Fic: All I want (1/1) Erestor/Glorfindel NC-17
Title: All I Want
Author: Aglarien
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, except for Erestor’s cat. I promise to return Master Tolkien’s elves when I'm done playing with them.
Warnings: AU.
Beta: Phyncke
Summary: Written for the My Slashy Valentine fic exchange; Erestor the scholar pursues Glorfindel
Tinnu hopped across the floor in that sideways four-pawed bounce unique to kittens, coming to a stop only when tiny claws could avail themselves of the ladder supplied by Elrond’s lush robes.
“You are supposed to be having a day of rest,” Erestor chided as he set the tray of drinks he carried down on the library table.
“This is resting.” Elrond smiled up at his chief counselor and best friend. He extricated Tinnu’s claws from his robes and sat the purring black ball of fur on his lap to scratch the kitten’s ears. “He is growing.”
Erestor poured two glasses from the pitcher on the tray - clear water, cooled with ice from Imladris’ deep icehouse and seasoned with the juice of lemons and clover honey - and handed one to his Lord. “Yes, and getting into more trouble every day. He is going to be a lovely cat when he’s grown, though. I can already tell.”
“It’s good we can think of such simple pleasures as having a pet again,” Elrond said quietly, looking around the newly constructed library. “It has been many years since we have had that luxury.”
They had weathered the fall of Eregion and founded this haven, and only in the past few years of peace had they been able to devote time and resources to a library and the newly completed counsel rooms. Mundane things like housing, kitchens, healing wings, tanneries, cellars, stables, and barns had taken precedence. He and Erestor had spent the past several months with scores of workers, on everything from the laying of the elaborately tiled floor to overseeing the construction of desks for the scribes. Quantities of ink had been made, and dozens of quills sharpened. Craftsman labored over the time-consuming task of making the fine parchment the scribes would need. Their city had blossomed as peace spread over the valley, and its residents settled into their chosen professions. Stonemasons and weavers, farmers and cooks, scribes and farriers - Imladris had need of them all.
Erestor took his kitten from Elrond, allowing the Peredhel to continue unpacking the cartons of books they had been storing for years in the cool, dry cellars, away from anything that could harm the valuable tomes. He stood and looked out one of the large windows, across the newly paved courtyard to the training fields where the golden-haired Glorfindel and his soldiers were holding their archery games, his long fingers absentmindedly moving through Tinnu’s fur. “We should go out and watch the men in their games. Cheer for our favorites and all that.”
“And I think I know who your favorite will be,” Elrond replied with a wicked grin. “Is he coming around at all?”
Erestor shook his head. “Not a wit. The dunderhead. I wonder if the Valar forgot to give his brains back when they recreated him. Either that or they forgot to give him any measure of the finer urges and emotions in life, electing to create simply a warrior this time around.”
Elrond stifled a chuckle but said, “Don’t be irreverent, my friend. I’m sure the Valar knew exactly what they were doing. Honestly, Erestor, you just need to be more blatant in demonstrating your desires to him since he hasn’t picked up on your more subtle gestures.” Erestor had been in love with Glorfindel since the day the reborn elf had arrived from across the sea, shepherding hundreds of elves he had gathered along the way and bringing them to the safe haven of Imladris.
Erestor cocked an eyebrow at his friend. “Have you any suggestions?” His own plans had availed him nothing; perhaps he’d have better luck with some of Elrond’s ideas. At this point, he was willing to try anything to get Glorfindel to notice him as more than his friend, a scholar and counselor. Erestor was quite sure that Elrond was not the only one to see how the blond affected him. The returned elf made such a stirring in Erestor’s loins that he was sure others had noticed - but Glorfindel never had.
“For a start, leave me Tinnu for company, and then go and take Glorfindel a nice refreshing glass of this lemon water,” Elrond said. “I’m sure he’d appreciate it. Arrange for a lunch for two in your quarters for a bit later - fresh salmon from the river would be nice - and after the games, simply tell Glorfindel he is joining you for lunch in your rooms. Don’t ask him. Tell him. What you do when you get him there is up to you.” One of Elrond’s eyebrows rose suggestively and he smiled. “Be bold, Erestor. He knows the cultured and courteous scholar; show him what an adventurous partner you can be. Glorfindel is still too full of life to be quiet for long.”
Erestor started, one brow raised as if a mate to Elrond’s. Was that it? Was he too sedate for Glorfindel’s tastes? Well, he wasn’t always as he was now. Time and the tides of passing centuries had carved him into the elf he was, but he still retained other skills. Perhaps it was time to bring them out again, if only for today. Erestor was quite content being a quiet scholar and had no desire to turn the clocks back. Giving Tinnu one last pat, he handed the cat to Elrond, poured another glass of the cool drink, and headed outside, across the courtyard to the training field.
“A warm day,” Erestor said, handing Glorfindel the glass. “I thought you might need this since you seem to be the only one who has been out here since morning.”
“I didn’t know you were watching,” Glorfindel said, taking the drink gratefully. “My thanks.”
“It has been a good while since I have engaged in an archery challenge, but watching your guards has peaked my interest. I will return in a few minutes when I have changed into more appropriate attire.” Erestor glanced down at his long robes. He began to walk away toward the house but glanced back over his shoulder. “I do hope you can handle being bested by a mere counselor,” he said, unable to keep a smile from appearing on his handsome face.
Glorfindel stood, mouth agape, watching Erestor walk away.
Erestor returned to the main house and headed to the cavernous kitchens where he arranged for lunch to be waiting in his rooms in two hours time. Nothing too heavy - baked fish with crisp vegetables, leafy greens sprinkled with oil and lemon juice, and ripe berries with honey for dessert.
Ten minutes later, Erestor was once more crossing the courtyard, his dark, elegant robes gone. In their place, he wore a white shirt under a leather vest, leather trousers, and high leather boots. A quiver full of arrows was strapped to his back, and in his hand he carried his favorite bow. He stopped near where Glorfindel stood watching his men shoot, surveying the layout and distance of the targets.
One target was far too close for Erestor to even consider. The one currently being used by the archers was far enough away to present most elves with a challenge, but Erestor’s eyes fixed on the third one, farther afield.
If Glorfindel was surprised to have Erestor bring him a drink, he was even more surprised to see the quiet counselor dressed in form-fitting trousers and vest that showed off the elf’s surprisingly muscled and shapely figure to perfection. Glorfindel cleared his throat. “Are you ready, Erestor?” he asked, taking up his bow and quiver.
Erestor smiled broadly. This was going to be fun. It had been a long, long time since he’d had indulged in such enjoyment. Elrond was right. It was time for him to assert himself. He nodded. “Please, will you shoot first?”
Glorfindel bowed. He couldn’t believe Erestor was really doing this. Plucking an arrow from his quiver, he notched it and drew back his bow, barely stopping to take aim before shooting the arrow into the exact center of the middle target.
“Tsk, tsk.” Erestor couldn’t resist a glance at the golden-haired lord. Ignoring the target Glorfindel had chosen, with nearly seamless movement, he drew an arrow, notched it, and drew back his bow. The arrow raced through the air toward the farthest target, embedding itself just slightly off center. “Hmm. I am obviously out of practice. The next one will be better,” he said.
Glorfindel quirked an eyebrow. So the counselor was skilled with the bow. But not as skilled as he was, Glorfindel thought. Glorfindel’s next arrow hit the far target, dead center.
“Well done,” Erestor said. He moved to stand farther away from the target than where Glorfindel had shot from. In a blur of movement he loosed his arrow. It shot through the air, landing dead center in the target, splitting Glorfindel’s arrow in two.
A collective gasp arose from Glorfindel’s men.
“Well done, Erestor,” Glorfindel said, moving back farther, lengthening the distance to the target to beyond where Erestor had stood. Two arrows rent the air in rapid succession, as Glorfindel’s first hit the target dead center and his second split the first. He looked at Erestor as if to say, ‘Top that, Counselor’.
The watching archers cheered their commander as Erestor moved back. Erestor knew he walked a thin line. His love of a challenge made him want to show Glorfindel how good an archer he was, but he was doing this to peak Glorfindel’s interest, not alienate him. If he bested Glorfindel, it would embarrass the commander in front of his men, and that was just not acceptable if he wanted to win Glorfindel’s affection.
Erestor moved back to the distance Glorfindel had fired from. He notched his arrow, and in a blur of movement, it sped through the air - landing alongside Glorfindel’s, just off center. Erestor turned to Glorfindel and smiled. “It seems you have won, my friend. I am out of practice. Perhaps you will let me train with you sometime?”
Glorfindel grinned and clasped Erestor’s arm. “You have much skill as an archer, Erestor! I had no idea,” he said. “Of course you may train with me. You have been hiding your talents from me.”
Erestor crooked an eyebrow. “I have many talents you do not know of,” he said with a sly smile. “Archery is but one of them.”
Glorfindel laughed heartily at Erestor’s words. Further conversation was halted when one of Glorfindel’s men came up and challenged the counselor, and Erestor spent the next hour happily besting all who challenged him.
“Come, Glorfindel,” Erestor said when the gamed finished and the men dispersed to find their midday meal and engage in other pursuits. “Lunch is waiting for us in my quarters and you are my guest.”
“I am?” A large grin appeared on Glorfindel’s face. The quiet counselor had intrigued him for years. “You are full of surprises today, Erestor.”
The walk to Erestor’s chambers was not long, and when they arrived, the counselor was happy to see the servants had laid an inviting table with their lunch, including a bottle of wine that would complement the fish. After the elves washed the dust of the day from their hands, they sat down at the table to enjoy the repast.
“This is delightful,” Glorfindel said, taking a bite of the tempting looking fish. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“I thought it time we get to know each other better,” Erestor said. “We have worked together side-by-side for many years now, and I suspect there is much about you that I don’t know.”
“Anything particular you would like to know?” Glorfindel asked.
“I confess, there is one thing,” Erestor replied. “How is it that you never took a mate? At least history does not record that you had one.” Erestor held his breath, hoping the question was not too bold.
“Things in Gondolin were…different,” Glorfindel said. “Much more regimented. The king’s court and council were very formal. Marriages among the head of the houses were largely arranged - or if not, at least there were firm suggestions from Turgon. I did not care for his suggestion.” He winked at Erestor.
Erestor’s eyebrows rose. Did Glorfindel just wink at him? “Whom did he choose for you, if I may ask?”
“One of Duilin’s daughters.”
“The House of the Swallow. Was she not comely?” Erestor asked.
“She was comely enough for a maiden…were I interested in maidens,” Glorfindel replied with a sly smile.
Erestor nodded. His insides were in turmoil, but the quiet scholar asserted himself. “Ah,” he said. “I, too, prefer the company of my own gender. I find hard muscle and strong arms much more appealing than the soft flesh of maidens.”
“And you have never mated?” Glorfindel asked, finishing off his fish and vegetables and leaning back in his chair, wine glass in hand. “Surely there must have been many who pursued you.”
“I have had a few admirers, but none I would want to spend the rest of my life with,” Erestor said, taking up his own glass of wine and settling into the discussion. “It is far safer to wait for one’s soulmate than to settle for second best, don’t you think?”
“Indeed,” Glorfindel replied. “And what kind of person do you see as your soulmate, Erestor? What kind of elf appeals to you?”
Erestor looked at Glorfindel, sizing up the elf. “I will tell you one thing that appeals to me for each that you share with me.”
“Done,” Glorfindel said eagerly. “You go first.”
“He must be intelligent and wise,” Erestor said. “I could not bear to have a mate that I could not hold an intelligent conversation with. Your turn.”
“He must be kind and concerned about others. He has to be kind to animals as well. I can’t stand people who have no consideration or empathy for others, or those who stand by and watch another suffer without doing anything.”
Erestor nodded, agreeing with Glorfindel’s choice. “He must be skilled with weaponry, and able to defend himself and Imladris.”
“He must have a sense of humor but never act the fool,” Glorfindel said. “He must find joy in life and in my company.”
“He must be tall,” Erestor said. “I can’t imagine having always to bend down to kiss my mate. My poor back would be the worse for it!”
Glorfindel laughed. “Do you realize we have just described Lord Elrond?”
Erestor barked out a laugh. “We have indeed, and yet it is not his type that appeals to me at all!”
“All right then, more to the point,” Glorfindel said. “I prefer someone who is slender but muscular. Not a brawny warrior, if you know what I mean.”
“I do, not that I agree,” Erestor said. “I want someone strong and muscular - a bit larger than I am, but not so large that I cannot easily reach my arms around him. Someone whose lips I can reach without straining my neck.”
Glorfindel laughed. “You like your comfort.”
“And why not?” Erestor smiled. “Your turn.”
“I would prefer someone who is not a warrior. I would not like my mate to be out on patrol when I am at home, and I fear I would worry. I think someone of the scholarly vein would suit me nicely.”
“Ah, there we differ,” Erestor said. “I would like a strong warrior. I like to be held in strong arms.” He shivered. His voice dropped and he leaned over the table to whisper, “There’s just something about being held by a lean, muscled warrior with strong, broad hands that makes me go weak in the knees.”
“You’ve had experience of that then?” Glorfindel asked, putting his glass down and leaning towards Erestor.
“Well, no, not really,” Erestor admitted, “but often in my dreams. The warrior of my dreams kisses awfully well, too.”
“Ah.” Glorfindel quietly cleared his throat. “Yes, that’s important. He has to be a good kisser…among other things. Someone who really knows how to kiss and has long, slender, clever fingers. Clever fingers are a must.”
Erestor’s hand moved across the table, his long, slender fingers creeping atop Glorfindel’s broad hand and making tantalizingly soft swirls on it. “You like long, slender fingers?”
“I do,” Glorfindel said huskily. “You like strong, broad hands?”
“I do,” Erestor whispered back. He took a breath and jumped off the proverbial cliff. “Do you think we could try a kiss?”
“I think I would like to try that,” Glorfindel said. His fingers gripped Erestor’s. Without releasing hands, the two elves stood and walked around the table to face each other.
Erestor raised their joined hands and rested them on Glorfindel’s chest. The fingers of his free hand gently touched Glorfindel’s face as they moved closer. He tilted his head until their lips brushed, moved together, and captured each other, experimenting, testing, feeling.
“I did not have to bend my back,” Erestor whispered as they separated.
“No neck strain?” Glorfindel asked.
“No, no neck strain.” Erestor’s knees grew weak as Glorfindel released his hand to draw the counselor closer, holding him within strong arms. Powerful, broad hands roamed Erestor’s slender back. “Again,” Erestor said. This time he opened to Glorfindel when the warrior kissed him, and tongues at first cautiously touched and retreated before approaching again.
Glorfindel shivered as Erestor’s fingers moved through his hair and then down his face. He moaned at the sweet taste of Erestor’s mouth before pulling the counselor’s tongue into his mouth and sucking on it. Kissing Erestor was unlike anything he had experienced before. The elf was intoxicating. His hands rose to frame Erestor’s face and he deepened the kiss even more. “Oh, Valar, I want you,” he moaned as they finally drew apart.
“You do?” Erestor’s breath came out in little pants. “Oh, thank goodness. “I’ve been longing for you to say that. You have been very obtuse, you know.” As he scolded Glorfindel, Erestor’s clever fingers began unlacing the blond’s tunic.
“I have?” Glorfindel asked incredulously as he pushed Erestor’s leather vest off of his shoulders and started on the laces of the counselor’s shirt. “Are you sure you want to do this, Erestor?”
“I am very sure,” Erestor said, disposing of Glorfindel’s tunic and starting on his shirt. His knees grew weak again. “You?”
“It’s very strange, but yes, I’m sure. My heart is telling me this is right. You are right. Kiss me again.”
Five minutes later, the two elves had managed to rid themselves of boots and garments, and lay entwined in Erestor’s bed, devouring each other’s mouths as hands roamed the incongruity of soft, muscled flesh.
“Have you done this before,” Glorfindel asked, on the verge of losing all control, aching to be inside this glorious elf in his arms.
“No, you?” Erestor asked in return.
“No, not in this life nor the last.” Glorfindel peered around the room, his eyes searching. “Have you oil or something?” Neither might have had experience of this particular thing, but then neither of them were naïve youngsters and both knew the way of things.
Erestor stretched across Glorfindel, making the warrior moan, and fished a small bottle out of the drawer on his bedside table. He handed the bottle to Glorfindel. “You first, I think.”
“Oh, thank the gods,” Glorfindel said. He was so hard he hurt. He took the bottle and coated his fingers, restraining himself as he prepared Erestor as gently as possible. For all it was their first time together, both of them seemed to want to race to the conclusion. There would be time for unhurried exploration later. “Tell me if I hurt you or it doesn’t feel good. They say the first time can hurt.”
Erestor resisted making a snort at Glorfindel’s words. “I doubt it at our age,” he said, moving to make it easier for Glorfindel to get to his important parts. “I rather think it’s going to be wonderful. Like drinking a bottle of carefully preserved, aged wine.”
“You are a very fine vintage, Erestor,” Glorfindel murmured.
Erestor found the bottle where Glorfindel had dropped it and snatched it up. He uncorked it and poured the oil over his fingers, uncaring that some of it dripped onto his best bedsheets. Glorfindel’s fingers were moving inside of him, and he wanted more, his ass clenching the digits in anticipation of their replacement by Glorfindel’s long, thick shaft. He wrapped his oily fingers around Glorfindel’s penis, moaning as he stroked the length. “In me, now,” Erestor murmured.
Glorfindel needed no further encouragement. Erestor’s legs were pushed up against his chest, and he carefully replaced his fingers with his hardened cock. The tightness surrounding him nearly made him lose all control and he breathed unevenly. “All right?”
Erestor nodded, unable to utter a coherent word. He’d been prepared for the burn, the pressure. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the feeling of complete rightness. He lifted his hips, trying to get Glorfindel to move.
The sweet, needy sounds leaving Erestor’s lips were driving Glorfindel crazy. Drawing out of the tight channel elicited incoherent mewls, and the slow glide back inside resulted in something resembling purrs. The two moved together like they had been lovers for centuries. The rhythm grew faster and more frenzied until their lovemaking reached its predestined conclusion, Glorfindel chanting Erestor’s name and Erestor gasping as his fingers pressed into Glorfindel’s arms.
Glorfindel found the strength to roll to his side and pull Erestor into his arms. “Erestor,” he whispered. “Are you all right? Was it all that you wanted?”
Erestor rolled over so he could gaze upon Glorfindel’s face. A smile spread across his fair features and his fingers moved along Glorfindel’s cheekbones, down to his neck, until he pulled his lover’s face closer so their lips grazed. “You are all I ever wanted, Glorfindel. All I ever need.”
“Does that mean you love me, Erestor?” Glorfindel asked seriously.
“Oh, yes,” Erestor said, his face soft and glowing in the day’s fading light. “Does this mean you love me too?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” Glorfindel whispered in reply, tilting his head to kiss Erestor hungrily. When the kiss had elicited those needy little sounds once again, the warrior lifted his head and looked upon the beautiful face of his lover, wondering over the day’s turn of events that had brought them here to this place of new beginnings. There was no doubt that Erestor had pursued and captured him like prey. Shot through the heart and bagged. His fingers spread through Erestor’s dark hair, down finely shaped cheekbones, fluttered over lips softened by kisses, and came to rest over Erestor’s heart. “All I ever wanted,” he whispered. “All I ever need.” Bending his head once more, he sealed his vow with a kiss.
~the end
Author: Aglarien
Type: FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, except for Erestor’s cat. I promise to return Master Tolkien’s elves when I'm done playing with them.
Warnings: AU.
Beta: Phyncke
Summary: Written for the My Slashy Valentine fic exchange; Erestor the scholar pursues Glorfindel
Tinnu hopped across the floor in that sideways four-pawed bounce unique to kittens, coming to a stop only when tiny claws could avail themselves of the ladder supplied by Elrond’s lush robes.
“You are supposed to be having a day of rest,” Erestor chided as he set the tray of drinks he carried down on the library table.
“This is resting.” Elrond smiled up at his chief counselor and best friend. He extricated Tinnu’s claws from his robes and sat the purring black ball of fur on his lap to scratch the kitten’s ears. “He is growing.”
Erestor poured two glasses from the pitcher on the tray - clear water, cooled with ice from Imladris’ deep icehouse and seasoned with the juice of lemons and clover honey - and handed one to his Lord. “Yes, and getting into more trouble every day. He is going to be a lovely cat when he’s grown, though. I can already tell.”
“It’s good we can think of such simple pleasures as having a pet again,” Elrond said quietly, looking around the newly constructed library. “It has been many years since we have had that luxury.”
They had weathered the fall of Eregion and founded this haven, and only in the past few years of peace had they been able to devote time and resources to a library and the newly completed counsel rooms. Mundane things like housing, kitchens, healing wings, tanneries, cellars, stables, and barns had taken precedence. He and Erestor had spent the past several months with scores of workers, on everything from the laying of the elaborately tiled floor to overseeing the construction of desks for the scribes. Quantities of ink had been made, and dozens of quills sharpened. Craftsman labored over the time-consuming task of making the fine parchment the scribes would need. Their city had blossomed as peace spread over the valley, and its residents settled into their chosen professions. Stonemasons and weavers, farmers and cooks, scribes and farriers - Imladris had need of them all.
Erestor took his kitten from Elrond, allowing the Peredhel to continue unpacking the cartons of books they had been storing for years in the cool, dry cellars, away from anything that could harm the valuable tomes. He stood and looked out one of the large windows, across the newly paved courtyard to the training fields where the golden-haired Glorfindel and his soldiers were holding their archery games, his long fingers absentmindedly moving through Tinnu’s fur. “We should go out and watch the men in their games. Cheer for our favorites and all that.”
“And I think I know who your favorite will be,” Elrond replied with a wicked grin. “Is he coming around at all?”
Erestor shook his head. “Not a wit. The dunderhead. I wonder if the Valar forgot to give his brains back when they recreated him. Either that or they forgot to give him any measure of the finer urges and emotions in life, electing to create simply a warrior this time around.”
Elrond stifled a chuckle but said, “Don’t be irreverent, my friend. I’m sure the Valar knew exactly what they were doing. Honestly, Erestor, you just need to be more blatant in demonstrating your desires to him since he hasn’t picked up on your more subtle gestures.” Erestor had been in love with Glorfindel since the day the reborn elf had arrived from across the sea, shepherding hundreds of elves he had gathered along the way and bringing them to the safe haven of Imladris.
Erestor cocked an eyebrow at his friend. “Have you any suggestions?” His own plans had availed him nothing; perhaps he’d have better luck with some of Elrond’s ideas. At this point, he was willing to try anything to get Glorfindel to notice him as more than his friend, a scholar and counselor. Erestor was quite sure that Elrond was not the only one to see how the blond affected him. The returned elf made such a stirring in Erestor’s loins that he was sure others had noticed - but Glorfindel never had.
“For a start, leave me Tinnu for company, and then go and take Glorfindel a nice refreshing glass of this lemon water,” Elrond said. “I’m sure he’d appreciate it. Arrange for a lunch for two in your quarters for a bit later - fresh salmon from the river would be nice - and after the games, simply tell Glorfindel he is joining you for lunch in your rooms. Don’t ask him. Tell him. What you do when you get him there is up to you.” One of Elrond’s eyebrows rose suggestively and he smiled. “Be bold, Erestor. He knows the cultured and courteous scholar; show him what an adventurous partner you can be. Glorfindel is still too full of life to be quiet for long.”
Erestor started, one brow raised as if a mate to Elrond’s. Was that it? Was he too sedate for Glorfindel’s tastes? Well, he wasn’t always as he was now. Time and the tides of passing centuries had carved him into the elf he was, but he still retained other skills. Perhaps it was time to bring them out again, if only for today. Erestor was quite content being a quiet scholar and had no desire to turn the clocks back. Giving Tinnu one last pat, he handed the cat to Elrond, poured another glass of the cool drink, and headed outside, across the courtyard to the training field.
“A warm day,” Erestor said, handing Glorfindel the glass. “I thought you might need this since you seem to be the only one who has been out here since morning.”
“I didn’t know you were watching,” Glorfindel said, taking the drink gratefully. “My thanks.”
“It has been a good while since I have engaged in an archery challenge, but watching your guards has peaked my interest. I will return in a few minutes when I have changed into more appropriate attire.” Erestor glanced down at his long robes. He began to walk away toward the house but glanced back over his shoulder. “I do hope you can handle being bested by a mere counselor,” he said, unable to keep a smile from appearing on his handsome face.
Glorfindel stood, mouth agape, watching Erestor walk away.
Erestor returned to the main house and headed to the cavernous kitchens where he arranged for lunch to be waiting in his rooms in two hours time. Nothing too heavy - baked fish with crisp vegetables, leafy greens sprinkled with oil and lemon juice, and ripe berries with honey for dessert.
Ten minutes later, Erestor was once more crossing the courtyard, his dark, elegant robes gone. In their place, he wore a white shirt under a leather vest, leather trousers, and high leather boots. A quiver full of arrows was strapped to his back, and in his hand he carried his favorite bow. He stopped near where Glorfindel stood watching his men shoot, surveying the layout and distance of the targets.
One target was far too close for Erestor to even consider. The one currently being used by the archers was far enough away to present most elves with a challenge, but Erestor’s eyes fixed on the third one, farther afield.
If Glorfindel was surprised to have Erestor bring him a drink, he was even more surprised to see the quiet counselor dressed in form-fitting trousers and vest that showed off the elf’s surprisingly muscled and shapely figure to perfection. Glorfindel cleared his throat. “Are you ready, Erestor?” he asked, taking up his bow and quiver.
Erestor smiled broadly. This was going to be fun. It had been a long, long time since he’d had indulged in such enjoyment. Elrond was right. It was time for him to assert himself. He nodded. “Please, will you shoot first?”
Glorfindel bowed. He couldn’t believe Erestor was really doing this. Plucking an arrow from his quiver, he notched it and drew back his bow, barely stopping to take aim before shooting the arrow into the exact center of the middle target.
“Tsk, tsk.” Erestor couldn’t resist a glance at the golden-haired lord. Ignoring the target Glorfindel had chosen, with nearly seamless movement, he drew an arrow, notched it, and drew back his bow. The arrow raced through the air toward the farthest target, embedding itself just slightly off center. “Hmm. I am obviously out of practice. The next one will be better,” he said.
Glorfindel quirked an eyebrow. So the counselor was skilled with the bow. But not as skilled as he was, Glorfindel thought. Glorfindel’s next arrow hit the far target, dead center.
“Well done,” Erestor said. He moved to stand farther away from the target than where Glorfindel had shot from. In a blur of movement he loosed his arrow. It shot through the air, landing dead center in the target, splitting Glorfindel’s arrow in two.
A collective gasp arose from Glorfindel’s men.
“Well done, Erestor,” Glorfindel said, moving back farther, lengthening the distance to the target to beyond where Erestor had stood. Two arrows rent the air in rapid succession, as Glorfindel’s first hit the target dead center and his second split the first. He looked at Erestor as if to say, ‘Top that, Counselor’.
The watching archers cheered their commander as Erestor moved back. Erestor knew he walked a thin line. His love of a challenge made him want to show Glorfindel how good an archer he was, but he was doing this to peak Glorfindel’s interest, not alienate him. If he bested Glorfindel, it would embarrass the commander in front of his men, and that was just not acceptable if he wanted to win Glorfindel’s affection.
Erestor moved back to the distance Glorfindel had fired from. He notched his arrow, and in a blur of movement, it sped through the air - landing alongside Glorfindel’s, just off center. Erestor turned to Glorfindel and smiled. “It seems you have won, my friend. I am out of practice. Perhaps you will let me train with you sometime?”
Glorfindel grinned and clasped Erestor’s arm. “You have much skill as an archer, Erestor! I had no idea,” he said. “Of course you may train with me. You have been hiding your talents from me.”
Erestor crooked an eyebrow. “I have many talents you do not know of,” he said with a sly smile. “Archery is but one of them.”
Glorfindel laughed heartily at Erestor’s words. Further conversation was halted when one of Glorfindel’s men came up and challenged the counselor, and Erestor spent the next hour happily besting all who challenged him.
“Come, Glorfindel,” Erestor said when the gamed finished and the men dispersed to find their midday meal and engage in other pursuits. “Lunch is waiting for us in my quarters and you are my guest.”
“I am?” A large grin appeared on Glorfindel’s face. The quiet counselor had intrigued him for years. “You are full of surprises today, Erestor.”
The walk to Erestor’s chambers was not long, and when they arrived, the counselor was happy to see the servants had laid an inviting table with their lunch, including a bottle of wine that would complement the fish. After the elves washed the dust of the day from their hands, they sat down at the table to enjoy the repast.
“This is delightful,” Glorfindel said, taking a bite of the tempting looking fish. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“I thought it time we get to know each other better,” Erestor said. “We have worked together side-by-side for many years now, and I suspect there is much about you that I don’t know.”
“Anything particular you would like to know?” Glorfindel asked.
“I confess, there is one thing,” Erestor replied. “How is it that you never took a mate? At least history does not record that you had one.” Erestor held his breath, hoping the question was not too bold.
“Things in Gondolin were…different,” Glorfindel said. “Much more regimented. The king’s court and council were very formal. Marriages among the head of the houses were largely arranged - or if not, at least there were firm suggestions from Turgon. I did not care for his suggestion.” He winked at Erestor.
Erestor’s eyebrows rose. Did Glorfindel just wink at him? “Whom did he choose for you, if I may ask?”
“One of Duilin’s daughters.”
“The House of the Swallow. Was she not comely?” Erestor asked.
“She was comely enough for a maiden…were I interested in maidens,” Glorfindel replied with a sly smile.
Erestor nodded. His insides were in turmoil, but the quiet scholar asserted himself. “Ah,” he said. “I, too, prefer the company of my own gender. I find hard muscle and strong arms much more appealing than the soft flesh of maidens.”
“And you have never mated?” Glorfindel asked, finishing off his fish and vegetables and leaning back in his chair, wine glass in hand. “Surely there must have been many who pursued you.”
“I have had a few admirers, but none I would want to spend the rest of my life with,” Erestor said, taking up his own glass of wine and settling into the discussion. “It is far safer to wait for one’s soulmate than to settle for second best, don’t you think?”
“Indeed,” Glorfindel replied. “And what kind of person do you see as your soulmate, Erestor? What kind of elf appeals to you?”
Erestor looked at Glorfindel, sizing up the elf. “I will tell you one thing that appeals to me for each that you share with me.”
“Done,” Glorfindel said eagerly. “You go first.”
“He must be intelligent and wise,” Erestor said. “I could not bear to have a mate that I could not hold an intelligent conversation with. Your turn.”
“He must be kind and concerned about others. He has to be kind to animals as well. I can’t stand people who have no consideration or empathy for others, or those who stand by and watch another suffer without doing anything.”
Erestor nodded, agreeing with Glorfindel’s choice. “He must be skilled with weaponry, and able to defend himself and Imladris.”
“He must have a sense of humor but never act the fool,” Glorfindel said. “He must find joy in life and in my company.”
“He must be tall,” Erestor said. “I can’t imagine having always to bend down to kiss my mate. My poor back would be the worse for it!”
Glorfindel laughed. “Do you realize we have just described Lord Elrond?”
Erestor barked out a laugh. “We have indeed, and yet it is not his type that appeals to me at all!”
“All right then, more to the point,” Glorfindel said. “I prefer someone who is slender but muscular. Not a brawny warrior, if you know what I mean.”
“I do, not that I agree,” Erestor said. “I want someone strong and muscular - a bit larger than I am, but not so large that I cannot easily reach my arms around him. Someone whose lips I can reach without straining my neck.”
Glorfindel laughed. “You like your comfort.”
“And why not?” Erestor smiled. “Your turn.”
“I would prefer someone who is not a warrior. I would not like my mate to be out on patrol when I am at home, and I fear I would worry. I think someone of the scholarly vein would suit me nicely.”
“Ah, there we differ,” Erestor said. “I would like a strong warrior. I like to be held in strong arms.” He shivered. His voice dropped and he leaned over the table to whisper, “There’s just something about being held by a lean, muscled warrior with strong, broad hands that makes me go weak in the knees.”
“You’ve had experience of that then?” Glorfindel asked, putting his glass down and leaning towards Erestor.
“Well, no, not really,” Erestor admitted, “but often in my dreams. The warrior of my dreams kisses awfully well, too.”
“Ah.” Glorfindel quietly cleared his throat. “Yes, that’s important. He has to be a good kisser…among other things. Someone who really knows how to kiss and has long, slender, clever fingers. Clever fingers are a must.”
Erestor’s hand moved across the table, his long, slender fingers creeping atop Glorfindel’s broad hand and making tantalizingly soft swirls on it. “You like long, slender fingers?”
“I do,” Glorfindel said huskily. “You like strong, broad hands?”
“I do,” Erestor whispered back. He took a breath and jumped off the proverbial cliff. “Do you think we could try a kiss?”
“I think I would like to try that,” Glorfindel said. His fingers gripped Erestor’s. Without releasing hands, the two elves stood and walked around the table to face each other.
Erestor raised their joined hands and rested them on Glorfindel’s chest. The fingers of his free hand gently touched Glorfindel’s face as they moved closer. He tilted his head until their lips brushed, moved together, and captured each other, experimenting, testing, feeling.
“I did not have to bend my back,” Erestor whispered as they separated.
“No neck strain?” Glorfindel asked.
“No, no neck strain.” Erestor’s knees grew weak as Glorfindel released his hand to draw the counselor closer, holding him within strong arms. Powerful, broad hands roamed Erestor’s slender back. “Again,” Erestor said. This time he opened to Glorfindel when the warrior kissed him, and tongues at first cautiously touched and retreated before approaching again.
Glorfindel shivered as Erestor’s fingers moved through his hair and then down his face. He moaned at the sweet taste of Erestor’s mouth before pulling the counselor’s tongue into his mouth and sucking on it. Kissing Erestor was unlike anything he had experienced before. The elf was intoxicating. His hands rose to frame Erestor’s face and he deepened the kiss even more. “Oh, Valar, I want you,” he moaned as they finally drew apart.
“You do?” Erestor’s breath came out in little pants. “Oh, thank goodness. “I’ve been longing for you to say that. You have been very obtuse, you know.” As he scolded Glorfindel, Erestor’s clever fingers began unlacing the blond’s tunic.
“I have?” Glorfindel asked incredulously as he pushed Erestor’s leather vest off of his shoulders and started on the laces of the counselor’s shirt. “Are you sure you want to do this, Erestor?”
“I am very sure,” Erestor said, disposing of Glorfindel’s tunic and starting on his shirt. His knees grew weak again. “You?”
“It’s very strange, but yes, I’m sure. My heart is telling me this is right. You are right. Kiss me again.”
Five minutes later, the two elves had managed to rid themselves of boots and garments, and lay entwined in Erestor’s bed, devouring each other’s mouths as hands roamed the incongruity of soft, muscled flesh.
“Have you done this before,” Glorfindel asked, on the verge of losing all control, aching to be inside this glorious elf in his arms.
“No, you?” Erestor asked in return.
“No, not in this life nor the last.” Glorfindel peered around the room, his eyes searching. “Have you oil or something?” Neither might have had experience of this particular thing, but then neither of them were naïve youngsters and both knew the way of things.
Erestor stretched across Glorfindel, making the warrior moan, and fished a small bottle out of the drawer on his bedside table. He handed the bottle to Glorfindel. “You first, I think.”
“Oh, thank the gods,” Glorfindel said. He was so hard he hurt. He took the bottle and coated his fingers, restraining himself as he prepared Erestor as gently as possible. For all it was their first time together, both of them seemed to want to race to the conclusion. There would be time for unhurried exploration later. “Tell me if I hurt you or it doesn’t feel good. They say the first time can hurt.”
Erestor resisted making a snort at Glorfindel’s words. “I doubt it at our age,” he said, moving to make it easier for Glorfindel to get to his important parts. “I rather think it’s going to be wonderful. Like drinking a bottle of carefully preserved, aged wine.”
“You are a very fine vintage, Erestor,” Glorfindel murmured.
Erestor found the bottle where Glorfindel had dropped it and snatched it up. He uncorked it and poured the oil over his fingers, uncaring that some of it dripped onto his best bedsheets. Glorfindel’s fingers were moving inside of him, and he wanted more, his ass clenching the digits in anticipation of their replacement by Glorfindel’s long, thick shaft. He wrapped his oily fingers around Glorfindel’s penis, moaning as he stroked the length. “In me, now,” Erestor murmured.
Glorfindel needed no further encouragement. Erestor’s legs were pushed up against his chest, and he carefully replaced his fingers with his hardened cock. The tightness surrounding him nearly made him lose all control and he breathed unevenly. “All right?”
Erestor nodded, unable to utter a coherent word. He’d been prepared for the burn, the pressure. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the feeling of complete rightness. He lifted his hips, trying to get Glorfindel to move.
The sweet, needy sounds leaving Erestor’s lips were driving Glorfindel crazy. Drawing out of the tight channel elicited incoherent mewls, and the slow glide back inside resulted in something resembling purrs. The two moved together like they had been lovers for centuries. The rhythm grew faster and more frenzied until their lovemaking reached its predestined conclusion, Glorfindel chanting Erestor’s name and Erestor gasping as his fingers pressed into Glorfindel’s arms.
Glorfindel found the strength to roll to his side and pull Erestor into his arms. “Erestor,” he whispered. “Are you all right? Was it all that you wanted?”
Erestor rolled over so he could gaze upon Glorfindel’s face. A smile spread across his fair features and his fingers moved along Glorfindel’s cheekbones, down to his neck, until he pulled his lover’s face closer so their lips grazed. “You are all I ever wanted, Glorfindel. All I ever need.”
“Does that mean you love me, Erestor?” Glorfindel asked seriously.
“Oh, yes,” Erestor said, his face soft and glowing in the day’s fading light. “Does this mean you love me too?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” Glorfindel whispered in reply, tilting his head to kiss Erestor hungrily. When the kiss had elicited those needy little sounds once again, the warrior lifted his head and looked upon the beautiful face of his lover, wondering over the day’s turn of events that had brought them here to this place of new beginnings. There was no doubt that Erestor had pursued and captured him like prey. Shot through the heart and bagged. His fingers spread through Erestor’s dark hair, down finely shaped cheekbones, fluttered over lips softened by kisses, and came to rest over Erestor’s heart. “All I ever wanted,” he whispered. “All I ever need.” Bending his head once more, he sealed his vow with a kiss.
~the end