Elrond sighed as he gazed out his window, watching his two main advisors wander, hand in hand around his gardens. Many months ago, he would have smiled at the sweetly romantic scene beneath him; however, he knew there was little time until it would have to end.

Elrond sighed again, ‘diplomatic mission, really…’ he thought to himself. Even after all these years, he still found the term amusing. Diplomatic missions seemed to be all about posing and posturing and little else. They were expensive, time consuming and meant that he was short an advisor! But, they did have their benefits, he admitted to himself. If one was having trouble with a particular someone else, it was an exceedingly useful way of getting rid of them for an extended period of time.

Elrond glanced at the papers on his desk and sighed again. He picked up the top one and read over it again. ‘And sometimes,’ he thought to himself, ‘they are just plain titillating.” He smiled as he re-read the eloquent letter from the Lord of Lórien, requesting the services of a trusted advisor. Elrond chuckled to himself as he read. Evidently, Celeborn’s regular bed partner had deserted him. Elrond mused as to whom to send; he was rather short of attractive advisors at present. He glanced out the window again, could he really be that mean-spirited as to send one of his two best advisors to Lórien, when he knew full well what his father-in-law’s intent was?

He studied the two lovebirds for a minute. He did not want to break them apart, but it would be nice to get some work done, something that hadn’t happened since Glorfindel and Erestor had become a couple. His eyes wandered over the other letters that sat on his desk, and they lit upon one with an exceedingly formal, not to mention uncommon, script. Elrond picked it up with renewed interest. It was from Mirkwood, the penmanship of King Thranduil. Elrond admired the elegant hand before reading the short letter. One sculpted eyebrow rose as he read the words; it seemed that Lórien was not the only realm in need of advising. Thranduil was requesting the services of an experienced warrior. According to the king, he had experienced the loss of several of his senior soldiers defending the kingdom. He needed someone to help train the young, inexperienced warriors, or else risk losing his lands to the creatures that hounded it. Elrond drummed his fingers on his desk, thoughts tumbling around his mind. * * *

Glorfindel sat straight in his saddle, his head held high and proud as he rode out of Imladris. He would not let those watching his departure see the pain, the loss, or the hatred in his eyes. He had felt his mouth go dry as Lord Elrond had told him of the trip he was about to take. He had sensed the anger and betrayal flare in Erestor’s heart, without needing to see it in his eyes. He had repeatedly asked the Lord if it was truly necessary to send him, and every time he had been given the same response.

~*~*~ “King Thranduil has asked for a warrior, Glorfindel. If I had anyone else suitably skilled, I would send them. Much as watching you with your new love has aggravated me at times, mellonamin, it has only been my own heart longing for my love. I truly do not wish to separate you.”

“Then do not separate us. If it is me who must travel to Mirkwood, then allow him to join me on this journey.”

“I cannot send him with you, Glorfindel. King Thranduil is not the only one to have requested assistance. Lord Celeborn has asked me to send one of my advisors to him regarding a private matter, someone skilled with dealing with delicate issues. Erestor is the most qualified in that regard.”

Glorfindel had barely been able to contain his anger or surprise, “Do you not know of Lord Celeborn’s reputation?”

“Be careful of your words, mellon, you speak of my father-in-law.”

“Please excuse my impudence Lord Elrond, but I speak only of what others have witnessed. Lord Celeborn is…” Glorfindel had drawn a deep breath before continuing, “Lord Celeborn is a notorious flirt with all those who catch his eye.” His gaze had fallen to the floor, “Is there not someone else who could go? ”

“I am sorry, Glorfindel. Celeborn requested someone I trust, Erestor is the one I trust with my most private matters, it is he who shall attend the Lord of Lórien.” ~*~*~

Glorfindel forced the memory of the conversation from his mind, forcing his attention to the journey before him. He glanced over his shoulder and urged his horse forward, wanting more space between him and the small party Elrond had insisted escort him. He knew he had a long trip before they even reached Mirkwood, and he was not looking forward to it. * * *

“My King, you have a guest.”

Green eyes flashed at the interruption, “Who?” was the terse question asked.

“Glorfindel of Imladris, sir. He says Lord Elrond sent him at your request.”

Thranduil nodded, “Take him to my study to wait, I shall be there soon.” He listened as the door closed behind the messenger; he sighed, he was in no mood to be receiving advisors today. ‘Glorfindel must have ridden hard to make it this quickly.’ He mused to himself as to what his reasons were. He sighed and rose, if he had to greet guests, then he would look every bit the ruler of his kingdom. * * *

Glorfindel jumped to his feet, not expecting the door to open so suddenly behind him. He was temporarily struck dumb by the elf that entered. Thranduil was taller than he expected and disturbingly stunning. Glorfindel felt instantly disarmed the moment he looked into the innately seductive green eyes. His gaze glided over the King’s form. Even under the voluminous, regal robes, he could tell that Thranduil was a fine specimen. The broad shoulders, tapering to narrow hips and well-muscled thighs… Glorfindel knew his mind was wandering, but there was just something about the elf standing before him that made him unable to help himself. He eyes drifted over the long hair that cascaded down the lean back as Thranduil walked past him, before resting on the firm round buttocks just beneath it… He forced himself to pull his gaze away. He was here on business, and he had Erestor. He was no longer allowed to dally with whoever caught his eye. He forced himself to focus on a point just past the King.

“It is rude not to look your host in the eyes when you first meet them.” Thranduil sat behind his desk, “I make it a point to always look in the eyes of the one I am conversing with. Eyes say a lot about one’s nature.”

Glorfindel managed to nod, his mouth dry.

Thranduil folded his arms on his desk, resting his chin on his hands. “So… I understand you are the advisor Lord Elrond has sent me?”

Glorfindel nodded dumbly again.

Thranduil sighed, “I am not sure why you came, I have no use for a mute advisor. I require someone to train warriors to fight, not to consume air.”

Glorfindel felt his face burn red in embarrassment. He drew a deep breath, “I am sorry, King Thranduil.” Glorfindel spoke hurriedly, “I can assure you, I am more than qualified to train your warriors to fight.”

Thranduil smiled, the advisor had an elegant, refined quality to his voice that he had not expected from a seasoned warrior. “I am glad to hear it. I would be worried if the famed Glorfindel had no faith in his own abilities.”

Glorfindel blushed again, “Famed? I do not like to think of myself in that way.”

“Why ever not? You are more than some mere passing icon, Glorfindel. You have had volumes written on your deeds in our history books. Warriors who have fought by my side have sought to emulate your skill and bravery. Few have come close.” Thranduil’s gaze surreptitiously wandered over Glorfindel. He now understood why the history books spoke of the golden knight who had saved them all from a fiery death. The elf’s hair almost glowed in the gentle light of his office, and Thranduil idly wondered what it would look like in the sun and how it would feel sliding through his fingers. “Considering your reputation has more than preceded you, I do not feel it necessary to question your skills. Lord Elrond chose well when he chose you. Please convey my deepest thanks to him when you finally return.” He stood, walking back around his desk.

He paused behind where Glorfindel sat and rested his hand on his shoulder, “Now, if you will excuse me, I was about to dine. We did not anticipate your arrival for a few days, had we known you would be with us today we would have been better prepared.

“You have no need to prepare anything. I am here to train your warriors. Nothing else.” Glorfindel felt his mouth drying out as Thranduil’s hand lingered on his shoulder.

“I always make sure my guests are welcomed in appropriate style.” Thranduil removed his hand and walked towards the door, “I will see that the rest of your party are cared for.” He opened the door, “I would be honoured if you would dine with me, Lord Glorfindel. I was readying myself to eat when I was told of your arrival.”

Glorfindel found himself nodding, “I am honoured that you would ask, King Thranduil.”

“I shall arrange it then. I hope you do not mind dining with me privately. I generally prefer not to dine with company. I shall have someone show you to your quarters.” With that, he was gone.

Glorfindel allowed himself to be led down the long hallways. His shoulder still tingled where the King’s hand had lain. He was pleasantly surprised to find all his belongings already in the room. He heard the door close behind him and he sank gratefully onto the edge of the soft bed, releasing his tired feet from the confines of his boots. He was tempted to lie down on the bed and rest, but he did not wish to risk upsetting the notoriously volatile King so soon. He sighed and pulled himself off the bed. He caught sight of his reflection. He was surprised that immaculate King had not laughed at him when he had walked in, he was dishevelled and red-cheeked from the brisk ride; by no standards the attractive warrior that Erestor had fallen for. Slowly, he began to neaten himself: change his robes; wash his face, and his brush his hair straight and glossy.

“King Thranduil is ready for you.” The same elf that had met him now stood in the doorway to his room.

Glorfindel nodded and rose, “Thank you.” He approached the door. “You are here to take me to him?”

The elf nodded quickly. “Follow me please.”

Glorfindel decided against trying to make any more conversation with the terse elf walking several steps ahead of him. He realised that they had stopped and looked enquiringly at the elf.

“King Thranduil’s chambers.”

The door opened and from inside came the King’s greeting, “Glorfindel.” The King smiled broadly, ushering him inside and nodding dismissively at his escort. “Please, sit.” He gestured to a small table at the end of the room.

Glorfindel looked at the crowded table with mild surprise. “Your cooks lay a large spread.”

"They also lay a fine one. Come.” His hand rested on Glorfindel’s lower back and he led him to the table.

“Thank you.”

Thranduil studied him from across the table, slowly sipping his wine. “When does Lord Elrond require you to return?”

Glorfindel looked up, surprised. “He did not say, King Thranduil.”

“What about you, when do you anticipate returning?”

“Training warriors takes time. I shall stay as long as I am required, but…” his voice grew quiet, “I do wish to return as quickly as possible. I have personal matters to attend to in Imladris.” Glorfindel looked away, feeling self conscious under the King’s gaze.

As the meal progressed, Glorfindel found himself relaxing despite the intimidating presence of the king and penetrating stare. As the wine flowed and the good food filled him, he began to feel comfortable in his new surroundings. As the end of the night drew closer, Glorfindel’s view of the king was almost completely changed. “I hope you do not think me impertinent, King Thranduil, but I must admit that you are somewhat of a surprise for me.”

“With the wine you have ingested tonight, dear Glorfindel, one could not think you anywhere near impertinent. Only intoxicated.” Thranduil smiled merrily at the warrior seated across from him. “Now… Please do explain, how have I been a surprise? And more importantly, am I a pleasant one?”

“I believe you have hit the nail on its very head, dear King. You are surprising because you have indeed been a pleasant surprise; indeed you have.” Glorfindel decided that conversation was altogether safer if his wine remained on the table. “I heard many tales of these woods and your fair self long before I was in a position to come here.”

Thranduil raised one fine eyebrow and leant back in his chair. “Pray tell me more, Glorfindel. I have a reputation that has preceded me? I am intrigued.”

Glorfindel slid his chair back slowly, his head lolling slightly to his left as he stared at the king. “Many say you cast spells on them, make them forget their minds. That you have a cruel heart that tries to woo yourself a companion to keep here.”

Thranduil laughed, “I can assure you I am no magician, Glorfindel. Nor do I try to *woo* myself a companion. I choose to remain alone in ruling my kingdom. I have taken many lovers in my life, but have loved few of them. After I lost the mother of my children, I vowed I would never let my heart hold another in such high regard.”

Thranduil felt the wine warming him, a light blush spreading to his cheeks. He knew he should not be telling someone so new in his life something so personal, but something about Glorfindel made him want to tell him everything, no matter how personal. He reclined in his chair slightly. “As for cruel hearted, well that I can neither deny nor confirm. No ruler can afford to be kind hearted, not if he wishes to retain the respect of his subjects, his equals and the rulers of other realms. But they can ill afford to be cruel hearted unless they wish for dissent and disrespect among their people. It will only lead to rebellion, and a leader without respect has little chance of quashing rabble-rousers. I try to be a good ruler, Glorfindel, but it is a fine line that I walk. I must be compassionate enough to retain the favour of those I rule, but at the same time, they must be aware that I am the one who rules these woods. Everything I do, I do in their best interests. My decisions may not always be right, but I try my hardest.”

Thranduil felt his blush intensify as his face was split by an involuntary yawn. “My apologies, Lord Glorfindel. This day has been long for both of us. I am sorry to bore you with the mere details of my thoughts. Come,” Thranduil stood, holding his hand out. “You must be more than ready to retire for the night. I have kept you to myself long enough. We will both need to rise early and the wine has affected us greatly.”

Glorfindel smiled and rose from his chair, “You have not bored me at all, King Thranduil. Your thoughts are most interesting. But I do agree that this wine has had *great* affect on both of us and if I wish to obtain the respect of any of those who I am to train on your behalf, then I shall need a clear head.” He walked towards the door. “I have had a most enjoyable evening, in your company, King Thranduil.” He bowed slightly. “Shall I see you at the first training?”

"I shall try.” * * *

Glorfindel stood in front of a group of soldiers, one part of his mind still marvelling at their youth, the rest of it focused on the lesson at hand. He glanced over at the King, sitting, almost hidden, behind a column. He dismissed his students, telling them to be prepared to spar next he saw them all. He waited until the room had emptied before approaching the familiar figure.

“Why hide yourself away all the way back here, my King?”

Thranduil smiled and moved to stand before Glorfindel. “I did not wish to disturb the lesson you taught.” He ushered the golden-haired warrior out of the training area. “You taught them well today. It was an honour to watch you teach, although I think the next lesson would be much more enjoyable to watch.”

“You are most welcome to come and watch it. Although I make no assurances as to the quality of the viewing. Those I teach are young, they still have a great deal to learn about the art of fighting.” Glorfindel sighed. “I am not yet sure how I will even conduct the next lesson as I am missing something rather vital to its success.”

“Pray tell, what may that be, Lord Glorfindel?”

“A skilled warrior to spar with. It will be impossible to teach your warriors if I cannot demonstrate what I expect them to be learning.”

“Mirkwood possesses many fine warriors, Glorfindel, but something makes me think that you would not be satisfied with any of them.”

Glorfindel laughed. “I shall have to trust your judgement, you know your warriors better than I do. But surely, there must be at least one who would be able to match me in a demonstration?” He looked pleadingly at the king.

“There are many who could match you but few of them would come close to equalling you. I fear it may make for a poor demonstration.”

Glorfindel nodded sadly. “That is unfortunate. But if that is the only option I have then it is the one I must take.”

Thranduil smiled as they paused outside Glorfindel’s quarters. “I shall make the necessary arrangements then.” He made to leave, but turned back briefly, “There is one other option, Glorfindel…”

“And what may that be?”

“Would *I* be a satisfactory partner in your demonstration?” Thranduil’s head tilted to one side inquiringly.

Glorfindel found himself temporarily stunned, and forced himself to draw several deep breaths to try and quell the stutter he knew would overtake his voice if he tried to talk too soon. “My… King Thranduil… Your offer is most kind, but I cannot ask you to do that.”

“Why not? You are not asking anything of me, I am making you an offer. I ask you again, would I be a worthy sparring partner?”

“You would be more than worthy, King Thranduil. But… I could not ask you to fight with me in front of your own men.”

“Why not?” Thranduil looked at his guest, amused.

“I… It…” Glorfindel drew a breath, as he realised he was not sure of his reason in rejecting the King’s offer. “I am not sure.” He looked at his host guiltily.

Thranduil smiled. “Then it is settled. I shall spar with you. After all, I am the one who requested your skills here, it is the least I can do.”

Glorfindel smiled and blushed slightly. “I am in your debt, King Thranduil.”

Thranduil smiled. “It is my pleasure to be of assistance to you.” * * *

Glorfindel felt the warmth of the water as it worked its way into his muscles, easing the dull ache that he felt. The session had been long and his opponent skilled. He dipped his head beneath the water, feeling it cascade down his back, sticking his hair to his skin as he emerged. He closed his eyes, his arms stretched along the cool stone edge as he breathed in the steamy air.

He was only semi-conscious of the small group in the opposite corner, who were holding a quiet, but slightly heated discussion.

“I tell you he is!”

Glorfindel opened his eyes and glared at them, beginning to wish they would hold their discussion elsewhere.

A loud splash accompanied the next exclamation. “It is why he came! There is no need for advice at this present time! The woods of Lothlórien are calm.”

Glorfindel’s ears pricked up at the mention of the realm his lover was visiting.

“Then why would Lord Celeborn require an advisor from Imladris?” A new voice, edged with inexperience, joined the conversation.

The others chuckled at the question. “Your question shows your naïveté, young Túveren. Lord Celeborn has… a reputation, shall we say.”

Glorfindel could hear the smirk in the elf’s voice and his heart dropped. He too had heard many rumours about the silver-haired Elf Lord, and his heart stung at the memory of his own cold-hearted treatment at the hands of the Lord of the Golden Wood.

“A reputation? For what?” The youthful voice questioned.

“For bedding elves. Male elves. And many of them. His libido is well known to be insatiable.”

“He beds male elves? But he is married to Lady Galadriel.”

More laughter. “The good lady is well aware of his habits. She allows them, provided he is discreet.”

“But how can he be considered discreet if his reputation is as well known as you said?”

The older elves laughed again. “He is the Lord of the Golden Wood. He is given the benefit of the doubt many times over.”

“Do not forget his beloved Marchwarden. Haldir is his regular bed partner and greatly aids in keeping the wicked words at bay. But as they say, when the cat is away the mice will play!” The elf laughed, before explaining for his young associate. “Whilst Haldir’s libido may make him the perfect partner for the insatiable lord, he is regularly away, patrolling the borders of the realm. Thus meaning that Celeborn often has to find himself a temporary replacement. Or two!”

“Maybe even three or four or more!” Another elf joined in the fun and Glorfindel tried desperately to block the sound of their laughter and the images their words danced through his mind.

“Anyway. Continuing your…lesson…for today. When the good lord runs out of partners who suitably satisfy his lust and Haldir is out of reach, he uses his position to find himself another. I have been told that he usually seeks one from someone he trusts. Apparently many Lords have sent trusted associates into his waiting arms.”

Confusion entered the youngster’s voice. “But… What does that have to do the advisor from Imladris?”

Glorfindel could hear the exasperated sighs across the room, and despite the pain their words caused, he almost laughed at the elf’s naïveté.

“Lord Elrond is Lord Celeborn’s son-in-law. He is apparently one of Celeborn’s most trusted…suppliers. No doubt you remember the visitor that arrived in Lórien about a month before we left? That raven-haired elf was Erestor of Imladris and he is Lord Elrond’s chief counsellor.”

Glorfindel could take no more of the insinuating conversation, pulling himself from the water. He no longer bothered to take care with concealing his eavesdropping. He pulled his robe around him and sprinted from the room, not caring what others thought of his odd behaviour. He forced the heavy door shut behind him and fell onto his bed, letting silent sobs wrack his body. Erestor, his Erestor in the bed of the Celeborn, his Erestor, being caressed by those lecherous hands, his Erestor, being kissed by those poisonous lips, his Erestor, being taken by another…

“NO!” Glorfindel sat up, anger pulsing through his veins as he grabbed a pillow and let his anger flow from his fists into it. “No, no, no!!!” He threw it across the room, barely hearing the soft thud as it fell to the floor. “He is mine! You cannot have him!”

“Lord Glorfindel? What is the matter?”

Glorfindel yelped and shot around, his robe peeling from one side of his body with a rip. He looked at Thranduil, confused and then at his disrobed chest, flustered and embarrassed. “My… Ah…King Thranduil!” Glorfindel blurted out. “What are you doing here?” He tried unsuccessfully to pull his robe back over his shoulder.

“I sent a maid for you when you did not come to my chambers as we agreed.”

Glorfindel’s clouded mind finally let him understand. “We were supposed to dine together…” he whispered.

Thranduil nodded, his green eyes concerned. “The maid said she heard you yelling. I came to find out why.”

“It does not matter.” Glorfindel dropped his red eyes from view. He felt the bed dip beneath a new weight and glanced over to find Thranduil sitting just behind him.

“You are my guest, and as long as you are in my kingdom, training my warriors, I shall worry about you.”

Glorfindel felt warm hands drawing his split robe back over him.

“Come. You are in no state to be left alone tonight. ” Thranduil pulled Glorfindel to his feet and guided him to the door before any words of protest could leave the elf lord’s mouth. Thranduil guided him along a series of deserted passageways to his own chambers. Glorfindel was grateful for the seclusion of the king’s chambers.

Thranduil soon joined him, standing beside him, having set a fire to warm the large room. “A maid shall bring you fresh clothes. Now come, you are sopping wet.” Thranduil led Glorfindel to a seat he had placed in front of the roaring fire.

“You are too kind to me, Thranduil.”

“Nonsense. You are a sweet, kind individual. You deserve all the kind attention in the world.”

Glorfindel’s cheeks blushed a soft pink.

“Your face has gone a most delicate colour, my lord.” Thanduil’s voice sounded throatily in Glorfindel’s ear.

“It is merely the heat from the fire.”

“Whatever the cause, you are even more attractive than usual.” Thranduil’s words escaped his mouth before he realised what they were. “And it seems the wine I had with my meal has had a greater effect on my tongue than I would wish.” He picked up a small comb from beside his bed and began running it gently through the damp hair. “A maid shall bring you fresh clothes shortly. I do not want you catching a chill because of your present state.”

"You are too kind to me, Thranduil.” Glorfindel murmured, his mind still swirling distractedly with thoughts of Erestor.

Thranduil tended to the wet elf in front of him, gently easing the knots from the wet hair as it dried slowly in the heat of the fire. He felt the slight shaking of the broad shoulders beneath his hands, but held his tongue, continuing to comb the golden tresses before him. He frowned with worry when he felt the shaking begin to intensify. He replaced the comb and moved to kneel in front of the warrior. “Glorfindel, you worry me. Please, tell me what is wrong. We have grown close in the months that you have been here. I would hope you trust me with what ails you so.”

Glorfindel shook his head sadly. “Your words are kind, dear king. But there is nothing in this world that can help me.”

“Will you not even tell me the problem? At least ease your burden by sharing it with me.”

“I would not seek to trouble you with my problems.” Glorfindel replied quietly.

“I ask for you to trouble me with them. I will not see any friend of mine in pain. And you are obviously hurting, Glorfindel.” Thranduil’s strong hands took Glorfindel’s twisting ones in his own. “You are cold and you are in pain, my friend. And neither of those is a good thing.” He took Glorfindel’s arm gently and slowly helped him to his feet. “Come, I think a rest will do you good.”

Glorfindel shook of the guiding arm. “No! I will not rest. Rest will do me no good. I will die if I dream the thoughts I think.” Images danced through his mind of his lover in the arms of the silver-haired lord of Lothlórien.

“Please, tell me what troubles you so, dear Glorfindel.” Thranduil allowed the golden-haired elf to sit down in front of the fire, his knees drawn to his chest, his chest still shaking. “I shall bring you one of my robes to wear until your own arrive. I will not have you freeze in your own, torn garments.”

“Your generosity is much appreciated, but completely unnecessary.” Glorfindel murmured.

“Nonsense. I will not hear another word of protest, Glorfindel.” Thranduil knelt beside him, a heavy robe draped over one arm. “Here. Stand and I shall help you.” Gently, Thranduil eased the split robe from the strong body before him. He bit back a sigh at the well-formed body before him, sliding his own, thick robe onto Glorfindel’s cold body. “You are shivering, my golden lord. Come my friend, you are obviously upset. You really would do well to rest.”

“I told you before, I will not rest.”

“Then will you not tell me what would trouble your sleep if you did so?”

Glorfindel sighed, wrapping his arms around his chest. He had little to lose by telling Thranduil his worries. “It is my lover, my partner. It was in the bathhouse I heard some of your elves talking. They have just returned from Lothlórien and were talking about their observations, joking about Lord Celeborn’s… antics. And then they referred to a visitor. An advisor who I *know* to be my lover. They spoke of the Lord’s behaviour in regards to him…” Glorfindel trailed off, his voice catching in his throat. “I am sorry, King Thranduil. I should not burden you with my problems. They are my personal issues, they are not your concern.”

“You are here at my request to aid me and my kingdom. Your problems are my concern whilst you are here. I cannot have you ill or not at your best if you are to help me.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “Do not worry yourself with my woes.”

Thranduil pulled Glorfindel to his feet and guided him over to the bed, seating himself on the edge and wrapping an arm around the shivering shoulders. “I cannot force you to talk to me, but I encourage you to. I would have thought we had grown close enough to share at least a few personal issues.”

Glorfindel sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly, knowing that the king was right, but struggling to find the words to explain his feelings. “I feel so guilty, yet so angry. He has betrayed me, yet I knew of Lord Celeborn’s reputation before he left, yet did not warn him. I foolishly hoped that he would not fall prey to his charms, but I myself know from experience that that is impossible. I feel so betrayed and I do not know how to go about ridding myself of this feeling.”

“I say doubt is only formed with reason, Glorfindel. Perhaps you have always doubted that your lover could remain true to you. How many chances has he had to stray in your time together?”

Glorfindel sat silently for a moment, thinking. “Few. Very few. We work together and we live together. He has little opportunity to stray from me without me knowing.” He admitted quietly, wringing his hands.

“Then perhaps it is for the best.”

“No! It is not! If he must betray me like this, then could he not tell me himself? Could he not finish with me before beginning his exploits elsewhere? He left me to find out from some gossipy warrior in the bathhouse!” Without thinking, Glorfindel launched himself at Thranduil, sobbing into his shoulder.

“Do not trust those you do not know, Glorfindel. Trust your heart. What does it tell you?”

“It says he would not betray me as I think, but yet I still cannot believe it.”

“Then I can be of little help. That decision has to come from you, from your heart Glorfindel. You are the one who must face the consequences of the actions you take. ”

Glorfindel sighed, his face remaining buried in the king’s broad, velvet-clad shoulder, his mind turning over the words. “You are right, my friend. It is I who must face the consequences.” With that, he raised his damp face from Thranduil’s shoulder and pressed his lips against the red ones in front of him.

Thranduil pulled away quickly, his green eyes wide and startled. “Glorfindel… Please… Explain your actions…”

“If my lover can see fit to betray me with another, then surely I can do the same?”

“I will not allow you to use me in this way!” Thranduil stood up, anger flashing on his face. “I merely wanted to be a friend to you in a time of need, not a means for you to even the score against your devious lover!”

"I do not seek to even any score, my dear Thranduil. I seek pleasure in the arms of another. And it is your arms I wish to seek that pleasure in.” Glorfindel slid to the edge of the bed, dropping Thranduil’s robe from his shoulders and exposing a smooth plain of creamy skin. “Do you not find me attractive? In all these months, have you never once thought of taking me to your bed? Of making me your own?” Glorfindel reclined slightly, his sapphire eyes sparkling with lusty questions and eagerness. His golden hair spilled over his bare shoulder, falling like silken threads. Thranduil swallowed, feeling his stomach twisting in knots as his blood warmed in his veins, spreading through his body like wildfire.

“Well?” Glorfindel rose to his feet, his fluid movements transfixing Thranduil. “Surely you cannot say that you have *never* thought about taking me.” Glorfindel stood before the king, glancing up at him from under dark lashes. “Not even once?”

Thranduil closed his eyes, trying to block the heavenly image before him. He licked his lips, taking deep breaths to try and calm his pounding heart. “Perhaps…” The words finally slipped from his lips as a hoarse whisper.

A smile spread across Glorfindel’s lips. “I hope you will not mind if I take that as an affirmation of my suspicions.” He leaned in once again, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to Thranduil’s lips, smiling inwardly as the king did not pull away the second time around. He broke the kiss, glazing into the darkening green eyes. “I take it this means you have changed your mind?”

Thranduil nodded dumbly, pushing aside the feeling that he should not be doing this with Glorfindel, that he would regret it when it was over. He came back to reality with a thud, as he felt his back hit the soft mattress of his bed. He felt his hips pinned to the soft coverings and glanced up to find them pinned under the attractive weight of the shining seneschal. “I am sure you are not accustomed to being in this position, my king, but I am the instigator, and as such, I shall be the one who takes the lead. Long fingers made quick work of the fastenings on Thranduil’s robe, pushing it back, exposing the muscled torso. Glorfindel moved onto all fours, dipping his head and trailing his tongue in a thin, wet path down the smooth chest. To Thranduil, he looked like a wild cat, golden hair framing dark eyes as they fixated on him, their prey.

“Is this to your liking, my emerald-eyed emperor?” Glorfindel’s fingers traced teasing patterns over Thranduil’s bare skin, drawing goose bumps to the surface.

Thranduil shivered involuntarily and managed a small nod as he felt the teasing fingers quickly divest him of the remainder of his attire. He suddenly found his face surrounded by a curtain of silken, gold tresses and indigo eyes boring into his.

“You will be mine before long.” Glorfindel whispered the words into Thranduil’s pointed ear as he chuckled softly, pleased at the second shiver his breathy delivery had elicited. He pulled himself onto his haunches, stripping the robe from his strong frame. He knelt before Thranduil for a moment, allowing the king time to drink the sight before him. “Well?” he asked quietly, “Do you approve?”

Thranduil nodded mutely, his eyes wandering slowly over the well-muscled chest. He most certainly approved of the sight before him, although he was still having trouble shaking the feeling that he would regret bedding Glorfindel. Pushing the unsettling thoughts aside, he slid his hands over the firm ripples on the pale stomach. He caught the hitch in the muscles and the smile that flashed across the angular face. He let his hands wander down, resting lightly on the slender waist before bringing his legs around it and flipping the warrior onto his back unexpectedly. “Only one has taken me as you propose to. And I swore they would be the only one to do so.” He whispered into the delicate ear beneath him. Strong hands reached up to flip him back, but Thranduil caught them. “No, Glorfindel. I will not allow you.”

“And I will not allow you to make a woman out of me, Thranduil.”

“Believe me, Glorfindel, I will not take you like I would take any woman. No woman would withstand the ravishment I will give you.” He leered down at the smooth face encircled by a silken golden halo. “You are stirring feelings in me that no-one has stirred in many years, Glorfindel.” He whispered softly. “I have not felt this aroused and…and…” Thranduil fought to find the right word. “Animalistic… in a long time.” He leant down and captured the red lips in a long, fierce kiss. “You are bringing this passion out in me, this long restrained, carnal lust.”

“And it is I who shall reap the rewards of it, my Lord.” Glorfindel smiled up at him, returning the leer as he swept his hands over Thranduil’s strong legs.

Thranduil caught the wandering hands and guided them, moving them to stroke him. “Ai… Now that is better.” He sighed as Glorfindel continued the smooth, even strokes of his own volition. “If I did not know better, I would swear you had been my lover before. You know exactly what touch to use…” he breathed.

Glorfindel smiled and added quietly. “I simply do what I know brings please to my lover.”

Thranduil barely felt the butterflies of worry twitching in his stomach as his forceful release came all over the warrior’s hand. “Ai… It has been so long.”

Glorfindel smiled. “I can tell. Does your release at the hands of another feel good?” He purred softly, teasingly licking a pearly drop from his fingers.

Thranduil merely sighed and nodded, allowing Glorfindel to push him back down onto the bed and kiss him forcefully. His mind was fogged with lust and rapidly falling into a state of relaxation. He allowed the golden-haired elf to press kisses all over his body, his mind lingering between coherent thought and lust-clouded relaxation. The sound of a throaty chuckle from Glorfindel brought him back to reality. “Why do you laugh my golden-haired lord?”

“Because I could have taken you then and you would not have realised what I was doing.” Blue eyes smiled wickedly in return.

Thranduil flicked a golden-eyebrow into an amused arch. “Is that so? I can assure you that you would have found yourself on your back before you had a chance to enter me.”

Glorfindel flipped Thranduil underneath him once again and pressed himself against his body, moving against him very slightly. “Are you sure of that?” he whispered quietly into Thranduil’s ear.

Thranduil restrained himself for a moment, allowing Glorfindel to tease him. Slowly, he turned his head around, glancing over his shoulder at Glorfindel. He let a smile creep slowly over his face. “Certain.” He replied, his voice low and deep. He wrapped his arms around Glorfindel backwards, rolling him onto his back and quickly flipping himself over and up onto his haunches. He smirked down into the surprised blue eyes. “Are you sure?”

Glorfindel smiled with amused defeat. “Take me, Thranduil. You have won, come and claim your prize.” He spread his legs beneath the king and raised an eyebrow. “Well… I’m waiting to be claimed.”

Thranduil smiled and moved against Glorfindel. “Well you shall have to wait a bit longer then, because I plan to take my time in claiming my prize.” He scooped one of Glorfindel’s legs over his shoulder, pressing down against him, one hand massaging the underside of the smooth thigh, the other dipping into a bowl built into the post of the curved wooden bed head, his fingers coming away laden with a smooth, almost waxy, vanilla-scented balm. He slowly rubbed it into both his hands, before rubbing small circles onto the firm, round muscles of Glorfindel’s rear, intensifying his movements as he was rewarded with small, soft purrs from the warrior’s red lips. “Glorfindel… Glorfindel, look at me.”

Glorfindel fixed his gaze unsteadily on the elf atop him and merely mewled in response, trying to subtly shift his body under Thranduil’s, desperate to feel those fingers inside him.

“Don’t look away. I shall stop if you do.” Thranduil whispered into his ear, chuckling as Glorfindel groaned in passionate protest. Slowly, he worked his fingers in ever-increasing circles, eventually brushing over Glorfindel’s tight entrance with each passing circle. Slowly, he eased one balm-slicked finger inside him, twisting and curling it, feeling his own desires growing as Glorfindel’s moans grew louder and more wanton. Finally, he coated his own arousal in the same balm, positioning himself tantalisingly close to Glorfindel, grinning at the pleading expression on his bedfellow’s elegant face before pressing forward, his body shuddering at the sensations of Glorfindel’s inner heat and the wanton noises spilling from his panting lips. As he began to move, he let his eyes close, his body moving to its own rhythm, of its own volition, feeling the rise and fall of the pulses in his lover’s body and responding unconsciously to them. All too soon, he could feel his own climax approaching, and from the sounds that Glorfindel emitted that drifted into his ears, Thranduil knew that he was not far off either. Mere moments later, through his lust-fogged mind, Thranduil faintly heard the desperate cries of Glorfindel as he pushed him over the edge and with another thrust, hie found himself crying out in the same manner, before collapsing gently on top of the sweat-slicked torso of the panting warrior.

As he moved from his sticky position, a thought flashed into his mind; a question he knew he should not ask, but that he could not stop himself asking. “Glorfindel…” he asked quietly, moving onto his back, his breathing gradually returning to it’s normal pace. “You spoke of your lover’s betrayal… But you never spoke his name. Who is it that has hurt you so much?”

Glorfindel sighed, pleasure and sleep overcoming him. His eyes fell closed and he murmured quietly, “Erestor…”