Year of Madness

“Who knew?” Melpomaen asked, though the question was semi-rhetorical. “How many elleths did you unsuccessfully try to bed? How many fair maidens have you kissed over the many years of your long life?”

“Long lives, little brother,” corrected Glorfindel, refilling his glass of wine. After an impromptu celebration in the hall, Erestor had excused himself to speak with Lord Elrond. This left Glorfindel completely open to accepting the invitation his brother extended him to sit in the gardens and discuss the many recent happenings.

“I used to be your little brother,” scoffed Melpomaen. “Then you went and got yourself killed. I’m the older – and wiser, might I add – brother now.”

“You make it sound as if I threw myself off a cliff on purpose,” laughed Glorfindel.

“For the glory of it, I wouldn’t put it past you.” Melpomaen relaxed a bit more in his chair, basking in what little sunlight still streamed through the branches of the trees. “He’s good for you, really. And you’re good for him, I’d wager. How long now?”

Glorfindel counted back the weeks in his mind. “Not long. That day he was ill in the healing room, I do believe we began to flirt a bit. It was rather odd because I thought it no more than playful banter at the time. And now to this, if I’m ready for it.”

“If you’re ready for it.” Melpomaen grinned. “I’d wager from the way you look at one another, you’ve shared your bed with him, and you wonder if you’re ready for it?”

“I suppose that’s silly, isn’t it? I’m ready to share my life with him, that much I know. Rather, I should say I’m not sure if others are ready for it.” Glorfindel managed to pout a little as he looked to his brother and received a faint smile in return.

“You want me to tell Nan and Ada.”

“If you would, please,” answered Glorfindel. “I would write to them, but I am terrible at correspondence. I don’t want Erestor to know how they might disapprove, either, I think it best, if you would, to have you do it. They love you better,” he added, though unbitterly.

Leaning forward, Melpomaen kissed his brother’s cheek. “I shall write to them for you if you would do a favor for me.”

“Name your price,” said Glorfindel.

“Stop wearing out my best cataloguer!” laughed Melpomaen. “Twice now, he’s come so sore it’s all he can do to sit at the desk when he arrives. Once, he was so exhausted, he assigned the same number to five consecutive books on five different topics. I was ready to once more send him to Elrond, but now I know the true cause of his distraction!”

Glorfindel blushed. “At least he has a sohairhair to sit in; I’m the one riding a horse for miles across the border!”MelpMelpomaen stood and motioned for Glorfindel to follow him back to the house. Once inside, they walked through the many halls until they reached the library. It was quiet now, with only a page on duty shelving books and a few elves sitting here and there, reading and browsing the collection. From his pocket, Melpomaen took a large ring of keys and continued to walk toward his office in the back.

After unlocking the large wooden door, he did not put the keys away. Instead he lit a candle, which he handed to Glorfindel and then moved across the room to a tapestry that hung on the wall. Pushing it aside, Glorfindel was surprised to see another door, though much smaller, hidden behind it. Melpomaen unlocked the second door and pulled it open.

They entered a narrow passage that snaked around a bit and finally came out into a large open room. Melpomaen took the candle from Glorfindel and went to light the kindling in the fireplace, giving the room a soft glow. It could now be seen that this was a small, private library with a second passage leading off in another direction. “A collection of the rarest and most heavily illustrated books and scrolls in Middle-earth,” said Melpomaen. “No, they aren’t all what you think,” he scolded as Glorfindel looked around with wide eyes. “Some of them are quite tame, but it would be difficult to replace many of these volumes. So they are kept here unless a request is made, and then I retrieve them. Few have ever ventured back here with me.”

“And you’re showing me this because...?”

“Because although the two of you will eventually figure out ways not to be so rough, it would be quite an embarrassment to the House of the Golden Flower to have our chief warrior end up in the hea win wing because-“

“Alright, I get it,” said Glorfindel. “So... what do you recommend?”

Melpomaen scanned the shelves, finally pulling a small blue book with silver etchings on the cover off of its shelf and handing it to his brother. “Take this one for now, it’s small so you can easily get it to your room without anyone seeing it. I’ll find a way to get the larger books to you later.”

“How did you know-“

“I make it my business to know all of the books on all of the shelves,” replied Melpomaen. “And please, if you value your life this time around,” he said slyly, “don’t tell anyone about this room, not even my wife.”

“What about Erestor.”

Melpomaen rolled his eyes. “That’s why I’m giving you the small book! Hide it from him, read it when he’s not around, and surprise him!” Shaking his head, he added, “It’s all for the best I’m writing to Nan and Ada, I fear for what you would have told them.”

Glorfindel embraced his sighing brother. “Thank you again, for the book and for the letter and for all of it.”

“You’re welcome. Now go, I believe you have some research to do.”

Glorfindel swiftly retreated out of the library and back to his room after carefully tucking away the book. Very little light remained, save what candles and fire provided. His own rooms were dim as he opened the door, and he halted as he saw gleaming eyes stare back at him.

Erestor tilted his head. “I looked for you in the gardens but I could not find you.”

“I was speaking with my brother in the library,” said Glorfindel. “Discussing the guest list.”

There was a slight smirk in the candlelight. “Isn’t that something you and I should be doing?”

“Well, yes. Of course. We were only actually talking about our parents. I’m sure you’ll be inviting yours.”

Erestor said nothing, merely staring back at Glorfindel.

“Or, we don’t have to invite anyone,” added the blonde, finally shutting the door behind him. “Whatever you like.”

“It may be difficult for me to contact my parents, they’re... wanderers of a sort. My mother has been with Gildor’s company for many years now, and my father... I never quite know where he is. Tracking them down may prove problematic.”

“We could wait if we have to,” offered Glorfindel, using the darkness to his advantage as he began to undress and was easily able to hide the book in hressresser as he did so, turning his back to Erestor as he continued to disrobe.

Shaking his head, Erestor said, “Lord Elrond has already begun to make plans for it. I shall send word with messengers if they should come across travelers, but I doubt they will be able to attend. But your parents, they are in Mirkwood, it should be easy enough to tell them the news.”

“It should be,” agreed Glorfindel, suppressing a sigh. Forcing a smile as he turned around, he soon forgot about his worries. Erestor had shed his clothes silently, leaving them in a pile on the chair near the window. He was now looking up at him from the bed, large brown eyes open and trained on Glorfindel. The sheets were draped loosely over Erestor’s lap, and his arms kept him propped up as he leaned back a little, fingers splayed across the mattress. In other words, he was absolutely gorgeous.

“Well don’t just stand there,” purred Erestor in a soft voice. He lowered his head slightly, dark eyes teasing Glorfindel as he approached. Crawling up onto the bed and over Erestor’s long legs, Glorfindel nudged the darker elf’s chin upwards with his curled fingers before leaning forward to suck on his lover’s bottom lip until it was delightfully swollen. Nipping once more, Glorfindel claimed Erestor’s mouth with his own, and the pair made love in the darkness, clinging to one another until morning came to find them both refreshed and content.