestor absently scratched at his side. "Aye, I am."

"Do not scratch that, Erestor," Nestagar chided. "It is healing, the fact that it itches is a good sign; your body is doing its work."

Erestor nodded and then rubbed his temples. "Oh," he groaned, "why does my head ache so?"

"Because you are hungry and need drink, and you took quite a blow there," the healer answered. "Sip this slowly, if you drink it too quickly, it will come right back up."

Erestor accepted the cup of water and sipped it. Nothing had ever tasted as good in his life. It was clear, cool, and crisp, as was the air in this place. He peered through the open flaps of the tent and saw green grass and spring flowers, tall trees and a waterfall far off in the distance. He could hear birds singing, and he saw the shadow of a deer cross the tent wall.

"I will fetch you some clear broth; I wager you will feel better once you have something in your stomach. I shall return shortly."

"Thank you, Nestagar," Erestor replied quietly, then he set the cup down and leaned his head back against the soft pillows.

"And how is our patient today?" Erestor heard a deep voice ask just outside the tent door. The voice sounded familiar, somehow.

"Very well, my lord. He has woken and I am on my way to fetch him some broth."

"Excellent. Might I visit him?"

"Of course, my lord. Please do."

Erestor watched the tent opening as a tall, golden haired elf stepped through it. He felt a slight catch in his chest and he realized it was his breath - he was holding it. The elf was passing fair; nay, much more than passing fair, he was radiant. A broad, warm smile curved the elf's lips as he pulled up a stool and sat down.

"Well now, you are looking much better than last I saw you."

"Thank you," Erestor answered softly.

"I told you that Mandos did not call you; I always know when he calls."

"You . . . you are the one that saved me."

"I was one of the ones that saved you, yes. Many warriors fought for you and your kinsmen that day." The elf cocked his head and smiled. "I would know the name of the one we saved, if you would share it."

"Erestor," he murmured.

"Erestor. Excellent..."

"You said you know when he calls. How could you know, unless..."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Ah, here it comes. I recognize that expression anywhere."

"You . . . you are the one they talk about. The one who was returned..." Erestor whispered.

Glorfindel placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head. "Aye, I am one in the same. I am..."

"Glorfindel..." Erestor murmured.

"That is correct. Now you know my name and I know yours. See how well this is going? Next we will be fast friends."

"My lord," Erestor stammered. "I . . . I owe you my life. I..."

"You owe me nothing, Erestor," Glorfindel answered. "I was merely doing what I do. It is my purpose here."

"Did anyone else survive?"

Glorfindel sighed and glanced at the floor before returning his gaze to Erestor. "Only one, a young elf named Lindir. The others that were with you perished, I am afraid."

Erestor felt his lower lip tremble. "We could not even fight back, we were helpless..."

Glorfindel placed his hand on the Noldo's arm. "I know. I am sorry, Erestor. I truly am. I know what it feels like to lose kinsmen."

Erestor sniffled and wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. "I did not know them, any of them. I was thrown in the cart with the elves who served the lady. I was not of that house."

"Which house are you from?" Glorfindel asked.

"The Mírdain," Erestor answered.

Glorfindel nodded. "A fair number of them survived, I will see that you are reunited with your friends."

Erestor shook his head. "They are not my friends, nor my enemies. I doubt they would know me as anything other than servant to Celebrimbor."

Glorfindel squeezed Erestor's wrist. "This is a new life here, Erestor. You can be anything you wish to be - carpenter, scribe, smith, soldier . . . anything you like. And, you have already made your first friend." He smiled.

"The great Glorfindel, my friend?" Erestor asked quietly.

Glorfindel chuckled. "I am not so sure about 'great'; but aye, I am your friend," he answered.

"All right, that is enough visiting for one day," Nestagar announced as he entered the tent carrying a tray with a bowl of broth and a small piece of bread. "We do not wish to overtax him, do we, my lord."

Glorfindel winked at Erestor then released his hand as he stood. "No, no, of course not. I will be on my way; I must supervise the choosing of the site."

"The site for what?" Erestor asked.

"The site upon which Lord Elrond will build the great house." He smiled. "Welcome home, Erestor."

Erestor smiled. He found he would have smiled even under the direst circumstances - Glorfindel's cheer was infectious.

Glorfindel began to depart when he paused and turned back to look at Erestor. "I am sorry about Celebrimbor, Erestor. We did everything we could." He watched Erestor nod. "If it is any consolation, Annatar got nothing from him, nothing at all." He then turned and departed the tent.

Glorfindel's last words hung in the air as the healer worked around him, fluffing pillows and placing a small lap tray on the bed, then setting the bowl of soup upon it. "I knew he would never tell," he murmured.

"Hmm?" Nestagar returned.

"Nothing. Thank you, Nestagar."

To be continued...

Chapter 2:

Summary: Erestor finds a place in Imladris and the building of the Last Homely House begins.

Glorfindel had seen to it that Erestor had a tent close to his own; more solid structures were in process for the cold winter months to come. Since none of the refugees from Ost-in-Edhil had escaped with much more than their lives, the elves that had traveled east with Elrond from Lindon had kept busy making clothing and furnishings for the new arrivals. Erestor's permanent bed had been finished just two days ago; made by Glorfindel and Gildor's hands. It turned out that in addition to being a brave and skilled warrior, Gildor was a master woodcarver; he said it was something he did to bring peace to his spirit. The bed was lovely, twined posts with carvings of vines and leaves wrapping from base to top; the headboard was carved with flowers and birds, deer and fox, and all the animals that lived in the valley. It was dressed with simple, white linens that felt cool against his skin during balmy evenings, and the mattress was filled with thick and comforting sheep wool and goose down.

The tent was sparsely furnished, but it had everything he needed: a washstand and basin, a rug on the floor, a wooden rack upon which to hang his clothes and a small chest to hold his undergarments. A mirror hung on a peg set into one of the support poles, and he had a small stand with a drawer next to his bed, where he kept his brush and hair combs. He was near the central fire pit, and at night he fell asleep to the sounds of warriors' laughter or elven voices raised in song.

Overall, it was a peaceful time, so different from those last days in Ost-in-Edhil. Those days haunted him still, during both sleep and wakefulness. He missed his master; Celebrimbor had been a good elf, a little cold sometimes, but true nonetheless, at least in the beginning. Celebrimbor had taken him in when he had no one, when he arrived in the city with nothing but a pack slung over his shoulder. His parents had waited until he was grown to sail West, and he had opted to stay behind and explore this world. He sometimes regretted that decision; being a vagabond soul often meant being lonely.

So, Celebrimbor took him in and he became the Noldo's assistant. While he was primarily a scribe and bookkeeper, Celebrimbor had taught him something of the art. Erestor knew how to work metal and stone, as well as design structures. His real love was of all things mechanical - wells and water pumps, wheels and bellows; he loved building things that served a practical purpose in the world. Celebrimbor teased him about that, but Erestor could tell that he was proud, especially when the Master Smith came to have his own private bath that provided hot water at a moment's notice. Erestor spent many years in Celebrimbor's employ, and by the fateful day of the cities' fall, he was well versed in the ways of the Smiths of Eregion.

In addition to being his mentor and employer, Celebrimbor had also been his lover, though few knew it. Many of the smiths pandered to his lord, seeking to entice him to bed so that they may learn all he knew. But Celebrimbor was no fool; he saw through them all - all but one.

Erestor's heart ached when he thought of the first day the Giver of Gifts arrived. He had seen that Celebrimbor was immediately taken by him, but it still took years for Annatar to wear him down. Celebrimbor had lain with Annatar on more than one occasion, yet he always returned to his own bed, and to Erestor. Erestor always knew when they had been together. His lover would return to his chamber freshly bathed, not grimy from the forge. He would have a look in his eye that was slightly menacing and predatory, and when they lie together, he would always take Erestor from behind.

Erestor never protested, those nights he would rather not look into his lord's eyes, not when he looked like that.

Erestor leaned heavily on his cane as he traversed the path that led up the side of the cliffs. He heard hammers and sawing ahead, so he knew he was on the correct path. "Glorfindel!" he called, as he spied his best friend up the path.

Glorfindel turned and smiled, rebalancing a large beam on his shoulder. "Erestor! Well met, my friend. You must be feeling spry to walk so far this day."

Erestor panted a little to catch his breath as he arrived. "This is the best I have felt in weeks. And you, you are looking no worse for wear. What is that? Is this some new fashion? A dirt shirt?" he teased as he brushed a smudge of dirt off the warrior's bare shoulder.

Glorfindel chuckled. "House building is hard work, one cannot commence if one is frightened of a little dirt."

Erestor grinned and stretched his back. He watched as Glorfindel shifted the beam from one shoulder to the other as if it were no more than a twig, then the warrior held out his arm. "Perhaps this will provide more comfort than your cane."

Erestor smiled and shifted the cane to his left hand, then took the warrior's arm. "You can bear both me and the beam? You must truly be strong."

Glorfindel chuckled. "If I did not know better, I would swear you were flirting with me, Erestor. Come, I want to show you something." Erestor laughed and they walked up the hill together.

They arrived at a large clearing, which had a view of the entire valley. At the northern edge, a sheer rock face bounded it in a half-moon shape. To the west, there was a waterfall and a recently built stone bridge that crossed the Bruinen, which ran swiftly below. On the far side of the river, Erestor could see a pathway that wound up the side of a slow rise in the hillside and then joined a staircase that traversed the southern edge of the rock face, leading to the Ford and the High Moors beyond. The views to the south, east, and west were breathtaking.

"This is the place where the Last Homely House will be built." Glorfindel said as he put down the beam. "Here, these are the drawings so far."

Erestor took a seat on a stump and looked at the drawings spread out on the rough-hewn table. They were lovely, no doubt, but Erestor could not help but think that Elrond deserved something spectacular, something to rival Celeborn and Galadriel's abode in Ost-in-Edhil.

"My lord!"

Glorfindel turned to see a young elf jogging toward them. "Galathil and Gildor need your assistance!"

"I will be right there," Glorfindel answered. He turned to Erestor. "Will you pardon me, my friend?"

Erestor nodded. "Of course, I shall wait here."

Erestor found a blank piece of parchment and he picked up a slender piece of graphite. As he looked at the drawing, then looked at the blank parchment, he felt his mind begin to explode with ideas. He set the piece of kohl to the parchment, and began to draw.

He did not register Glorfindel's presence until a shadow was cast upon the table. He looked up and shielded his eyes against the light that poured over the Elda's shoulder.

"What on Arda?" Glorfindel exclaimed as he picked up the piece of parchment that Erestor had been drawing on.

"Oh, I was just toying with an idea. Those arches are from the house of the Mírdain, and those windows came from Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn's house. The arch formation is strong and allows for ceilings much higher than what one would normally see. I could not be sure without taking a sample, but I believe these cliffs may be granite, and if they are, it makes excellent building material, far superior to wood and far more durable. Of course, wood provides for a warmer appearance, but you could build the outside of stone and the inside of wood."

"What is this?" Glorfindel pointed to what looked like a large tank secured to the side of the cliff, near the falls.

Erestor grinned and slowly stood. "Ah, now that - that is my invention. It is a water tank that will hold enough water for most in the house. The water travels though these pipes and into these distribution tanks placed at each corner of the house, and it is refilled by the river, here. Attached to the distribution tanks are valves that send the water in different directions. Inside..." he reached for another drawing, "you have private baths, each with a much smaller version of the main tank that is equipped with a steam release valve and a small fire box beneath it. You pull this cord, it activates the valve on the roof, and the water flows in and fills the tank. You light a fire, warm the water, and the steam valve releases when the water is hot, just like a kettle. Then you turn this valve and pump the hot water into the tub. There is a separate pipe for cold water directly from the tanks on the roof. Of course, the tank will provide water for the kitchens and laundry as well. It is also possible to reclaim water for reuse in the gardens."

"But what causes the water to move from the tanks to the house?"

Erestor grinned. "Pressure. As the water runs from beneath the mountain toward the falls, some of it is diverted here, to the tank. That creates pressure, pushing the water in the tank outward, down the pipes to the distribution tank. Water seeks the path of least resistance. As long as the falls flow, there will be enough pressure to cause the water to seek escape from the tank."

Glorfindel looked at Erestor with an amazed expression. "And you know how to build this?"

"You have over seventy-five Mírdain smiths in the Hidden Valley, Glorfindel, and they are all skilled in working metal and stone, most taught by Celebrimbor himself. With their help, we could make the Last Homely House rival the king's palace in Lindon."

A broad grin curved Glorfindel's lips.

Erestor flushed. "Of course, this original drawing is fine, lovely, quite welcoming..."

"Erestor..."

"I did not mean to imply that it was inadequate or..."

"Erestor..."

"I only want Lord Elrond to have the finest things available - he has done so much for me and my kinsmen..."

"Erestor."

"Yes?"

"Stop apologizing. He is going to be quite impressed by it; come, we must show it to him."

"We?"

"Yes, we. It is your creation."

"Yes, but . . . I . . . I have never..."

"You will now." He turned. "Gildor! Stop all work, there has been a substantial change in design!" He looked back at Erestor as Gildor whistled to signal the others. "Come, my friend. It is time Lord Elrond met you personally."

* * * *

Erestor stood nervously by, chewing his lip as Elrond poured over the drawings. The elf lord first looked at Glorfindel, then shifted his gaze to Erestor. "And you know how to make this, all these . . . valves, you called them?"

"Aye, my lord. I have made them before."

"And the stone?"

"I must take a sample to confirm, but at first glance it appears to be granite. It is the hardest stone available, my lord. It makes superb building material."

A smile slowly curved Elrond's lips. "Well, Glorfindel, I suggest you assist Erestor with taking a sample, as soon as possible. The structure will not be finished before winter, if we must excavate enough rock to build so large a home." He turned his attention to Erestor. "Well done, Erestor, it is a beautiful plan. You are now in charge of the building of the Last Homely House. I give you authority to supervise the workers and manage the process from start to finish."

"But, my lord, I have never supervised..."

"There is a first time for everything, Erestor. This is your design, who else could possibly see it through to fruition? Not to worry, Glorfindel will aid you with the workers, all will be well."

Glorfindel bowed. "Thank you, my lord." He took Erestor by the hand and motioned toward the door.

"Thank you, my lord," Erestor answered, as he bowed low and departed with Glorfindel.

To be continued...

Chapter 3:

Summary: The grand opening of the Last Homely House.

Midsummer's Eve. It had been a long but fruitful year in the Hidden Valley. The Last Homely House was nearly finished; all that was left were the decorative details inside. The Mírdain, alongside refugees of Noldor, Silvan, and Sindar kindred had constructed the most impressive and graceful structure east of Lindon; it outshined even Erestor's old home of Ost-in-Edhil. The main house was massive, six stories consisting of: living and guest quarters with private balconies, offices, council rooms, a music rehearsal hall, an enormous library, the main dining hall, a huge kitchen, a substantial wine cellar, and the Hall of Fire, which was complete with a massive hearth of marble brought in from the Misty Mountains.

Outside were terraces and banisters of polished stone, lush gardens with flowering bushes, fruit trees, benches, chaise, hammocks and fountains, and the cook's garden, complete with fresh herbs and vegetables. Smaller outbuildings were also built, housing a school for the elflings, the laundry, infirmary, soldiers' barracks, stables, blacksmith, weavers, cobblers, and leatherworkers.

The shape of the house was graceful, balancing its massive structure, and surrounding it were stone paths that wove through the gardens and surrounding birch forest. Near the barracks was a training field with archery targets, a jousting pavilion, and a sand pit for hand-to-hand combat training. The horses were given free rein of the pastures and barn - only the grain and hay were secured.

There were far more living quarters than Erestor had originally envisioned, so not all had private baths. Those who lived on the lower levels would share beautiful public baths that were fed by natural hot springs. Elrond was more than pleased, he was nearly jubilant - and that was saying a lot for the reserved elf lord. Erestor was granted chambers in the upper levels, one floor down from Elrond himself, and two doors down from Glorfindel. His next-door neighbor was Lindir, his fellow refugee from Lindon. Other than Elrond's staff, the inhabitants were primarily guilds people and their families.

In addition to the building of a house, many friendships were built as well, and Erestor had grown quite close to Glorfindel, Gildor, and Lindir. He also felt a genuine affection for Elrond, though he was always deferential in his dealings with him. The four elves were often seen together, sharing a tankard of ale or glass of wine after a hard day's work, laughing and spinning tales of old. Lindir, being the youngest among them, was understandably enamored of Glorfindel, who regaled him with stories of Beleriand and the great city of Gondolin. Erestor listened to those stories with rapt attention as well; the more he learned about his friend, the closer he felt to him.

On this day, the halls were bustling with activity. Elleth were busily directing their husbands, brothers, and sons as to where to place furniture as a steady stream of elves flowed in from the lower valley, bringing their belongings with them up the path by oxen-drawn carts. The household staff, hand picked by Elrond, were hanging draperies, placing vases with flowers, and putting all the finishing touches in place.

The laughter of elflings floated in through the open windows as they ran and played outside in the gardens. For all of the residents of the main part of the city, there were still many elves who remained in the lower valley; they were mostly farmers and animal tenders by trade - those elves were guarded by Noldo warriors who lived among them. Erestor was thankful that not all were moving into the main house, for the population of the Hidden Valley was growing every day and he didn't think a building existed that could accommodate all of them.

Erestor stood in the open doorway of the massive library, which was only one quarter full. The ceiling stretched some thirty feet into the air; carved stone arches, meeting at the center of the ceiling in sections, held up the roof. Tall, narrow windows allowed light into the cavernous space, and shelves carved of beech and ash formed the walls of each aisle. When one entered, they came into a rotunda with a smooth, dark marble floor that held a graceful inlay of pale stars that lay in a circle. Encircling the massive room was a balcony that held a second floor, also lined with shelves to allow for expansion, and a carved stone railing for safety. On the southern wall, double, glass-paned doors opened out to a long balcony, which overlooked the gardens. In the center of the rotunda was a round table with a large loose-bound tome that would catalog of every volume in Elrond's possession. From the center, there were seven aisle-ways that branched off like the sun's rays, each one marked with an alphanumerical system to identify a book's specific location. At the end of each aisle, there were small tables and chairs, and some benches for reading, and at the back, where the records were kept, there were four stuffed chairs, a small desk, and a fireplace.

An office lay off the main entrance. It contained a fireplace, a double-wide desk with chairs on each side, several lanterns, a few tall, upholstered chairs and a small table. This room would be the office of the Chief Librarian and his assistant.

"Never, in all of my days have I seen so magnificent a sight. I have to say this is my favorite room in the house."

Erestor turned and smiled to see his lord standing behind him.

Elrond stepped up to stand next to Erestor. "It is everything I could have dreamed it would be, Erestor, and one day, it will be filled to the brim with books."

"Yes, it will, my lord. Books of every kind: history, lore, nature, art, music, law..."

"You have exceeded even my expectations."

"Thank you, my lord."

"I want you to run this library," Elrond said, noting the spark of excitement in Erestor's eyes. "And I want you to serve on my council."

"My lord," Erestor murmured, "it is more than I deserve."

"Nay, my friend," Elrond answered. "It is exactly what you deserve."

"I have no experience in political matters."

"You need none, only a sharp intellect, good intuition, and willingness to learn. You have all three, Erestor, I dare say that Glorfindel and I have enough experience to make up for any that you lack. I think you will surprise yourself."

"I know not what to say..."

"Yes, would be a good answer."

Erestor laughed, then clamped his hand over his mouth and nodded. "Yes, my lord, I would be honored," he murmured as he removed his hand.

Elrond smiled broadly and clasped Erestor on the shoulder. "Take a few days rest, then I shall expect you at work. Our first order of business will be filling this library and organizing all these books. Then we will begin preparing for a visit from our king." He patted the Noldo's shoulder and turned, departing the library. "Remember to wear your finest this eve!" he called from the corridor, a finger held high in the air.

Erestor smiled and placed his hand on his cheek. "My library," he murmured as he turned back to face the cavernous space. "I never would have dreamed..."

* * * *

Glorfindel looked at the cord in his private bath with some suspicion. He knew Erestor was capable, but this seemed impossible. He knocked on the copper tank and it answered with a hollow thud, then he reached up, closed his eyes, and pulled the cord. The rush of water entering the tank made him jump a little and he chuckled once he realized his bathroom was not flooding. Then he leaned forward and placed his ear to the copper tank. "By Elbereth," he murmured. He waited, periodically rapping on the tank to hear how full it was, then he pulled the cord again and closed the valve. He smiled as the water stopped running. He lit a fire in the box, cracked open the small door next to the firebox to vent the smoke, and then returned to his bedchamber. Soon, a high-pitched whistle greeted his ears, and he returned to the bath and doused the fire. The water ran through a fine grate and into a drain, leaving the cooling coals behind for another use. He shook his head in amazement. He turned the small valve, grasped the pump handle, and gave it a push; sure enough, steaming hot water flowed into his large, marble tub. "By the Valar, it works just as he said it would," he said with a grin.

He filled the tub to two-thirds its capacity, then shut off the valve for the hot water, turned the valve for the cold water, and finished filling the tub. Using a large paddle, he gently stirred the tub, mixing the hot and cold water together, then he shed his robe and stepped inside.

A long, drawn out 'ahhhhh....' escaped his lips. On the wall next to the tub was a small shelf that held several small bottles of different soaps and oils. He washed his hair, then leaned his head over the edge of the tub and using a ladle poured clear water through his hair. Again, just as Erestor said would happen, the water ran off the ends of his hair, into the large drain pan built into the floor, then down a small opening at the center, where the reclaimed water would be used in the laundry and to irrigate the sprawling gardens. He poured a small amount of sandalwood scented oil into the water and closed his eyes. "Now this," he murmured to himself, "I could get used to."

* * * *

Erestor returned to his chambers to find what could only be a formal robe wrapped in linen draped across the foot of his bed. He picked it up and unwrapped it, finding a rich, crimson velvet robe with cut glass toggles inside. He unpinned the note attached to the linen bag and smiled.

"It is time we saw you in something other than black," he read aloud. It was signed, "Glorfindel."

"Such a fine friend," he said softly as he ran his hand over the smooth velvet. He held it up and looked into the mirror; indeed, the color suited him well, bringing a slight blush to his skin and accentuating his dark hair. "I have the perfect hairclips to wear with this," he murmured, then he hung the robe in his armoire and made for his bathing chamber.

* * * *

Elrond reclined in his tub, sipping a glass of fine Greenwood brandy that had come as a gift from his friend Oropher. "Even you would be jealous of me at this moment my friend," he murmured. "I can only imagine the gleam in your eye upon seeing this tub." He chuckled and took another sip. "Perhaps the day will come when you and your folk can live in a house as fine as mine."

Tonight would be the Midsummer's Eve celebration, a doubly happy occasion since they would be christening the Last Homely House. He had taken the waif Lindir under his care upon rescuing him from Ost-in-Edhil. Elrond had been so impressed with the young elf's voice that he would often request that Lindir sing for him. In the little over a year that Lindir had lived in Imladris, he had flourished. He was no longer thin and pale, but full of life. His smile and laughter were infectious, and his sense of humor was slightly wicked for one so young; Elrond supposed that was due to the amount of time Lindir spent in the company of Glorfindel, Gildor, and Erestor. However, as beautiful as the fair-haired Noldo was, nothing could be more beautiful than his voice, for it raised goose flesh on the arms of elleth and ellon alike.

He looked forward to the song that Lindir had written for this occasion, and he looked forward to seeing the young Noldo in the robes he had made for him. "Sweet, gentle Lindir," he murmured. "You are such a joy to my heart." He closed his eyes and smiled.

* * * *

Erestor entered the main dining hall and was aghast at the sheer volume of food and wine that was set out before them. He had smelled it all day, wafting through the hallways of the Last Homely House: roast beef, boar, and fowl; grilled vegetables, soups, bowls of fresh greens tossed with a mixture of oil, vinegar, and goat's cheese; fresh baked breads, fruits, sticky pastries, steamy bowls of mashed potatoes - there was everything an elf could want. Around the table, elves laughed and feasted, children harangued their parents for sweets, and at the head sat Elrond, enjoying every minute of it. Glorfindel sat beside him toasting Gildor and laughing at a bawdy joke. Erestor smoothed his robes and entered.

"There he is!" Glorfindel shouted. "The genius that designed and built this place!"

Elrond stood and raised his glass. "To Master Erestor, the finest architect in all of Middle-earth!"

Gildor chimed in, "Huzzah!"

Then the crowd also joined in the toast. Erestor imagined he was as bright a red as his robe as he grinned from ear to ear. Passing those sitting near the door, he said to Elrond as he approached, "I take it you enjoyed your bath, my lord?"

"Aye, very much so, Erestor."

"Genius!" Glorfindel shouted as he clapped Erestor on the shoulder. "It worked just as you said it would, sheer brilliance."

"You doubted me?" he asked wryly.

"Never, my friend, never," Glorfindel answered as he toasted Erestor.

"You have some catching up to do," Gildor grinned as he handed Erestor a goblet. "We have been at it for a good while now."

Erestor watched as Gildor filled his goblet. "Greenwood wine," Gildor crooned, "nothing finer east of Lindon. That Oropher really knows his libation."

Elrond chuckled, "That is not the only thing he knows, I wager."

"No, it is not." Glorfindel affirmed as he raised his glass.

Gildor guffawed. "I knew that was you in his tent! You denied it, you wag."

Glorfindel leaned back in his chair. "I do not kiss and tell, Gildor. You of all elves know that."

"True, true..." Gildor winked and took a drink of wine.

Erestor flushed bright red. "Well you two are certainly forthright."

"Come, Erestor, do not be shy, join in the telling... certainly one as fair as you has had your pick of..." Gildor spied Glorfindel placing his fingers upon his lips. "But then, I am sure you are far too discrete to participate in such roguish behavior," Gildor recovered.

Erestor took a deep drink of wine. "Yes, quite," he answered, smiling shyly.

There was a brief moment of uncomfortable silence, then Glorfindel leaned forward and told a joke. Erestor was relieved; no one knew about his relationship with Celebrimbor, at least he did not believe that they did. His eyes widened as he felt a hand upon his thigh and he looked at Glorfindel, who merely winked and continued with his bawdy tale.

To be continued...

Chapter 4:

Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel discover a new dimension to their friendship.

As they moved from the dining hall to the Hall of Fire, Erestor noticed that he was not the only one having difficulty walking a straight line. Gildor swaggered in front of him, and even the normally staid Elrond seemed to bobble once or twice. Glorfindel leaned heavily on him, and he staggered under the warrior's bulk. He could not help but notice how solid the Elda felt; he had seen Glorfindel with his shirt off enough to know he had a body that most elves envied, but to feel it pressed against him was something else altogether. Erestor had to admit, as the days passed, he grew more and more attracted to Glorfindel, and having his friend pressed against him this way was more than a little distracting.

The musicians were preparing as the crowd entered, and Erestor threw a nod Lindir's way in greeting. Lindir smiled and raised his hand, and then Erestor thought the minstrel might have laughed. Indeed, it must be a humorous sight, him balancing a somewhat drunk Glorfindel on his arm. He deposited Glorfindel in a large chair, and then sat beside him. As a young elleth came by with a decanter of wine, Erestor waived her off.

"Yes, yes, my friend," Glorfindel murmured. "I have had quite enough, at least for now. I had forgotten how potent Oropher's brew was."

"Did you really lay with him?" Erestor asked, leaning over so that he could speak quietly.

"Yes, many times. His majesty and I have an . . . arrangement."

"Are you promised?" Erestor asked, surprise evident on his features.

Glorfindel laughed aloud. "Oh, Elbereth no! Not that sort of arrangement. No, no, his majesty has a wife, whom he loves, and a son. Ours is more an arrangement of mutual . . . sport."

"Ah, I see. So you just…"

"Ravish each other unconscious," Glorfindel finished, his half empty glass raised in the air.

"Glorfindel!" Erestor guffawed, and then promptly covered his mouth to stifle his snickering.

"I am so glad to see you still have a sense of humor, Erestor. Laughter is important you know…"

"Aye, it is, my friend," Erestor answered, patting his friend on the wrist. He watched in surprise as Glorfindel lifted his hand to his lips and kissed it.

"And I am that, Erestor. I am your friend, now and forever. I will protect you with my life."

Erestor felt a lump form in his throat. "Then I am lucky."

Glorfindel smiled and turned his gaze to the dance floor. "Gildor meant no harm earlier, he forgets that not everyone shares our sense of humor or entertainment . . . oh, look, Lindir is going to sing."

Erestor continued to look at his friend as Glorfindel watched Lindir. It was perfect, he wagered, Lindir's voice filling his ears and Glorfindel's visage filling his gaze. Two more beautiful things could not exist.

As the evening wore on, Elrond announced Erestor's new role to much applause, and he thanked all those who worked so hard to build the Last Homely House. He relayed his thanks and appreciation to Lindir, then he begged everyone to continue dancing and reveling as he retired.

Glorfindel had sobered up, just as he said he would, and Erestor watched him twirl a young elleth across the dance floor. She giggled and blushed, basking in the light of the golden elf lord, and Erestor smiled; it gave Glorfindel joy to make others happy, and that joy was infectious.

As the evening wore on, Erestor rose from his seat and skirted the edge of the crowded dance floor, making his way outside and into the gardens. He sat upon a wide chaise that was draped with a sheer canopy. Pulling the thin fabric closed, he lay on his back and looked up at the stars. Who would have known that he would end up here, so happy, with such a full life ahead of him?

There were nights when earlier, not so cheerful times crowded into his thoughts, and he sometimes inexplicably found himself missing his master's possessive touch. Celebrimbor had not been a gentle lover, but he had not been excessively brutal either, at least not until the end, and the elf lord's touch had been the only one he had ever known. The last night, before Annatar took his lord away, his lover had been very rough; so rough that Erestor feared serious injury. He had lain in Celebrimbor's wide bed, held by steely arms against his master's hard chest, aching inside, swallowing tears that threatened to fall. The tears were not from the pain, though it was bad, they were from his bruised heart, for he knew his lord was beyond reaching, and was no longer his to love. Celebrimbor had been deaf to his cries, to his pleas for him to stop; his master used him as he saw fit, with no regard for his heart or his pleasure. To double the injury, Erestor had climaxed despite the pain, and he felt that only affirmed his master's treatment of him. He felt like a slave, used, humiliated, and discarded, after years of faithful service. He never saw his lord alive again.

Those were dark days, but they were behind him now. Now he had good friends like Lindir, Gildor, and Glorfindel. He had an honored place in Elrond's house and he had achieved his dream of building some of the grandest halls in Elvendom. Celebrimbor could no longer hurt him in his madness; Erestor only wished they had a chance to say goodbye, that Celebrimbor could have returned to the elf he truly was before he died - perhaps he did, in those last agonizing moments. The fact that his lord withheld what Annatar wanted, through the pain, ridicule and torture made Erestor believe that perhaps at the end there was some of the old Celebrimbor left after all.

"No more thoughts of that, Erestor," he chided himself.

"Of what?"

He looked up to find Glorfindel standing beside the chaise. "Nothing, bad memories, that is all."

"Is there room in there for a friend?" the Elda asked with a smile.

"Aye, there is," Erestor answered, sliding to one side as Glorfindel parted the sheer drapery and climbed inside.

"These are a wonderful touch," Glorfindel murmured. "Perfect for nights like this. Can you not imagine young lovers lying inside them, gazing up at the stars?"

Erestor smiled. "Aye, sounds perfect."

"I imagine there will be many a marriage proposal in these hideaways." They lay side by side, arms folded, Erestor's on his chest, Glorfindel's behind his head. "We all have bad memories, Erestor; as long as they remain that, memories and not thoughts that rule our lives now, they will fade in time."

Erestor nodded and neither one said anything for a moment; they merely listened to the music drifting through the windows of the Last Homely House, and then Erestor broke their silence.

"You never speak of it."

"Of what?"

"Of how you came to be reborn."

"Would you like me to?"

Erestor rolled to his side and tucked one arm under his head. "Would it pain you to do so?"

Glorfindel turned his head and smiled. "No, not for you." He returned his gaze to the stars. "Where to begin? I will dispense with my fall, which is known well enough and brings no joy in the telling. Mandos' Halls, that is where I will begin." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"It is a strange thing to be without form, you almost forget what it feels like to have a body. I remember floating through the halls, seeing my friends and enemies: Ecthelion - what a spirit he had, like a lion's, so brave… I saw my beloved king, and that wretched Maeglin and his father Eöl. I saw the brave Fingolfin; Valar, what an elf he was, such a noble ruler… Fingon the Valiant, Aredhel, and noble Finwë… so many fine elves have fallen."

"What of Fëanor?"

"Ah, yes, I saw him as well. Poor, brilliant Fëanor - he has suffered, and he will yet suffer. He has much to atone for." He opened his eyes and gazed at the stars. "My lord Namó summoned me, and I came. He told me I had another chance to protect those I loved, and I agreed to give up my place in his Halls of Waiting, and reenter this world. Then, I suddenly felt heavy, as if I were buried or could not move. I gasped, and the air filling my lungs felt like daggers. I screamed in pain and Vairë was at my side, holding my hand. Had that been an elleth, I surely would have broken her hand, but she is of far finer and stronger mettle. She told me that the pain I felt was an old memory of my body, that it would pass, and it did. I bear a scar from the Balrog's whip as a reminder of my life and death."

"You are in the same body?" Erestor asked with astonishment.

"No, no, my friend. That body lies beneath the Sea; this body is what my mind remembered, it is an exact replica." He smiled, and then continued, "Slowly, she helped me sit up and across from me was an old man, gray and wrinkled, yet there was a sparkle in his eyes. He laughed and said, "Dear friend, do not complain until you must wear this skin." I smiled, he winked, and he said he would see me soon. Vairë placed her hand upon my head and I closed my eyes, when I opened them, I was on a ship, looking at the coastline of Lindon. Círdan took me in, helped me rejoin this world, then I sought out Elrond, and here I am. My promise to Namó is to guard Elrond and his descendants, and I shall do so until the last of them leave these shores."

Erestor could not reply; it was more than he expected, whatever that had been. His best friend possessed true nobility and strength of spirit. How many would give up the chance for everlasting peace only to return to war? He was sure Glorfindel had earned a place of honor amongst his kindred in Aman with that sacrifice.

Glorfindel smiled and tucked an errant braid behind Erestor's ear. "Now that I have told you my story you must tell me yours."

"There is not much to tell, certainly nothing as amazing as what you have shared."

"Ah, but whether or not something is amazing is in judgment of the listener. Come, come… tell."

"All right," Erestor murmured. "I will try not to bore you to death."

Erestor told his story, withholding the more personal details, and Glorfindel listened intently, his expressions running the gamut from wonder to sorrow. The Elda asked many questions, about his work with Celebrimbor and his life in Ost-in-Edhil, and Erestor answered them as best he could, then the conversation turned to many things - hopes for their futures, and the future of Elrond's haven. They lie beside one another, talking into the early morning hours, long after the revelry faded inside the Last Homely House, and then Glorfindel rose. "Will you stay here?" he asked.

"Aye, I like sleeping outside, and it is a perfect night for it."

"Very well."

Erestor watched the Elda leave the garden and then he turned his gaze back to the sky, thinking of all the wondrous things they had talked about. A short time later, Glorfindel returned and he looked up at his friend.

"Off with the shoes, Master Erestor, this is a blanket of the softest and finest wool."

"You brought me a blanket?" Erestor asked, a smile curving his lips as he pulled off his shoes.

"I brought us a blanket. I thought I would sleep out here as well, if you do not mind the company."

"I would love the company," he answered, and made room for his friend once again.

* * * *

Glorfindel awoke on his side, curled around his friend, his chest pressed to Erestor's back. The sky was a deep shade of blue, the cicada's song was just beginning to fade and the birds would soon take up their chorus; dawn would be upon them in a short time. Glorfindel shifted, drawing Erestor closer as he buried his face in the Noldo's raven locks. His friend smelled like lilac, fresh and clean, and his hair was as soft as silk against his cheek. Erestor's lean body molded perfectly to his own; his friend's tight, round backside was pressed deliciously against his lap.

"Too beautiful to be alone," he whispered, and he began to gently rub the councilor's stomach. Erestor stirred against him, causing him to stifle a moan; his friend felt so good in his arms. "Ah, Glorfindel, you know you should not do this," he murmured to himself. "What if he is offended, or, worse yet, repulsed? Ai, but it is worth the risk. One touch, one kiss…" His hand slid lower, coming to rest just above the Noldo's groin. "Wake, my raven beauty," he murmured into Erestor's ear.

Erestor was having the most erotic dream. Glorfindel moved against him, his strong hands bestowing gentle caresses, and his pink lips caressing the curve of his ear. As a large hand slid between his legs he moaned aloud and arched his back, then, he woke.

"Come, my beauty," Glorfindel murmured. "Let me give you what you so richly deserve."

As Erestor woke, he found himself in Glorfindel's arms, arching and undulating against him, craning his neck so that his friend could better kiss his throat. "Glorfindel?" he murmured in a groggy voice.

"Who else do you expect?" Glorfindel answered huskily as he kissed the juncture of Erestor's neck and shoulder.

Erestor felt the Elda's hand cupping and gently rubbing his rapidly rising length. "Oh gods, gods Glorfindel," he moaned.

"Yes, my beauty," Glorfindel answered. "I was hoping that would be your reaction." He rolled Erestor to his back and covered the councilor's lean frame with his own. "Kiss me, Erestor," he whispered.

Erestor plunged his hands into Glorfindel's thick, golden locks, pulling the Elda's head down until their lips met. He opened his mouth wide to Glorfindel's questing tongue, moaning into their kiss as Glorfindel's hand slid inside his robe and began to unlace his leggings. He opened his legs and thrust upward, earning a deep groan from his friend. As Glorfindel released his mouth the words spilled out so fast, he could not stop them: "Yes, Elbereth, yes, I have wanted this for so long, I have wanted you for so long…"

"You have me, Erestor," Glorfindel answered, a sensual smile curving his lips as he reached inside the Noldo's leggings and took his turgid length in his hand.

"Gods!" Erestor cried in a hoarse whisper, bucking up into Glorfindel's grasp.

"Ssshh… my lusty beauty," Glorfindel murmured, "or we will have an audience for our bed play."

Erestor squirmed beneath Glorfindel as the Elda stroked his rigid length. The warrior's weight, his strong body, the way he touched him, the way he kissed him, it was unlike anything he had ever felt. He clenched fistfuls of Glorfindel's hair in his hands and buried his face against the Elda's neck, a strangled, muffled cry erupting from his lips as he came. He fell back to the chaise, panting, his head lolling from side to side as Glorfindel slid beneath the blanket and licked him clean. "Sweet Elbereth," he whispered; it was something Celebrimbor had never done. He was nearly hard again just from the feel of it, that warm, wet tongue lapping at his softening length.

"Come, my lusty raven," Glorfindel murmured as he emerged from beneath the blankets. "Let us retire to my chamber. I am not nearly through with you yet."

Erestor lazily nodded his assent as Glorfindel laced his breeches and pulled him from the chaise.

To be continued…

Chapter 5:

Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel discover a new dimension to their friendship.

They walked hand in hand into the house with Glorfindel carrying the blanket over his arm. The morning staff was just beginning their work; they could smell bread baking, and tea brewing, but none of the other household residents seemed to be awake yet. They climbed the stairs, unaware of the glances that followed them or the smiles that curved the lips of those few they passed. Upon reaching Glorfindel's door, they stepped inside.

Erestor's heart was racing as Glorfindel tossed the blanket onto a chair and threw the latch on the door. His friend approached him, taking his face in his hands and kissing him soundly. Erestor rose to the balls of his feet, allowing Glorfindel a thorough perusal of his mouth as his fingers began working the clasps on the Elda's robe. Glorfindel released him and allowed him to slide the heavy garment from his shoulders; Erestor watched as his friend stepped out of it and threw it on top of the chair. He then reached for the thin undershirt the Elda wore and pulled it over his head, his eyes hungrily taking in the warrior's body as it was bared to his gaze.

He was so beautiful. Glorfindel's muscles danced underneath his alabaster flesh as he moved, his golden hair fell around his shoulders, the tips brushing against his amber nipples. Erestor pressed his mouth to the warrior's collarbone, tracing it with his tongue and smiling as his friend moaned softly in response. He felt Glorfindel's hands in his hair, carefully removing his braids; the warrior's fingers then combed though his locks until they hung straight around his face. He pressed a soft kiss to one pert nipple, smiling as Glorfindel arched into the kiss. Then he took it in his mouth and suckled it until it grew hard and his friend groaned in response.

His fingers worked the laces on Glorfindel's breeches, and then he hooked his thumbs inside the waist and slid them past the warrior's hips. As Glorfindel stepped out of his shoes and the discarded leggings, Erestor traced the pale scar with his finger that ran from Glorfindel's ribs to his hipbone. He watched the warrior's abdomen shrink away and heard the soft gasp that came from Glorfindel's lips.

"Strange, all the times I have seen you chest-bare, I have never noticed this," Erestor murmured, and then began placing soft kisses the length of the scar.

Glorfindel cradled Erestor's head, his fingers massaging his friend's scalp as his flesh tingled and his arousal ached. Each soft kiss, each gentle caress lit his blood on fire; he had many lovers and many experiences in his days, but this counted among the most erotic of any of them, as simple as the gesture was. "Come, my raven-haired beauty," he murmured huskily. "Let me drink from your lips again." He drew Erestor back to his mouth and kissed him deeply.

Erestor began removing Glorfindel's braids as the warrior kissed him and unbuttoned his robe. He allowed his friend to remove the cumbersome garment and pull his undershirt over his head. Stepping out of his shoes as Glorfindel made a thorough perusal of his chest with his lips, he threaded his fingers in the warrior's golden locks and moaned. In his life, he had never been touched so reverently, kissed so gently, or loved so well. Celebrimbor had been a skilled lover, but their couplings had lacked the intimacy and the affection that this experience contained. Glorfindel kissed him and touched him as if he were worshipping him - it was something for which Erestor was wholly unprepared.

As he allowed his friend to remove his leggings, he felt himself guided toward the bed. With a playful shove, Glorfindel sent him backward and he flopped upon the thick mattress and was soon covered by his friend's form. He smiled so broadly he felt as though his face would split open; Glorfindel hovered over him on his hands and knees, his wavy locks spilling around his face like a golden waterfall. He watched as sapphire eyes darkened to deep midnight, and Glorfindel's pink tongue slipped out and wetted his lips.

"My, my, Erestor. I always suspected you would be beautiful naked, but I really had no idea just how beautiful." He dipped his mouth to a pale shoulder. "Mmm... such soft, ivory skin." He moved his lips to a dusky nipple. "Such elegant, lean, long limbs..." He gently nipped the pert bud then smiled as Erestor gasped and arched beneath him. "You are a study in perfection, my friend; dark and light, and so soft..." He crawled backward and dipped his mouth to Erestor's stomach. "Gods, you taste like honey and feel like silk..."

Erestor thought Glorfindel moved like a cat, with a predatory power and grace that caused him to tremble. His last sexual experience was one he had tried to forget, and he felt a wave of trepidation as he lay naked and vulnerable in his friend's bed. He knew Glorfindel would not hurt him, yet he could not banish the fear that clung to his heart.

"Roll over, my friend," Glorfindel murmured, and he noticed the slight hesitation before Erestor obeyed. He straddled Erestor's hips, placing lingering kisses upon the councilor's back as his hands caressed his friend's hips. "Do not be afraid," he whispered. "I will not harm you; I could never harm you." He placed a soft kiss upon one round, perfect buttock. "I love you, Erestor, you are my dearest friend."

Erestor squeezed his eyelids shut as he felt tears sting his eyes. I love you, he had said; Glorfindel had told him he loved him. He had not heard those words since his parents left Middle-earth. He pulled his knees up underneath him at Glorfindel's request and gripped the headboard in his hands. 'This is not like before; he is not like him,' he kept repeating in his mind. Hot, soft breath fanned his entrance and he gasped. Warm, soft lips pressed against it, then a wet, hot tongue circled it.

"Oh, gods, gods, what are you doing?" he breathed.

Glorfindel smiled. "Have you never experienced this, my beauty? Tell me your last lover was not so dull as to never have done this." He slid his tongue inside Erestor's tight opening and heard the whimpering cry that issued from his friend.

Erestor flinched at first, then immediately spread his legs and pressed back against Glorfindel's face. It felt so good, so very good; Celebrimbor had never given him this kind of pleasure. His arousal stood hard against his belly, slowly beginning to weep as Glorfindel's tongue slid in and out. Murmured pleas issued from Erestor's lips as his friend continued to pleasure him; yet, there was still a part of him that was afraid.

Glorfindel sensed the apprehension in Erestor; he had taken enough lovers in his day, experienced and novice alike, to know when one was not ready. He placed a gentle kiss upon his friend's entrance, and then guided Erestor to his back. Before his friend could utter a word, he took Erestor in his mouth and swallowed him deep.

Erestor cried out and bucked up into Glorfindel's mouth, still gripping the headboard with all his strength. As his friend took him deeper and faster, Erestor's hands found Glorfindel's head and he tangled his fingers in his golden mane and began to thrust into his mouth.

Glorfindel did not resist, he allowed Erestor to direct the pace and depth, savoring the musky scent that filled his nostrils and the salty tang on the back of his tongue. With a strangled cry, Erestor's essence flooded his throat and he drank him down, slowly lapping at his softening length as it slipped from his lips. He worked his way up Erestor's body, dropping lingering kisses upon his abdomen and chest. Lowering himself to his friend, he caressed Erestor's face and smiled as he watched the Noldo's lips slowly curve into a sleepy smile.

"I trust you are satisfied?" he murmured.

"Oh yes, most satisfied," Erestor purred. "But what of you? You have pleasured me twice and have yet to take your own."

"I will take whatever you give me, my friend," Glorfindel responded, "however you should like to give it."

"Come," Erestor answered in a soft whisper. "Let me taste you as you have tasted me."

Glorfindel smiled and gently bit Erestor's chin. "Your wish is my desire, my friend."

Erestor guided Glorfindel to his knees and encouraged his friend to straddle his shoulders. Holding his friend's hips, he guided Glorfindel's substantial length into his mouth. He gripped the warrior's backside, encouraging him to thrust once he adjusted to Glorfindel's length and width. His small, quiet moans reverberated along the Elda's length as he took him in, and he heard Glorfindel answer him in kind.

Glorfindel planted his hands on the wall over the bed, his head hanging down as he slowly flexed his hips and thrust into Erestor's mouth. His friend was quite skilled in this particular act, he thought distractedly as his long neglected arousal began to swell. A deep, growl issued from his lips as he spilled into Erestor's throat and his friend drank him down, then he tingled as Erestor licked him clean.

He lazily moved to lie beside his friend and then took Erestor into his arms. As he opened his eyes, he smiled and caressed Erestor's cheek.

"Who knew we would end up here?" Erestor murmured softly, placing gentle kisses upon Glorfindel's face.

"I did not know, but I hoped," Glorfindel answered with a smile.

"You should have acted sooner," Erestor grumbled half-heartedly.

"Perhaps you should have acted first," Glorfindel teased.

"Oh, I am not nearly so brave as you, my friend."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"What shall we do this day?" Erestor asked as he snuggled close to Glorfindel.

"Spend it abed," Glorfindel answered. "I wager we shall have few opportunities to do so in the coming years."

Erestor closed his eyes, feeling safe and comfortable in Glorfindel's arms. "Aye," he murmured, stifling a yawn, "I think you are right."

"Sleep, my lover," Glorfindel murmured as he closed his eyes. "Then I shall ravish you more."

Erestor smiled and kissed Glorfindel's chest. "Mmm... my lover, I like the sound of that."

They held one another close as they drifted into reverie.

* * * *

Erestor woke to the smell of warm bread drizzled with honey and fresh-brewed tea. He sat up slowly and rubbed his face then pushed his hair behind his ears. Sitting next to a small table was Glorfindel, his robe hanging open in a most tantalizing manner and his bare feet propped on a small stool. Erestor watched as his friend dipped a blackberry in freshly whipped cream, then popped it in his mouth.

"So, my raven is awake," Glorfindel said, then licked his fingers. "There is plenty here for two. You should replenish your strength." He winked.

Erestor smiled wickedly and scrambled from the bed, not bothering to wrap himself in his robe. He crossed the room and straddled the Elda's lap, placing a slice of peach between his teeth and leaning down to feed his friend.

Glorfindel smiled and snaked his hand behind Erestor's neck, then accepted the proffered fruit, but not before sharing it with him. "Mmm... this is a lovely way to have an afternoon snack," he murmured, then licked Erestor's lips.

"How late is it?" Erestor purred, his eyes closed as Glorfindel's tongue teased his lips.

"We have a few hours yet until the evening meal."

"Another grand affair?"

"Nay, just you, me, Gildor, Lindir, and Elrond, in his private dining room."

"How came you by this information?" Erestor murmured into the warrior's ear.

"I was informed by our lord's chambermaid when I stole into the kitchen to retrieve a snack for us. Somehow, I am not sure she approved of my attire."

Erestor sat back with a grin. "Tell me you did not go down to the kitchens dressed like that."

"Oh, but I did. I ensured my robe was closed first." He winked.

"You are truly shameless, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel bestowed a playful slap to Erestor's bare backside. "You are just discerning this now?" He smiled as Erestor laughed. "To bed with you, Councilor, you and I are not finished yet."

"Yes, my lord," Erestor answered, departing Glorfindel's lap and placing a slice of bread between his teeth. He watched as Glorfindel picked up the small jar of honey.

"I think this might be of use," the Elda crooned as he approached the bed.

To be continued...

Chapter 6:

Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel discover a new dimension to their friendship.

"Oohhh..." Erestor purred. "It is warm." He gasped. "Oh, oh... and so is your tongue."

Glorfindel smiled as he lapped up the honey from his friend's body. "And it is sweet, just like you." Erestor snorted and Glorfindel chuckled. "Yes, I suppose that was rather..."

"Saccharine?"

Glorfindel nipped Erestor's hip as his friend laughed. "All right, so I am not a poet."

"No, you are not, but you are an incredible lover," Erestor breathed, as a warm mouth softly kissed his chest. "Never, in all of my days, has anyone kissed me or touched me the way you do."

"Now that is a travesty," Glorfindel murmured. "For I can think of few who deserve it as well as you."

Erestor closed his eyes. "Sometimes, I wonder what it is that I deserve," he whispered.

Glorfindel furrowed his brow and looked into Erestor's face. "Why would you say such a thing?"

Erestor shook his head, his eyes still closed. "Forget that I did..."

Glorfindel took Erestor's jaw in his hand. "I will not. Now, open your eyes and look at me."

Erestor reluctantly opened his eyes and gazed into Glorfindel's large, azure depths.

"You are intelligent, imaginative, selfless, kind, and brilliant, Erestor. You are my best friend, and I do not say that lightly."

"I know, I am sorry," Erestor began.

"I do not know what Celebrimbor did to you those last days, but I can promise you it was not your fault. He was driven to the brink of madness by the Dark Lord."

A tear fell from Erestor's eye and Glorfindel gently kissed it. "He was not an easy elf, Erestor. He had a hard heart, just like his father and grandfather."

"Must we talk about this?" Erestor whispered.

"Whatever happened hangs heavy on your heart. You cannot be free to give it unless you unburden it first."

"I know, but not now, not yet..."

"All right," Glorfindel murmured. "But soon; do it before your heart grows cold, like his."

Erestor nodded. "Kiss me, I love the way you kiss me," he whispered.

"Aye, I will," Glorfindel purred, then covered Erestor's lips with his own.

* * * *

Erestor began arranging his desk with the various gifts he had received upon his appointment to the role of Head Librarian. Lord Elrond had given him a beautiful crystal inkwell, and Gildor had presented him with a carved, inlaid wooden box to keep sheets of parchment. His dear friend Glorfindel had given him a set of elegant quills made from the feathers of Eagles; the Elda jokingly referred to them as Gwaihir's and Landroval's reluctant contributions. Erestor had laughed when Glorfindel relayed the conversation he had with the great birds when asking them for such a gift. When Erestor asked how he finally convinced them, Glorfindel had merely winked and said, "They love me." Erestor imagined that was true, for he loved the Elda himself - he was exceedingly easy to love.

His first order of business was to hire an assistant, and then he would need to start interviewing scribes to work at the back of the library. Copying texts was ongoing work, for ink and parchment could only last so long, and he was determined not to lose any of the works to time. He would also need artists that could copy drawings perfectly, losing or changing nothing in in the process. In addition to the already substantial duties of Head Librarian, he also would start sitting in on council meetings and then meeting with Elrond afterward so that he could gain context for the discussions in those meetings, at least until he was familiar with the political aspects of his role on the council.

He and Glorfindel were spending less time together, owing to their duties: Glorfindel was head of Imladris' defenses as well as being a senior member of Elrond's council, and he was training an entire new regiment of recruits that came from as far away as Lindon. The Hidden Valley was already well known throughout Elvendom, and there were many who wished to serve under the king's favorite advisor and herald. However, Erestor and Glorfindel still found stolen moments to be together.

He had yet to find the courage to tell his entire story to Glorfindel; he could not explain it, but he was certain the Elda would care for him less when Glorfindel learned of all the ways he served Celebrimbor. He still carried shame from those final days, of how he allowed Celebrimbor to use him - he was certain he could have refused and left, yet he had lacked the courage to do so then. That cowardice was a barrier between him and Glorfindel. He was unsure where they stood, other than being close friends and sometime lovers, and he imagined they would never be more than that until he could find the courage to be forthright.

A soft knock upon his door caused him to look up, and he saw Lindir standing in the doorway, carrying a tray with a fresh pot of tea and warm, freshly baked blackberry scones.

"Mae govannen, Erestor," the young Noldo said. "Might I come in?"

"Of course, Lindir." Erestor rose and motioned toward the chairs by the fireplace. "Please, sit. How wonderful! These scones smell delicious."

Lindir smiled as he set down the tray and poured a cup of tea for Erestor. "I was hoping I could speak with you about..."

Erestor accepted the proffered cup of tea, looking up at Lindir with a smile. "About what?"

Lindir cleared his throat as he poured his own tea. "About being your assistant." He cast a sideways glance at Erestor and quickly began: "I know I am young, but I am a quick learner. My duties as Lead Minstrel would not interfere with my work here, and I know you need help. You and I get along so well, I thought..."

Erestor chuckled and held up his hand. "Peace, my friend," he said softly. "Sit down first."

Lindir sat down across from Erestor and nervously sipped his tea.

"Would you like to know the details of the position?"

Lindir nodded.

"Well, I need someone to help me with record keeping, which is less than exciting but a necessary component of the responsibilities here. I also need someone who can help me with cataloging the many volumes of work currently in our care. What would be wonderful is someone with an eye for detail, for I will need help interviewing and supervising the many scribes that will be employed here. Eventually, I would like my assistant to know everything that I do, so that when my services are required elsewhere, as in council, they can effectively run the library without my supervision - this of course would come with time." He smiled as he saw the twinkle in Lindir's eye. "You love books, do you not?"

Lindir nodded. "Aye, as much as I love music."

"Does this position sound like one that would make you happy?"

"Yes, very much," Lindir answered with a broad smile.

"Then, Lindir, my friend, you are my new assistant."

"Thank you, Erestor!" Lindir exclaimed. "You will not regret this decision, I promise!"

"I am sure I will not," Erestor answered with a smile. "Now, our first order of business is to find some scribes. How do you think we should do this?"

Lindir set down his cup of tea and leaned forward in his chair, his mind already swimming with ideas.

* * * *

Lindir strolled down the path that led past the armory and training fields on his way to the stables. He stopped, holding tight to the stack of bills in his hand, and watched the new recruits training under Glorfindel's supervision. Glorfindel turned and saw Lindir, raising his hand in greeting, then waiving him over.

"Mae govannen, Lindir!" he said with a smile. "What brings you to the armory?"

"I was on my way to the stables, my lord. I must ride to the lower valley to post these bills."

Glorfindel plucked a sheet of parchment from Lindir's stack. "Ah, seeking scribes..." he murmured. "I suggest the western-most settlements, for they contain the newest arrivals from Lindon, you might find someone there."

Lindir bowed his head. "Thank you for the advice, my lord."

"I will keep this one and post it inside. There are always one or two ellon that find military life not as glamorous as they thought it would be." He winked.

Lindir smiled. "I cannot imagine passing up the opportunity to train with the great Glorfindel."

Glorfindel snorted. "Now, what have I told you about calling me that, little sparrow..."

Lindir smiled and blushed. "I was merely teasing - although I do think you are great."

"And I think you are marvelous, songbird." He bestowed a peck upon the crown of Lindir's head. "Now, pick a sure-footed mount, and mind the staircase."

"Yes, my lord," Lindir answered as he continued down the path toward the stable, doe-eyed from his encounter with the elf who often featured in his dreams.

* * * *

It was late as Erestor made his way down the corridor toward his chamber. He had missed the evening meal, though Lindir had brought him a plate and some wine afterward. He rubbed his shoulders and his neck as he reached his door, then he pushed it open and stepped inside, nearly dropping the book he carried with him when he entered.

Stretched across his bed was Glorfindel. His friend was entirely nude, laying on his stomach and looking back over his shoulder with a sensual grin curving his perfect lips. "An elf cannot live on work and food alone, my friend," the Elda murmured.

Erestor grinned broadly. "Aye, this is true." He set the book down and began removing his robes. "I have been working entirely too hard."

"That makes for a tense Erestor," Glorfindel murmured as he winked. "Why do you not work that tension out on me, hmmm?" He shifted upon the bed and spread his legs a little.

Erestor raised an eyebrow; this was yet a new dimension to their bed play - Glorfindel had never offered himself like this before. He shed his breeches and loincloth, and then mounted the bed, feeling his arousal stir before he even touched his friend's body. "Are you certain? I did not think you liked..."

Glorfindel propped his head upon one hand. "To play the sheath? Oh, I have been known to enjoy it now and again. Being ridden can be quite pleasurable, after all." He hissed as Erestor kissed one of his buttocks. "Ah yes, my raven, your gentle touch pleases me much, but do not be afraid to be more . . . possessive, should the mood strike you."

Erestor trembled a little and closed his eyes, banishing dark thoughts from his mind. "Do you like it rough?" he murmured.

"Sometimes, a little." Glorfindel winked. "Do not forget, this body is accustomed to blows and falls; a little spanking, a little grabbing, some rough riding is not nearly so uncomfortable as a good, hard hit with a training sword or a lance."

"I shall endeavor to please you as best I may," Erestor murmured, "and take my own pleasure in return." He lay against Glorfindel's back, slowly rolling his groin against the warrior's backside as he reached across to his bedside table. He withdrew a slip of black silk and smiled. "Shall I tie you up, my lion?"

Glorfindel growled playfully then moaned softly as Erestor's lips suckled the point of his ear. "Yes, my raven, I would like that."

Erestor bound Glorfindel's wrists together over his head and tied them off to the headboard, and then he sat on the warrior's backside as he prepared himself with oil. His hands were trembling - he had never taken another before, though he had been taken himself enough to know both the right and the wrong way to go about it. He was hard as he spread the oil along his length and watched Glorfindel's muscles dance beneath his alabaster flesh as the warrior undulated beneath him. It was the most erotic sight he had ever witnessed, that strong body bound beneath him, waiting to be taken and possessed, ridden hard and driven to the ends of ecstasy.

"Up," he said in a commanding tone that surprised even him, and he spanked Glorfindel's hip. His arousal twitched as the Elda slowly and seductively rose to his knees and looked back over his shoulder. "Yes, master," Glorfindel purred, and it caused his length to twitch again; the power he felt was intoxicating. He slid two fingers inside the Elda's body and felt him flinch away as he gasped. "Aaaahh..." Glorfindel groaned, then he settled and began to take deep breaths. Erestor opened his mouth to apologize for the unceremonious breaching, but for some reason, the words would not come out.

Instead, his eyes took in the way Glorfindel's body moved beneath him, his ears drunk in the sound of his moans, his soft pleas for more. He continued to stretch Glorfindel, preparing him as quickly as possible for the taking, ignoring the Elda's quiet requests to touch him. Spreading Glorfindel's fine, muscular buttocks wide, he placed the tip of his turgid and pulsing arousal at the Elda's entrance, and with a deep growl, pushed inside.

A ragged cry escaped Glorfindel's lips, followed by a deep, needful moan. Erestor did not wait; without preamble, he began to slowly ride the warrior's strong body as he gripped Glorfindel's hips tightly in his hands. His pace increased quickly, and he reached around and grasped Glorfindel's rigid and weeping arousal, fisting it and dragging him over the edge. Glorfindel cried out and spilled upon the bed, and Erestor continued to ride him, memories of his own voice crying out as Celebrimbor had once rode him, mingling with Glorfindel's deep and aching moans.

He slammed deep inside the warrior's body, wrenching a deep groan from Glorfindel, then he spilled himself deep inside and collapsed upon the warrior's sweat-slicked back. His ragged breathing caressed the warrior's back and his trembling hands attempted to soothe the rough treatment he had just doled out. Glorfindel did not say a word; he merely lay still and allowed Erestor this attempt at gentleness.

As Erestor recovered, he felt a tear fall from his eye, and he placed a kiss upon the back of Glorfindel's shoulder. All the kind, gentle, loving kisses and caresses his warrior-friend had bestowed upon him were repaid with rough, carnal taking. This seemed to reaffirm his belief that he would never deserve Glorfindel's love.

"I am sorry," he murmured.

"I am fine, Erestor," Glorfindel answered softly, "though my arms are beginning to tingle."

Erestor roused himself and untied Glorfindel's wrists, and then was shocked when the Elda rolled over and gathered him into his arms.

"I believe it is safe to assume you have properly worked out your tension?" Glorfindel murmured, as he stroked Erestor's raven hair.

"That was not what I intended," Erestor said quietly.

"Nor what I expected, but it was what I offered," Glorfindel answered. "Do not fret, my raven," he whispered into Erestor's hair, "I am not harmed. I doubt I will sit a horse upon the morrow, but other than that, all is well..."

"Oh, gods, Glorfindel," Erestor answered, his voice thick with unshed tears.

"Now, now, my dark beauty, I am merely teasing. Do not think that you were the first to bed me so . . . enthusiastically. I promise you, I am not harmed, and I most certainly received pleasure from it."

Erestor lifted his head and looked into Glorfindel's eyes. "Are you sure?"

Glorfindel pushed Erestor's hair out of his face. "Quite. Now, sleep, my friend. We both have much to do come tomorrow."

Erestor closed his eyes and settled his head upon Glorfindel's shoulder, embarking upon a fitful night of sleep.

To be continued...

Chapter 7:

Summary: Gil-galad arrives in Imladris.

Erestor busied himself reading over his list of things to do in preparation for Gil -galad's arrival. Glorfindel and Elrond had departed two days prior in order to escort the high king and his companions through the more dangerous narrow passes leading to the Hidden Valley. While no orcs or evil creatures had been spotted near the borders of Imladris, the approach of the king's regiment could draw the attention of Sauron's spies, who still prowled Eriador. The Dark Lord sought revenge against the Elves for his defeat at Ost-in-Edhil, and he held a particularly strong hatred for Gil-galad and Elrond.

It had been weeks since he and Glorfindel had last lain together; his best friend had spent the better part of a fortnight posting soldiers and building flets along the borders to serve as guard posts. While Glorfindel had assured him that all was well between them, Erestor could not help but feel a pang of regret when he thought of how he handled his friend in bed that night. He hoped he would have a chance to redeem himself, though he wondered if he deserved it. He had yet to offer himself to Glorfindel, despite the fact that his friend had definitely proven time and again that he would never, ever hurt him. He vowed that should Glorfindel take him back to his bed, he would give himself freely, taking whatever treatment Glorfindel gave with pleasure.

Quarters had been prepared for the high king and his entourage, which included soldiers, councilors, and a special escort, Galdor of the Havens, the Chief Councilor to Círdan himself. It would be the first visit from those from Lindon to Imladris, and he looked forward to the auspicious occasion with nervous excitement.

"Are the king's quarters prepared?" he asked.

"Aye, Master Erestor," Lindir answered, the corners of his mouth quirking upward into a grin involuntarily.

"With fresh flowers and bath oils?"

"And soft linens upon the bed," Lindir finished. "The chambermaids will bring pitchers of water, wine, and miruvor upon his arrival."

Erestor chuckled. "Forgive me, Lindir. I do not doubt your skill."

Lindir grinned. "Nothing to forgive, Erestor. You are only doing your duty."

Erestor looked across the wide desk at his friend and assistant, noting the lovely smile upon Lindir's lips as he checked items off the list. "Do you not have music to rehearse for this eve?"

Lindir looked up at Erestor. "Aye, if we are finished here."

"Be gone, Lindir." Erestor winked. "I can finish here."

Lindir rose from his chair and bowed his head. "Thank you," he said softly and departed the office for the rehearsal rooms.

* * * *

Erestor sat back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. He had done all that he could: he had been to the kitchens three times, toured the guest wing twice, seen that the courtyard was bedecked with flowers, and the young ellith and ellyn that would greet the high king were properly attired; in short, he had seen to every detail himself.

A young ellon ran into the library, skidding on the marble floor, and then into Erestor's office. "My lord," he said, half out of breath, "the High King approaches!"

Erestor stood quickly, pushing back his chair. "Very well. Now, go on, and do not forget your duties when he arrives!"

"Yes, my lord," the ellon answered, then he turned and left he library at a run.

"And do not forget to straighten your tunic!" Erestor called after him, quickly following the youth down the hall.

He stopped and checked his appearance in the mirror before stepping outside. Smoothing his heavy, dark robes and his hair, he stepped through the door, crossing the porch and descending the staircase to the courtyard.

The first to come through the gate was Gildor, who bowed his head and slid off his horse, patting the beast on the rump as it followed a sharply dressed young ellon toward the stable.

"Mae govannen, Erestor!" he called.

"'Tis good to see you, Gildor," Erestor answered, smiling as the elf lord placed a kiss upon his cheek. "It has been too long."

"Aye, 'tis good to be home at last." He stood next to Erestor and watched the gate. "This is quite a welcoming party you have arranged," he said quietly.

"Well, it is the High King, he deserves a grand welcome."

Gildor smiled as he rubbed his friend's back. "Aye, that he does."

The next through the gate were Elrond's personal guard, accompanied by some of Gil-galad's soldiers from Lindon. They dismounted, greeted Erestor, and then followed their horses toward the stable yard. Glorfindel and Galdor followed, and more ellyn came forward, taking the elf lords' horses and leading them away, as elleth stepped forward and greeted Galdor with flowers and curtseys. Glorfindel led Galdor to Erestor and smiled as he heard harp music floating down from the front porch. Erestor, as usual, had thought of everything.

"Galdor, my friend, I would like you to meet Erestor, Lord Elrond's Head Librarian and the elf who designed this house."

Galdor placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head. "Mae govannen, Erestor. 'Tis my pleasure to meet you."

Erestor returned the gesture. "Welcome to Imladris, Galdor. I hope you find your stay more than satisfactory."

Galdor quickly looked Erestor up and down, a smile curving his lips. "I am sure I will. I do hope you will show me your library, I am such an admirer of the written word."

"I would be honored," Erestor answered with a smile.

Glorfindel winked at Erestor and led Galdor to stand next to him and Gildor.

Elrond and Gil-galad arrived next, and the courtyard erupted with a flurry of activity. Flowers, bows, curtseys, and handshakes were exchanged, as Elrond led the king up the receiving line. Erestor noted the look of appreciation and admiration upon the elves' faces as they gazed upon Gil-galad, not to mention the expression of the king as he looked upon the Last Homely House.

Erestor had seen that every detail was attended to: rose bushes and the flowering jasmine that wound around the carved stone banister were freshly trimmed, the porch and steps were cleanly swept, the windows of the house cast open to allow the refreshing late autumn breeze in, and the soft draperies fluttered upon the drafts. Lindir led his minstrels in providing soft, musical accompaniment as the guests arrived, and the household staff waited inside with trays of finger foods, cooled tea, water, and wine for the guests as they entered. It was a first-rate reception.

"Erestor, it is my pleasure to introduce my closest friend and our honorable king, Gil-galad. Your majesty, this is Erestor, my Head Librarian and the architect of my home."

Gil-galad reached out and clasped Erestor's hand as the Noldo bowed his head. "Well done, Erestor," he said kindly. "This home is a marvel; Elrond has done nothing but brag upon it since we met upon the road and I believe his words failed to do it justice." Elrond chuckled and shook his head.

"Thank you, your highness. You are too kind," Erestor said with a tone of reverence.

"Come, wait until you see inside to properly concede that it is far superior to your own," Elrond teased.

"I do not doubt it," Gil-galad said as he followed Elrond up the stairs. "I may have to steal your architect for remodeling of my own," he said half-jokingly.

"Well, well, did you hear that Erestor?" Glorfindel said as he clasped his friend's shoulder. "That is the highest of compliments."

"I dare say it is," Galdor added. "To threaten to steal you is the highest compliment he could pay. He did the same when he met Glorfindel."

Glorfindel snorted. "You exaggerate, my friend."

"Nay, I do not think so. Lucky for Lord Elrond, you were committed to your promise."

"Lucky for us all," Erestor added with a smile.

Glorfindel placed one arm around Erestor's shoulders, and then grasped Galdor's hand. "Come my friends, it is time to relax now that the formalities have passed."

"Oh, I still have much work to do. I must oversee the kitchen staff, the chambermaids..."

"How many times have you spoken to the staff today, Erestor?" Glorfindel asked with a grin.

"I do not know, five or six?"

Gildor laughed heartily. "Once a slave driver, always a slave driver... you should have seen him when we were building this place!"

Erestor opened his mouth to protest and was surprised when Gildor placed a quick kiss upon it. "Sssh, slave master," he said quietly. "I demand that you welcome me home properly, by giving me your undivided attention, my friend." He pressed his forehead against Erestor's. "I have missed you, you curmudgeon."

Erestor laughed quietly. He had missed Gildor's teasing as well. "Very well, far be it from me to argue with a stubborn ox like yourself."

Gildor snaked an arm around Erestor's waist. "To the victor goes the spoils!" he shouted, then pulled Erestor up the stairs beside him as he headed for the nearest goblet of wine.

Glorfindel smiled broadly as Erestor laughed and attempted to keep up with Gildor as they ran up the stairs.

"They are lovers?" Galdor asked quietly, his hand slipping around Glorfindel's waist and coming to rest upon the curve of his lower back.

"Nay, just good friends," he answered, still smiling.

"As good as we?" Galdor purred.

Glorfindel lifted an eyebrow and cast a sidelong glance at Galdor. "For Elbereth's sake, you rogue, we have only been alone a grand total of a few moments and already you are seeking entrance to my breeches."

Galdor chuckled. "It has been a long, long time, my friend. Can you blame me? You are every bit as beautiful as you were when you awoke on the ship."

Glorfindel smiled. "That was quite a welcome you gave me, Sinda."

"It was my pleasure, and my honor, to be the first in what I can only assume has been a long succession of lovers." He turned his head and brushed his lips along the curve of Glorfindel's ear, nudging the Elda's hair out of the way with his nose.

Glorfindel closed his eyes and smiled. "Aye, it has been a long time," he murmured. He took a deep breath and continued, "But to answer your question, no, Erestor and Gildor are not as close as you and I have been."

"And could be again, given time and opportunity," Galdor answered, reluctantly withdrawing as they reached the top of the stair and the entrance to the house.

"Now I am confused," Glorfindel said teasingly. "I could have sworn you were interested in me, yet you query me about Erestor. Could it be that you seek the attention of both of us?"

Galdor's eyes widened. "Oh, now there is a lovely idea, you and that wonderful darkling both in my bed..."

Glorfindel continued to smile but his voice took on a serious tone. "Tread lightly with Erestor, Galdor. He has not had an easy life."

Galdor grew serious. "Is he the one you told me about? The one you rescued from Ost-in-Edhil?"

"Aye, one in the same."

"Understood, my friend. I would not do any elf injury, particularly not one that you care so much about." He smiled and cupped Glorfindel's cheek. "I promise you, I will treat him with nothing but respect."

Glorfindel nodded. "Thank you, my friend."

"Anything for you, my beauty," Galdor replied, and then he left Glorfindel to find Gil-galad.

To be continued...

Chapter 8:

Summary: Erestor throws a party fit for a king and finds himself in an unexpected position. Glorfindel finds himself facing an unexpected request.

The evening was going perfectly. Lindir's minstrels broke for dinner, and the Noldo joined Elrond's dinner party where he was introduced to Gil-galad. Erestor smiled proudly as Lindir bowed and accepted the compliments that the high king and Elrond bestowed upon him for his musical talents, then the minstrel took his place beside Erestor at the table. Lindir had grown so much since their arrival in Imladris, and every day Erestor was prouder to call him friend.

Galdor sat near the head of the table, next to Gil-galad and Gildor. Erestor noted that both Gildor and Glorfindel displayed restraint in the presence of the high king, and for the first time in a long time, they had a practically dignified meal.

As the staff began to clear the table, the party adjourned to the Hall of Fire, where Lindir rejoined his minstrels and prepared to play. Elrond and Gil-galad retired to Elrond's personal study, where they would have a private conference - this left Glorfindel, Gildor, and himself to entertain their other guest of honor, Galdor. After several goblets of wine and much humorous conversation, Galdor reached across and placed his hand upon Erestor's.

"When might I have a tour of your library, Erestor?" he asked quietly.

Erestor smiled and blushed a little. "I suppose now is a good a time as any," he answered. He placed his goblet upon the table and stood, saying, "If you will excuse us."

Glorfindel and Gildor watched with amused surprise as Erestor took Galdor by the hand and led him away from the Hall of Fire.

"Well, well," Gildor remarked. "Now there is something I did not expect to see." Glorfindel looked at Gildor with a quizzical expression. Gildor motioned somewhat drunkenly toward the door. "Erestor, being so bold... especially with Galdor. We both know what an imp that Sinda can be."

Glorfindel furrowed his brow. "Perhaps I should accompany them. I fear Erestor has had too much drink."

Gildor tugged the Elda back into his chair. "Nay, my friend. Allow our librarian a little fun. Galdor will not take it any further than Erestor wishes him to; we both know this."

Glorfindel reluctantly nodded. "Aye, he did promise to be on good behavior."

Gildor lifted his goblet in a toast. "And we both know him to be an honorable elf... not to mention good in bed." He winked.

Glorfindel found that prospect to be an uncomfortable one, though there was no promise of exclusivity between him and Erestor. He tried to pay attention to Gildor as they chatted and listened to Lindir perform, but it was growing increasingly difficult the longer Erestor and Galdor were absent. Eventually, Gildor grew distracted by a handsome young Noldo who was part of Gil-galad's guard, and he wandered off in the direction of more attentive company, but not before chastising Glorfindel for potentially ruining all of Erestor's fun.

Finally, Glorfindel could take it no more, and he made for the library to seek out Erestor and Galdor. He entered and looked around the dimly lit space, but did not find the pair in the office or the shelves. Foregoing a lantern, he walked toward the back, where trade records were kept; that was when he first heard the sound of a soft moan. He closed his eyes and gathered his courage, and then he peered around the tall bookshelf. There they were, his former lover, Galdor, and his best friend, Erestor.

They stood face-to-face, so close their bodies were touching. Erestor's hands were on Galdor's shoulders, and Galdor's fingertips were slowly, reverently exploring Erestor's face. The Sinda's fair hair gleamed in the starlight that filtered through the high windows, and the light of the lantern on the table warmed Erestor's skin. Erestor's eyes were closed, his lips parted, and Glorfindel watched, his stomach knotted, as Galdor leaned in and gently kissed him. He saw a tear trace down Erestor's face and he began to intervene when he heard Galdor whisper, "No one deserves such a thing; I know better than most how cruel the offspring of Fëanor can be. I am honored that you shared this with me, despite knowing me for so short a time."

"What did they do to you?" Erestor asked.

"They murdered my family before my eyes," Galdor answered, "and then they left me for dead upon the seashore."

"I have told no one else," Erestor murmured. "I have been so ashamed."

"Of what, my beauty?" Galdor asked softly. "Of giving all of yourself and asking nothing in return, even when you were used so cruelly?"

"I am ashamed of not having the strength to leave him."

"You were in love, that is nothing to be ashamed of."

Glorfindel watched as Galdor enfolded Erestor in his arms.

"Oh, my beautiful, dark, mysterious Erestor. Weep, my friend, weep in my arms and let your tears wash away all the pain."

Glorfindel looked away, ashamed of his jealousy though unable to quash it. On the table next to them was a drawing of the fall of Ost-in-Edhil, and a book containing the history of the city. Glorfindel had always known that Galdor had a unique, empathic ability; the Sinda could see into the hearts of all he met and he always knew exactly what to do and say to bring comfort. He should not be surprised, for Galdor had done the same for him, feeling his confusion upon his awakening and helping to ground his spirit inside his body, albeit through unusual means.

Quietly he left the library, feeling conflicted and jealous that Erestor had not trusted him with this information. Music still drifted down the hallway from the Hall of Fire, and he took a goblet of wine from a server's tray and stepped outside for some fresh air.

* * * *

Lindir watched the golden elf lord for a while from inside the Last Homely House. Glorfindel, always his friend and lately the object of many a fantasy, sat alone on the steps of the Last Homely House while elves laughed and danced inside. He took note of the empty glass beside the Elda, and quickly took another from a passing server before stepping outside.

Without a word, Lindir sat down beside Glorfindel and handed him the goblet, then he looked up at the stars above. Glorfindel murmured his thanks then looked at the minstrel, who seemed content to sit there in silence and gaze upon the stars.

"Will you not ask me why I am out here alone?" he queried.

"I imagine you will tell me, if you wish to."

"Have you ever wanted someone's trust badly, only not to receive it?"

Lindir frowned and thought about it for awhile, then answered, "No, but I have wanted to give my trust to one who will not ask for it."

Glorfindel turned his head and looked at Lindir. "Who?"

Lindir swallowed. "I shall tell you, if you tell me."

"Erestor."

Lindir nodded. "Aye, I thought as much. Do not mistake me, my lord; I love Erestor as a true and dear friend, but he is one difficult elf to get to know."

Glorfindel snorted. "You speak true, Lindir. Now for your answer."

Lindir closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then he answered, "You."

Glorfindel leaned away from Lindir. "Me?"

"Aye, you." He sighed. "For months I have tried to work up the courage to ask you a very important question. Yet each time I have had the opportunity, I have failed to find that courage."

"What question?"

"Promise me that no matter what I say, you will always be my friend, and you will not make fun of me."

"Of course, Lindir, you know I am your friend, and I would never ridicule you."

"As you know, I am of age now..."

Glorfindel smiled, thinking the minstrel was about to ask him advice as to how to woo some ellon or elleth. "Aye, I remember your majority celebration."

"I find that there is something I want, yet it is something I have never known..."

Glorfindel placed his arm around the minstrel's shoulders. "Ah yes, my friend. I remember the feeling well, though it was long ago."

Lindir leaned into the welcoming embrace and placed his head upon Glorfindel's shoulder. "I . . . I wish..."

"Say it, Lindir," Glorfindel murmured.

"I wish you to be my first."

Glorfindel's eyes widened. This was not what he expected; he had no clue or hint that Lindir ever saw him that way. "Lindir . . . I . . . I am honored..."

Lindir tried to pull away. "Yet, you cannot. I knew that would be your answer, I should have heeded my brain and ignored my heart." He struggled against Glorfindel's strong, yet gentle grip on his shoulders. "Valar, I am so humiliated. Please, let me go."

"Stop, Lindir. Stop trying to run away and look at me."

"I cannot, please..."

"Lindir..."

"Please, let me go, please..."

Glorfindel turned to face the minstrel and grasped his chin. He looked into Lindir's shimmering, pale blue eyes, so open, so beautiful, and so wounded. "You have to give me a moment, my sparrow," he murmured. "I was not prepared for such a request." He watched Lindir's lower lip tremble as the Noldo bravely fought back his tears. "No, no, sparrow," he whispered. "Do not weep, not over the likes of me." He took Lindir's face in his hands and caressed his cheeks with his thumbs. "I would be honored, my songbird, to show you the ways of love." He covered Lindir's mouth with his own before the minstrel could protest.

Lindir moaned softly into the kiss, then opened his mouth, inviting the elf lord's tongue inside. He was afire, burning all over, fighting not to throw himself on the Elda right there on the steps. Another needful moan escaped him as Glorfindel accepted the invitation, the warrior's tongue sliding inside his mouth as Lindir felt strong arms enfold him. He wrapped his arms around Glorfindel's shoulders, arching into the embrace as one hand slid into the Elda's hair and the other moved to the small of his back.

Glorfindel was surprised by the voracity of his response to Lindir's request, and found he quite enjoyed holding the slender Noldo in his arms. It would not be the first time he initiated one into the ways of love, though it would be the first time he did so with one so dear to him. He slowly pulled away, yet lingered near Lindir's sweet mouth. "Come, sparrow, this is no place to first know pleasure."

Lindir took Glorfindel's face in his hands. "There is none I trust more than you to show me the way," he whispered. "Thank you..."

"Do not thank me yet, my songbird," Glorfindel answered, a wry grin curving his lips. "I may yet disappoint you."

Lindir laughed softly. "Nay, not you, my beautiful warrior. You have never disappointed me."

Glorfindel rose from the steps and extended his hand, helping Lindir rise then leading him to his bedchamber.

To be continued...

Chapter 9:

Summary: Erestor and Galdor come to an understanding of sorts; Glorfindel guides Lindir in the first steps of adulthood.

Erestor stood in the shadows, watching as Glorfindel led Lindir by the hand up the staircase. He wanted to believe it was innocent, that it was only two friends walking hand in hand together, yet he knew it was more than that - he could tell by the way they looked at one another; he had once been on the receiving end of one of those looks himself. In addition, Lindir's desire for Glorfindel was thinly veiled - it was not the minstrel's fault, he was young and had yet to learn how to affect a mask of indifference.

"He promised you naught, Erestor," he murmured to himself. "You and he are only friends, no more."

Galdor stood some distance behind Erestor, watching him from the shadows. When he had met the Noldo, he had felt the weight that bore down on his spirit; he felt the pain, the shame, the belief that he was unworthy of all the good that had happened to him. It hurt him to see one so emotionally battered, so fragile, yet possessing strength he did not know he had.

Erestor had been bursting to unburden himself, yet he feared that in doing so, he would lose the love and respect of those he held so dear. So it had been easy to ply Erestor, for he had only needed the opportunity and the ear of one from whom he did not fear judgment. When Galdor opened the book and began to ask him about Celebrimbor, it had only taken a nudge to topple the wall around Erestor's feelings. Once he did that, the pain and shame poured through the breach. Erestor needed reassurance, at least until he began to believe what Galdor knew already, that he was far stronger than anyone gave him credit for, including Erestor himself.

He stepped forward and placed a hand upon the Noldo's back. "It is his way to be generous, almost to a fault," he murmured quietly into Erestor's ear. "Glorfindel never uses his beauty to his advantage, though sometimes it works that way unintentionally."

Erestor nodded. "He and I are friends, nothing more. It is not my place to judge or..."

Galdor turned the Noldo to face him. "You love him."

"I do, and he loves me; we are the dearest of friends."

"Do not be afraid to say it, Erestor."

"My foolish, weak heart will no longer lead me astray, into the arms of those who are incapable or unwilling to return my feelings. Do not mistake me, Galdor. I do not speak ill of Glorfindel; he has been nothing but kind and generous with me. But he and I are merely friends and that is how we shall remain."

"You have known his bed," Galdor said softly.

"Aye, and so have you, if my intuition is right."

"It was a long time ago, almost a lifetime ago," Galdor answered quietly.

"Yet it left its mark, yes?"

Galdor smiled and nodded. "Aye, just as it did with you."

Erestor sighed. "So here we are, two elves left in the wake of his beauty and his touch. I do not wish to be that elf I was in Ost-in-Edhil; I want to be stronger."

Galdor placed his hands upon Erestor's shoulders and pressed their forehead's together. "You are stronger, Erestor, and I shall prove it to you."

"How?"

"By being your friend and by always being honest with you. By showing you that you have value beyond your own imagining." He sighed. "This is not what I intended."

Erestor cocked his head. "What did you intend?"

"I intended to seduce you to my bed." He chuckled. "Can I help it if I find you very beautiful?" He smiled as Erestor blushed and closed his eyes, a most alluring smile curving his lips. "However, bed play is not what my friend Erestor needs most now."

Erestor opened his eyes and stared deep into Galdor's own. "How can you be sure? Perhaps it is what I need. I have known the touch of only two in my life Galdor; one who misused my trust and the other I cannot and will never have."

"How do you know that, Erestor? Perhaps you just need time..."

"Glorfindel and I are friends, Galdor, nothing more, and nothing more will ever be."

"Coming to hasty decisions is never wise, my friend."

"So you deny me the opportunity to know you in this new way?"

"You are sorely tempting me, Erestor," Galdor answered softly. "You know I desire you." He gasped quietly as he felt the Noldo's hand brush his lower belly.

"And I am offering myself to you, however you shall have me."

"This is a dangerous game," Galdor whispered as he canted his head and brought his lips closer to Erestor's.

"And it is the danger that makes it so appealing," Erestor replied softly, and he slid his hand around the back of Galdor's neck, drawing the Sinda's lips to his own.

* * * *

Lindir approached Glorfindel slowly. He had played this moment over in his mind thousands of times, yet now that it was here, he did not know what to do. The Elda stood next to his wide bed, his collar unbuttoned, his feet bare, a gentle smile curving his beautiful mouth as his large, azure eyes beckoned Lindir. With trembling hands, Lindir reached up and touched Glorfindel's chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his tunic. The soft, rustling sound his hands made as they slid over the fabric seemed amplified in his mind, as were all his senses; everything seemed more acute and time seemed to slow down. His heart pounded hard in his chest, his limbs trembled, and he felt more alive in that moment than he ever had before.

"What shall I do?" he asked once he found his voice.

"What do you wish to do?" Glorfindel queried.

"Touch you, kiss you, see all of you," Lindir whispered.

Glorfindel leaned forward, nuzzling the Noldo's ear and smiling at the soft gasp that issued from Lindir's lips. "Then do as you wish, sparrow; undress me."

Lindir slowly worked the clasps on Glorfindel's tunic, peeling it away from his body as though he were unwrapping a special gift. He had seen Glorfindel shirtless many times since he came to Imladris - on the training field, when they were building the house, at the river on days when they would all go swimming - yet this time was different; this time he could touch, this time he could kiss, and this time, he had the Elda all to himself.

He ran his hands over Glorfindel's chest, his fingers lightly grazing dusky, pebbled nipples, causing the warrior to sigh seductively and smile. He traced the rounded ridges of muscles with his fingers and watched them dance slightly beneath alabaster skin. He counted them, bending down and kissing each one as he felt Glorfindel's hands move gently into his hair. "So beautiful," Lindir murmured between kisses.

Glorfindel began breathing deeply, his head hanging back and his eyes closed as he allowed Lindir this leisurely exploration. "Are you sure I am your first?" he murmured. "This feels as if you know what you are doing."

Lindir smiled at the compliment. "It is something I have practiced many times in my dreams," he whispered. "But this is so much better than my dreams."

"Your practice was not wasted, my songbird," Glorfindel answered, and a hiss of pleasure escaped him as Lindir's lips closed around his navel, the minstrel's tongue delving inside it.

Lindir worked the laces on Glorfindel's breeches, and then slid them over the warrior's hips, leaving him in nothing but a loincloth. He swallowed as he gazed at the rise in the silk fabric, knowing at what lay beneath. He felt Glorfindel's fingers under his chin and he looked into his friend's eyes. They were a deep shade of blue, like the sky at twilight, just before Ithil revealed herself in full. It was as though those eyes called him, whispering a siren's song of pleasure and gentle caresses, and he stood and leaned in, pressing his lips against Glorfindel's soft mouth.

Glorfindel opened his mouth, allowing Lindir to control the kiss, yielding to the slighter Noldo and wrapping his tongue around Lindir's own as it entered his mouth. It was strange to know Lindir in this way, yet he had always held a special place in his heart for the young minstrel he had helped to rescue. As Lindir pulled away, Glorfindel looked at Lindir's face; his eyes were closed and the loveliest smile curved his lips.

"You taste good," Lindir murmured. "Sweet, and I can taste just a little of the wine you had earlier on your tongue."

Glorfindel nuzzled Lindir's neck. "I am so glad you approve." Lindir laughed softly, causing him to purr in response. "How much have you experienced?"

"Nothing, other than what we just did," Lindir answered, unashamed. He felt Glorfindel's fingers slowly working the clasps on his robe, as if the warrior were trying to give him time to change his mind. "I am nervous, but not afraid," he whispered. "I trust you completely."

"To be honest, I am a little nervous myself," Glorfindel replied. "I have initiated others, but never one whom I care so much about."

Lindir took Glorfindel's face in his hands. "You care about me?"

Glorfindel smiled. "Of course I do, sparrow." He caressed Lindir's cheek.

"I remember the first time you held me in your arms," Lindir said softly. "I was so frightened, yet I felt so safe there, despite all that was happening around us." He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Glorfindel's. "It was as though in your arms, nothing could touch me, no matter how terrible it was."

"Let us not think on that bleak day now. These are far better times we live in; nothing will ever hurt you like that again."

"No it will not," Lindir murmured, "not as long as I have you watching over me." He brushed his lips against Glorfindel's. "Kiss me again," he answered, "touch me, I need to feel your skin against my own."

"Ah, sparrow, there is nothing in this world that I would not give you, not when you ask me like that." Glorfindel cradled Lindir's head in his hand and kissed him soundly, as his free hand opened the last of the clasps on the minstrel's robe.

Releasing Lindir's mouth, he slid the silken robe from the minstrel's shoulders, then ran his hands over Lindir's shoulders, arms, and chest as the Noldo shuddered with desire. "I shall love you well this eve, my songbird," he murmured, and then he lifted Lindir in his arms and carried him to the bed.

To be continued...

Chapter 10:

Summary: Lindir and Glorfindel become one, Galdor and Erestor get to know one another better.

Lindir closed his eyes and lifted his hips, allowing Glorfindel to remove his loincloth. He could feel himself trembling and he made no effort to stop it. He was not afraid, not really; he was more excited and nervous than anything else. As Glorfindel lowered himself to lie between his legs, he felt a surge of emotion. He bent his knees and wrapped his legs around the warrior's own, and wrapped his slender arms around Glorfindel's torso, his long fingers gripping the Elda's back. He did not dare speak for fear of saying something foolish, like professing his undying love; it was too soon, and Glorfindel had not yet had time to see him in that light. 'Wait, Lindir' he told himself, 'wait until the time is right.'

"Inside me," he whispered. "Please, I need to feel you inside me."

"We must proceed slowly, sparrow," Glorfindel murmured into the crook of Lindir's neck and shoulder. "There is so much to enjoy along the way."

"All right," Lindir answered. "I will try to be patient." Glorfindel chuckled and it tickled Lindir's skin. He laughed softly and squeezed the Elda's powerful body tighter. "Thank you for this, Glorfindel," he said quietly.

Glorfindel took Lindir's face in his hands and smiled. "Thank you, Lindir, for trusting me."

Lindir smiled, then he closed his eyes and sighed as Glorfindel's lips closed on his ear.

* * * *

The tapestry rocked and flapped against the wall as Galdor's back came into rough contact with it. Grunts and feral growls echoed in Erestor's bedchamber as they grappled with one another's garments. Erestor's undershirt ripped in Galdor's fist and he hissed as dark elf's hand slid inside his leggings, grasping his arousal without preamble. "And here I thought of you as the more yielding type," he groaned as Erestor marked the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Erestor smiled then laved the bruised flesh with his tongue. "Those days are far behind me now, my friend."

"Lucky me," Galdor murmured playfully, then grunted as Erestor pulled him from the wall and then pushed him to the bed. "Do you intend to teach me a lesson in servility?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Erestor flung his torn shirt to the floor and quickly removed his leggings. "Do you wish me to? Do you like it rough, Galdor?" He climbed upon the bed, grasping Galdor's wrists and pulling them over the Sinda's head.

Galdor did not fight Erestor, but the raw emotions that he felt coursing through his new friend concerned him. "If I said I did, would you use me as he used you?" he asked softly.

Erestor froze, his hands tightening upon Galdor's wrists as he cringed at the implication.

Galdor paused as he sensed something else - it was guilt. "Would you use me as you used Glorfindel?"

"Stop it."

"Am I wrong? If I am, please tell me."

"Stop."

"Stop what? I cannot stop, Erestor. I am not seeking this, your feelings are washing over me like a massive wave." He cocked his head. "Being like him will not make you feel better about yourself, you know this." Erestor lay down on top of him, releasing his wrists, a deep resigned sigh escaping his lips.

"What will?"

"The belief and knowledge that you are better than that, that you are stronger, that you are wiser..." Erestor laughed sardonically and Galdor cocked his head, trying to see the Noldo's face. "Why do you laugh?"

"Me? Better than Celebrimbor? Wiser than the most brilliant smith since Fëanor? Stronger than the one who resisted the Dark Lord, even to the end of his life?" He closed his eyes. "No, no, my friend, I am afraid you are mistaken. I am not, nor ever will be, better than him."

Galdor sighed. "My dear Erestor. When will you see? True, Celebrimbor was a brilliant talent; but, he was also an ordinary elf, plagued with weakness and doubt, prone to vanity, seduced by idle flattery." He smoothed Erestor's dark hair. "You are unique, Erestor - you are your own elf, there is not another like you in all the world. Rather than try to be someone else, is it not time you learned who you are yourself?"

"I thought I knew that already."

"Nay, you know what he told you, but not what you have discovered yourself. Did you not tell me that he scoffed at your talent for mechanical things?"

"Aye, he thought it common, though I suspect he was a little proud, even if he would not admit it."

"Would you call this house common?"

Erestor raised his head and looked into the Sinda's pale eyes. "No, I would not."

"This house is by your design, Erestor. You saw it come to fruition. This was no common effort; it was an extraordinary effort by a brilliant elf - one who finally is free of Celebrimbor's shadow." He caressed Erestor's cheek. "Do not let your life here be ruled by what transpired in the past. Live now, Erestor, be who I know you are, who you have yet to discover."

Erestor smiled a bit sadly and reached up to touch Galdor's cheek. "Forgive me, my friend. You are so kind and I have repaid that kindness with rough treatment."

Galdor smiled in return. "Ah, not so rough. I rather like a little spanking and tickling now and again." He winked.

Erestor laughed. "Shall I tickle you then? Spank you?"

Galdor purred like a cat. "Mmm.... yes, please." He reached up, grasping the head of Erestor's bed in his hands as the Noldo's mouth moved to the pit of his arm. He gasped and moaned softly as Erestor's lips explored the tender flesh there. "Oh, my . . . I do like that."

"You have the most wonderful scent," Erestor murmured as he nuzzled the tender flesh. "It is rather woodsy."

Galdor began to slowly move against Erestor, wrapping his legs around the Noldo's hips. "I would yield to you, if you promise to respect what I give you."

Erestor turned his head and looked into Galdor's eyes. "Always. Your trust is a precious gift, my friend."

"Then you have it, and me."

Erestor moved so that their lips were almost touching. "I swear to you, I will not abuse this gift."

"I know," Galdor whispered as he threaded his fingers in Erestor's heavy, dark locks. He drew the Noldo's lips to his own and kissed him deeply.

* * * *

Lindir lay on his stomach, trembling like a fawn caught by a wolf. Glorfindel knelt over him, the warrior's powerful body moved against him, flesh against flesh, lips and tongue leisurely exploring his ear as the Elda's turgid length slid into the cleft of his buttocks. He wadded the bed sheets in his fists as he arched and undulated against Glorfindel's larger and heavier form, his swollen length trapped between their combined weight and the sheets. This long, slow exploration was surely going to be his demise.

"Please," he whispered softly, sighing as Glorfindel nuzzled his neck.

"Ai, sparrow," Glorfindel murmured. "Would you begrudge me this opportunity to savor your beauty?"

"I am aching for you," Lindir answered.

"That is part of the experience," Glorfindel returned. "Savor it, my songbird. Savor the ache knowing that what is to come is even sweeter."

"I have waited so long for this, Glorfindel," Lindir softly replied. "I would not begrudge you what you want, but it is so difficult to wait."

Glorfindel smiled and kissed the soft, smooth plane of skin between Lindir's shoulder blades. "You have not long to wait," he murmured as he moved lower. His gaze took in the long line of Lindir's back, the smoothness of his skin, the way his lithe body moved beneath him. He grasped the young one's hips, encouraging him to rise to his knees; then he gently spread him, leaned down, and circled Lindir's entrance with his tongue. The ragged gasp that escaped Lindir's lips caused Glorfindel to purr in appreciation. Deflowering a young male was always a lovely experience; but this time, he suspected it would be lovelier than most. He delved inside Lindir's body with his tongue and heard the choked cry of pleasure that escaped the minstrel's lips.

Lindir gasped then cried out as Glorfindel's tongue breached him. After recovering from the initial shock, he pressed back against the warrior's face, desperate to feel more. It was warm and wet, slickly sliding in and out of his body, causing his arousal to twitch and ache. After a few delicious moments, that wonderful tongue withdrew and he felt an oiled finger enter his body. He flinched, and then willed himself to relax to the not altogether unpleasant sensation. Just as his breathing became regular, a sensation that nearly defied explanation exploded inside his body. His blood turned to fire, every muscle simultaneously tightened, and he arched his back, crying out in ecstasy. No sooner than he began to recover, it happened again, and he blindly reached out and grasped the head of the warrior's bed. In the fog of pleasure he did not notice that a second finger was added to the first, he only felt himself being spread open as fire roared through his body and his arousal threatened to spill. He felt Glorfindel's soft, warm breath upon his ear.

"There will be pain, I cannot spare you that. Should you wish me to stop, or should you change your mind, you have but to say so and I will stop. There are many, many other ways in which you and I can explore one another."

Lindir nodded. "I understand, Glorfindel," he whispered raggedly. "I know pain and I am not afraid of it. I trust you."

"That is a gift I shall always treasure, sparrow," Glorfindel murmured. He reached out and turned Lindir's head so that their lips met. "You and I are about to become one," he said softly against Lindir's mouth. "Do not be afraid of the joining, do not be afraid to lose yourself to it." He kissed Lindir's sweet lips. "Things will always be different between us after this, Lindir. You and I will always be linked, one to the other."

Lindir smiled as he felt tears sting his eyes. "I can think of nothing I would rather feel," he answered softly.

"Breathe, my songbird," Glorfindel murmured. "Breathe and do not fight the pain, nor the joining."

Lindir nodded and Glorfindel moved away, positioning himself on his knees behind Lindir.

As he was breached, Lindir drew a ragged gasp, his wide eyes unfocused, his long fingers gripping the smooth wood of the headboard with all his might. He was unable to cry out, unable to move; he was pierced, feeling as though he would split wide open. He heard Glorfindel's deep, honeyed voice murmur, "Breathe." He exhaled in a ragged out rush of air, then drew another rough breath. There was no doubt that it was painful, but there was more to it than that. The experience was not as painful as what happened to him in Ost-in-Edhil; what took his breath away was that he felt himself begin to change.

Glorfindel was inside him, physically and spiritually. He felt the warrior's power, his bravery, his valiant and strong heart, his kindness, the affection that Glorfindel held for him; it was as if the two of them were indeed one.

Glorfindel felt the rush of emotion that emanated from Lindir; there was no fear, only overwhelming warmth. All the kindness and optimism in Lindir's heart flooded his ancient soul; his sparrow's pure spirit gave comfort to him. His hands softly caressed Lindir's lean back, sliding through the sweat that beaded on the minstrel's skin. He leaned forward, his lips close to Lindir's ear as he whispered, "Are you well?"

"I cannot believe it," Lindir whispered. "I feel so much..."

Glorfindel smiled. "It only gets better from here, my gentle Lindir. You feel so good, in every way."

"Have me," Lindir whispered, "please..."

Glorfindel flexed his hips, slowly withdrawing a small amount before delving back inside. "Oh, I shall, my sparrow, and you shall have all of me."

Slowly he began to move, feeling Lindir's body relax around his turgid length. He reached for the minstrel's rigid arousal and slowly began to stroke it, his fist gliding through the opalescent fluid that leaked from the tip. Lindir's moans were the most sensual, beautiful music he had ever heard; the minstrel had a voice that he suspected could melt even the coldest heart. He angled for his mark, then found it, causing the most beautiful, most heartbreaking cry his ears had ever witnessed to erupt from Lindir's throat, and his lover began moving with him, thrusting into his fist before rocking back onto him.

He was taken aback at the intensity of their joining. Lindir's emotions flooded his mind and his heart, and his own flowed freely back. Again, he struck his mark, and Lindir's untried body could take no more as Glorfindel felt the minstrel's seed spill over his fist. Lindir was utterly relaxed and he moved freely, delving deeper, faster, his own impending fall coming ever closer. He gripped Lindir's shoulders, thrusting deep, his lips caressing the minstrel's ear, his gaze taking in his beautiful, flushed face and the exquisite smile that curved his sparrow's lips. "More," his lover whispered, and he pushed ever deeper, their bodies rocking together, their moans mingling with one another. It started deep in his core, and then roared through his body; he cried out as he thrust deep, spilling inside Lindir, gripping the minstrel's hips as his length twitched and danced inside his lover's body. Slowly his climax subsided and he realized he was trembling himself. It had been a long time since he had felt so much, despite his many lovers over the years.

Slowly he withdrew and moved to lay beside Lindir, gathering the minstrel's long, lean body in his arms. He brushed the damp hair away from his sweet face, the blissful smile that curved Lindir's lips cause a smile to bloom upon his own. "Are you well?" he whispered. It was a moot question, for the expression upon Lindir's face said all.

Lindir snuggled close, wrapping his long arms around Glorfindel's waist. "I cannot describe it," he murmured. "It was the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced."

Glorfindel kissed the top of Lindir's head. "Aye, that it was, sparrow," he answered. "Thank you for choosing me."

"There was no other choice, really," Lindir replied with a smile.

Glorfindel chuckled. "Now you flatter me, but I have never been averse to flattery."

Lindir laughed in response and pressed a kiss to the warrior's chest. "May I sleep here?"

"Of course. Holding you in my arms shall be the cause of many a peaceful dream, I think."

"Then dream on, my warrior," Lindir murmured as he began to slide quickly into reverie. "I hope to be the cause of many a good dream for you." He yawned and sighed, then surrendered to sleep.

To be continued...

Chapter 11:

Summary: Erestor and Galdor's friendship grows, as does the distance between him and Glorfindel.

Erestor lay between Galdor's trembling thighs, his heart slowly returning to its normal rhythm, his skin tingling beneath the Sinda's soft caress. 'So that is what it is like,' he thought to himself as he heard Galdor purr contentedly. Now he knew what it felt like to really join with another, and he also realized how much Celebrimbor had withheld from him, not to mention how much of himself he had been withholding from others. If Galdor never did another thing, he taught him that much - he taught him what it was like to truly trust and to share genuine affection.

Their joining had been a slow, gentle experience. Erestor had savored each moan, each arching undulation of Galdor's body, each deliberate thrust into the Sinda's delicious heat. The way Galdor's fingers felt in his hair, the way his lips felt upon his own, the way his mouth tasted; each remarkable sensation still filled his mind and his body. His sated length slowly slipped from the Sinda's form, and he felt the delectable slide of Galdor's inner thighs against his hips as his friend's legs slipped down. "That was..."

"So very good," Galdor finished for him.

Erestor smiled and laughed softly. "Yes, my friend, it certainly was." He rolled to the side and pulled Galdor closer. "Will you stay here with me?"

Galdor pushed Erestor's dark hair away from his flushed face. "Aye, my darkling, I shall stay. One never knows what wonderful surprises may await us in the early morning hours." He winked.

Erestor chuckled and tucked his head underneath Galdor's chin. "Thank you, my friend. This is something I shall never forget."

Galdor grinned. "Now that is quite a compliment. I always endeavor to be remarkable." He kissed the top of Erestor's head as his friend gave his waist a squeeze.

"That you are, Galdor, that you are," Erestor murmured sleepily. He closed his eyes and drifted into reverie, feeling at peace in Galdor's arms.

* * * *

As the weeks passed, Erestor and Galdor spent many hours together. Erestor learned much from Galdor, not only about himself and what he was capable of, but also of political matters. Galdor was an experienced negotiator and trusted adviser to Círdan, and Erestor considered the Sinda his mentor. From Galdor he learned the intricacies and difficulties of negotiating with men and dwarves, and he learned of the bravery and friendship between the Men of Númenor and the Noldor in particular. While Erestor knew there were close ties between their races, he learned things from Galdor that were not recorded in the history books.

Erestor also gained further understanding of the tenuous balance between the forces of good and evil, and he realized just how sheltered he was within Elrond's haven, and had been under Celebrimbor's tutelage. In the outside world, Sauron was gaining ground, being close to taking Eregion; if that happened, then it was only a matter of time before he found the Hidden Valley, and then their precious peace would be destroyed. Galdor informed him of the communication between Gil-galad and Tar-Minastir, the son of the Ruling Queen and general of Númenor's armies. It would not be long before the Elves would need help in defeating Sauron, and it would fall to the Men of Númenor to lend aid.

In the weeks since the king's arrival, Erestor had noticed a change in his assistant, Lindir. While Lindir was no less dedicated to his work, and was certainly an obedient assistant, the young one exuded a new confidence. The minstrel had an air of quiet assurance about him that Erestor sometimes envied. He wondered why Lindir had made so full and hale a recovery, both inside and out, after their abduction and subsequent rescue, when he himself seemed to still have a part deep inside that was wounded. Galdor was helping him with that, but he wondered if he would ever feel whole again.

He looked at Lindir thoughtfully. His young assistant was helping Galdor find ancient maps of the eastern lands and documents containing hidden passages to the south. The waning autumn sun filtered through the tall windows, illuminating his pale hair and luminescent skin. Lindir had never looked so beautiful to him. Erestor was not attracted to Lindir in a sexual way, but in the way that one wishes to reach out and touch a beautiful flower or a magnificent horse - it was an appreciation of beauty in its purest and most natural form. He loved Lindir like a brother; they had been through much together and formed a close bond of friendship. He knew that Lindir and Glorfindel had become lovers since the night of Gil-galad's arrival, though they were being somewhat discrete about it.

He had not seen Glorfindel for more than brief moments since that night, owing to the warrior's duties, which kept him away from the Last Lonely House for sometimes weeks at a time, and there seemed to be an awkward gulf growing between them. As of late, Glorfindel had been away for a week inspecting the guard posts at the borders, and Gildor had taken up the task of training the recruits; Imladris was quietly preparing for war.

He was standing near the tome that catalogued every item within the library, his distracted gaze focused on Lindir rather than the book, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hard at work again, I see."

He turned to see Glorfindel standing behind him, a smile curving the Elda's lips. The warrior's boots and the hem of his cloak were soiled, yet he had taken the time to clean what mud would come off his boots before entering the house. His cheeks were flushed from the brisk autumn air and his hair flowed wildly around his shoulders. It was clear he had just returned from the outskirts of Imladris. He could not help but return the warm greeting; Glorfindel's smile always caused him to smile in return.

"Aye, as usual. I was just trying to discern whether or not Lindir needed my assistance." He reached out for the warrior's hand. "'Tis good to have you home, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel accepted the proffered hand; it was such a strange gesture between two friends who had lately been so close. "'Tis good to be home, my friend," he answered.

"Glorfindel!"

He looked up to see Lindir's smiling face, and he left Erestor's company for his lover's arms.

Erestor felt a sharp pang in his heart. He had wanted to reach out and embrace the Elda. What had stopped him? He missed those arms that had so often held him both in friendship and in a more intimate way. He turned and entered his office, hoping no one saw the expression upon his face.

He caught sight of the pair as they left the library hand in hand, then soon afterward, Galdor appeared in his office doorway.

"When, Erestor? When are you going to tell him what is in your heart?"

"And I suppose you know what that is?" Erestor asked sardonically.

"You know I do," Galdor answered matter-of-factly.

"You see that they are lovers now. I hardly think it would be appropriate..."

"Since when is love appropriate?" Galdor queried. "You know what is coming, Erestor. Soon none of us will have a certain future - do not wait until..."

"Please, I beg you, do not speak of such a thing." Erestor closed his eyes and began rubbing his temples.

"I care about you, Erestor. You know I only do this out of love."

"I would not hurt Lindir, nor would I risk damaging my friendship with Glorfindel."

Galdor sighed. "Very well, but sooner or later, your heart will have its say." He turned and departed the library, leaving Erestor alone with his thoughts.

* * * *

The door to Glorfindel's chamber had no sooner closed than the warrior found himself being dragged toward the bed and undressed.

"Valar, I have missed you so much; I have worried about you so much..." Lindir quickly worked the clasps on his lover's tunic after discarding Glorfindel's cloak.

Glorfindel's hands roamed the minstrel's long back, his fingers hungrily clutching at his lover's firm, round backside. "Mmm... not as much I missed you, I wager," he murmured into Lindir's ear. "Have you been a good songbird while I have been away?"

"Not at all," Lindir breathed as Glorfindel's tunic fell away and his fingers quickly unlaced his lover's breeches. "I have thought about you and touched myself nearly every night since you left."

"Well, as long as it was me you were thinking of," Glorfindel purred, then he ran his tongue over the point of Lindir's ear. "Ai! Sparrow..." he moaned as Lindir's long fingers wrapped around his burgeoning arousal. "You did miss me..."

With his free hand, Lindir grasped a handful of Glorfindel's hair. "I told you I did," he purred, and then he covered Glorfindel's mouth with his own in a deep kiss. "I want you to take me, hard," he murmured, as his lips briefly left those of his lover.

"You need not ask me twice," Glorfindel replied, quickly divesting Lindir of his garments, then lifting his lithe lover and playfully tossing him upon the bed.

* * * *

Lindir lay upon his back, propped up in a half-sitting position by the thick pillows on Glorfindel's bed. His lover was sleeping soundly on his stomach, his golden head resting on Lindir's chest. Lindir's legs were draped over the warrior's hips and he slowly ran his fingers through Glorfindel's thick, wavy, golden mane, languidly picking up a strand and letting it slip through his fingers. He closed his eyes and smiled as his lover softly moaned and snuggled closer to him, the feel of the Elda's battle-toughened hands under his shoulder blades was comforting; it was as though Glorfindel were clinging to him.

"Aye, my love," he whispered. "I am here and will always be here, for you." He placed a soft kiss upon the crown of the warrior's golden head. A soft, unsettled moan came from Glorfindel's lips and he felt his lover's body tighten ever so subtly. "Nightmares again, my warrior?" he whispered. "Here, let me see them."

He closed his eyes and tried to find that link that they shared when they made love, that reciprocal flow of emotion, sensation, and sometimes thought. He could not find it, not while his partner was passive - it required both of them to reach out to the other, he supposed. He soothed his lover's troubled form by slowly rubbing circles upon his muscled back while continuing to comb through his hair with his fingers. "There now, that is better. Sleep, love. You are home and you are safe."

"Sparrow?" his lover whispered.

"Yes, my love, 'tis I," he answered.

"Mmm... I had a bad dream," Glorfindel murmured.

"Tell me of it," Lindir answered.

"I dreamt I was back in Gondolin. The city was falling and you were there, as was Erestor and Gildor. I saw Gildor fall, and only you and Erestor were left."

"What happened then?" Lindir asked softly, placing gentle kisses upon Glorfindel's head.

"I do not know," Glorfindel answered. "I woke." He slowly rose to look into Lindir's eyes. "I do not ever want you to leave this place, Lindir. You will always be safe here; I want you to always be safe."

Lindir smiled at him. "I will be, as long as I am with you."

"Promise me."

Lindir caressed Glorfindel's face. "I promise."

Glorfindel reached up and kissed his young lover, the soft moan that escaped Lindir's lips caused his body to reawaken. "I need this," he murmured against the minstrel's lips.

"It is always yours for the taking," Lindir whispered in reply, and then he threaded his fingers in Glorfindel's hair as his lover kissed him deeply.

To be continued...

Chapter 12:

Summary: Things begin to change in Imladris.

Winter was drawing to a close and the high king's party departed the Hidden Valley, returning to their homes in the west. Erestor was sad to see Galdor go; they had grown very close since his arrival. He had a new, good friend, one he could always count upon.

He knew war was coming, and it filled him with dread. Yet, what choice was there? Sauron would not stop until he conquered and destroyed everything in his path. It was up to the Elves and the Men of Númenor to stop him.

As the months wore on, he watched Lindir and Glorfindel grow closer by the day. It was no longer a secret that they were lovers; in fact, Lindir had moved out of his own chambers and into Glorfindel's. How had it happened? How had what he had once hoped would be his slip through his fingers and into the arms of one of his dearest friends? What was it that Lindir had that he lacked?

He hid his feelings well, so well that no one in Imladris, to his knowledge, suspected them, not even Glorfindel. He resigned himself to being the Elda's friend, nothing more, and focused his efforts on keeping the bond of friendship between them; at least he had that.

To his surprise, he was spending more and more time with Gildor. The elf's good cheer and playful nature lightened his too often serious spirit. As he placed the last entry in the ledger and blew upon the ink to dry it, he saw his friend's form fill the doorway. Erestor smiled as he looked up at Gildor, who casually leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Have we finished for the day?" Gildor asked, a smile curving his lips.

"Aye, just," Erestor answered, making sure the ink was dry before closing the ledger.

"We have been invited to a picnic, in the southern meadow."

"A picnic? In the dead of Rhîw?"

"It is not the dead of Rhîw, you curmudgeon, it is the dawning of Echuir. The flowers are beginning to emerge from blankets of snow and Anor is lighting and warming the sky. If it is not too cold, we can watch Ithil as she arrives." He smiled at his friend. "Come, I will gather hot mulled wine, warm, fresh-baked bread, and dried meats and cheeses. It will be a pleasant diversion from such serious work."

Erestor looked at Gildor with some skepticism, then rose from his chair. "I must change into my riding clothes first."

"Well then be quick about it, Master Erestor, the days are yet short..."

Erestor rounded his desk and passed Gildor in the doorway. "I shall meet you at the stables." He walked a short distance down the hallway, and then turned. "Who invited us on this picnic?"

Gildor paused on his way to the kitchens. "Glorfindel and Lindir, who else?"

Erestor hoped his feelings were not readily apparent on his face. "Of course," he murmured, and then turned back toward the staircase.

Gildor furrowed his brow, and then shrugged, continuing toward the kitchen, curious as to what was wrong with his good friend.

* * * *

Erestor checked himself in the mirror. As fruitless as it was, he could not resist the compulsion to make himself as attractive as possible for Glorfindel. He wore black velvet breeches that fit tight for riding, tall, black leather boots, a white undershirt and black velvet tunic with silver detailing. His dark cloak completed the ensemble, and he wondered if he really did not look as if he were attending a funeral rather than a picnic. Pulling on his gloves, he departed his bedchamber and made his way to the stables.

As he entered, he found Gildor strapping on his quiver. Glorfindel and Lindir were standing close together, kissing sweetly and caressing one another's faces. Only two horses were prepared, Glorfindel's stallion and Gildor's large gelding. Lindir's mount and Erestor's own were sleepily munching hay.

"We will only take two horses," Gildor said as he noted the quizzical look upon Erestor's face. "It is cold and riding together will make the journey more pleasant."

"Very well," Erestor answered.

"We are so glad you could come with us, Erestor," Lindir said with a broad smile. "I have been telling Gildor that you work entirely too hard."

"It was kind of the two of you to invite me, Lindir," Erestor said softly. "Thank you."

"No thanks are necessary, my friend," Glorfindel answered. "We always enjoy your company."

Erestor nodded and moved toward Gildor's horse, finding it difficult to be around Glorfindel when he was so affectionately holding Lindir. He cursed the fact that he did not ask who invited them before agreeing to come, then realized that there was no excuse or way he could have avoided this situation without being obvious.

"Up we go, my friend," Gildor said, as he boosted Erestor up on his gelding's back. He mounted behind him, and handed Erestor their foodstuffs. "You are in charge of not dropping the food."

"I think I can manage that," Erestor answered, then he looked down at Gildor's arm as it encircled his waist protectively.

"Now do not run off without us," Gildor said to Glorfindel, as the Elda mounted behind his lover. "You two have the wine."

Lindir laughed. "So mistrustful," he teased.

"Not mistrustful, just wise. I have known him longer than you, you know." He winked at Lindir, who laughed in response.

"Always quick to slander me, are you not?" Glorfindel asked with a raised eyebrow.

"'Tis not slander, 'tis only an honest account of your . . . tendencies," Erestor countered, surprising himself.

Glorfindel laughed aloud. "Now there is the Erestor I know and love. I have missed that sharp wit. Come, follow close..." He squeezed his stallion's flanks and the horse left the barn at a gallop.

Gildor chuckled and murmured into Erestor's ear. "Well done, my friend, well done." He then followed suit and they galloped out of the barn and into the waning afternoon sun.

* * * *

They found a large, smooth rock that had been warmed by Anor's rays, and spread a blanket upon it. There they lie in the sun, eating the food that Gildor had gathered and drinking the mulled wine. Were it not for how Erestor felt about Glorfindel, it would have been an altogether pleasant afternoon. It was difficult, however, to see Glorfindel and Lindir together; their affection for one another was obvious.

What Erestor did not see, but Gildor did, were the stolen glances Glorfindel cast Erestor's way before the Elda returned his attention to his young lover. This situation troubled Gildor. He loved each of them; all three were his dear friends and to know that someone at some point was going to end up with a broken heart pained him.

Anor was slowly setting and Ithil gave chase, her silver visage just visible over the mountains to the east. Lindir decided to walk in the woods while Glorfindel checked on their horses, and Gildor remained with Erestor, lying beside his friend in the waning light. They could hear wolves howling in the distance, and Gildor reassured Erestor that beasts of Eru's creation would not harm an elf.

"Why do they cry?" Erestor asked.

"They mourn," Gildor answered. "Perhaps one of them has succumbed."

"It sounds so sad," Erestor murmured.

"As it should. The loss of a loved one is cause for sadness."

* * * *

Lindir walked into the stand of trees not too far from their picnic spot. It had been an uncomfortable afternoon, despite good intentions. Erestor had difficulty with his and Glorfindel's relationship, and he was afraid he knew why.

He heard a branch snap off to his right and he turned to see a female wolf, cowering by a bush. He turned slowly and spoke to her, reassuring her as he approached. She was wounded.

"You are injured," he said quietly, holding out his hands. "I shall not harm you,"

A foul stench filled his nostrils and his heart stopped. He knew that smell; he had smelled it before - at Ost-in-Edhil. "Warg," he whispered as the wolf growled, and he turned slowly to see the large beast standing behind him. It snarled, its jaws opening and revealing yellow teeth marked with fresh blood - the wolf's blood. He slowly began to back away, his mind racing. He could not outrun it - he had to climb into the nearest tree.

The warg crouched and he turned, running as fast as his legs would carry him as he cried out for help.

Gildor and Erestor both sat bolt upright upon hearing Lindir's cry. Gildor grabbed his bow and quiver as he barked, "Stay here!" Then he leapt off the rock and ran through the snow, toward the sound of Lindir's voice.

Erestor took to his feet and called for Glorfindel, who soon galloped by on his stallion. He tossed the warrior's sword to him, then leapt off the rock and followed at a run. He heard a heartbreaking cry of pain; it was a sound that haunted his memories, and sometimes his nightmares. "No, sweet Elbereth, no..." he breathed as he ran faster. "Lindir!" he cried. "We are coming!"

Lindir leapt into the air, catching a low hanging branch, and began to swing up when the beast's jaws closed on his leg. He cried out as it pulled him from the tree and violently threw him to the ground. He kicked with his free leg, hitting the beast in the snout, and it growled, pinning him to the ground with one of its large paws.

Gildor arrived first, followed closely by Glorfindel. He fired two arrows, striking the beast in the neck and forcing it to release its hold on Lindir's shoulder. Glorfindel's stallion skidded to a halt in the snow and the Elda leapt from his back, falling upon the warg and driving his sword deep into its back.

Erestor came up behind Gildor and saw the wounded she-wolf, then saw Lindir. He heard another growl and turned to see a second warg. He quickly grabbed a large, fallen branch and rammed it into the beast's open jaws as it advanced upon him. "Gildor!" he shouted, and the warrior turned, firing another two arrows, hitting the beast in the chest and felling it instantly. Gildor hurried to him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Erestor nodded, his gaze fixed on Lindir who lay in the snow, bleeding badly. Glorfindel knelt beside him, tearing his tunic to use as bandages to stop the bleeding.

"Stay here, and this time, I mean it," Gildor said, his hands upon Erestor's shoulders. Erestor nodded and Gildor called for his horse.

"Sparrow?" Glorfindel called softly as he began bandaging Lindir's wounds. "Come, sparrow, open your eyes and look at me."

Erestor knelt beside Glorfindel and put pressure upon the wounds as the Elda tied the makeshift bandages tight.

"No, no, no... Not him," Glorfindel murmured. "You cannot have him! You owe me this!" he growled.

Erestor furrowed his brow, unsure whom Glorfindel was talking to when he remembered the first thing Glorfindel had ever said to him - 'he calls not you...' "Oh, gods, no; sweet Elbereth no," he murmured. "Please, Lindir, stay with us, my friend!" he cried. He felt Gildor's hand on his shoulder.

"Get on the horse now, Erestor. We have to leave this place right now." Gildor shook his friend gently. "Erestor! Now! On the horse!"

Erestor left Lindir and mounted Gildor's horse as he watched Gildor lift Lindir and hand him to Glorfindel once the Elda mounted his stallion.

"Wait! The wolf!" Erestor cried. "They will come for her!"

"It cannot be helped," Gildor said as he turned his horse. To his surprise, Erestor struggled against him.

"We have to help her... Let me down!"

"Stay here, I will get her," Gildor said.

Erestor watched Glorfindel's stallion as it ran through the meadow, its hooves kicking up a blinding cloud of white behind it. Gildor returned with the wounded wolf and placed the animal across Erestor's lap.

"Hold her close, she will not struggle." Gildor mounted behind Erestor, and they galloped out of the meadow, the sound of wargs echoing in the distance.

* * * *

Glorfindel kicked in the door to the healer's chamber, carrying Lindir, who was still bleeding profusely. Nestagar took one look at the injured elf and ran out of the chamber to find Lord Elrond; meanwhile, the Chief Healer began inspecting Lindir's wounds.

Erestor and Gildor arrived in the healing house; Gildor carried the wounded wolf and Erestor followed close behind. Erestor watched as Gildor laid the she-wolf on some rags on the floor and gathered materials to cleanse her wounds.

He knelt beside her, cleansing the bite marks and checking for injuries that were more serious. "Both of her back legs are broken," he said softly. "Inside that drawer you will find splints and linen to wrap them." Erestor found the materials and handed them to Gildor. "Now go and see if Glorfindel needs you. I will be right there."

Erestor nodded and entered the room next door, where Elrond and his healer furiously worked to save Lindir.

To be continued...

Chapter 13:

Summary: Glorfindel strikes a bargain.

Erestor leaned against the wall in the back of the healer's chambers. He watched as Elrond and Glorfindel whispered a chant, and two healers, one of them Nestagar - the one who tended to him when he was wounded - worked their skill on Lindir's pale form. Erestor was trembling, his arms clasped over his chest, his hands gripping his elbows as he gazed on Lindir's face. It was slack, his skin was pale, and dried blood was spattered on his neck and face.

Glorfindel appeared to be in a trance of some sort, while Elrond continued to repeat an incantation that bound Lindir's spirit within his body. Erestor jumped when he felt Gildor's hands upon his shoulders, then he turned, burying his face in the warrior's shoulder. He felt overwhelmingly guilty. That same afternoon he had felt envious of Lindir, now he stood in the healers' quarters watching his friend die. Gildor held him tenderly, caressing his hair and rubbing small circles on his back.

"Pray, my friend," Gildor whispered. "Lindir needs all of our prayers now."

* * * *

Glorfindel looked around him at the stone walls and floor, at the long fathomless hallways and massive tapestries. He knew well where he was; he had been there before. As Mandos approached, he knelt before the Vala, bowing his head.

"I have come to sue for Lindir's return, my lord," he said softly.

"You would have me release him?" Mandos asked.

"Aye. It is within your power."

"And why should I do such a thing?"

"Because he is not ready, my lord. He is so young; he has been through so much already."

"You speak as if his existence here would be a punishment. Is it not true he would find peace here, more so than in your world?"

"It is the only world he has ever known, my lord."

"On whose behalf do you entreat me? The minstrel's or your own?"

Glorfindel looked up into Mandos' dark eyes. "Both . . . my own. I ask so little..."

Mandos looked down at the kneeling warrior. "Asking for the return of a fëa that is mine is no small request."

"Neither is asking one finally at peace to make further sacrifice," Glorfindel retorted, lowering his eyes in penance for so bold a statement.

Mandos considered Glorfindel's words. "You speak true. I will grant you this, Glorfindel, but know that I cannot always do such. There will come another time when you want one returned to you; know then what I tell you now - I will not be able do it. That is the payment for what you ask of me. This fëa for another in the future."

"Whose?"

"The future is not for you to know. Is one fëa worth more than another?"

"This one is, to me." Glorfindel swallowed; the Vala struck a hard bargain. "I understand, my lord."

"He is returned."

* * * *

Lindir mumbled as Glorfindel opened his eyes and returned from his trance. The healers had just finished dressing his wounds and setting the bones in his leg, and Nestagar was mixing a potent brew to ward off infection.

"Sparrow?" Glorfindel whispered.

Lindir blinked and opened his eyes. "Glorfindel," he breathed. "I had the strangest dream..."

"Ssshh, my love," Glorfindel murmured. "Be still and rest now; I will hear your dream another time."

"My shoulder hurts, and so does my leg."

"Aye, my songbird. Your leg is broken and your shoulder was out of joint. Your injuries have been repaired and Nestagar will give you something for the pain."

Lindir blinked again as he felt Elrond's hands slowly running over his shoulder. A warm, almost vibrating sensation washed through his joint, then the Lord of Imladris did the same to his leg. He watched as Elrond rounded the table, standing at its head and looking down into his eyes. He smiled as his lord, who had become like a father to him, smoothed his hair from his face and bent down, placing a soft kiss upon his forehead. "Rest, gentle Lindir, all will be well in a short while."

"Thank you, my lord," Lindir whispered, then he closed his eyes and found reverie.

Elrond placed his hand upon Glorfindel's shoulder. "I do not know how you recalled him, for by rights he should be in Mandos' Halls. However you did it, I am in your debt. It would have broken my heart to lose him."

"As it would have broken mine," Glorfindel murmured.

Erestor stood by, leaning heavily on Gildor's chest, his head tucked beneath the warrior's chin, his arms wrapped around his waist.

"Thank the Valar," Gildor whispered. "He will yet live." He looked down at the top of Erestor's head. "Come, my friend. You have been through quite an ordeal, let me take you to your quarters."

Erestor nodded and allowed Gildor to take him out of the healers' chambers and toward the main house.

* * * *

Erestor entered his bedchamber with Gildor in tow. Gildor stopped at his door and smiled gently.

"Rest well, Erestor. All things will seem better in the morning."

Erestor reached out and grasped Gildor's wrist. "Wait." Gildor looked at Erestor thoughtfully. "Would you . . . stay with me?"

"Of course," Gildor answered, stepping inside Erestor's bedchamber. He watched as his friend opened the armoire and handed him a pair of soft sleeping pants.

"They may be a bit too small, but you should find them comfortable."

Gildor smiled. "I am sure they will be fine, my friend."

Erestor retrieved a robe for himself and entered his bathing chamber to dress for bed. When he returned, he found Gildor turning down the bed. The Noldo wore nothing but the loaned sleeping pants and his hair was released from the braids he wore earlier. It was strange seeing Gildor this way, and Erestor realized he had never seen the warrior with his hair down. It was a lovely color of pale yellow, like the hue of summer grass, and his eyes were a soft blue, like the waters of the Bruinen where it flowed quietly. Erestor had always known Gildor was handsome, and charming in a roguish sort of way. But standing next to his bed, he saw the warrior in a different light; he was also kind and gentle, as in the way he cared for the injured she-wolf.

It felt a bit awkward, yet Erestor knew he did not want to be alone that night. So, he climbed into the bed and held back the covers for Gildor. As his friend laid down upon his back, Erestor curled next to him, resting his head on Gildor's shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed as the warrior gently stroked his hair, and he murmured, "Thank you," as he drifted into an exhausted sleep.

* * * *

It was early morning when Erestor awoke. He was alone in the bed and unsure as to when Gildor had left. Sitting up, he rubbed his face and looked around the room, the events of the day before returning in a rush to his thoughts. It was strange how just yesterday afternoon his life was uneventful other than an unrequited longing for one whom he had let slip through his fingers. Today, the grim reality of the changing world was hovering on the doorstep to this hidden refuge. Wargs had found them, how long before orcs followed?

He pulled back the covers and slowly left the bed, stretching as he stood. Gildor had been kind enough to stoke the fire, so his bedchamber was warm and comfortable despite the bitter chill of early morning. Anor shone brightly, her rays refracted on the stubbornly clinging snow, causing light to dance across the sheer draperies that covered his windows.

As he stepped inside his bathing chamber, his mind continued to dwell on the events from the day before. Lindir had been on the doorstep of Mandos' Halls, and somehow he returned; Erestor had a pretty good idea how that happened. After pulling his hair back behind his head and securing it with a thin piece of ribbon, he placed his hands on the sides of the low table that held the bowl and pitcher he used for washing, and gazed into the mirror at his weary reflection. "What price will you pay for such a bargain, Glorfindel?" he murmured. "What promises did you have to make to bring Lindir back?"

He sighed and grasped the handle of the pitcher, carrying it to the tub where he filled it with cold water. Emptying the water into the bowl, he splashed the icy liquid on his face, a sharp gasp escaping him as the cold bit at his skin. It was his morning ritual, meant to steel him for the day ahead, bracing him against the weaker side of his nature. Blindly reaching for a towel, he blotted his face, gooseflesh rising on his chest and arms.

He returned to his bedchamber and opened the armoire, selecting one of many pairs of black velvet leggings, a white undershirt made of crisp linen, and the customary black velvet robe he wore. He dressed in silence, donning socks, the leggings, and undershirt, then pulling on the robe and closing the clasps before taking a brush to his hair and braiding it in his customary fashion, so that his hair was pulled back from his austere face.

He resolved to stop by the infirmary and check on Lindir and the rescued she- wolf before beginning his workday. Slipping on his shoes, he exited his chambers in silence.

* * * *

Glorfindel felt a hand upon his head, stroking his hair, and he woke. His neck was stiff - he had slept on a stool with his head resting on Lindir's hip all night.

"You should go to our chambers and get some rest, my love," Lindir murmured. "A stool in the infirmary is no place for you to rest your weary bones."

"I am loath to leave you," Glorfindel said. "I doubt I could sleep one wink knowing you are down here alone."

"I am not alone, and I am well cared for," Lindir protested. "Besides, I am sure I will be able to return home soon."

"Aye, very soon, Master Lindir," Nestagar said as he entered the room. "There has been no sign of fever or infection. It will take a few weeks for the bones in your leg to knit, but there is no reason to think that your recovery will be troublesome."

"Did you hear that? Nestagar says I will be fine, and I will recover much sooner if I do not have to worry about you."

Glorfindel smiled. "Worried about me... that is so like you, sparrow, always concerned with the well-being of others."

"Tell me that you will go to our chambers, take a nice, long, hot bath, and go to bed for a little while. You look so weary.

"Very well, my songbird," Glorfindel replied. "But I will return soon to see how you are feeling."

Lindir closed his eyes and smiled as his lover leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I love you," he whispered.

"And I love you," Glorfindel murmured.

To be continued...

Chapter 14:

Summary: Erestor resigns himself and gains a new friend.

Erestor watched Glorfindel and Lindir exchange tender touches and loving words from the doorway. While he was much relieved that his friend and assistant would eventually recover, it pained him to witness their gentle affection. What could have been his, had he not been so foolishly afraid, was now Lindir's, and he would forever bear witness to their love for one another. He smiled wearily as Glorfindel turned to face him, and Lindir quietly called his name.

"How is my dear friend this morn?" Erestor asked quietly.

"Better," Lindir answered. "Though I am very sorry that I have put you in such a bind."

Erestor waived his hand. "Do not be ridiculous, Lindir. You could not have foreseen this, nor do you bear any responsibility for it. I am anxious to see you recover, more because you are dear to me than for any inconvenience that this terrible event causes." He shifted his gaze to Glorfindel. "And how fares my other dear friend?"

"Much better now that Lindir is on the path to recovery," Glorfindel answered.

"Would you do something for me, Erestor?" Lindir asked.

"Anything, my friend."

"Would you escort Glorfindel to our chambers and see that he bathes, has something to eat, and goes promptly to bed? He has promised to do so, but I do not trust him," Lindir answered with a sweet smile.

Glorfindel smiled as he shook his head. "Oh for Eru's sake. I told you I would..."

Erestor covered his heart and bowed his head, interrupting Glorfindel's protestation. "Of course, my friend. Anything to set your heart at ease."

"Thank you, Erestor," Lindir replied with a smile.

"Come, my stubborn friend, you heard your lover."

Glorfindel sighed. "I am not an elfling, I do not need..."

"Shush!" Erestor admonished. "No more protest. Do as Lindir says or we will both incur his ire."

Glorfindel turned and pressed one more kiss to Lindir's lips, then he smiled and turned, leaving the room with Erestor at his heels.

* * * *

Erestor walked up the stairs behind the Elda toward his chambers. Midway, Glorfindel turned.

"All right, Erestor. You need not follow - Lindir cannot see you now."

"I gave him my word, and I happen to agree with him. You are far too stubborn and far too neglectful of yourself. What good are you to him if you collapse from exhaustion?" Glorfindel opened his mouth to protest when Erestor held up his hand. "Tut! I will hear no more of your baseless arguments. To your room, Glorfindel."

"You are quite the taskmaster, my friend," Glorfindel murmured as he continued up the stairs.

"Aye, I suppose I have become that."

"Where is your mirth, Erestor? You used to smile and laugh far more than you do now."

"I have no time for mirth, Glorfindel. Unlike you, I have important work to do."

The slight upward twitch of the corners of the Noldo's mouth gave him away. Glorfindel chuckled. "Of course," he answered. He paused. "I must speak to Gildor, there are things I am supposed to do this day..."

"Gildor is already about it, my friend; now, no more lame excuses, to bed with you."

Glorfindel sighed. "I am resigned. There is no arguing with you."

"I am so glad you finally came to your senses," Erestor answered with a slight smile.

"Will you speak to Gildor about increasing the patrols?"

"I am sure he has already thought of that, but yes, I will mention it to him. Now, do I have to knock you about the head, or will you do as agreed?"

Glorfindel reached for the handle on his door. "Aye, I will. Will you look in on Lindir in a while?"

"Yes, my friend. He will want for nothing, I promise."

"Thank you, Erestor."

"It is what friends are for."

Erestor smiled sadly as Glorfindel closed the door behind him.

* * * *

Erestor walked into the room where Gildor was keeping the she-wolf. His friend knelt beside the noble beast, checking her bandages and seeing that she was comfortable. Beside the soft bed he had made for her was a bowl of fresh water and another, smaller bowl that contained the remnants of a clear broth made from the drippings of the roasted fowl the cooks had prepared the night before.

"How is she?" Erestor asked softly as he entered the room, slowly approaching the wolf.

"She is better," Gildor answered. "Nestagar made up a tonic that we mixed with the broth to help ease her discomfort, it should also help her sleep."

"Will she live?"

"Aye. Though, she can never return to her pack. Even if her legs heal completely, I am not sure she will be able to get around well enough to hunt down prey or escape danger, and even if she could, I am not altogether sure they would accept her back, after she has lived among us." He looked up at Erestor. "'Twas you that saved her, Erestor. 'Tis now you who are her family."

"Family?" Erestor asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Aye, family. Wolves live in packs, which are like clans; each one has a role to play. They do not last long on their own - they need a family to be a part of."

"What of you?"

"I will enjoy having her around, yes. But it was you who bore her back here, it is you she will look to for comfort and guidance." Gildor turned his gaze back to his work, a slight smile curving his lips. It was a little lie he told, but something in his heart told him that Erestor needed this companion.

"Well then," Erestor murmured as he crouched beside the wolf, and tentatively reached out to stroke her pelt. "I suppose she and I should become better acquainted then. I have never been brother to a wolf before."

Gildor smiled. "Aye, you two need to bond. Have you seen Lindir?"

"Aye. He looks much better."

"Good. I will see him when I leave here."

"Gildor?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for last night; for staying, I mean."

Gildor wiped his hands upon a towel, and then clasped Erestor's shoulder. "Anytime, my friend."

* * * *

The weeks passed far too slowly for Lindir, who was anxious to regain the normalcy of his life before the attack. He could now play his lyre and the harp, and was getting around fairly well on crutches. His leg was still heavily bandaged to provide support for the healing bones, and by the end of the day, his arms and leg would ache if he spent too much time on the crutches.

He was sitting on a low chaise in the afternoon sun, his quill moving effortlessly across a piece of lined parchment. He was composing a new song for the celebration of Mettarë, when they would say farewell to one year and welcome the next. A strange scraping-squeaking noise caught his attention when he lifted his gaze above the edge of the parchment to see the strangest thing he had ever witnessed.

Toward him walked Erestor, moving far slower than normal, his black robes brushing the cut stones of the veranda as he approached. Next to him was the she-wolf that had been rescued the day of the attack. The wolf ambled along, her front legs on the ground, the back half of her body in a strange sling that was attached to a small cart. This contraption enabled the wolf to get around without putting undue pressure on her healing back legs.

In all of his days, he never would have imagined that staid and stoic Erestor would take a beast of Eru's creation under his wing. It was not that his friend did not respect all living beings of nature, he did: he treated his horse very well, and loved the small birds that splashed in the fountain outside his office window. But a wolf? Surprise or no, Elrond's Head Librarian walked side-by-side with a slender grey, white, and cream colored wolf, who had pale grey eyes that matched the councilor's own.

They paused where he sat and he smiled. "She seems to be getting along quite well," Lindir said softly.

Erestor reached down and stroked the wolf's head. "Aye, I hope she will soon be able to move about without this contraption. It would make me very happy to see her run again."

The wolf stepped forward and placed her chin on Lindir's leg. The minstrel smiled and stroked her head. "She is so soft," he remarked.

"I have been brushing her," Erestor answered. "You would not believe the debris I found in her coat."

"She did live in the woods," Lindir replied, a slight grin on his face.

"Yes, but now she lives in the Last Homely House. Somehow, I doubt the housekeepers would be tolerant of her leaving a trail of debris everywhere she wanders. I look forward to giving her a bath."

Lindir chuckled. "Somehow I doubt she looks forward to the same."

"We all have our burdens to bear," Erestor remarked, scratching the wolf behind the ears.

"What is her name?"

"Gwathel," Erestor replied. "I thought it appropriate since we are now brother and sister." Lindir gave him a confused look, and he elaborated, "Gildor said that wolves live in packs, and since Gwathel cannot return to her own safely, I have become her pack - I am her surrogate brother."

"Ah, I see. Yes, that is an appropriate name for her." He looked up at Erestor. "That was a kind thing you did, Erestor. Had you left her there, the wargs surely would have come for her."

Erestor nodded. "Gildor says they used her as bait, to lure the rest of the pack to her rescue. He said it was not a good sign that they have become so cunning."

Lindir swallowed. "Have they found many more?"

"Several, but they have all been killed. No orcs have been sighted yet." He looked at the pale expression on Lindir's face. "Forgive me, my friend. We need not talk of this."

"I am fine," Lindir answered. "I am more worried for Glorfindel than anything else. I suppose I should get used to it - worrying about him, I mean."

"All who love him do," Erestor said softly. "It is the price we pay for caring about those who protect us." He noted that Gwathel seemed to squirm a little in her sling. "I think she has had enough for one afternoon. This contraption becomes a little uncomfortable for her after a while."

"Thank you for stopping to introduce us," Lindir said as he gave the she-wolf a soft kiss upon her muzzle. "I am glad to see her doing so well."

"As are we to see you feeling so much better."

"I shall return to work in a few days, if Nestagar gives me permission."

Erestor smiled. "It will be good to have you back, but I would not have you do so if it slows down your recovery. Heed the healer's advice, my friend."

"I will."

Erestor gave Lindir's shoulder a gentle squeeze and then patted she-wolf upon the head. "Come, Gwathel, it is time for your dinner."

Lindir watched the odd couple walk slowly away, then smiled and returned to his composition.

To be continued...

Chapter 15:

Summary: A celebration of the New Year.

The weeks passed uneventfully. Glorfindel and Gildor busied themselves with extra patrols and building more guard flets on the borders. There had been no more sightings of wargs and no sightings of orcs in the Hidden Valley, which was a relief to all. Gildor postulated that the wargs were drawn into the valley as they followed a herd of deer that migrated back to the higher meadows as the snow began to melt. The wargs they hunted had no trappings such as harnesses or collars to indicate that they were mastered by orcs, so the warrior hoped it was a rogue pack that had somehow escaped the orcs' enslavement.

Gwathel healed remarkably well, far better than Gildor anticipated, owing to Erestor's doting care. Soon the she-wolf was walking and jogging under her own power, following Erestor everywhere he went. They became the talk of the Last Homely House: the staid, over-serious librarian and his wild companion; together, they painted a forbidding picture as they walked the woods. While Gwathel was docile in the presence of the elves who lived in Imladris, and those men who were their friends, there was no mistaking that she could be dangerous, should an occasion arise that called for it. While Erestor kept her groomed, he refused to put a collar on her; he said that would be an affront to her wild spirit. The wolf was entirely trustworthy; she posed no threat to the flocks or the herds of horses that roamed Imladris - it was as if she understood the rules of domesticity and respected her new family. Occasionally, Erestor would take her to hunt in the woods, where she would bring down small game on her own, but the bulk of her diet consisted of raw meats that the cooks gave her.

Erestor lived a solitary life, working until late in the evening and spending rare days away from work with Gwathel, and sometimes with Gildor as well. His work was often an excuse to avoid those social occasions where he would have to bear witness to the growing love between Glorfindel and Lindir. He could not bring himself to hold malice in his heart toward Lindir, despite how he envied the young minstrel.

However, this night was one of those occasions he could not avoid without raising suspicion. It was the celebration of Mettarë, a grand event in Imladris. The entirety of the Hidden Valley would attend, with the exception of the border guards. Lindir and his minstrels would perform music composed just for the event, and the cooks had prepared a grand spread for them. Erestor lay on his back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and absently stroking Gwathel's coat as she lay beside him.

"I am afraid I cannot bring you to the celebration this eve, Gwathel," he murmured. "Though I doubt you will miss the festivities - I know I would not if I were able to stay away."

The she-wolf snorted and rolled to her back, silently imploring her new brother to rub her belly. Erestor smiled and obliged his ward, scratching her soft stomach as he procrastinated. "I really should bathe, the hour grows late," he murmured.

A soft knock upon his door raised him from his musings, and he slowly sat up as Gwathel hopped down off the tall bed and trotted toward the door.

"Sit," he said softly, and the she-wolf obeyed, then he opened the door. "Gildor," he remarked with a little bit of surprise. "I thought you would be on the borders."

"I have just returned," the warrior answered. "Are you not coming to the feast?"

"Aye, I am coming," Erestor replied. "Please, come in." He stepped aside and allowed the warrior entrance.

Gildor squatted in the floor and affectionately rubbed Gwathel's face. "She looks very well, Erestor," he remarked. "She is quite happy in your care."

"I have grown very attached to her," Erestor mused. "She is my constant companion."

"I never would have imagined you having a wolf as a companion."

"Neither would I have imagined it, but life takes strange turns."

"Aye, it does. It is good to see you, my friend. We see far too little of one another as of late."

Erestor smiled as Gildor stood and embraced him. He leaned his head on the warrior's shoulder. "Agreed," he answered quietly. He had not realized how lonely he was until that moment. As they separated, Gildor cupped his cheek and Erestor found himself pressing his face into the Noldo's hand.

"May I escort you this eve?" Gildor asked softly.

"I would like that," Erestor answered.

"I shall return after I have bathed and donned more appropriate attire."

"See you soon," Erestor said as Gildor left and closed the door behind him.

* * * *

Erestor emerged from his bathing chamber to find Gwathel snoring lightly as she slept on the rug in a patch of sunshine that filtered through the window. He smiled as he stepped over the sleeping she-wolf and opened his armoire to select an appropriate robe for the evening. Sighing as he fingered the robes that hung in the large cabinet, he realized nearly everything he owned was black. Given that this was a joyful event, black did not seem to be a fitting color. Finally, his fingers lighted on the crimson robe that Glorfindel had gifted him nearly a year ago. He had not worn it since.

He pulled it out slowly, remembering that auspicious occasion, and the glorious night and day that followed it. His heart constricted in his chest when he remembered the loving touches and passionate kisses his beloved Elda had bestowed upon his trembling body. It was the only suitable thing he had to wear and he resigned himself to it; he cursed his lack of planning, as he neglected to have another made for this evening. He carried the garment to the bed and removed his bathing robe before pulling the elaborate crimson velvet over his head.

He was placing the last braid in his hair when Gildor's soft knock fell upon his door, causing Gwathel to sit up quickly and look toward the portal. Sighing, he patted her on the head, instructed her to be a good girl, and departed his chambers for the evening.

"'Tis been many months since I last saw you in something other than black," Gildor remarked as he placed Erestor's hand in the crook of his arm, covering it with his own hand.

"I like black, I think it suits me," Erestor answered.

"It certainly suits your disposition," Gildor murmured with a grin.

"Pardon?"

"It does look comely on you, however, you are markedly more radiant this eve. The hue of your garment brings out the color in your cheeks. I seem to remember you wearing this once before."

Erestor looked at the floor. "It is a gift from Glorfindel." He cast a sideways glance at his friend. "Thank you, Gildor."

"For?"

"For escorting me this eve and for being such a good friend."

Gildor shrugged. "'Tis but a little thing. Being your friend is no hardship to me, Erestor."

"Nor is being your friend a hardship to me." Erestor cast another long, sideways glance at his escort. "You look most handsome tonight, my friend. Blue is a color that suits you well - the shade matches your eyes."

Gildor smiled. "Thank you, Erestor. I think we make a fine pair."

"Agreed."

"I must insist that we dance together tonight. I never see you dance."

"That is because I do not know how to dance," Erestor answered.

"Ah, then I shall have to teach you."

"Odd, I never thought of you as a dancer."

"There is not much difference between sparring and dancing, my friend. However, the latter is certainly more pleasant."

Erestor chuckled. "Aye, I can imagine it is."

They arrived at the dining hall to find it filled to capacity. Their customary places were reserved at the head of Elrond's table, with Gildor's seat directly across from Erestor. Lindir sat beside Erestor, with Glorfindel sitting directly across from him. They were greeted with enthusiasm, and Lindir placed an arm around Erestor's shoulders as he took his seat.

"I am so glad to see you here," the minstrel said softly. "I feared you would find some excuse to stay in your quarters."

"I would not miss the performance of your new composition, my friend," Erestor said, patting Lindir's knee.

"I hope it lives up to your expectations."

"It will," Erestor murmured, "it always does."

Lindir smiled and blushed a little before picking up his goblet and taking a sip of wine.

"How are you feeling?" Erestor asked quietly.

"Much better," Lindir remarked. "There is still a bit of stiffness in my leg, other than that, I feel like it never happened."

"A testament to our Lord's doting care and the skill of his healers."

"And to my love's gentle care," Lindir answered quietly.

"Of course, that is understood." Erestor took a long drink of his wine.

Quiet conversation ensued, and Erestor remarked at how different this night was from previous celebrations in the Last Homely House. Glorfindel and Gildor, who were typically instigators of raucous conversation, were atypically quiet and reserved. There seemed to be a pall of somberness at the table, despite the smiles and compliments given and received.

As they adjourned to the Hall of Fire, Erestor tried not to watch the way Glorfindel placed a protective arm around Lindir's waist, or how he guided the minstrel to where he would perform the night's music. In turn, he did not see the concerned looks that Gildor cast his way; he only saw Glorfindel's reluctance to meet his gaze. Was he that obvious? Could everyone in the room see how he longed for his friend?

'Stop it, Erestor,' he chided himself in his thoughts. 'He is not yours nor will he ever be. It is best you look elsewhere for company.'

They sat in large, comfortable chairs near the massive hearth, and Erestor accepted a fresh goblet of wine as the minstrels tuned their instruments and prepared to play. He purposefully selected a chair that would create an empty seat between him and Glorfindel; whether or not this was obvious, he could care less - at this point, he had to do whatever it took to maintain his cool mask of indifference. Thankfully, Gildor filled the empty seat, forming a buffer between him and the golden warrior.

Lindir and his minstrels took up their song and Erestor allowed Lindir's exquisite voice to fill his ears. He closed his eyes and tried to lose himself to the music, forgetting all else that weighed on his heart. As the song concluded, and a more celebratory tune began, Erestor felt Gildor's hand upon his wrist.

"It is time for that dancing lesson, my friend."

"Must we?" Erestor asked with an expression of trepidation on his face.

"Aye, we must. 'Tis best to face your fears, Erestor, rather than be slave to them your whole life."

Erestor placed his wine goblet on the table and allowed Gildor to lead him to the dance floor.

"'Tis good to see Erestor socialize more, do you not think so?" Elrond asked Glorfindel.

"Aye, I have been worried about him. He spends far too much time on his own."

"Have the two of you had a falling out? You used to be practically inseparable."

Glorfindel sighed. "I am not sure what happened, my lord," he answered quietly. "I think we have just . . . grown apart."

Elrond nodded but said nothing. In his heart, he felt he knew the cause of the distance between Erestor and Glorfindel, but it was not his place to council others on matters of the heart. Glorfindel seemed to truly love Lindir, and Elrond was loath to say or do anything that would destroy that - the minstrel was far too precious to him.

* * * *

"Oh! Forgive me," Erestor muttered as he stepped on Gildor's toe for the fifth time.

Gildor chuckled. "Aiya, Erestor. If you would let me lead you could dance on the floor instead of my feet."

"I am letting you lead!"

"No, you are not. You do not take direction well."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Keep tension between us, against my hands, like this..." Erestor nodded. "Now, when I press against this hand, you turn." Erestor felt like he was going to trip over his own feet, but complied. "Well done! Now you are letting me lead." Erestor stepped on his toe again, and Gildor chuckled and shook his head. "Stop thinking and just dance!"

"I am trying!"

"Well try harder!"

"Fine."

They kept at it, Erestor doing fine for a while then over-thinking and stepping on Gildor's toes. After a few songs, Erestor finally relaxed and actually began to enjoy the exercise.

"Ai!" he cried as Gildor spun him around, then he started laughing.

"Ah, now that is what I desire to hear, the sound of your laughter. It is a rare treat." He dipped his friend low, smiling as Erestor gasped then grinned from ear to ear. "'Tis fun, yes?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Erestor breathed. "But I think I am nearly out of breath."

"Then let us step outside and get some air, and perhaps some more wine."

"Sounds like a wonderful idea."

Gildor brought Erestor back to an upright position, then led his friend by the hand out to the veranda.

To be continued...

Chapter 16:

Summary: Erestor makes a bold move, Glorfindel has regrets.

They stood outside, basking in Ithil's light and the cool night air. There was not a cloud in the sky, so moonbeams illuminated both the veranda and the gardens beyond. Gildor leaned casually against the stone railing, sipping his wine, and Erestor looked thoughtfully at him. The Noldo had always been a good friend, one who often lightened his too serious nature. However, Gildor was a bit of an enigma, and there were few in the Hidden Valley who knew much about him, save Glorfindel and Elrond.

What Erestor did know was Gildor's family line, and that the warrior was born in Nargothrond, and was a young soldier when his father died. When Elrond came of age and chose to be counted amongst the kindred of the Eldar, the peredhel served Gil-galad, and Gildor became Elrond's general. When Glorfindel returned, Gildor reluctantly surrendered his mantle as the leader of Elrond's forces, but quickly understood that it was for the best. Glorfindel and Gildor had long been close friends, and had served together and fought side-by-side since Glorfindel's return to Middle-earth. Other than this brief history, Erestor knew little about his good friend; these were just facts, they were not an understanding of who Gildor really was.

"Did you always want to be a warrior?" Erestor asked quietly.

Gildor turned his gaze from the stars to his companion. "I do not really know," he said matter-of-factly. "I had little choice when I came of age. We lived in violent times, and anyone who was able to wield a sword or bow had to do so, to keep our home safe. I suppose it was expected of me, given that I was son to a lord. I happened to be good at it, so that was the path I took."

"Had things been different, what path do you think you would have chosen?"

"Hmm... I do not know. Farmer, perhaps? Woodcarver? Horse trainer?"

Erestor grinned. "I cannot imagine you as a farmer, Gildor."

Gildor chuckled. "I suppose that is a bit of a stretch." He stepped closer to Erestor. "What about you? Are you doing what you have always wanted to do?"

"I am now," Erestor replied, smiling at his friend.

Gildor smiled in return. "You are happy here, then?"

"Most happy," Erestor answered.

"I am glad to hear it. I have been a little worried about you."

"You have?" Erestor asked, leaning a little closer. "Why?"

"You seem lonely."

"I am. And you? Are you lonely?"

"Sometimes," Gildor responded. "But not right now."

Erestor smiled. "Good. I really do enjoy your company, Gildor. You have been a very good friend and a great comfort to me."

"I know that things have changed, Erestor. But that does not mean..."

Erestor placed his fingers upon Gildor's lips to silence him. He was surprised by how soft they were. "Glorfindel and Lindir deserve to be happy, they are both good elves that deserve to be loved." He slowly let his fingertips slip from Gildor's lips.

"As are you, Erestor. I know of none who deserve to be loved more."

"Perhaps I will be, one day."

"You are now," Gildor answered softly. "You are very dear to me, Erestor."

Erestor reached up and cupped Gildor's cheek. "As you are dear to me, Gildor." He gazed into Gildor's eyes, imagining he saw a silent invitation. 'Would it really be so difficult to love this brave elf in a deeper way?' he questioned himself. He already trusted him and loved him dearly as a friend. He leaned in and slowly pressed his lips to Gildor's own.

Gildor was caught aback by the kiss; it was not what he had expected. He loved Erestor greatly, as if they were of the same blood, but he had not seriously considered his friend to be a romantic prospect. He did find Erestor to be most beautiful, and the usually somber elf made him laugh from time to time. Until recently, he had been quite happy with his unattached state, at least most of the time; but now he yearned for intimate company. It was true that Erestor was alluring in an austere, almost unattainable way; he was the sort of elf that was usually admired from afar. As Gildor's hands moved to his friend's shoulders and he slowly parted his lips, he felt Erestor's hands move into his hair, and his friend's tongue slip into his mouth.

Erestor moaned into the kiss and pressed himself closer to Gildor. Months of loneliness and yearning came to a head in that moment. He needed to be touched, he needed to be held, more than anything. "Please, Gildor," he whispered. "I need this, I need you."

Gildor could think of no better answer than to kiss his friend again, this time taking control.

* * * *

Glorfindel watched from just inside the doorway as his two dear friends embraced and kissed. He had wondered how long it would be before it happened. They seemed like a natural pair, so comfortable with one another and so alike in many ways. The only problem was they were too alike; they were both too guarded. He could not deny the feeling of jealousy that pricked his heart upon seeing Erestor yield to Gildor's amorous advance, the way his raven arched into Gildor's arms, the soft, moans that floated between them. He knew what lay ahead for Erestor, Gildor was a more than capable lover, and he wondered if Erestor would be more willing to trust Gildor than he had been willing to trust him.

Lindir watched Glorfindel as his lover stood near the doorway. It did not take much effort on his part to imagine what Glorfindel was looking at. This was dangerous ground, trying to pretend that nothing was different when in truth everything was. Torn between moving to touch his lover and leaving him to his silent vigil, Lindir stood quietly in the shadows, fear slowly creeping into his heart. He was afraid of losing Glorfindel; the Elda was the only elf he had ever loved.

Glorfindel felt Lindir's gaze upon him and he closed his eyes. Why did he stand here peering through the doorway at Erestor and Gildor when his beautiful, kind, and selfless lover stood behind him, silently calling him back? 'Do not lose what you have for a pointless wish or for what might have been,' he inwardly chastised himself. Turning, he gazed lovingly upon his sparrow, so pale and radiant, even when he stood in the shadows. Without a word, he strode forward, swept Lindir into his arms and kissed him soundly, rendering the minstrel breathless.

"My sparrow," he murmured against Lindir's parted lips. "I love you so..."

Lindir wrapped his long arms around Glorfindel's broad shoulders. "And I love you, Glorfindel," he whispered. "There is nothing I would not do to prove that to you."

Glorfindel smiled, gently nuzzling Lindir's soft mouth. "You need not prove it, sparrow. I feel it." He caressed Lindir's hair as he gazed into his lover's eyes. "I want to take you upstairs, to our bed," he whispered.

"Mmm..." Lindir purred. "I yet have songs to sing, my love."

"As much as I adore listening to you sing, I think songs best sung in private are my favorites."

Lindir smiled. "You are wicked, Glorfindel."

"I am for you, Lindir."

Lindir laughed softly as he twined a lock of Glorfindel's golden hair around his finger. The minstrel's laughter always caused Glorfindel's heart to skip a beat.

"See?" Glorfindel crooned as he pressed Lindir into the wall. "Even your laughter lights a fire deep inside me."

Lindir gasped quietly as the warrior pressed his burgeoning length into his hip. "It will be difficult to focus knowing I am leaving you so wanting."

"Ah, but the anticipation will make the joining so much more rich."

Lindir heard the musicians begin to tune their instruments. "Will you sit where I can see you?" he whispered.

"Anything for you, sparrow," Glorfindel murmured before grasping Lindir's jaw and pressing a possessive kiss upon his lips. He slowly released Lindir, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as his lover slipped away toward the Hall of Fire. "Yes," he murmured to himself. "What I have is far more precious than what I do not." Then he slowly followed his lover back to the celebration.

* * * *

"Gods, Gildor," Erestor breathed as the warrior released his mouth. He clutched his friend's robe tightly in his fist. "You feel so good. It has been so long since anyone has touched me this way..."

"Too long," Gildor murmured. "One as passionate as you should never be left wanting, Erestor."

Erestor took Gildor's face in his hands. "I want this, more than you can imagine, but I am afraid."

Gildor looked at Erestor thoughtfully. They both had good reason to be afraid; this was no casual encounter - they knew one another far too well for that. "Our friendship is precious to me, Erestor, you know that."

"I do, and I feel the same way, which is why I am so fearful. I could not bear losing it."

Gildor smiled. "I love you, Erestor, I will always love you, no matter what you do, no matter what you say. Where ever this night may lead us, you can always count on me being your friend."

Erestor ran his thumb across Gildor's lips. Glorfindel had said the same thing and look what had happened. Of course, he knew that was unfair; he had done a masterful job at pushing the Elda away, particularly after Galdor's arrival. Glorfindel was in Lindir's arms because he had turned him away from his own. He resolved to not make that mistake again. "And I will always be your friend, Gildor, no matter what." He smiled and brushed his lips over the curve of the warrior's ear. "Make love to me," he whispered.

Gildor's grip tightened on Erestor. He was relieved to hear the request, for now that he held Erestor in this way, he found that he wanted him badly. "Aye, I will," he murmured, then kissed Erestor again before leading him into the Last Homely House.

* * * *

Glorfindel sat in tall chair near Elrond, listening to his lover's lilting voice fill the Hall of Fire; it was something he would never tire of hearing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gildor and Erestor skirt the edge of the room and leave through the large double doors, walking toward the staircase. 'Trust him, Erestor,' he thought to himself. 'He will make you happy if you let him.' Though he turned his head slightly for just a moment, he quickly returned his gaze to his lover, whose bright eyes and gentle smile warmed his heart.

To be continued...

Chapter 17:

Summary: Gildor and Erestor travel a new path.

Erestor opened the door to his chambers to find Gwathel standing in the doorway, wagging her tail. As Gildor followed him into the room, Erestor heard Gwathel whine plaintively, then he noticed her empty water bowl near the entrance to his bathing chamber; he looked at Gildor apologetically.

"I am afraid I need to take her outside for a moment."

Gildor smiled. "No worries, Erestor. I can be patient, for a short while anyway." He winked at his friend.

Erestor smiled and leaned over, pressing a brief but warm kiss upon the warrior's lips. "I shall return," he murmured, and then he departed the bedchamber with his companion.

Gildor turned down the bed and cracked open one of the large doors leading to Erestor's private balcony, just enough to let a fresh breeze into the room. He then entered the bathing chamber and began taking down his simple braids, placing the glass beads on the shelf above the sink. Picking up Erestor's hairbrush, he drew it through his locks in long strokes until his hair fell around his shoulders and shined, then he removed his clothing and lay upon the bed. After a short while, he heard the sound of Gwathel's nails clicking on the wooden floor of the hallway, and he rolled to his side and faced the door.

As Erestor opened the door and let Gwathel into his chamber, he stopped dead in the doorway. His friend lay naked upon his bed, his head propped up on one hand, his other hand draped over his hip. Just the sight of it caused a stirring in his core; he had imagined Gildor would be beautiful naked, but this was beyond his expectations. The warrior had a fine archer's body, long and lean, with alabaster skin stretched taut over chiseled muscles. He had long limbs and a long torso, narrow hips, and a rippled abdomen.

Gwathel trotted over to the bed, and sensing that she would not be sleeping there that night, she propped her chin on the edge and looked at Gildor as she wagged her tail. Gildor reached out, affectionately stroking her head and murmuring, "good girl," in his deep, husky voice.

"Lay down, Gwathel," Erestor said distractedly, pointing at the rug as his gaze wandered Gildor's form. His companion complied, walking over to the rug and groaning quietly as she lay down, propping her head upon her front paws.

He began working the clasps on his robe as he approached the bed slowly. He felt as if he should say something, but words failed him. 'You are beautiful,' seemed so inadequate. Besides, beautiful was something that most elves were, Gildor was something else in addition - it was more a spirit of wildness that the warrior possessed than any sort of refined beauty.

The robe slipped from his shoulders and he removed his shoes, then he mounted the bed, clad only in his undergarment. Gildor rolled to his back and reached out, gently clasping Erestor's arms and pulling him down so that he lay between the warrior's legs. He closed his eyes as Gildor caressed his face and slowly removed his braids.

"I want to put my hands in your hair," the warrior murmured. "I want to know what it feels like sliding over my skin."

Erestor drew a deep, hitching breath. The warmth of Gildor's flesh was accentuated by the gentle, cool breeze that filtered in through the window, causing the soft, pale curtains to slowly billow. Outside, he heard owls hooting and crickets softly calling. Inside, he could only hear the sound of their combined breaths and feel the slow, steady thudding of Gildor's heart against his chest.

"Elbereth, look at you," Gildor murmured as the last of Erestor's braids came free and he combed his fingers through his friend's raven locks. "Never in all of my days have I seen one so beautifully vulnerable. I wondered if I would ever see past that mask you so often wear. Only once have I in all the years we have known one another, and that was the night Lindir was wounded. This . . . this occasion is so much more wonderful." A tear slowly tracked down Erestor's cheek and Gildor drew his friend's face to his lips. "Why tears, my treasure?" he murmured.

"I . . . I do not know," Erestor mumbled.

"If you change your mind, I will leave, and we will not be the worse for it," Gildor said softly.

"No, no . . . I do not want you to leave. I have not changed my mind."

"Then why do you weep?" Gildor kissed a tear from Erestor's cheek.

"It is all so overwhelming, so unexpected," Erestor whispered.

Gildor smiled. "Aye, unexpected indeed, but do you not think that it is what we do not expect that brings us the most joy?"

Erestor opened his eyes and smiled as he took Gildor's face in his hands. "Yes, and this does bring me joy." He pressed his lips to Gildor's and kissed him deeply.

Erestor moaned plaintively as Gildor's strong, battle-toughened hands roamed his back, delving into the curve before sliding over his buttocks. His lover's fingers deftly worked the laces on his undergarment, and he felt it slip free. With a shift of his hips, Gildor brought their burgeoning lengths into contact with one another, and Erestor groaned, kissing Gildor harder.

As they broke their kiss, Erestor breathed, "Gods, I want you; I want you so much."

"As I want you, my jewel," Gildor murmured huskily into Erestor's ear. "I want to take you, I want to feel you beneath me, I want to feel you inside."

Erestor moaned as Gildor rolled him to his back. His lover's smoky voice, his strong, rough hands, the way he spoke to him so possessively - it was all so familiar; it was like home. "Yes," he whispered. "Take me, ride me, leave me spent."

Gildor pulled Erestor's wrists over his head and held them tight in one hand; his lover's free hand slid between his legs, callused fingers stroking his length before delving deeper. As he felt Gildor's fingertips circle his entrance his body tightened and he whispered, "Wait . . . wait!" Opening his eyes, he looked into Gildor's own. What he saw there was genuine love and concern, not cool possessiveness.

"I . . . I cannot..."

Gildor's soft lips caressed his cheek. "I would not harm you, Erestor. Surely you know this."

"I do."

"Do you want me to leave?" Gildor asked, almost afraid of the answer he would get.

"No! No, please..." Erestor pulled his wrists free and wrapped his arms around his lover. "I . . . I need to tell you something."

Gildor raised an eyebrow. "Now?"

"Yes, now, before we go any further."

Gildor rolled to the side and propped himself up on one elbow, trying earnestly to ignore the pulsing ache in his loins. "Tell me."

Erestor swallowed the lump in his throat and focused his gaze on the ceiling. "The last time I allowed someone to..." He cleared his throat and began again. "The last time I gave myself in that way, he . . . he hurt me, badly." He felt Gildor's hand upon his chest and felt his friend slide closer. "I have not been able to give myself in that way since."

Gildor knew that Erestor had been with both Glorfindel and Galdor since he came to Imladris, and he knew that neither of them would ever do something like that to Erestor. "Tell me all of it, my friend. You need to let it go."

"I . . . I am so ashamed..."

Erestor felt Gildor gently grasp his jaw and turn his head so that their gazes met. "Listen to me, the one who hurt you is the one who should be ashamed, not you. You bear no blame."

"How do you know? You do not know what happened."

"Did you ask him to hurt you?"

"No."

"Then you do not bear the blame."

"I could have fought back, I could have refused."

"Who was it, Erestor?"

"I . . . I cannot tell."

"Why? Is he here?"

"No, he is dead."

The truth landed on Gildor like a ton of stone. Erestor had been with the House of the Mírdain; he had extraordinary skill, which meant he had a superior tutor. He grieved Celebrimbor's death, as all Mírdain did, but he seemed to feel the grief more acutely. How he had not figured this out sooner was beyond him, but now he knew.

"Celebrimbor."

Erestor looked at Gildor with wide eyes.

"Celebrimbor was your lover."

Erestor nodded as tears began to fall.

"Oh, my dear Erestor," Gildor murmured as he drew Erestor into his arms. "Gods, you have carried this alone all this time." He remembered the day they rescued Erestor. "Sweet Eru, you saw him. You saw what they did to him."

Erestor began to weep openly and Gildor held him close. "Weep, my friend. There are things in life that deserve many tears. Surely, the horrible experiences you have been through rank high among them."

"I loved him," Erestor mumbled through his tears. "I loved him even after what he did to me."

"That was not him, Erestor. I have seen the work Morgoth, and believe me, Sauron was an apt pupil. Annatar had Celebrimbor all twisted inside, until he could not remember who he was or what he had loved before. When he did that to you, he was not himself, that I know for certain. The elf you loved was who he had been, who he still was under all that twisted lust for power. You need suffer no shame, my friend. You loved him well, and that is never a thing to be ashamed of."

Erestor's tears subsided and he drew back and looked into Gildor's kind eyes. He sniffled. "I suppose this is not what you expected when you came here," he said quietly.

Gildor smiled and chuckled. "No, not exactly. But I am glad I am here nonetheless." He caressed Erestor's face. "I still want you, Erestor, that has not changed. But if you do not feel the same, or..."

"I cannot believe it," Erestor murmured. "How can you want me after what I have told you?"

Gildor smiled. "Because I know you, Erestor. One event does not make up an elf's life; even so, it was not your fault. If you are too uncomfortable with this..."

Erestor caressed Gildor's face. 'Do not make the same mistake, Erestor,' he chided himself. 'Do not drive him away too.'

"No, I want you still. I want you to stay." He moved closer. "I do not want to be afraid anymore. I want you to take me, to possess me, to make me yours."

Gildor ran his hand into Erestor's hair. "I will not hurt you."

"I know, I trust you."

Gildor smiled sensually and nuzzled Erestor's mouth. "I will possess you, and in return, you shall have all of me."

He rolled over Erestor, pressing him into the bed once again.

To be continued...

Chapter 18:

Summary: Gildor and Erestor travel a new path. Imladris receives an important visitor.

Erestor moaned unashamedly as he arched beneath Gildor's touch. His body was stretched tight like a bowstring, his wrists held fast in one of Gildor's hands, his legs spread wide as the warrior gently rolled the soft sack of skin between his legs against his palm. It was both familiar and unfamiliar. Gildor's touch was possessive, yet giving at the same time; he could surrender and let the warrior take him without fear. As slick fingertips circled his entrance, he spread his legs further, fighting back the urge to resist.

"Take it," he murmured. "Take it all; take all of me."

Erestor gasped raggedly as two oil-slick fingers slid inside his body. Immediately, he tightened and arched his back, his fingers curling around the headboard and squeezing the wood tightly. Gildor's fine, powerful body moved against his own, the warrior's deep voice murmured sensual words in his ear, strong, rough hands held him, and warm decadent lips suckled a painfully erect nipple.

"Gods, oh gods, please," he whispered hoarsely. Then Gildor struck his mark, causing a ragged cry to escape his lips as he arched off the bed. Panting he settled back into the soft bedding, sweat beading on his skin, his arousal aching and straining against his stomach. A third digit opened him further; his lover worked his body diligently and expertly. Gildor somehow knew what he wanted without him having to say it.

As his lover moved between his legs, he opened his eyes and murmured, "Just let me see you, please... I need to look into your eyes."

Gildor gathered Erestor's long legs in his arms and smiled wolfishly. "Aye, my dark love, you shall look into my eyes, for I want to see your face when you fall."

A heartbreaking cry escaped Erestor's lips as Gildor entered him, his body initially resisting, and then finally acquiescing. His lover's tongue teased his parted lips, his own breath coming in harsh waves. So long . . . it had been so long since he had given so much of himself.

"Look at me, Erestor," Gildor murmured.

Erestor refocused his gaze upon Gildor's stormy, deep blue eyes.

"This night, you and I are joined," he murmured huskily, slowly flexing his hips and sliding deeper inside his lover. "This night, you are mine and I am yours." Another slow flex of his hips caused his lover to whimper and shudder with pleasure.

"Yes," Erestor whispered. "Take me, please, I need you to possess me; not just this night, but all nights. I have been so lost."

"You are lost no more, my dark love. You belong to me now, as I belong to you." Gildor covered Erestor's mouth with his own, kissing him deeply.

Erestor's hands left the headboard, and he gripped Gildor's back as his lover began moving inside him. He had forgotten how good it felt; nay, this was better than anything he ever remembered. The pace was leisurely at first, each slow, deliberate flex of Gildor's hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through his trembling body. Gods, it felt so good to hold someone inside him, to wrap his arms and legs around his lover's strong body, to feel his rigid length delve inside him, opening him up so that all he was and all he had to give was taken so completely.

The pace quickened, and Gildor struck his mark with increasing vigor. Erestor hovered between struggling against painful ecstasy and surrendering to the fall utterly. "More," he whispered huskily, and Gildor complied. "Harder," he murmured, and his lover obeyed. As his own fall roared out of the red-hot fog of his lust, he dug his nails into Gildor's back and cried out, near tears as his body convulsed and he buried his face in the fall of pale, flaxen hair that hung from his lover's head.

Gildor's fall came hard upon his own, a deep growl escaping his lover's throat as the warrior drove deep and spilled inside him. Gildor collapsed upon him, his chest heaving with each breath, his strong body trembling in the aftermath of their joining.

Slowly, as Erestor returned from that misty place that lay between ecstasy and reality, he drew lazy circles in the sweat on Gildor's muscled back. His legs trembled with complaint, tired from riding so high on the warrior's hips, but he did not want to move, he did not want to do anything that might cause his lover's subsiding desire to slip from his body.

"Sweet Eru," Gildor murmured tiredly.

"Aye, lover," Erestor murmured into the warrior's ear. "That was worthy of such high praise."

Gildor chuckled and it caused Erestor to smile, an infrequent occurrence as of late.

"Are you well?" Gildor whispered as he slowly rose to look into Erestor's eyes. What he saw there was something that he had not seen in all the years that he had known Erestor. There was a slight sparkle in those lightening gray orbs, as if a shroud had slipped away and the light within his friend could finally break through.

Erestor smiled and pushed the damp hair back from his lover's face. "Oh, I am more than well," he replied softly. "You have set me free."

Gildor felt a tear trickle from his eye. "Then I have done the best I could ever do, and I can meet my fate without fear or regret."

Erestor took Gildor's face in his hands. "You are so dear to me, Gildor Inglorion," he murmured, and then he pressed a gentle kiss upon his lover's lips.

Gildor melted into Erestor's kiss and embrace, utterly overwhelmed by what had transpired between them.

"Gods, you smell good," Erestor murmured. "Like the woods and all good wild things."

Gildor chuckled. "My lover is a poet as well as a genius," he replied as he nuzzled Erestor's lips.

"Aye, your lover," Erestor whispered huskily. "I am yours." He smiled as Gildor's lips teased his own. "Mmm... bathe with me before we catch a chill from the night air."

"I will draw the bath," Gildor murmured, kissing his lover again before departing the bed.

Erestor stretched like a contented cat, a smile curving his lips as he looked through the window at Ithil, who hovered high above. "'Tis a new year and all things are possible," he murmured. "No more pain, no more regrets, only this from now on." He heard the water splashing and he slowly rose from the bed and joined his lover in the tub.

* * * *

"Oh! Oh gods," Lindir moaned, his back coming into contact with a tapestry that hung upon their bedchamber wall. Glorfindel held him in the air, his legs were wrapped over the warrior's hips and his beloved's length was buried to the hilt inside him. Locking his ankles together, he pushed against the warrior's broad shoulders as his lover flexed his hips and delved deeper inside him. Glorfindel's teeth gently marked his throat. He wadded the Elda's golden hair in his fists as they moved from the wall to the bed, the abrupt motion causing Lindir to arch his back and cry out again.

"You feel so good," Glorfindel growled. "You always feel so good."

"As if I were made for you?" Lindir purred as his lover thrust inside him.

"Aye, just."

"I believe I was, my warrior. I am yours to do with as you please. I am your thrall..."

Glorfindel paused and looked into Lindir's eyes. "Say not that, sparrow," he said softly. "I would never want you to be that."

Lindir caressed Glorfindel's face. "I love you, Glorfindel. What I have is yours, all of me; I give it without hesitation."

"Be my beloved, be my friend, be my life, but never my thrall."

Lindir held Glorfindel's face in his hands. "Never your thrall, my love. Only your heart."

Glorfindel smiled. "Aye, my heart, and my fëa. Always. I love you, Lindir."

Lindir wrapped his arms and legs tighter around his warrior, sighing as Glorfindel slid within him. "This is where we both belong: you inside me, me wrapped around you." He gasped as the warrior withdrew and then found his mark again, and he arched his back. "Sweet Elbereth, yes, that feels so good..."

Glorfindel delved deeper, buried himself to the hilt, and it still did not seem deep enough. He wanted to climb inside Lindir and stay there forever, wrapped in his lover's warmth and love. "Touch me," he heard Lindir whisper, and he complied, taking his lover's arousal in his hand and stroking it in time with his thrusts. His lover's beautiful voice cried out in passion and Glorfindel's climax came close behind. He lie wrapped in Lindir's embrace, feeling his lover's hands stroke his back, hearing his ethereal voice softly hum to him. Only a small part of him was remote, somewhere else, with someone else, and he resolved to cut that part out of him.

* * * *

The years drew on without incident in the Hidden Valley, and Imladris' forces quietly continued their preparation for the inevitable conflict to come. However, outside of their safe haven, war was spreading; Sauron had gained control of Eregion, and bands of orcs and evil men were prowling the region, laying waste to villages and murdering the inhabitants. Each day, more refugees were smuggled westward, aided by elves and those men who resisted Sauron.

Missives passed between Lindon, Imladris, and Nûmenor, and soon, communication would begin with the elves in Lórien and Greenwood, and the Dwarves in the mountains and to the east. All free peoples would be called to war.

Gildor and Erestor settled into a comfortable, easy life. Within months, Gildor moved into Erestor's quarters. Elrond was most happy to see his faithful friend and his new protégé together; he believed that each was just what the other needed. Erestor worried terribly about Gildor when he would leave their home to help those in need, but his lover always returned, happy to be home, and glad he had saved those that he could.

Glorfindel and Lindir's relationship continued to grow as well, and many thought it was only a matter of time before they would see rings of promise on their fingers. Glorfindel tried to insulate Lindir from the growing danger outside their borders; he was determined to keep his sparrow safe from harm.

For Erestor, having his own lover made watching Glorfindel and Lindir's bond grow seem easier. Deep in his heart, he still loved and yearned for Glorfindel, but having someone whom he so truly loved in his life made it less of an effort to let go. He had not entirely relinquished hope, but each year that passed made it seem easier to do so.

* * * *

On a fine Spring day, in the year 1700, Imladris received a most noble visitor...

"Careful there," Gildor murmured as a young elleth nearly collided with him, unable to see where she was going because of the large vase of flowers she carried.

"Pardon me, my lord," she said, blushing.

"That Erestor, ever the slave driver," he murmured.

"My lord?" she asked.

"Never mind," Gildor answered with a grin. "Do not let Master Erestor run you into a frazzle," he said with a wink, then he continued toward the library.

He found his lover bent over, tugging on the hem of a very young ellon's tunic.

"Now, Lord Celeborn will be here at any moment. You are not to play outside until he has entered the house, understood?"

"Yes, Master Erestor," the youth replied. "Can I take Gwathel for a walk after?" The youth looked up at Erestor with pleading eyes.

Erestor smiled and tucked an errant braid behind the youth's ear. "Very well, but only in the garden, not in the woods." The youth beamed at him and he could not help but smile in return. "Now, go take your place with the others." He turned and watched the ellon walk toward the door and take his sister's hand. There he found Gildor, leaning against the doorframe with a broad grin on his face.

"Sweet Elbereth! Please tell me they are not here already!"

Gildor held up his hands. "Calm down, my love. I rode ahead of the escort. You have yet some time." He strode forward, pausing to rub Gwathel on the head, then grinning as Erestor heaved a sigh of relief. "You complain, but I know you secretly love all this commotion."

Erestor defiantly held his chin in the air. "I do not. This is my least favorite of my duties."

"Liar."

"Rogue."

"Yes, but I am your rogue," Gildor murmured as he took Erestor in his arms.

Erestor caressed Gildor's face. "Mmm... yes you are. A rogue and a wolf . . . I am not entirely sure this is suitable company for one of my stature."

"Complain, complain," Gildor murmured as he nuzzled Erestor's mouth. "Perhaps I should give your mouth something else to do."

Erestor closed his eyes and sighed as his lover's lips moved against his own, then his eyes widened as he felt Gildor's hand slide between his legs. "Gildor!" he barked. "Lord Celeborn will be here any moment, as will Lord Elrond..."

"Pity that, I find myself somewhat . . . preoccupied with you."

"You are incorrigible!" he mockingly protested, reluctantly pulling away from his lover's amorous touch. Straightening his robes, he turned to Gwathel. "Go to my office," he said softly, with a smile. Gwathel snorted and wagged her tail, then turned and jogged into his office, plopping upon a thick pillow he had made for her. "Stay," he said gently, and then he turned and took his lover's hand. "Come, walk with me to the courtyard."

Gildor smiled, taking his lover's hand and placing it in the crook of his elbow.

To be continued...

Chapter 19:

Summary: Imladris receives an important visitor.

The welcoming party was in place, Lindir led his musicians in stately music, the courtyard was abloom, and a soft breeze carried the fresh scent of the waterfall across the grounds. It was a perfect spring day and the perfect setting to welcome such a noble visitor.

Erestor felt Gildor's hand rest on his lower back in a gesture of reassurance. No matter how many times he did this, his stomach always seemed to turn upside down. It had been many, many years since he had last seen Lord Celeborn. His last memory of the regal Sinda was seeing the elf lord arrayed in battle armor, made for him by Celebrimbor, striding up the stairs to the ramparts, his gleaming sword in his hand, his fair hair flowing from beneath his helm.

Elrond joined Erestor and Gildor, smiling as he also placed a comforting hand upon Erestor's shoulder. "Everything is perfect, Erestor, fret not," he said softly.

"I only want to do my best, my lord," Erestor answered softly.

"You always do, my friend," Elrond replied with a smile.

Glorfindel rode beside Celeborn as they entered the gates, and Erestor drew himself up, taking a deep breath and smiling at the great elf lord as he dismounted.

Celeborn cut a fine form. He had a calm air of assurance about him that seemed to set all who met him at ease. He had long ago established a reputation as a master strategist and superior warrior. Erestor imagined that losing Eregion had been a hard burden to bear for one who hated defeat with such intensity. Only twice, to Erestor's knowledge, had Celeborn ever been forced to retreat: the first time was when Doriath fell, the last was that fatal day in Eregion. If Celeborn was to help with finding a way to defeat Sauron, then Erestor felt that their chances were ever better.

The Sinda Lord stepped forward, shaking Gildor's hand warmly before moving on to Erestor. He paused, looking into Erestor's eyes, a hint of recognition crossing his features. "I have seen you before," he said quietly.

"Perhaps, my lord," Erestor answered deferentially. "I once lived at Ost-in-Edhil, with the Mírdain."

"You were Celebrimbor's assistant," Celeborn murmured. "I remember you once delivered something to my wife."

Erestor bowed his head. "Yes, my lord. It was a gift, a small box from Celebrimbor."

"I am glad to see that you escaped that terrible battle."

"This is Erestor, my Head Librarian and member of my council; he also sees that all runs smoothly in my household," Elrond said.

"Well met, Erestor," Celeborn said softly. "If this reception is an indication of your skill, then you excel at your work."

Erestor smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you, my lord."

"And how is the Lady Galadriel?" Elrond asked, taking Celeborn's arm and escorting him up the stairs, followed by Glorfindel.

"Once again, you have impressed our guest," Gildor murmured into Erestor's ear. "Well done, my love."

Erestor smiled as Gildor pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "Thank you," Erestor murmured, turning his head and capturing Gildor's lips with his own. A soft moan escaped his lover and Erestor smiled into their kiss before releasing Gildor's lips.

"I am most glad to see that your nerves have subsided," Gildor murmured, wrapping his arms around Erestor's waist.

"Each time it becomes less terrifying," Erestor replied, placing soft, lingering kisses upon his lover's face.

Gildor chuckled. "Ai, my dark beauty, will you ever be confident in yourself?"

"Valar help you if I do become so," Erestor whispered huskily.

Gildor laughed and hugged his lover tightly.

* * * *

"What can be done to stop him? He breeds orcs like they were rabbits," Erestor asked, his brow knit.

"Even if we combine our forces, we do not possess the numbers needed to defeat him," Glorfindel added.

Celeborn sighed and sat back in his chair. "If we are to survive, we must seek the aid of Númenor. Gil-galad has been in communication with them through Círdan. They are sympathetic to our plight and amenable to giving aid."

"The last time we faced the Dark Lord on the battlefield, we nearly lost everything," Elrond said softly.

"You need not remind me of the loss of Eregion," Celeborn answered. "But the alternative is to lose this land to his darkness."

"Perhaps we should sail West, leave this place to him." Elrond murmured.

Erestor noted the pained look in Glorfindel's eye. He could see that his friend was torn between his wish for vengeance and his duty to protect the Lord of Imladris.

Celeborn sat forward, addressing Glorfindel directly. "Come, speak your mind, my friend. Do you not wish vengeance for your people?"

Glorfindel glanced at Elrond then looked back at Celeborn. "My duty is to Lord Elrond. I have sworn to protect him."

"That is not an answer to my question," Celeborn returned.

"But it is the truth."

"Leave him be, Celeborn," Elrond replied. "Would you place him in such a position as to forswear his promise to Mandos?"

"No, of course not," Celeborn murmured. "Forgive me, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel leaned forward, looking Celeborn in the eye. "Vengeance is a thirst that is never quenched my lord. If I have learned naught, I have learned that."

Celeborn flopped back in his chair and sighed. "What of those we leave behind, Elrond? You know they will not all follow. What of Oropher and his people? What of the Second Born that roam these lands? Do we not have a responsibility to them?"

"Do the Valar not have a responsibility to them?" Elrond shouted, slamming his palms down upon the table. "Why do they not lend aid? Does the Doom of Mandos rest on all of our heads? What did the Sindar do to offend them?"

Erestor flinched. In all his years in Imladris, he had never seen his lord lose his composure.

Glorfindel leaned over and placed a hand upon Elrond's arm. Elrond sighed and rubbed his temples. "Forgive me, Celeborn," he murmured. "I lost many in Eregion, as did you."

"Aye, we have both seen too much death," Celeborn answered softly. "Should he not pay for what he has wrought?"

"Aye, he should pay, and I would have him pay tenfold," Elrond answered, his gaze darkening. "But I will not lead my warriors to their deaths. We must know we have a chance before I will commit to this battle."

Celeborn nodded. "'Tis fair enough." He sighed. "Enough talk of such bitter things, I would have us turn our minds to fairer thoughts."

"Sound advice, my lord," Erestor answered, folding his hands in his lap. An uncomfortable silence followed, then Elrond rose from the table and excused himself. Glorfindel followed, clearly worried about Elrond's state of mind, leaving Erestor alone with Celeborn. "My lord, I would show you to your quarters so that you might rest and refresh yourself before the evening meal."

"Thank you, Erestor," Celeborn answered, slowly rising and following the Noldo out of the council chambers. As they walked down the long corridor, Celeborn reached out and clasped Erestor's shoulder. "Do not worry, Erestor. Talk of war is never pleasant."

"Aye, my lord. Lord Elrond only wants to protect his people. The loss of Eregion was a bitter one for him, as it was for you."

"And you, I imagine," Celeborn replied. "You lost many friends that day, yes?"

Erestor nodded as they arrived at Celeborn's chamber door. "One very special one in particular."

"Celebrimbor was a genius, Erestor. 'Tis a pity that he was so much like his grandfather." He patted Erestor on the shoulder then entered his chamber, closing the door behind him.

"Aye, a pity indeed," Erestor murmured, then he headed for his lord's chambers. When he arrived, he found Glorfindel leaving, a worried expression upon his friend's face. "How fares our lord?" he asked softly.

"Fear does strange things to one's mind, Erestor. Sometimes it brings out the best in us, sometimes the worst. I worry that in his efforts to save lives, the lives he loses will weigh upon his spirit for all time. If he sails West and leaves all of this behind, he will be leaving half of himself - that half that is Second Born. His brother died because he chose that half, now Elrond is faced with leaving what is left of his bond with Elros behind."

"And what of you?" Erestor asked quietly. "Was Celeborn correct? Do you wish revenge on the Dark Lord?"

"Of course I do," Glorfindel replied. "I lost family and friends in Gondolin, I have since watched more die in battle. How could I not wish vengeance for their deaths?" He cocked his head and looked thoughtfully at Erestor. "What of you? What do you wish?"

Erestor drew a deep breath and looked into Glorfindel's eyes. "I wish that you, and Gildor, and Lindir, and everyone that I love could live in peace, without the threat of war always hanging over our heads. The thought of you and Gildor riding off to war strikes fear in my core."

Glorfindel gathered Erestor into his arms and held him close. "Ai, my raven," he murmured. "I would see you have peace 'ere I die."

"Do not speak of death, my lion," Erestor murmured into Glorfindel's shoulder. "I could not bear a life without you in it."

Glorfindel drew back and caressed Erestor's face, gazing deep into his stormy grey eyes. "I am sorry, Erestor, for the void that has grown between us."

"So am I, Glorfindel," Erestor whispered. "Can we not close it?"

"We can try," Glorfindel answered softly.

Erestor felt the nearly irresistible pull toward Glorfindel, the temptation to press his lips against the warrior's, the need to feel their bodies pressed together once again. For what seemed like eternity but was only a moment, they held one another in silence, each staring into the other's eyes, then Gildor's face appeared in Erestor's mind, as Lindir's did in Glorfindel's, and they separated, each stepping backward.

"I had better see how Lindir is feeling," Glorfindel murmured.

"Is he doing better?" Erestor asked, feigning politeness while his heart ached.

"Aye, but some days I believe he overtaxes himself."

"Well, see to him then. I would not have my friend fall ill."

"Will we see you at the feast this eve?"

"Aye, of course."

Glorfindel nodded then walked away, leaving Erestor behind and steeling himself against the pain in his heart.

To be continued...

Chapter 20:

Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel run away from their feelings and hide in their lovers.

Erestor entered the chambers he shared with Gildor to find his lover lying on his back across the foot of the bed, and Gwathel asleep on the rug in the sun. The wolf lifted her head, her tail thumping as Erestor entered and approached her. He bent over and rubbed his companion's head, then turned to look at Gildor.

The warrior's bare feet dangled just above the floor and his hands were stretched over his head. His breeches rode low on his hips and were unlaced so that Erestor could see a pale, almost imperceptible dusting of fair hair just above the opening. Gildor was shirtless and his pale skin was stretched taut over his lean muscles. Erestor's gaze focused on the way the warrior's stomach sunk in beneath his ribs. He gazed at Gildor's flaxen hair, which was the color of the pale winter sun and hung unbound from his head, falling straight as an arrow toward the floor.

Erestor often admired Gildor's physical presence. His lover was a handsome specimen; built lean and strong, with long limbs and a narrow waist. His pale blue eyes sparkled when his soft lips curved into a smile. Gildor had the most charming smile; it was the kind of smile that could coax a leg of lamb from a starving man, the kind that could woo the guarded heart of one who had been lonely for far too long.

At first glance, Erestor thought his lover was asleep, but then he caught the gentle curving of the warrior's lips.

"Negotiations over?" Gildor murmured, his eyes still closed.

"For now," Erestor answered, removing his robe and shoes, and then mounting the bed, straddling his lover's hips.

Gildor opened his eyes, his wolfish grin fading when he saw the look in Erestor's eyes. Reaching up, he softly touched his lover's cheek. "What is the matter, my love? I see such sorrow in your eyes."

Erestor tried to smile despite the pain he felt. This was the last thing he wanted, to feel so torn. Gildor deserved all of his heart, not just a portion set aside while the larger part pined after another.

"I am worried about what may come," he said softly, opting to discuss his fears rather than the source of his sorrow. "If war comes, you will be in danger. I could not bear it if anything happened to you."

Gildor smiled warmly, caressing his lover's face. "I have lived through one great war and many battles. You need not worry about me, my love, I know how to stay alive."

"But I do worry about you! Every time you leave Imladris, I wonder if I will see you again." Erestor drew a deep breath. "I cannot lose you, Gildor."

Gildor drew Erestor down into his arms. "You will not, Erestor. I swear it."

"Can you not leave the army? Can you not do something else?"

"Such as? I have never done anything but this. I know nothing else; it is who I am."

"You are more than a soldier," Erestor whispered. "You are kind and gentle, creative and skilled in woodcraft..."

"Can a warrior not be those things as well?"

Erestor's hands began slowly stroking his lover's skin, his long fingers gently tracing the curves of muscle in Gildor's chest. "Yes," he answered with a whisper.

"I fight to protect what I love," Gildor murmured into Erestor's hair. "I take no joy in killing things."

"I know." Erestor lifted his head and gazed into Gildor's eyes. "I love you," he murmured.

Gildor smiled. "And I love you, Erestor." He slipped one hand behind Erestor's neck and drew his lover into a kiss. It was long and deep, filled with a desperate, aching want. Something still haunted his lover; he could feel it. In the back of his mind, he knew what that something was; but this felt so good, Erestor felt so good, that he pushed that nagging truth away and lost himself in the passion that was between them.

He rolled over, pressing Erestor into the bed and pulling his lover's hands over his head. "My Erestor," he murmured huskily, nipping at the soft flesh that lay beneath the collar of Erestor's soft, white shirt. "You are wearing too many garments."

Erestor moaned at the sensation of soft lips and a warm tongue suckling his flesh and drawing the blood just beneath the surface. "'Tis lucky for you I have a preference for high collared shirts, seeing as how you like to leave my neck and my chest covered in love bites," he whispered.

"Indeed. It would be a scandal that would keep tongues wagging in Imladris for weeks." Gildor chuckled as he moved his mouth from his lover's neck to his ear.

"You adore scandal, Gildor," Erestor sighed as he turned his head, a soft gasp escaping him as Gildor's lips found the point of his ear.

"What I adore is you," Gildor answered, then sucked the point of Erestor's ear into his mouth.

"Sweet Elbereth," Erestor moaned, arching his back and bending his knees, raising them high on his lover's hips. Gildor's touch never failed to leave him aching for more.

"And you adore this, don't you my love? You adore the way I touch you, as if you are mine and mine alone."

"I do," Erestor whispered.

"You are mine, Erestor. Do try not to forget that," Gildor murmured. Before Erestor could respond, he grasped his lover's jaw and turned his head, covering Erestor's mouth with his own in a deep kiss.

* * * *

Lindir was folding the cloth he used to clean his lyre when Glorfindel entered. One look at his lover told him something was wrong. "Did something happen?" he asked softly, his face formed by a look of genuine concern.

"Talk of unpleasant, yet inevitable things," Glorfindel answered, slipping off his boots and leaving them by the door. He held out his hand and his lover crossed the room, taking it and following him to a chair that sat near the doors that led out to the veranda. Lindir had the curtains pulled apart and the doors open, letting in the cool, crisp air. Glorfindel sat in the chair and pulled his lover into his lap. He looked up into Lindir's sweet face, gazing into his wide, blue eyes. He closed his eyes as Lindir's long fingers caressed his cheek, then his lover bent down and placed soft kisses upon his face.

"I hate to see you so worried, my love," Lindir whispered. "Yet, I know you must have cause." He paused, his thumbs smoothing Glorfindel's brow, gently working the furrow until it relaxed. "We could leave Middle-earth," he murmured. "I have never seen Aman, but I have heard tales of its beauty from my lord and lady when I lived with them."

"I cannot leave, not without having fulfilled my duty," Glorfindel whispered.

"What if Lord Elrond wishes to leave? Will you have fulfilled your duty then?"

"Aye." Glorfindel opened his eyes. "But that decision must be up to him, Lindir. No one must lead him to it. He has many important things yet to do."

Lindir nodded and lowered his eyes. "Forgive me, it is just that I worry about you so."

Glorfindel caressed his lover's face. "There are no Balrogs left in Middle-earth, and I have faced and defeated everything else," he said with a gentle smile.

Lindir smiled despite his concern and laughed softly. "Aye, that you have, my love." He began slowly unbuttoning Glorfindel's tunic. Peeling it apart, his fingers traced nearly imperceptible scars; they formed a map of all the battles in which the warrior had ever taken part. One was darker, more visible than the rest; it was the scar left by the whip of the Balrog. "So much pain," he said softly, watching his lover's face as Glorfindel closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He rubbed the long, jagged scar with his palm, listening to the soft moan that escaped his lover's lips, watching as his flesh slowly flushed and his body awoke. He leaned down and canted his head to whisper in Glorfindel's ear. "You love this don't you?"

"Yes," Glorfindel murmured huskily as his lover awakened his desire.

"I have never quite understood why, but then I do not have to understand to give you what you want."

"You know what it is that I want?" Glorfindel replied huskily.

Lindir smiled. "Aye, my warrior. I do know what you want." He shifted upon Glorfindel's lap so that his back was turned to his lover. Continuing to rub the scar upon the warrior's side, he leaned back against his lover's chest and arched his back. "This is what you want," he answered. "And it belongs to you."

Glorfindel wrapped his arms around Lindir's waist and buried his face in the minstrel's hair. "You are wicked, sparrow," he murmured, sliding one hand between Lindir's legs. His lover responded with a plaintive moan and began to undulate against him.

"You have made me so," Lindir responded in a breathless whisper.

"We haven't much time before we are expected downstairs."

Lindir smiled and moaned as Glorfindel massaged his rapidly swelling length. "Then you shall have to take me quickly."

"Your wish is my command, my songbird," Glorfindel growled, rising from the chair and taking Lindir with him.

* * * *

Erestor cried out, gripping Gildor's hips in his hands as his lover drove deep inside him. He panted, arching his back and letting his head fall back upon Gildor's shoulder. His lover's strong arms held him surely, and he melted into their protective embrace, his legs trembling from having borne his weight in such an awkward position.

Gildor buried his face in Erestor's raven hair, his own body beginning to tremble from the strain of their now combined weight. His hand slowly slid along his dark lover's slick length, spreading his spent seed along the silky column of flesh. His own desire abated, he reveled in the warmth of ecstasy, of the feeling of his lover's body, and the sound of Erestor's slow, deep breathing. His free hand continued to slowly caress pebbled nipples, sliding through the sweat that beaded on Erestor's chest. "Mine," he murmured, and Erestor answered, "Yes."

Slowly, Gildor lowered their bodies to the bed and held his lover close, trying to stay inside him. Erestor purred like a cat - gods how he loved that sound, it caused gooseflesh to rise all over his body. "Satisfied?" he whispered, nuzzling Erestor's ear.

"Most satisfied," Erestor replied, a sleepy smile curving his lips. "I love you, Gildor."

Gildor took a deep breath and pulled his lover closer. "And I love you, Erestor."

Chapter 21:

Summary: Gildor rides to war, and Erestor does something rash.

War came faster than anyone wanted or imagined. Erestor watched Elrond's face as his lord studied the maps spread upon the table, his gaze moving from the parchment to his advisors. What needed to be done was clear, yet still he was reluctant to give the order. Celeborn had returned to Lindon after spending the winter in Imladris. The venerable elf lord would soon be preparing his regiments to march upon Eriador, and while assistance was coming from Nûmenor, he would still need more if they were to drive Sauron out of the western lands.

Erestor could feel his stomach knotting; one, possibly two elves that he loved so much that he could not bear the thought of losing them would be leaving, and there was a distinct possibility that one or both might not return.

Sauron's power was increasing; orcs and corrupted men were running wild throughout Eriador, burning, raping, and killing at will. They had two choices: they could sail and leave the Second Born to their fate, or they could stay and fight, regardless of the cost in terms of lives, human and elven alike.

Elrond took a deep breath and turned his gaze to Erestor. "Sauron is close to discovering our haven," he said, resignation tingeing his voice. "We must bring those who live outside the circle of the mountains inside the valley. The borders are too vast to protect as they are. You will be tasked with building shelter for the refugees as they arrive, Erestor."

"Yes, my lord. I will commence immediately."

The Lord of Imladris then turned his gaze to Glorfindel. "This place and the lives within it are precious, Glorfindel. We must protect those who live under our charge at all costs. You will remain here and fortify the borders; we cannot permit Sauron's hoards to enter this valley."

Glorfindel bowed his head, though he was concerned about his lord's decision. "Aye, my lord. We shall hold him at bay."

Elrond then turned to Gildor. "That means that you will lead Imladris' warriors into battle, Gildor. You will take three regiments and travel westward, meeting with Lord Celeborn and a battalion from Nûmenor. You have served me well these many years in this regard, I know you will not fail me now."

Gildor smiled determinedly. "I shall not, my lord. We will give the black beast a battle he will not forget."

"You must leave in two days."

Gildor bowed his head.

Erestor felt his nails begin to dig into the tabletop. If Elrond was sending Gildor, it could only mean one thing: the elf-lord had little hope of Gildor, and those who followed him, coming home - Elrond would never risk losing Glorfindel. He quickly glanced at Glorfindel, as if he thought there was something his friend could do about Elrond's decision.

Glorfindel's brow was furrowed, and he turned his gaze from Erestor's to his lords. "My lord, perhaps..."

Gildor placed his hand upon Glorfindel's arm. "The decision is sound, Glorfindel. Lord Elrond needs you to protect our home and the hundreds of innocent souls that live here. You must protect those who cannot protect themselves." He quickly glanced at Elrond before returning his gaze to Glorfindel. "It will not be the first time I have faced Sauron and his horde, I am well aware of what it is I am to do."

Erestor gathered his courage and began to speak. "My lord..."

Elrond shook his head and held up his hand. "These decisions are never easy, Erestor. However, sometimes life leaves us no choice. This must be done." He stepped away from the table, leaving a crestfallen Erestor and a worried Glorfindel in his wake.

Glorfindel followed Elrond, pausing to place his hand upon Erestor's shoulder in friendly support. He gave it a gentle squeeze, and then he left the council chambers.

Gildor sighed as he looked at his lover; he looked so frightened and so pained. He rounded the table and took the councilor in his arms. "I would tell you not to worry, but I know it would be a waste of words."

"Why you?"

"Why anyone? It is what I do, Erestor; it is my duty. Would you have me shirk it?"

"Yes. No. I do not know, Gildor. What I do know is I cannot lose you, not now. Not ever."

Gildor caressed Erestor's hair. "You will not, Erestor." He sighed. "I have not had a reason to avoid charging headlong into battle, because I have not often had a real home and a real family to come back to." He pulled back and took Erestor's face in his hands. "I do now. You have given me that Erestor. You have given me a home, a place where I feel that I belong." He wiped at the tear that tracked down Erestor's cheek. "This is why I fight, to protect this." He placed a gentle kiss upon his lover's lips. "Fear not, my love. I will return."

Erestor wrapped his arms around Gildor's shoulders and buried his face in the warrior's flaxen mane. "I love you, Gildor," he whispered. "I truly do."

Gildor smiled. "It is that love that will give me strength and bring me home." He nuzzled Erestor's ear. "I love you, Erestor."

* * * *

As Ithil began to fade, Erestor stared out of the open window, listening to the crickets chirp and the birds begin to sing. He was already dressed, not having slept at all the night before. He and Gildor had made love slowly, tenderly, much like the first time they coupled. Each whisper-soft touch, each warm, wet, slow kiss broke his heart. He loved Gildor - he truly did, both as a friend and as a lover - yet, still his heart clung to Glorfindel, as hopeless as it was. Each time he and Gildor made love it was as if he were betraying him nevertheless, because each time a secret part of him yearned for another.

He looked at his sleeping lover who was so peaceful despite the horrors he was bound to see when he rode to war. He owed Gildor so much, so very much, and he would pay his debt, regardless of the cost. Motioning to Gwathel, he paused at the door and picked up a pack, then quietly left their room with his she-wolf in tow.

* * * *

Gildor stirred in his reverie, slowly waking and reaching out for his lover only to find Erestor's side of the bed empty. He sat up, frowning as he looked around the dimly lit room. His lover was at work already; it was Erestor's way, to bury himself in work to escape the things that were beyond his control.

He rose and bathed, then donned his traveling clothes, strapping on his quiver and sword, then picking up his bow and pack, before departing their bedchamber. He paused at the door, looking around the empty room with its windows open wide to the mountains; breathing in the soft smell of jasmine floating in upon the breeze; glancing at Gwathel's favorite rug by the hearth, covered in hair despite Erestor's best efforts; and gazing long at the unmade bed where his stoic, reserved lover had taught him to let down his guard and share his heart as well as his desire. He sincerely hoped he saw this place, his home, again.

He closed his eyes, and then closed the door behind him.

* * * *

He first sought Erestor in the library and was surprised when his lover was not there. He then went to the kitchens, the feasting hall, the Hall of Fire, and finally the gardens and woods beyond. He could delay no longer, his warriors were gathered, as were those who would see them off to their fate. He did not want to leave without saying farewell. He would not let Erestor know what was in his mind, but he was not sure he would be coming home. An elf's luck can only last so long and he knew it.

Unable to wait any longer, he walked to the stables, pushing open the large, heavy, rough-hewn doors. Erestor was there, his mare prepared and Gwathel sitting at his feet.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with surprise, setting his pack beside his already groomed gelding.

"I am going with you," Erestor said matter-of-factly.

He approached his lover, surprise evident on his face. "What? No, Erestor, you cannot go; you have things you must do here."

Erestor shook his head, placing his fingers upon Gildor's lips. "I have given Lindir complete instructions. He knows what to do and is more than capable of doing it." Gildor began to protest again and he pressed his fingers harder upon the warrior's lips. "Do not try to dissuade me, Gildor. I know what it is I am doing. I can be of use; I can help manage supplies and the camp. I can arrange communications..." He sighed, a tear tracing down his cheek. "Please, I beg you, do not leave me behind."

Gildor frowned, then pulled Erestor's fingers from his lips. Caressing his lover's face, he leaned against him, pressing Erestor's back against the wall. "I love you, you mad elf," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Erestor opened his mouth wide to Gildor's possessive kiss. When he felt his wrists pulled over his head and quickly bound with a leather strap that had laid on the edge of the table next to him, he began to struggle. "No! Gildor, no... please, please..."

It was no use. Gildor lifted him, hooking his bound wrists over an iron bracket that once held a lantern. He could barely touch the ground with his toes. Struggling, fighting not to cry, he begged Gildor to release him.

"I love you, Erestor," Gildor said quietly. "Remember that." He bent down and placed a comforting hand upon Gwathel's head. The she-wolf was confused and frightened. "Find Glorfindel, girl," he said softly. "Seek!"

Gwathel bounded out of the stable toward the courtyard as Gildor leapt upon his horse. He smiled sadly at Erestor, who hung helplessly against the wall. "I do love you. I will always love you, whether in this life or the next. I promise, I will do everything I can to come home." He then galloped out of the stable.

Erestor cried out as he heard the cheer of those who said farewell.

* * * *

Glorfindel looked down with confusion at the wolf that tugged upon his boot. "What is wrong with her? And where is Erestor?" Gwathel let out a high-pitched bark.

"I think she is trying to tell you something," Lindir said, his brow furrowed. "I think she wants you to follow her."

"Show me Erestor," he said to Gwathel, then followed the wolf as she ran toward the stable.

* * * *

Glorfindel, Lindir, and Elrond arrived at the stable, fearing that something terrible had happened to Erestor, as Gwathel was clearly upset. As the Elda pushed open the large doors, he found Erestor dangling from an iron bracket.

"Sweet Elbereth!" He rushed forward and lifted his friend, setting him down and untying his wrists.

Lindir stood aghast, his hand over his mouth as he quickly looked around for signs of foul play. Elrond said nothing; his sad gaze spoke loudly enough.

Spying the pack and Erestor's groomed mare he murmured, "Gildor, he did this."

Erestor pushed past Glorfindel, and stood in front of Elrond. "This is your doing!" he shouted. "If he does not come home, I will never forgive you!"

"Erestor!" Glorfindel barked, but his friend left the stable at a run.

"Leave him be, Glorfindel. I do not blame him for being angry at me." Elrond sighed and looked at the ceiling. "I would feel the same if I were him." He quietly left the stable as Lindir followed, casting a concerned glance back at his lover.

To be continued...

Chapter 22:

Summary: Erestor breaks down.

It had been nearly a year since Gildor left and several months since anyone last had word from the warriors who had gone to war. The fighting had been terrible, and heavy losses were felt amongst both Men and Elves. The months had been unbearable. Erestor buried himself in work, often forgetting, and sometimes refusing, to eat, and he could not sleep, despite Lindir's best caretaking efforts. Nightmares plagued him; he was consumed by the fear that Gildor would perish and he would never have the chance to show the warrior how much he meant to him or to atone for the betrayal that was always present in his heart.

He had apologized to Elrond for his outburst, and rather than coolly accepting his apology as Erestor thought he would, his lord had taken him into his arms and held him while he wept. Erestor knew that Elrond was also plagued with worry for Gildor, and if anything happened to the warrior, Erestor feared Elrond would never forgive himself.

On a pleasant spring day, he was probably too far away from the Last Homely House, but he had been lost in his thoughts as he and Gwathel wandered through the woods. His silent companion tread quietly beside him, her sharp eyes always scanning their surroundings as she sniffed the air and her large ears kept alert to anything that should cause concern. The she-wolf stopped in her tracks, her nose twitching slightly as she stared down the path. Erestor looked at her then looked ahead, before looking back at his companion.

"What is it?" he asked softly, then he saw her tail slowly raise and begin to sway back and forth. She uttered a high-pitched bark, and then began jogging down the trail. "Gildor?" he asked, his heart beginning to race as he followed her.

Glorfindel's powerful, white stallion rounded a bend in the trail and snorted as he saw the wolf jogging toward them. Reaching down he rubbed his mount's neck. "'Tis only Gwathel," he murmured, and then his stallion settled beneath him. "And Erestor," he added as he saw his friend jogging toward them. His smile faded as he saw the expression on Erestor's face; it was clear his friend was hoping to see someone else.

"Mae govannen, Erestor," he said as he slid off his stallion's back.

Erestor gathered his composure and smiled, albeit a bit sadly. "Welcome home, Glorfindel," he returned. "How are things on the borders?" He held out his hand.

Glorfindel glanced at the outstretched hand and his friend's sad face. "Better now. We have sent out patrols and seen no sign of evil men or orcs." He took Erestor's hand then drew his friend into his arms. "He will come home, Erestor," he murmured into Erestor's ear. "He has good reason to."

"Please do not..."

"Do not do what? I am only trying to offer you comfort."

Everything was just so present, so raw, and so close to the surface. He breathed in Glorfindel's scent, reveled in his strong embrace, his deep voice, the feel of his breath upon his ear.

"I do not deserve..."

Glorfindel pulled back and held Erestor's face in his hands. "You still believe that? After all these years, all these good deeds, all of your brilliant work you still think that you do not deserve..."

"I do not!"

"Yes you do, and by denying it you slight me and Gildor, for we believe it. Are we fools? Are we wrong?"

"Oh, gods, I miss you..." Erestor blurted out.

"Me?" Glorfindel asked, holding Erestor close despite the councilor's attempt to pull away.

"Gildor, I miss Gildor."

"Aye, I imagine you do. But you said you miss me. It is permissible for you to miss me, Erestor. We are friends."

"Friends, of course. Yes. We are friends, I can miss you."

"Stop hiding from me." He grasped Erestor's jaw and turned the councilor's face so that their gazes met. "We must stop this . . . this dancing around one another."

Tears began to fall down Erestor's face. "I am so wretched," he whispered hoarsely.

"Why say you? You are not wretched..."

"Yes, I am! My lover is fighting for his life, assuming he is not dead already, and I am thinking about this . . . how this feels . . . how much I miss this..."

Glorfindel caressed Erestor's face. "Oh, my dear, beloved raven," he whispered.

"I love you..." Erestor murmured. "I..." He grasped Glorfindel's face and kissed him deeply.

There was a brief moment when Glorfindel's reason still had hold, but it disappeared when Erestor kissed him. Rather than pull away, he pulled Erestor closer, opening his mouth to Erestor's questing tongue, moaning his long denied passion. Erestor was right, this did feel good and this felt right, as if it were how things should be. They were both wretched.

Staggering back into the trees and away from the path, they grappled with one another's clothing, desperately seeking contact with each other's flesh.

"I want you. Valar, I will die if I don't have you," Erestor groaned as Glorfindel's teeth marked his neck, just below his ear.

Glorfindel was lost in the feeling of Erestor's hands in his hair, of them clutching his back, and gripping his backside. With one hand he opened the clasps of Erestor's robe, with the other he cradled the counselor's head as he laved the spot he had just marked with his teeth. Erestor's needful, emotional moans were breaking his heart. He loved Erestor, he always had, and it was now no longer possible to deny it.

Erestor gasped as the Elda's hand slid inside his leggings and grasped his quickly swelling length. "I love you," he whispered repeatedly, fumbling with the laces on Glorfindel's leggings. As Glorfindel answered him in kind, he sobbed through his moans, his fingers closing around his beloved's exquisite arousal.

The encounter was brief, owing to the long years of denied passion they had for one another. Erestor leaned against Glorfindel's chest, clinging to the love of his life, sobbing uncontrollably like an elfling. His beloved was weeping as well, holding him tightly and whispering how much he loved him through his tears.

"What are we going to do?" Glorfindel whispered. "How can I break Lindir's heart like this? He has only ever loved me and trusted me."

Erestor sniffled, his tears subsiding and his heart slowing in its rhythm. "I do not know. I love Gildor and I do not want to hurt him. Somehow, I think you have the harder part to play; Lindir is still so innocent at heart, whereas Gildor has always been strong. I love Lindir dearly; I do not want to see him hurt either, but how do we go back to how we were after this?"

Glorfindel sighed. "I do not know. But I cannot be so callous as to just walk away from him."

The truth of the matter fell upon Erestor like a cartload of stone. "You cannot walk away from him; you will not." He took a deep breath and straightened. "Nor will I abandon Gildor; I could not live with myself if I did."

He straightened his clothes, pulling up his breeches and closing the clasps on his robe. "All of my life I have avoided making choices," he said as his eyes focused on the task at hand. "I have blamed Celebrimbor for the ills that befell me before I came here. I took Gildor as a lover because I could not have you when the truth is, I could have had you, had I been brave enough to tell you how I felt." He looked at Glorfindel's sad face. "I am tired of acting as though I have no choice in what I do, as though my choices are merely reactions to things outside of my control." He reached up and caressed Glorfindel's cheek. "I love you, Glorfindel; I always have and I always will, but I will not ask you to break the heart of one you hold dear. I have made my choices, and I will abide by them. You will go back to Lindir, and I will wait for Gildor. We shall not speak of this again." He held out his hand to his beloved, who accepted it and rose to his feet.

"I do not know if I am strong enough to let you go," Glorfindel said softly.

Erestor smiled sadly. "You are, and I am strong enough to let you go." Reaching out, he gently touched Glorfindel's face, caressing his lips with his thumb before placing a soft kiss upon them, and then he turned and walked away.

* * * *

Lindir heard his lover in the bath when he returned to their chambers. A smile curved his lips as he saw the trail of travel-soiled clothing that led from the door to the bath. As he picked up each piece, he held it to his face; he loved the smell of the woods intermingled with his beloved's scent.

He still held Glorfindel's undershirt in his left hand as he looked at the rumpled breeches in his right. It was as if someone had rammed an arrow into his heart. Normally, he would have thought his lover had pleasured himself during the long ride home from the border, however this time, it was not only Glorfindel that he smelled. He swallowed the lump in his throat and quickly placed the soiled garments in the laundry basket, and then he slowly walked out onto their balcony. He could not breathe or think; he would have screamed if he could have found his voice. All he could do was turn his dead gaze to the hills as his head spun and his heart broke.

When Glorfindel emerged from the bath, he found his clothes missing. Time seemed to crawl as he walked toward the open doors leading to the veranda. He placed a trembling hand upon the doorframe and softly called his lover.

"Sparrow?"

Lindir turned and looked at him and his heart stopped. He opened his mouth to speak, yet he could not. A tear traced down his cheek as Lindir's broken gaze shattered what was left of his heart.

"Tell me it was just once; that you did it to comfort him. Tell me that and I can get over this, Glorfindel. Tell me that you have not betrayed my love and my trust."

Glorfindel swallowed. Erestor's final words rang in his ears and he said, "Yes, I was trying to comfort him, I did not intend..."

Lindir knew his lover was lying, but he was not yet ready to let go. He turned his back to Glorfindel and gripped the smooth stone railing. "I need some time to deal with this; I cannot speak with you now."

Glorfindel closed his eyes and reentered their chambers, donning fresh clothes and leaving Lindir alone.

* * * *

Erestor had returned to his chamber and bathed. He scrubbed his skin until it glowed red and taken his clothing directly to the laundry, desperate to remove any evidence of his weakness. He was entering the library to immerse himself in work when he heard the call come from down the corridor.

"They have returned!"

"Gildor!" he breathed, and then he ran down the long hallway with Gwathel following close behind.

To be continued...

Chapter 23:

Summary: Gildor returns and Erestor is determined; Glorfindel and Lindir come to an agreement.

Erestor bolted outside into the courtyard with Gwathel on his heels. Despite the late hour, the area was bustling with activity. To Erestor's dismay, the healers were busy at work, shuttling wounded warriors from the wagons that had bore them home to the healing house. Erestor desperately searched the crowd for Gildor, when he saw one of the young stable hands leading Gildor's large gelding toward the stable yard. He caught up with the ellon and clasped his shoulder.

"Where is Lord Gildor?" he asked, trying to conceal the fear in his voice. Each moment that he did not hear Gildor's voice struck terror into his heart. The young one shrugged and Erestor released him, but not before noticing the poultices on the gelding's legs and flanks. "Please, please..." he whispered in prayer as he frantically searched the crowd. In his panic, he did not notice the arrival of Glorfindel or Elrond.

He heard Gwathel's high-pitched bark, and he turned. She was standing on her back legs with her front paws on the back of a covered cart. He dodged warriors and squires carrying large bundles as he made his way toward his lover.

"Gildor? Gildor!" he cried as he climbed into the back of the cart. His gaze finally came to rest on his lover's pale form. He felt his heart stop and a searing pain tear through his chest. Gildor lie on a litter, shirtless, a thick, bloody bandage wrapped around his torso.

As Erestor came to rest on his knees beside him, he reached out and touched his lover's shoulder.

"Cold, you are so cold..."

Gildor's breathing was shallow and despite the coldness of his skin, sweat beaded on his forehead.

"No..." Erestor whispered. "No, no, no, no, no..."

Slowly Gildor's eyes opened and he drew a ragged breath. "I told you I would come home," he croaked.

"Oh, Gildor," Erestor whispered, smoothing the damp hair from his lover's face as he showered him with kisses. "Please, my love, you must hold on. Do not leave me behind twice..."

He turned and shouted over his shoulder, "Help! I need help!"

Glorfindel appeared in the opening to the cart. "Sweet Elbereth," he murmured.

"Get Lord Elrond, quickly!" Erestor cried, and Glorfindel disappeared, running through the courtyard to find their lord.

* * * *

Erestor stood behind Elrond, wadding his sleeves in his fists as his lord and the healers worked on his lover. Glorfindel stood behind him, one hand on his shoulder.

"Do something," he whispered to his friend.

"There is nothing I can do," Glorfindel answered.

Erestor turned. "You brought Lindir back. How did you do it, Glorfindel? How did you convince Mandos to release his fëa?"

"Erestor..."

"Do it for Gildor, Glorfindel. You have to try. He is your best friend!"

Glorfindel drew Erestor away from Gildor's bedside. "I cannot, He will not."

"How do you know? He did it once, perhaps..."

"Because He told me, Erestor. He told me He would only do it once." He gathered Erestor in his arms as he remembered Mandos' words. 'This fëa for another in the future.' "I am sorry, Erestor," he murmured as he held his beloved close.

Lindir appeared in the doorway. He closed his eyes briefly as he saw Glorfindel holding Erestor, then he moved to stand beside Elrond and picked up Gildor's cold, limp hand. "Not you," he murmured. "Not my savior..." He looked at his lord. "How can I help him?" he asked.

Elrond, his eyes closed and his head bowed, whispered, "Sing, perhaps he will follow your voice."

Lindir nodded and he rounded the table to stand near Gildor's head. Softly, in a whispered voice, he began to sing one of Gildor's favorite songs; it was a tune about the beauty of Eru's creations.

"He cannot pass on," Erestor whispered into Glorfindel's shoulder. "Not like this, not now."

"He is strong," Glorfindel murmured, his heart breaking as he held Erestor and watched Lindir. There was so much pain in this room, so many things unsaid, so many bruised hearts.

* * * *

Time passed slowly as they waited, Erestor sat on a low stool next to Gildor, holding one of his hands. Elrond gently held Gildor's head in his hands, deep in a trance, trying to reach his dear friend and call him back. Lindir sat opposite Erestor, softly humming the same tune, and Glorfindel stood beside the minstrel, one hand upon his shoulder and his eyes fixed on Gildor's pale form.

After what felt like an eternity, Gildor drew a deep ragged breath and Erestor felt the warrior's grip tighten upon his hand. "Gildor?" he whispered, and he looked up to see his lover's pale blue eyes gazing back at him. A smile curved his lips and he laughed softly, from pure relief. "Gildor..."

"Erestor," Gildor replied, his voice a rough, cracked whisper. "I always keep my promises."

Erestor stood and took Gildor's face in his hands, kissing him gently on the lips. "Yes, you do, my love. You most certainly do."

Glorfindel sighed in relief and leaned his head back against the wall. Lindir smiled and stopped humming, giving the warrior's hand a gentle squeeze. Gildor turned his head and smiled weakly at Lindir. "I love that song,"

Lindir smiled in return. "I know..."

"'Tis good to see you back, my friend," Elrond murmured, smoothing Gildor's brow.

"Forgive me for tarrying," he answered. "I had some unfinished business with those I saw on the path."

Elrond nodded knowingly. "Rest well, Gildor. It will be sometime before you have your strength back."

Gildor closed his eyes and nodded, and then Elrond, Lindir, and Glorfindel left Erestor alone at the warrior's bedside.

Erestor laid his head on Gildor's shoulder, fighting back tears of relief. "Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?" Gildor responded softly.

"For returning to me. I know it could not have been an easy choice."

Gildor pressed his lips against the crown of Erestor's head. He had seen many things while he lingered in the misty world between life and death, some had been a surprise, some had filled him with dread, and some had been painful. Yet, he had returned, despite all he had seen, and deep inside, he knew it was not a mistake.

"It was not as difficult a choice as one might think," he whispered. "The Halls of Mandos are not the most exciting place to be."

Erestor sniffled and chuckled, wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve. "I imagine He was glad to see you go, yes?"

Gildor chuckled, then groaned in discomfort. "Aye. Oh...."

"Ssshhh.... Sleep, my love. There will be many days and years yet for you to tell me your tale."

Gildor smiled and brushed his lips through Erestor's hair. "As you command, my love." He closed his eyes and found reverie with his lover's head upon his shoulder and his hand in his own.

* * * *

Lindir stood on the wide veranda that overlooked the gardens of the Last Homely House. It was just this place that he first posed the question to Glorfindel; it was just this place that a new life had begun for him. Now, as he listened to the crickets and smelled the jasmine, he wondered what life had in store for him. He was not yet ready to let Glorfindel go; yet, he would not hold him either. He had no wish for the Elda to stay out of obligation or pity. Was it his fault? Had he somehow failed to be everything that Glorfindel needed?

"Sparrow?"

He heard his lover's deep voice come from behind him and it caused his heart to ache. "Am I?" he asked. "Am I still your sparrow?"

Glorfindel stood close behind Lindir. "You will always be my sparrow."

"If you do not love me anymore, if you never did..."

"Do not speak thusly. You know I did, and I still do." He caressed Lindir's pale, almost silver-gold hair. "I cannot explain why I did what I did, not in a way that makes any sense. But what I did does not affect how much I care for you, how much I love you."

Lindir turned and looked into Glorfindel's eyes. "You love him."

"I do, and I love you as well. I do not want to hurt you, sparrow, but I cannot lie to you."

Lindir swallowed. "Have you always loved him?"

Glorfindel sighed. "I suppose I have, but not in the way you think. He has always kept me at bay; he still does. Even when he needs us most, he holds us all at arm's length."

Lindir nodded and looked at the ground. "He does not like to accept help."

"Please do not blame him, Lindir..."

Lindir took a deep breath and looked up at Glorfindel. "I do not. I blame myself." He slowly reached out and touched Glorfindel's face. "I have always loved you, from the beginning, from before that first night. The way you loved me, the way you looked at me, touched me, I believed you loved me too. I am not blind; I saw how the two of you looked at one another when you thought I was not aware. Yet still, I persisted; I thought that somehow my love would win you over and make you forget about how you felt for Erestor. I thought that if I just loved you enough..."

A tear fell from Glorfindel's eye, "Oh, sparrow. You have loved me so much more than I deserve."

Lindir felt his own eyes well with tears. "I do not want to lose you. Perhaps that is the stubborn part of my heart that clings to this dream I have been living in. Nevertheless, I cannot be with you knowing that you want to be with another. I cannot live that way."

"What are we to do?" Glorfindel asked. "I do not want to lose you, either."

"I think it would be best if I were to move back into my own quarters and if we were to spend some time apart. We both have decisions we must make, and sleeping in the same bed would be too difficult for me now."

Glorfindel nodded. "I will abide by whatever you decide. But know this, know that every time I have said I love you, I have meant it."

Lindir tried to smile. "I know," he whispered, and then he left Glorfindel alone as he went back to their chambers to pack his belongings.

Glorfindel looked up at the night sky. "Give me the strength and wisdom to do the right thing," he whispered to the air, hoping his voice would find Manwë's ears.

To be continued...

Chapter 24:

Summary: Gildor recovers and Imladris receives a visitor.

Gildor's recovery was long and arduous. Erestor was at his bedside day and night until he had enough strength to rise and get around on his own. Only when Gildor was ambulatory did he return to work.

Things between Erestor and Lindir were strained, but he saw hope that their friendship might survive. He knew that Glorfindel had confessed, but he did not know the circumstances surrounding the admission, and he dared not ask. The entire house knew that Glorfindel and Lindir had a falling out, for the minstrel had moved back into his old quarters, that consequently were right next door to Erestor's.

As for Glorfindel, the Elda found many excuses to be away from the Last Homely House - patrols, hunting trips, excursions into the wilderness surrounding Imladris. This latest excuse was to provide escort to one Prince Thranduil Oropherion.

Everyone in Imladris knew of the special bond of friendship between Oropher and Glorfindel, so it came as no surprise that Oropher would request Glorfindel himself to train Thranduil in the more advanced methods of warfare. What was surprising was that Oropher requested that this training take place in Imladris, rather than their own home of Greenwood.

It was a warm summer day when the Crowned Prince of Greenwood arrived in the Hidden Valley. It was unusually warm for so early in the season, and even though Elves tolerated extreme temperatures well, Erestor was still fanning himself as he stood in the bright sunlight, waiting to receive the prince. Gildor stood beside him, a supportive hand upon his lower back.

"As usual, everything is perfect, my love," Gildor murmured.

"Are you sure you should be out here? It has only been three months since..."

"Only three months? Do you realize how long three months can be when you are flat on your back for reasons that are less than titillating?"

Erestor snorted. "Gildor! We are about to receive the Crowned Prince of Greenwood and you are playing the baud."

Gildor grinned. "Is it not comforting to know that some things never change?" He winked.

Erestor shook his head then straightened up as they heard the party approach. "Here they come."

Glorfindel and Thranduil rode through the gates, followed by the few guards that had traveled to Greenwood and back with Glorfindel. Oropher had not sent a Greenwood escort, owing to his implicit trust in his good friend Glorfindel.

Erestor was impressed with the young prince's bearing. He was of age, but still young, yet he had the look of one who had already seen much in his life. He was quite tall for one of his years, with bright, pale golden hair the color of summer wheat. He was most fair, with large sapphire eyes, soft lips, and an aristocratic nose. He was gentler in appearance than his father, who had the sharp look of one who did not suffer fools. In this regard, Erestor imagined the prince must take after his mother, who was widely considered the most fair of the Silvan kindred.

Thranduil took his hand and smiled gently, bowing his head though his own rank did not require such an expression of respect. Erestor bowed in return, welcoming the prince to their land.

"Is Lord Elrond present?" Thranduil asked quietly, walking up the stairs beside Glorfindel after having greeted Gildor in a friendly fashion.

"I am."

Thranduil looked up to the top of the stair and smiled. As they arrived on the landing, he knelt before Elrond, as was the custom of his people.

"You need not kneel, prince," Elrond answered, lightly touching the prince's shoulder. "That custom is not required in Imladris."

Thranduil smiled and rose to his feet. "Not required, perhaps, but freely offered," he answered, "as a measure of the respect I have for you."

"It is most appreciated," Elrond answered with a smile. He placed his hand upon the prince's shoulder. "Come, tell me of how things are in your homeland." He led the prince toward the entrance to the Last Homely House, noticing the way Thranduil's eyes lit upon Lindir and lingered as the minstrel played his lyre. "That is Lindir, my Chief Minstrel," Elrond said softly as he motioned to the prince to step inside. "He has the most beautiful voice I have ever heard in all of my long life."

"I look forward to hearing it," Thranduil answered, prying his gaze from the lovely Noldo and returning it to his host.

"And you shall, we have a welcoming feast prepared this eve; Lindir will perform, as is customary when we receive honored guests."

Thranduil smiled and bowed his head slightly, then followed Elrond into the house and toward his study.

Glorfindel was not far behind them, and he could not help but notice the way the prince looked at Lindir, or the way Lindir returned the prince's gaze. He would have thought that it would have made him feel good, to see this interest; instead, he felt jealousy prick at his heart. He had no right, he admonished himself, no right at all to feel jealous after what he had done, and Lindir had every right to pursue happiness without him. He wondered if he would feel the same if Erestor had followed suit and left Gildor for him. However, the counselor did not, and despite Glorfindel knowing that Erestor did indeed love him, he could not deny that the love and affection he saw in Erestor's eyes when he looked at Gildor was genuine. It was a cruel truth that one could really be in love with more than one other.

He smiled at Lindir, who smiled in return, albeit sadly, then he entered the house, following Elrond and Thranduil toward his lord's study.

* * * *

Erestor frowned as he unbuttoned the clasps on Gildor's tunic. "You have overdone it again," he grumbled. "Look at you; you are pale and perspiring."

Gildor sat on the edge of their bed, trying valiantly to hide how weary he felt. He did not like it when his lover worried so. "I will be fine, my love," he answered softly. "Leave me to this. I know you have duties to attend to."

Erestor shook his head, his jaw set in determination. "No, I will stay here with you and ensure that you rest."

Gildor sighed and lifted a weary hand to Erestor's cheek. "You are too good to me, my love."

Erestor smiled and swallowed a lump in his throat. "I am not nearly good enough," he answered.

Gildor caressed Erestor's cheekbone with his thumb. "None of us is perfect. If I had to recount my past transgressions to you, I doubt you would think so highly of me."

Erestor closed his eyes briefly and pressed his face into Gildor's hand. "I have finally learned, at long last, that beauty does not lie in perfection; it lies in all that is imperfect, for that is what makes us who we are."

Gildor slid his hand around to the back of Erestor's neck. "Well said, my love," he murmured, before drawing Erestor's lips to his own in a kiss.

Erestor savored the long, slow, soft kiss his lover bestowed upon him. Gildor's gentleness never ceased to surprise him. As they parted, he smiled a bit and whispered, "I love you."

Gildor looked at his lover's face. Erestor's eyes were still closed and there was a hint of a smile playing upon his lips. "Rest with me."

"I will." Erestor opened his eyes and slid Gildor's robe from his shoulders. He then helped his lover stand, noting the slight tremor in Gildor's legs, though the warrior tried to play it off by joking that the kiss made him weak. He pulled the robe out from underneath his lover, and turned back the covers. As Gildor sat once again, he removed his shoes and lifted his legs up onto the bed.

Gildor could not help but sigh in relief as he came to rest. As much as he wanted to deny it, he was still weak and it frightened him a little. He had never had so much difficulty in recovering before. He knew, and Elrond knew, that essentially he had been dead for a very short time. It was not everyday that one died and returned - his best friend could attest to that. He remembered Glorfindel's account of his death and rebirth; while the Elda's experience had been more drastic, Glorfindel was the only other one who knew what Mandos' Halls looked like.

He had been given a choice and he was not sure why. The Vala, in cryptic fashion, had laid his choices out to him. He knew when he returned what lie ahead, and he chose to return despite the fact that his life in Aman would have been free of death and war. It was Erestor that he returned for; his lover was not ready to let him go.

Now, as he held his dark beauty in his arms, he wondered if he had made the right decision. This was prolonging the inevitable, and he knew that it would be easier if he just left and did not return. Perhaps, he would find the strength to do so, but now he was too tired and too weak. As Erestor snuggled against him and sighed, he knew that the time was not right; too much had happened.

"Do you remember what we promised one another that first night?" he asked softly.

"Aye," Erestor answered. "We swore we would always be friends, above all else."

"Does that promise hold?" Gildor murmured.

Erestor swallowed. "No. Forgive me, but I love you too much for you to be my friend above being my beloved."

"Can I not be both?"

"Of course, but one holds sway over the other. Do you not feel the same?"

He could not lie. "Aye, I know of what you speak."

Erestor propped himself up on one elbow. "Do I make you happy, Gildor?"

Gildor smiled. "More than anyone ever has." He caressed Erestor's face. "But the question is not my happiness. It is yours. When we started this, I did not know we would end up this way. I wanted you, yes. I cared deeply about you as well, but I suspected that you were in love..."

Erestor placed his fingers on Gildor's lips. "I am where I want to be. You are the one I want. You are the one I have and will continue to devote my life to. I love you."

Gildor nodded and cradled Erestor's head. "And I love you, Erestor." He closed his eyes and Erestor leaned in for a kiss.

To be continued...

Chapter 25:

Summary: Thranduil's training commences and he finds himself distracted by a certain minstrel.

Thranduil sat on a stool with a large harp between his legs. He leaned forward slightly, placing his fingers upon the strings as instructed. He had musical training, but there were no such instruments in Greenwood; his folk only had flutes and small lyres. He tried to concentrate on the instrument, rather than on the softly floral scent of his tutor, and he tentatively began to play.

Lindir was impressed by the dexterity in the prince's fingers; typically, warriors were not so nimble and did not possess such a sensitive touch. "Very good," he murmured as he instructed the prince. "Yes, that is correct, very nice. You have been practicing."

"Some," Thranduil replied, "when I have had the energy."

Lindir smiled. "I am sure that Glorfindel is putting you through your paces, yes?"

Thranduil chuckled slightly. "That he is."

"Who first trained you in music?"

"My mother," Thranduil answered. "She feels it is important that I have an appreciation for beauty in all its forms."

"She is correct," Lindir answered. "A prince must be more than a warrior; you are a diplomat and a leader as well."

"It is a large responsibility."

"Aye, but one I am sure you are capable of handling, my liege."

"Lindir?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Would you call me by my name? I realize that in some settings protocol calls for a formal address, but when it is just you and I, I would feel more comfortable if you would address me by name."

Lindir reached out and adjusted Thranduil's finger position. "As you wish, Thranduil."

Thranduil smiled. "Thank you."

Lindir smiled in return, thankful that he stood behind the prince and therefore, Thranduil could not see the slight blush upon his cheek.

It had been months since he and Glorfindel separated, and just a month since Thranduil arrived in Imladris. The prince would stay through the winter and into mid-spring, so they still had much time to get to know one another. In addition to being fair, the prince was also kind and patient, he was a diligent student both on and off the training field; Thranduil approached the study of history and music as enthusiastically as that of battle tactics.

Lindir stood up straight and watched the prince play the harp; while Thranduil would never become a master musician, he played well nevertheless. "I think that is enough for today," he said softly. "You are playing quite well for so short a time with the instrument."

Thranduil reached for a soft cloth and gently wiped down the harp. "Thank you, Lindir. I doubt you have much to worry about in terms of competition, though."

Lindir laughed softly as he walked toward his desk and began placing sheets of music in their respective files.

"I am to train with Glorfindel this afternoon, but I was hoping that when I am finished you and I might be able to spend some time together - that is if the idea is appealing to you."

Lindir looked up from his work. Thranduil was focusing on the act of cleaning the harp in an attempt to make a refusal easier. "I would like that very much," he replied. "Shall I meet you at the training field?"

Thranduil turned and looked at him. "Yes, that would be a good idea." He placed the cloth upon a small table near the harp. "I will see you later this afternoon then? Two hours prior to the dinner bell?"

Lindir nodded. "Very well."

Thranduil smiled as he left the music room, and Lindir watched him leave with a smile upon his own lips.

* * * *

Thranduil stood with his legs apart, slowly shifting his weight from left to right, trying in vain to anticipate what his tutor would do next. Glorfindel stood in front of him, training sword in hand, slowly rocking the wooden blade back and forth. The rhythmic motion reminded Thranduil of the way Lindir would move a slim baton, keeping the rhythm during their music lessons. A slow grin curved Glorfindel's lips and Thranduil gasped as the sword came around to his left.

He leapt backward and blocked the blade with his own weapon, barely avoiding being struck in the shoulder.

"You must concentrate, Thranduil," Glorfindel said as he stepped backward, pausing his assault to correct his pupil. "All it takes is one brief moment of lapse and your head can be removed from your shoulders."

Thranduil nodded and took a defensive posture again. They circled one another slowly, Glorfindel thrusting and Thranduil blocking. The prince took a few hard blows to his arms and one of his legs, each time shaking off his frustration and trying again. Glorfindel suggested they take a break and Thranduil nodded in agreement, lowering his weapon, and wiping the sweat from his brow.

"You are doing very well, my prince. I know that the sword is a weapon you are not accustomed to."

"Thank you, my lord," Thranduil replied. "I am also not accustomed to training with one as quick as you."

Glorfindel grinned and bowed his head slightly in thanks. "That quickness is how I have managed to survive so many battles. As our training progresses, you will be just as quick with the blade. You are very light on your feet, and your archery skills are beyond compare - finer than any that I have seen in Imladris."

Thranduil blushed a little. "Thank you, my lord."

Over Glorfindel's shoulder, Thranduil spied Lindir coming down the path toward the armory. Glorfindel noticed the change in the prince's expression and turned to see his former lover.

"Have I come too soon?" Lindir asked as he arrived.

"We have concluded for the day," Glorfindel answered.

"Master Lindir and I are going for a walk," Thranduil responded. The look upon Glorfindel's face was unmistakable. He paused for a moment then continued, "Would you care to join us?" Asking the question was a blunder, he could tell by the look in Lindir's eye when he posed it.

Glorfindel held up his hand and shook his head. "No; thank you, my liege. I have things I must attend to."

Thranduil looked at Lindir and smiled. "I will be but a moment."

Lindir nodded and watched as the prince jogged into the barracks. He then looked at Glorfindel, who seemed to be torn between following Thranduil and staying where we was. "It is but a walk," he said softly.

"What you do with your time is your concern," Glorfindel answered kindly. "You need explain nothing to me."

Lindir nodded and an uncomfortable moment of silence followed. "I..."

Glorfindel stepped forward and placed his hand upon Lindir's shoulder. "I want you to feel free to do whatever you wish to do. This present situation is my fault entirely, you should feel no guilt for getting on with your life." He reached up and gently cupped Lindir's cheek. "I am truly sorry, sparrow. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do."

Thranduil stepped into the doorway of the barracks to see Glorfindel gently touching Lindir's cheek. He might be young but he had lived long enough to know what he was seeing. He waited a moment then made some noise so that they would hear him, then he stepped out into the sunshine.

As he approached, Glorfindel cast one, quick, sad glance toward Lindir, then the warrior said, "Enjoy your walk." Then Glorfindel departed the training field.

Thranduil looked at Lindir thoughtfully as the minstrel watched the Elda depart, then he smiled as Lindir's gaze returned to him, and he held out his arm.

Lindir accepted the gesture, placing his hand in the crook of the prince's arm, and then they headed down the trail toward the woods.

* * * *

They had walked some distance in a silence that was briefly and sporadically punctuated by small talk, when Thranduil made a bold move. "There has been something between the two of you," he said quietly as they slowly descended the stair that led to the Ford of Bruinen.

"Aye, there was, but that is finished now," Lindir answered quietly.

Thranduil nodded. "It is impossible to simply stop loving someone. He still loves you, I can tell by the way he looks at you."

"Perhaps," Lindir returned. "But he loves another more. I cannot be someone's second choice."

"You should not be," Thranduil replied. "You are kind, beautiful, and you have the most extraordinary voice I have ever heard. You should be no one's second choice."

Lindir smiled and then reached out for Thranduil's offered hand as they reached a particularly difficult part of the stair.

"We are near the bottom," Thranduil said. "Where should we go from here?" The last step was particularly steep, and as Lindir came down he gasped and reached for his left leg. "Are you all right?" Thranduil asked with concern, as he saw his friend bent over, grasping his leg.

"I am fine," Lindir replied, his voice calm if not a bit strained. "It is a remnant of an old wound that gives complaint from time to time."

"Shall we take a rest?" Thranduil asked, guiding Lindir to sit on the last step.

Lindir nodded. "Aye, I would like that. Thank you."

Thranduil sat beside his friend, his eyes scanning the landscape. He was in unfamiliar territory, which meant he was automatically on guard. He did not have a bow with him, but he did carry a set of knives in his boots, just in case. "We have gone too far, have we not?"

Lindir sighed; his leg was not feeling any better. ""Tis my fault. I know my limitations and I ignored them. I suppose I was hoping things would be better and I would be able to walk further."

"Had I known that you..."

Lindir placed his fingers on Thranduil's lips. "My fault, not yours," he said softly.

Thranduil smiled and nodded as Lindir removed his hand. "Let us rest awhile, then I will carry you home."

"You are going to carry me all the way back . . . up the stair?"

"I am not going to leave you here alone, and we are not prepared to spend the night out here without supplies." He looked at Lindir and smiled. "Although it is tempting to take advantage of the opportunity to spend the night with you." He winked.

Lindir chuckled then shook his head. "Ai. I am so sorry, Thranduil."

Thranduil held up his hand. "I will hear none of that, Master Lindir. This is an opportunity for me to prove my fitness."

Lindir snorted. "I dare say it is."

Thranduil placed his hand upon Lindir's back. "Luckily, you are not Glorfindel, or I would find this task more daunting."

They sat for a while and slowly the pain in Lindir's leg began to subside. "Perhaps I can make it back on my own now," he said, then he stood and took a step. He grimaced as the pain returned.

"No more heroics, my friend," Thranduil said. "Climb onto my back, it will be the easiest way."

Lindir sighed and then climbed onto the prince's back, placing his arms around Thranduil's neck.

"Off we go then," Thranduil murmured, looking up the long stairway.

"Do not drop me," Lindir murmured near the prince's ear.

"Never," Thranduil replied, gently leaning his head against Lindir's cheek.

To be continued...

Chapter 26:

Summary: Glorfindel and Lindir seek comfort in the familiar; Thranduil sees his future.

Glorfindel stood on the wide front porch of the Last Homely House as Anor set. His eyes scanned the courtyard and the hills beyond; there was no sign of Thranduil or Lindir.

Erestor stood behind him, with Gildor at his side, noting the worry in Glorfindel's posture. "I am sure everything is fine. Thranduil is capable enough should they run afoul."

"Shall I go look for them?" Gildor asked, one eyebrow raising as Erestor shot him a reproachful glance.

"Do not be ridiculous," Erestor grumbled. "You are in no shape to…"

Glorfindel turned. "I will go. They have been gone too long." He paused, placing his hand upon Gildor's shoulder. "I am going to change into garments more appropriate for riding, then I will leave. Make my apologies to Lord Elrond for missing the meal."

Gildor nodded and watched his friend walk into the house.

"Wait!" Erestor called.

Glorfindel turned and saw Thranduil walking into the courtyard with Lindir upon his back. He jogged down the stairs as Thranduil sat Lindir upon the ground. He could tell with one look that Lindir was in pain. "Where have you been? I was just going out to look for you."

"'Tis my fault," Thranduil said. "I wanted to see what was on the other side of the hills and Lindir was too gracious to spoil my plan."

"That is a bold-faced lie, Thranduil Oropherion," Lindir chided. "It is my fault. I know my limits and I ignored them; I did not tell the prince that I could not walk so far - he did not know…"

"Are you all right, sparrow?" Glorfindel asked softly.

"'Tis nothing that a warm bath will not cure," he answered, his eyes widening in surprise as Glorfindel scooped him up in his arms.

"I will massage your leg, just for good measure," he said as he climbed the stairs toward the house with Thranduil in tow.

"I truly am sorry," Thranduil said quietly as he followed.

"There is nothing for you to be sorry for, my liege," Glorfindel replied. "Thank you for seeing him home safely."

Thranduil stopped at the door and watched Glorfindel carry Lindir up the stairs.

"How far did you go?" Erestor asked, also watching his friend carry the minstrel.

"To the bottom of the stair that leads to the Bruinen."

"And you carried him all the way home on your back?" Gildor asked in surprise.

"I could not leave him there alone, and there was no one in sight."

Gildor clapped the prince on the back. "I think you need a warm bath and a massage just as badly as Lindir does, my prince."

Thranduil smiled begrudgingly. "Aye, I am sure I smell less than regal."

Erestor sighed. "Perhaps it is best for you rest this evening, my lord. I will have some food sent to you in your quarters, if you desire."

Thranduil nodded. "My thanks, Erestor. I am quite weary now."

"I will also send one of the healers. They are quite skilled in working soreness out of one's muscles."

Thranduil nodded and walked up the stairs toward his guest chamber.

Erestor turned to make for the kitchens when he saw Gildor looking at him with a less than pleased expression. "What?"

"Do not treat me as if I were a piece of crystal or some addled fool, Erestor."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. I offered to go look for Lindir and the prince, and you treated me as if I were an elfling."

"I was merely worried about…"

"I know what you were doing, and it is high time you stop. You cannot keep me wrapped in linen and safely ensconced inside this house. I will return to my duties and resume my life as it was before the war."

"I . . . I just want you to be careful. I came so close to losing you . . . I…"

Gildor stepped forward and took Erestor's face in his hands. "I know you do what you do out of love, but you simply must stop, Erestor. I am not fragile, and I cannot be cautious and safe for you. I cannot be anyone other than who I am…"

Erestor pressed their foreheads together. "I know. Forgive me, my love."

Gildor smiled and nuzzled his lover's lips. "Forgiven, this time…" He winked.

* * * *

Lindir sat on the side of his bed as Glorfindel removed his shoes. "I am sorry I worried you," he murmured.

"No harm done. I am relieved that you are home safe," Glorfindel answered. "Do you need help disrobing?"

"No. I can do it myself," Lindir replied, rising from the bed and hobbling into his bathing chamber.

"Can you get into the bath by yourself?"

"Yes."

Glorfindel sat in a chair and listened as Lindir bathed, then he rose and retrieved a sleeping robe for him, and turned down the bed. Reaching inside the door, he hung the gown upon a peg. "Here is something to sleep in," he said quietly.

"Thank you," Lindir answered.

He gathered some towels and a phial of massage oil, then removed his formal robe and draped it upon the back of a tall chair. Lindir emerged from the bath, dressed in the robe, and limped to the bed, climbing in and sighing as he stretched out on his back.

Glorfindel placed towels beneath Lindir's leg then poured a small amount of oil into his hands.

"Will I ever be as I was?" Lindir asked quietly, his gaze focused on the canopy of his bed.

"I cannot answer that, sparrow," Glorfindel murmured as he began slowly, gently working the muscles in Lindir's leg. "I think you should speak with Lord Elrond. There may be more he can do."

"Perhaps you are right," Lindir answered in almost a whisper as his eyelids began to flutter. "That feels good," he murmured.

Glorfindel slowly worked the muscles, starting at Lindir's ankle, gently squeezing and running his hands up the minstrel's calf, past his knee, finally reaching his thigh. This used to be a sensual experience for them both; Glorfindel tried to forget that and focus on simply making his sparrow feel better.

Once reaching the apex of his thigh, he worked his way back down to Lindir's foot, and then repeated this process until the minstrel's skin was flushed and warm to the touch and any hint of discomfort had faded from Lindir's face. The sleeping gown Lindir wore was made of a light material, and the affect his touch had on the minstrel was becoming evident from beneath the thin gown.

His own body was responding in kind; he could feel the growing heat in his core and his length was beginning to stir inside his breeches. He paused, his thumbs working small circles on the inside and outside of Lindir's thigh. Lindir's eyes were closed, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with an increasing rhythm. He knew his sparrow so well, he knew every nuance of the Noldo's body, how it moved, how it responded to him; no one knew Lindir like he did.

"What do you want me to do, sparrow?" he murmured. "You have but to ask it of me."

A tear slipped from Lindir's eye and he whispered. "I want you to love me more than anyone in the world. I want you to love me, alone."

The aching, gnawing pain that had been present since he and Erestor had come together in the woods flared bright inside him. How could he love and want Lindir so much, while aching for Erestor so badly?

Lindir's eyes opened and he looked at Glorfindel. His warrior did not need to say a word - Lindir could read his thoughts on his face. He reached up slowly, his long fingers closing on the collar of Glorfindel's undershirt. "But since I cannot have what I truly want, I will take your touch instead." He pulled the warrior down and kissed him.

Glorfindel's body immediately responded to Lindir as if it had a mind of its own. He lowered himself to the bed, taking care not to rest his weight upon his lover's sore leg, kicking off his shoes as he took Lindir's face in his hands. They kissed slowly, their hands rediscovering one another, their bodies falling back into the familiar dance of lovemaking.

* * * *

Thranduil sat by the fire, dressed in a pair of sleeping pants, his skin flushed and softly glistening from the massage he had just received. He held a letter from his mother in his hand; in it, she relayed the good news that she and his father had chosen a perfect mate for him. It was the custom in his land that the parents should choose the mate; only his father had broken with that tradition, taking his mother of his own accord shortly after their arrival in the great wood. The courtship would be long, the ceremony auspicious, and it was expected that he would provide an heir. It was his duty, he knew that, and he imagined he would end up like his father, having a wife and lying with ellyn when the mood struck him.

He had hoped that he and Lindir might make a good match, despite knowing that it was expected that he have children. It was also clear to him now that whatever was between Lindir and Glorfindel was not over.

He sighed and laid the letter down, his gaze focusing on the stars in the sky and his mind wandering to a fair minstrel.

To be continued…

Chapter 27:

Summary: Lindir realizes the truth and accepts a lie; Gildor worries about Glorfindel; and Erestor offers an apology.

Lindir lay on his side, his gaze focused on the softly billowing curtains that covered his windows. Glorfindel was curled against him in a comforting and protective embrace. The lovemaking had been physically satisfying, there was no doubt of that, but now he was left facing the hollow truth that the one he loved would always love another more. The overwhelming flow of emotion that used to be a part of their coupling was no longer present. Glorfindel was guarded in that respect and so was he, for that matter. He did not want to see into his lover's heart, not any more. He wondered if it would always be this way, or if the Elda would eventually love him the way he hoped and wished he would.

He knew deep down that Erestor felt the same way about Glorfindel, though his friend did his very best to hide it, and Lindir wondered if Gildor knew or suspected the truth. One thing he did know for certain about his good friend Erestor: he was loyal above all other things. Erestor would never leave Gildor, not ever.

Glorfindel sighed and stirred, molding his perfect body against Lindir's back. He still loved the way the Elda felt against him, however, it also reminded him of what he had lost. He had lost an illusion; he knew that now. Given the choice between cold reality and beautiful lies, he would take the lies any day.

He thought about Thranduil, about how kind the prince was, and how clearly interested the Sinda was in him. He liked Thranduil, he genuinely did. The young prince's unguarded honesty was refreshing given what he had been through these past months. He was tired of secrets and carefully avoided truths; the fact was that he was tired, period.

As Glorfindel stirred against him, he realized one thing about himself: he was not nearly as principled or strong as he would have once believed. He rolled over in his lover's embrace and reached out, gently touching the warrior's face. Glorfindel was still the most beautiful elf he had ever seen, and despite the fact that the Elda had kept the truth of his heart from him, he was still kind, gentle, and loving.

Their brief separation had been difficult for them both and where it would lead now Lindir did not know, though what he found was that it was easy to accept this reunion - far easier than living the truth. Principle made a cold bedfellow.

"Sparrow," Glorfindel whispered.

"Yes," Lindir replied.

"I love you."

"And I love you," Lindir answered. "I have not stopped."

Glorfindel opened his eyes. "Is it possible that you might forgive me for what I have done?"

"Let us not talk about that," Lindir murmured, tucking his head beneath Glorfindel's chin and wrapping his arms about the Elda's waist.

There was a moment of strangely comforting silence, and then Lindir spoke. "When Gildor returned from the war and it looked as if he would die, Erestor said something to you. He said you brought me back. What did he mean?"