The guest wing of the Last Homely House was deserted and eerily quiet, save for the sound of Glorfindel's hurried footsteps on the stone tiles. Winter being far from Imladris' busiest season, the lavish suites in the guest corridor sat empty and useless, patiently awaiting the arrival of more temperate weather and, with it, visitors in need of rest and accommodation.
Dozens of identical looking doors stretched out in front of Glorfindel on both sides of the hallway, mocking him with their uniformity and stillness. There were at least thirty rooms in this part of the house alone; would he have to try every single one of them before he finally tracked down his elusive would-be lover? "Curse it," Glorfindel swore under his breath, "which room are you in, Erestor?"
Slowly, he made his way down the oppressively hushed hallway, his ears straining to pick up any sign of life behind the heavy oaken doors. The first ten rooms he passed yielded nothing; all he could hear was his own uneven breathing. He continued forward, listening intently. The stone floor felt frigid under his bare foot. Finally, when he was almost halfway down the corridor and his foot was nearly numb from the cold, he heard something akin to a choked sob coming from one of the rooms. Without thinking, he pushed open the door and barged inside.
Erestor was crumpled up on the carpet by the bay window, his black, wrinkled robes fanning out around him. Crumpled – that was the only accurate way to describe his huddled posture and broken demeanour. His arms were wrapped around his knees, which were drawn up to his chest. His hair fell forward, covering his face. Glorfindel's heart nearly broke at the sight.
"Erestor..." the dishevelled seneschal whispered insistently, and the dark-haired advisor lifted his head at the sound of his name. His eyes, though red-rimmed, were dry. His lips were grimly set in a thin line, his jaw clenched.
"Please leave." The barely audible words left his lips, and he dropped his head again. The raven hair swished back down over his pale face, once more forming a protective curtain behind which he could hide.
But Glorfindel would not be dissuaded. Not now, nor ever again. He crossed the room in a few long, determined strides and settled himself down on the carpet beside the forlorn looking Elf. One of his large hands carefully parted the silky curtain of hair, exposing the advisor's carefully hidden face. Erestor flinched, but Glorfindel did not pull away.
"No," the Elda said with determination, "you shall not run from me, Erestor. I won't stand for it. Not again. You will talk to me this time."
Erestor shifted away from Glorfindel and turned his face toward the window. "What is there to say?" he whispered hoarsely.
Glorfindel was incredulous. "What is there to say? You run out of my room like a creature possessed, leaving me with no explanation at all, and you claim there is naught to say? A bane on you, Erestor; after what just happened between us not more than a half hour ago, I think you owe me a few moments of your precious time."
A spark returned to the Erestor's coal-black eyes at the sound of Glorfindel's anger. For a few seconds, he regarded the golden-haired Elf with his customary intensity, then dropped his gaze to the ground. "I have no explanation to give," he said simply, his tone resigned.
"But why did you run?" Glorfindel asked with hurt in his voice. "I thought that things were... well between us. It certainly seemed that you were... that I had... made you happy."
"Please don't remind me!" Erestor hissed, and jerked away from the seneschal's touch.
Cut to the quick by the dark-haired Elf's words, Glorfindel felt his ire rise. "Don't remind you?!!" he roared. "Just what, pray tell, do you wish not to be reminded of, meldir?! How you trembled under my touch? How you pleaded for more? How your body welcomed mine with eagerness and ardour?! Or would you rather not hear about all those months you made me wait, made me beseech you for your favours and humiliated me in front of all of Imladris?! Which is it, Erestor?!"
Baulking at Glorfindel's furious words, the pale advisor looked up with fire in his eyes and spat his answer in the Elda's face: "I never asked you to go after me, Glorfindel! Why in Valar's name did you bother in the first place?!!"
Choking on a suppressed sob, Erestor broke eye contact and hugged his knees even tighter, his hair falling down over his face like a curtain once more.
Glorfindel was truly at the end of his tether. If he didn't make this infuriating Elf understand the contents of his heart now, he likely never would. Subtlety had not seemed to work with Erestor, who, despite his legendary diplomatic ability, was surprisingly obtuse when it came to matters of love. In one last desperate attempt to woo his heart's desire, Glorfindel decided to cast all delicacy aside.
"Have your eyes been clouded or your mind otherwise afflicted that you cannot see what I feel for you?! Can you truly not see that I love you?!"
Erestor's hunched shoulders suddenly straightened up, his face peering out from behind the veil of ebony hair. "You love me?" he whispered, his tone distrustful, then added insistently, "you should not."
"Why in the name of all that is fair and good should I not?!!" Glorfindel was shaking with frustration.
"Because..." suddenly Erestor seemed to have shrunk further into himself, his black eyes staring at the floor, unseeing, "I'm... loathsome..." He hid his face in his trembling hands.
"You're... what?" Glorfindel's sky-blue eyes widened in shock. "Why?"
"Because... the things I enjoy are... unseemly... You shouldn't be asked to participate in such... indecent acts." Erestor's voice had dropped to a pained whisper. "I'm so sorry, Glorfindel, I tried so hard to hold back, but I just could not... You should have stayed away from me, mellon, you would do better to just stay away..."
Huddled in a heap on the floor, Erestor looked just like a bereft Elfling; so different from the usual confident and cool persona he presented in public. Glorfindel felt his heart pierced with a hundred sharp icicles at the sight of his most precious Elf in the clutches of such anguish. He moved closer and gently placed his hand on Erestor's shoulder.
"Who told you that you were loathsome, melme?" he whispered, his face full of tenderness. "Who dared say such hurtful things to you?"
"He did." Erestor's voice was muffled, his face still cradled in his hands.
"Who?"
"My... first lover..."
"If I ever get my hands on him, I swear I shall cut his throat, "Glorfindel pledged insistently, shifting closer and gently enfolding the distraught advisor in a warm embrace. He placed a reverent kiss on Erestor's dark, tangled mane, then whispered, "you are the fairest, cleverest and most honourable Elf I have ever had the privilege to know, Erestor. Anyone who tells you different is an utter fool."
A pair of dark, red-rimmed eyes looked up at Glorfindel distrustfully, peeking out from behind a shroud of jet-black hair. For a moment, Erestor did not speak, but simply regarded his companion with a combination of uncertain hope and unease.
Moving to tighten his embrace of the wary Elf, Glorfindel felt Erestor tense, his spine going rigid under the seneschal's hand. Unwilling to cause the other any more distress, the Elda slowly moved away, settling rather for intently examining the advisor's face, which reflected a myriad of confusing emotions.
"You... do not think ill of me?" Erestor asked hesitantly, attempting to school his voice to its usual tone of controlled neutrality, and almost succeeding.
"Nay, of course not! Why would I?"
"Even after... what happened this afternoon?" Erestor's voice shook a little.
"What was so terrible about this afternoon? You came to my chambers, I kissed you, and we made love. I thought it was rather wonderful, myself." Glorfindel smiled and stroked Erestor's dark locks with his hand.
"But I... I wanted you to... that is, I..." Erestor's voice was shaking in earnest now, as were his shoulders and hands.
Glorfindel gently took those trembling hands in his own, and met Erestor's haunted eyes with an honest look. When he spoke, his voice was slow and measured.
"You, meldir, prefer a firmer hand than some. You find pleasure in touches others would find painful. You enjoy the sensation of giving yourself over completely to another, of surrendering control. It is not uncommon among those of our kind. There is no shame in it."
"Isn't there?" Erestor's gaze dropped to the ground. His lips once again tightened in an unforgiving line.
"Is that what he told you?"
Glorfindel saw Erestor give a terse nod and felt tremors wrack the pale hands he cradled in his palms. He calmly stroked the long fingers and watched the tremors gradually fade. Amazed, he wondered briefly at how the dark-haired Elf huddled beside him seemed like a young colt; easily frightened and ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. He resolved to be quiet and still, and to let Erestor speak when he would. If the advisor wished to unburden his heart of any hurts that lingered there, Glorfindel would let him do so in his own time; he would not push.
His eyes still focused on the floor beneath his feet, Erestor slowly began to speak.
"I was much younger then. He was older, and quite beautiful. At first, our lovemaking was gentle, but then he... began to do things; things to which I... did not object. Over time, I learned to enjoy them more and more, and his... contempt for me grew."
Erestor took a deep, calming breath, then continued. "Afterwards, he would insult me – every time. He told me I was a..."
Sensing the tremors begin again, Glorfindel hurried to Erestor's aid. "There is no need, meleth; you do not have to tell me that."
The advisor sighed, then continued with his tale; every word leaving his lips quite obviously difficult to disclose. "He... made me feel so small. And I did not leave him. I kept going back, for the things he did to my body felt so good."
Erestor wrenched his hands from Glorfindel's gentle grip and buried his face in them, his fingers digging painfully into his scalp. His lean frame shook with the force of barely controlled sobs, though he made no sound. When he finally let his hands drop to his lap, and lifted his face up to meet Glorfindel's solicitous eyes, his expression held more anger than sadness.
"When he left, I swore on everything I held dear that I would never let anyone do that to me again. Would never let anyone touch me." He swallowed awkwardly. "And I have not. Until... today."
It was then that Glorfindel realized with awe just how meaningful their encounter in front of the fireplace had been, how much Erestor had let his guard down. And it was with reverence that he understood just what manner of a fragile and precious gift had been placed in his large, warrior's hands.
Acting entirely on instinct, and wanting only to give expression to the feelings of love and protectiveness suddenly taking wing in his heart, he leaned down to the cold, tiled floor and placed a gentle kiss on the top of Erestor's bare foot, which timidly peeked out from under the advisor's crumpled robes.
Surprised, Erestor curled his toes and drew up his knees closer to his chest. He looked at Glorfindel, his expression puzzled and unsure.
"If it were I who had the incredible fortune to share your bed, Erestor, I would give you all the love, admiration and respect you so rightly deserve, and may Mandos reclaim my feä if I ever grieved you," Glorfindel whispered.
Erestor's black eyes, burning in his face like a pair of embers, grew wide at this earnest admission. Parting his lips, he hesitated for a moment, then asked haltingly, "You think I deserve... respect?"
Glorfindel smiled at this unexpected question, the words sounding so foreign on the tongue of one who was so respected and admired – sometimes even feared – both in Imladris and beyond its borders; one whose astute intellect and political abilities were nigh legendary.
"You are more deserving of it than most anyone I've ever met."
"You still think so even after what... you know about me?" Erestor's tone held a note of suspicion.
Glorfindel let out a long breath, then faced the uncertain Elf and answered honestly and with as much conviction as he could summon.
"Let me tell you what I know about you, Erestor. You are the only Elf in Imladris, save for perhaps Elrond, who does not treat me as if I were some sort of demi-god or hero, returned from the dead to be worshiped and idolized. In your eyes, my feet tread on the same earth as those of the smallest and most humble of Ilúvatar's creatures; they do not float above it. You see all my stumbles, my mistakes, my foolishness, and you are never too faint-hearted to look me in the eye and tell me exactly what you think of me. You are acerbic, sometimes even insolent, and yet... I treasure one of your insults more than the sweetest compliments I am likely to get from anyone else. You never let me forget who I am, and for that you will always have my complete respect."
Erestor's pale face took on a slightly rosy hue in reaction to Glorfindel's confession. Yet his mouth was still loath to curl up in a smile, and the expression in his eyes was wary.
"And my..." he broke off mid-sentence, uncertain of how to continue.
"Your... tastes?" Glorfindel supplied. Erestor cringed, then nodded.
"Why should those be a barrier to me loving you? If you wish my hands to be rough instead of gentle, they shall be. I would not mind it; in fact, I rather think I would... enjoy it." The seneschal grinned at the stunned Elf before him, then once more took hold of Erestor's hands and cradled them in his own. "It would not be the first time I'd been asked to grant... unusual requests in the bedchamber. Though, I daresay, it would be the fist time I'd do it with this much love in my heart."
With his eyes focused on Erestor's face, Glorfindel could almost see the advisor's ever-present mask of control finally crumble and fall to the floor. The dark-haired Elf took a shaky breath, then released it and let his features relax, the corners of his mouth curling up in a hesitant smile. Glorfindel felt Erestor's fingers tentatively return his hands' caress.
"Dare I ask what manner of... unusual requests you speak of, Glorfindel?"
Detecting a hint of humour in Erestor's voice, the Elda leaned closer and whispered in mock horror: "Ones that would make your blood run cold, meldir, though discretion prevents me from speaking any further."
Erestor smiled in earnest then. "Does that mean that I can also count on your... discretion?"
"Of course, Erestor. I am perfectly capable of keeping certain things private, despite what they say about my proclivity for gossip. Your reputation will be quite safe with me. Your honour, on the other hand..."
Glorfindel's saucy jest was rewarded with a quiet laugh from his companion. Never one to miss an opportunity, the golden-haired Elf captured a dark strand of hair between his fingers and pulled Erestor in for a tender kiss.
"Does this mean that you'll let me walk you back to your rooms, meleth?" Seeing a shadow of hesitation cross Erestor's face, he quickly added, "You need not invite me in if you do not wish to. I realize that what happened between us today was quite sudden, and... it need not happen again soon. I would not rush you."
"Very well..." Erestor smiled again, and Glorfindel's heart nearly soared at the sight. He doubted he had ever seen anything quite so lovely. He stood up slowly, pulled Erestor up beside him and, taking the advisor's hand in his, led him into the empty hallway.
"Perhaps we should take the back stairs, Glorfindel. Neither one of us looks... presentable."
The tousled-looking seneschal smiled at Erestor's obvious understatement. They both looked like they had just been through a mild natural disaster, and anyone who looked closely would have no trouble discerning precisely what they had been doing.
"What? You do not want to announce to the whole of Arda that you are mine and I am yours?" Glorfindel teased.
"Well... nay. Do you?"
Glorfindel stopped and turned toward his new love, the expression on his face suddenly serious.
"I would shout it from the rooftops if you would let me," he whispered, and kissed Erestor's cheek.
Notes: meldir - friend (male)
mellon - friend
melme - love (Quenya)
meleth - love (Sindarin)
The End
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