Glorfindel Unleashed

Title : 'Glorfindel Unleashed', 1/?
Author: Eawen Penallion
Email: cross_stitcherire@yahoo.com
Feedback: Yes please!
Type: FPS
Beta: Beloved Nienna, so encouraging!
Disclaimer: all rights to the characters belong to JRR Tolkien - I'm only playing with them.
Rating: NC-17 overall
Rating for this chapter: G
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor eventually
Warnings: M/M; implied child abuse (in later chapter); angst; character death
Archive: Of Elves and Men; Melethryn; AFF.net

Author's notes: AU as in it is my idea, but canon where possible with regard to LOTR history. Please note - I subscribe to a very moral position and Tolkien's ethics regarding underage elves. There will be NO illicit carnal connotations in this story.


Summary : A small child creeps into a corner of Glorfindel's heart. As the child grows into an adult, Glorfindel is alarmed at how the changes affect him. Can love survive enforced celibacy, death and an elf who will not recognise his feelings?


Chapter 1

F.A. 469

The weather was fair and fine in Gondolin on the day when Glorfindel first met Erestor. Too fine to be cooped up within his council chambers, so he deferred one half of the agenda, delegating the rest of the tasks to his able advisors and set off through the halls of House of the Golden Flower to seek the sun. The house was almost deserted as he strode through the halls, for it seemed most of his household had had the same idea. Dust motes danced merrily on the beams of light that shone through the windows and doorways that he passed on his journey to the garden entrance to his house.

Glorfindel was proud of his gardens. Though space was at a premium within the Hidden City, his forebears had designed the little they did have to allow for a large expanse of lawn dotted with trees, whose spreading branches provided for those in need of cool shade. Fountains played their sweet tinkling song and the air was redolent with the sweet perfume of flowers, many of them golden. The golden warrior smiled, taking in the patches of celandine the gardeners had planted over the centuries. The sound of childish laughter drifted to his ears, and Glorfindel grinned. He followed the joyous cries to a hedged area set aside for the elflings.

The children swiftly spotted the brilliant sapphire eyes and braids of gold that peered round the edge of the hedges and with screams of delight fell upon him, tugging at his leggings, climbing his enormous frame and treating him as one of their own. For in as much as Glorfindel was beloved by the adults of the city, he was adored by the children of his House. With them he had no responsibilities, no stature or valiant history to uphold, but could be a fellow to them, a provider of sweetmeats and a teller of stories. There was a lot of the child within Glorfindel and the children recognised this. As he rolled around in the dust, pushed them on the swings strung from the trees or threw them high in catching games with his strong arms, he was watched with love and respect by the ellith of the house who who took on the care of the children while their parents fulfilled other duties within the city.

Finally their other games called to them, and the children began to release their hold on their Lord and drift off to other pleasures, leaving the golden lord to talk to their nursemaids and parents. It was while in discussion with Mirieth, the wife of one of his lieutenants and a matron with two children of her own, that Glorfindel spotted what seemed like a bundle of black rags in the shadows near the wall.

"What is that, Mistress Mirieth?"

The elleth turned, her face fell in sadness as she saw what Glorfindel looked at. "Ai, my lord, there lies a sad tale. That little one is Erestor, son olwiolwion."

Glorfindel was stunned to realise that the bundle was a child, and grieved when he realised whose child. Galwion was a sergeant of the house who had been killed on patrol in the mountains but a month earlier. Glorfindel had broken the news to the widow himself, and had ordered that all assistance and comfort be given to the stricken family.

"But what does he do? Why is he alone? Is his mother not near?" His tone was almost accusing, for he could not conceive of a grieving child being mistaken for a bundle of rags.

Mirieth shook her head. " Aerwithen is fading, my lord, and the child is in the care of her sister." Glorfindel started at the spitting fury evident in her tone, and gave her a questioning look. Mirieth blushed. "Aerwithen is from the House of the Harp, and her sister - well, I should not be uncharitable, but she is one of the foulest tempered beings I have ever had the misfortune to meet. Aerwithen can be difficult at times but I know that she is shy and covers hernessness with a sharp facade that she constructed to cope with the world. Aerwroth is simply mean! She disapproved of her sister's marriage outside of her House, and has no love for the boy." The nursemaid softened as she tenderly looked at the still form. "Poor little mite, Erestor is afflicted with the same crippling shyness as his mother, and that witch is no help. His mother not yet dead and she swaddles him in mourning clothes and as a result no child will go near him! Not that he would respond even if they did. He is sweet and biddable though, little pet."

"How old is the child?"

"Oh, but a babe, no more than eight summers!" She looked keenly at Glorfindel. "Would you talk to him, my Lord? Your magic might just break through his barrier of solitude..."

Glorfindel needed no further prompting. Crossing swiftly over the s hes he penetrated the shadows to seat himself quietly by the boy. Initially he had thought that the clothes shrouding the slight form acted as a hood, but saw instead that the darkness was a long curtain of hair, as black as the velvet of the night. Tiny pointed ears broke through the curtain but no face could be seen.

"Hello, I'm Glorfindel. And you must be Erestor?" The golden lord's voice was as sweet as his countenance, soft in tone and temper and dulcet enough to promote a response from the most reluctant of recipients, but none came. Glorfindel was not disheartened. Instead he started to speak softly on the most innocuous of topics, the weather. He spoke of the warmth of the sun, the pleasures of a warm breeze and the delights of cooling oneself in the spray of the fountains, as his friend the Lord of the Fountain was wont to do. He did not touch upon the subject of the boy's mother, for he judged that the little elfling would be too bewildered at missing the presenc his his father to understand what was happening to other parent. He talked now without hope of response, intent only on taking the first step on the road to building a trust with the child. There was still no response when he bid his farewell, but he thought he sensed a tiny motion when he rose from the ground, and hoped that that minute recognition of his presence was a good sign. He returne Mir Mirieth.

"I will come again tomorrow. Do not despair, Mistress Mirieth, between us he shall learn that he is loved."

Mirieth nodded. "I hope so, my Lord. I hope so."

*********

After that morning, Glorfindel's visits to the children's garden became a daily occurrence. He gave orders that a new suit of clothes be delivered to the child's aunt, with instructions that they must henceforth be seen on the elfling. Aerwroth obviously feared such attention from the Lord of the House, as Erestor quickly appeared in the russet browns and crimson reds that Glorfindel had chosen for him. Aerwroth had also experienced a visit from the Elda, who had paid his quiet respects to the ailing mistress of the house. By the looks the golden-haired lord bestowed upon herwrotwroth swiftly divined that she was not in his favour, and she simpered and fawned in an effort to avert any retribution for her treatment of Erestor.

The pen-neth did not change his behaviour. Though neatly dressed now, his extreme shyness severed him from his contemporaries and his sole companion was Glorfindel. The incongruous pair sat side-by-side in the shade, talking softly and sharing sweet treats that Glorfindel stole from his kitchens. Well, *Glorfindel* talked softly, for Erestor as always hid behind his curtain of hair, and the sweetmeats on the plate only disappeared when Glorfindel's eyes were averted. Many would have given up with such discouragement but at last the day came when his patience was rewarded.
.

Normally during speech Glorfindel gesticulated to emphasise his points, but some empathy had made him realise that this would frighten the elfling so he had taken to placing his hands down on the ground to either side, unmoving. On this day they were sitting in companionable silence when he felt a soft touch on his fingers and he realised that Erestor had laid a tiny hand upon his own large one. He did not move, did not react in any way to this unforeseen movement, but remained still as the hand stroked the thick fingers, feeling each one in turn before retreating back into the f of of brown tunic.

The visit ended shortly afterwards and Glorfindel spoke his soft farewells, then rose and made his way back across the lawn to where Mirieth stood. The elleth's eyes glittered with tears, and her welcoming smile told him that she had witnessed the exchange with rising hope in her heart. Glorfindel smiled back, and then frowned as he remembered something he had not told the boy.

"I go on patrol tomorrow and will not return for a ten-day. Please, reassure our pen-dhínen that I will return?"

Mirieth nodded. "Aye, my lord, though I wish you had told him yourself, for he might not believe me." Glorfindel realised this was true, and made haste to return to Erestor.

"Pen-neth, I will not be here tomorrow, or for a few days, for I must do my duty and protect our city on patrol I *will* be back and until then," he tugged a ring from his smallest finger, "I want you to hold this for me as a pledge of that promise." He laid the ring on the grass beside the head-bowed form, and saw the tiny hand reach out and take it. His heart swelled and in a moment of impulse he bent down and pressed a chaste kiss upon the raven hair.

"Till then, sweet Erestor."

********

Patrol passed slowly and Glorfindel could hardly believe how much he longed to see his little Erestor. On his return to the city he did not even delay to change his garb but hurried to the garden, knowing that the hour approached in which the children would return to their homes. He was relieved to see that some still remained, and that one was Erestor. Mirieth was also there and she rose from where she had been playing with another child to turn and greet him.

"Welcome back, my lord!" she called, and from her smile it was obvious that she had great and happy news. Yet she did not divulge it, but aimed Glorfindel to his little friend. "He has waited for you patiently, my lord. I think he has something for you."

Intrigued, Glorfindel sat beside the usual bowed form. "I'm home," he whispered, "just as I promised."

The li han hand snaked out and dropped the ring back into his own. He heard a rustle of paper, and a crumpled ball was drawn forth from within the red tunic and placed beside the ring. Curiously Glorfindel opened the ball, smoothing the paper flat. Upon it was a crude child's drawing, stick figures as young children do, of a golden-haired rider on a white horse. Moisture pricked at Glorfindel's eyes.

"Thank you, Erestor. It is beautiful," he whispered.

A sudden movement and Glorfindel was shocked to find that the boy had wrapped his arms as far round his broad waist as possible in a hug that expressed deep affection. The raven head snuggled against his chest, then slowly lifted, deep chocolate-brown eyes finally meeting his own sapphire ones. The soft red lips ed, ed, and for the first time Glorfindel heard his little one's hushed voice.

"My Glo'fin'l."

Throat suddenly clenched with emotion, Glorfindel folded his arms around the sweet boy and the two sat for a long time, the outside world excluded.

"Always, pen vuil. Always."

Elvish:

ellith - female elves (pl.)
elleth - female elf (sing.)
pen-neth - little one
pen-dhínen - silent one
pen-vuil - dear one