The Elven SLASH Plotbunny from Mandos by ~Zhie~ says:
It all started when: Elrohir
went to: Gondor
and saw: Glorfindel
who was: smirking at him
Number of people who read it
falls in love with it and writes the sequel 5,292


Secrets on the Terrace


Evening was falling as the Slayer leaned against the balustrade
that overlooked the lower six levels of Minas Tirith. The rising
moon picked silvery highlights from his golden hair, blowing
loose and free behind him in the cooling night breeze. He
sighed, his keen eyes picking out the many pairs of lovers who
hid in the shadows below, believing they were alone and
unwatched, as they stole kisses.

Always it had been this way.always alone.always the watcher.
Another sigh escaped his full lips, as he allowed himself a rare,
brief moment of self-pity. Since his reincarnation, when he had
returned and found his inclinations had changed, he had chosen
to remain alone. Straightening, his tossed back his golden
mane, his face tightened into its usual mask of haughty
indifference conjured instantly at the sound of soft footfalls
behind him.

Turning he watched Elrohir approach him, the young Elf
appearing out of the shadows like a wraith, seemingly made of
the darkness itself. Only his skin glowed with light - his hair, his
eyes, even his clothing itself were the rich and layered hues of
night. Appreciation of his form showed in Glorfindel's eyes even
as his lips formed his hallmark smirk.

"Good Eve, Lord Glorfindel," Elrohir said, nodding his head
respectfully as he approached the Slayer.

"And to you, my Young Lord," Glorfindel replied, returning the
respectful nod in turn. "What brings you to the terrace at this
hour? I would have thought you hip deep in an Elleth by now."

Elrohir snorted, his grin allowing his teeth to flash white in the
moonlight. "'Tis my brother you think of, Glorfindel, not I."

Glorfindel chuckled, well aware of Elladan's well earned
promiscuous reputation. He turned back to lean against the
balustrade once more, allowing himself to watch the young Elf
Lord through his peripheral vision. Nearly as tall as Glorfindel
himself, Elrohir was of a slighter, but no less firm build, filling out
his tunic and leggings admirably. Ebony hair flowed down his
back in waves, the hair at the crown of his head braided in an
intricate fashion as befitting the son of Elrond. His face, while a
mirror image of his twin's, somehow seemed more mature to
Glorfindel, although still every bit as handsome, with his dark
eyes, high cheekbones, fine, patrician nose, and full lips.

"And you, Glorfindel? Why do I find you here, alone, when just
below us Ellith gnash their teeth and tear their hair at the
absence of the "Golden One?"

Outright laughter bubbled from Glorfindel's lips, a most unusual
sensation for the somber Elf Lord. "You would have me believe
that the fair Ellith wear sackcloth and ashes mourning my
truancy, Elrohir! Surely none have missed my presence to such
an extent!"

"They throw themselves from the balustrades, my Lord. Can you
not see their broken bodies dashed upon the stone walkways
below us?" Elrohir replied, careful to keep his features stern,
although he ached to laugh along with Glorfindel. The Slayer's
laughter was a precious commodity, rarely earned, and Elrohir
savored each note.

"Truly, Elrohir, your humor lightens my heart. Would you have me
believe they do less for lack of your attention? Come, we will go
join the others. Perhaps you will yet find an Elleth both
nearsighted and deaf who would dally with you!"

Laughing, but sobering quickly, Elrohir shook his head, declining
the Slayer's offer. "Nay, Glorfindel.I have no ambition to return
as of yet. The night is too beautiful and." Elrohir's voice trailed
off, his newfound familiarity with the Slayer having loosened his
tongue.

"And? And, what, my young Lord?" Glorfindel asked softly, his
turquoise eyes pinning Elrohir to the spot.

"And.and." Elrohir stuttered, unable to look away from
Glorfindel piercing gaze, yet unwilling to complete his thought.
Never had he come so close to showing his true feelings, and
he felt as though he were at the brink of a precipice with one foot
dangling over the edge into space. He was certain that the
smallest breeze would send him toppling down into the abyss.

Glorfindel saw the fear in the young Peredhil's indigo eyes, as
well as the longing that matched his own. Again, that most
familiar smirk found its way to his lips, as he gently cupped
Elrohir's chin in the palm of his hand. Leaning forward, mindful
that for once he was about to become the watched rather than
the watcher, he pressed his lips softly to the young Lord's.

Pulling away, he whispered, "Come, Elrohir.we must rejoin the
celebration, for 'tis not every day that your sister marries.but I
will promise you this - the one I take to my bed tonight will not be
one who would throw themselves off a balustrade to gain my
attention, but one who would seek me out in the darkness, and
endeavor to cheer me. Besides," he added with a soft chuckle,
"it would be a terrible impropriety for anymore Ellith to fall to their
deaths, would it not?"

A smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, relief flooding his
soul as his secret was discovered, accepted, and, it seemed,
returned, Elrohir walked side by side with the Slayer heading
toward the Hall of the King's House. As they entered the room,
he glanced up at the tall, blonde warrior beside him, whispering,
"'Tis not the fall that kills them, Glorfindel.'tis the hard stop at
the end!"

Glorfindel's laughter burst through his lips, catching him
unaware, as every head in the Hall of the King's House turned
toward him, eyebrows raised, jaws agape.

Elrohir looked straight ahead, affecting not to notice, but the
smirk on his handsome face said otherwise.

END