Ebony, Gold and Mithril

Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to the creative genius of JRR Tolkien, not me.

Ebony, Gold and Silver.

Chapter 2.


Without realising what they were doing, both elves held their breaths as their eyes locked for several heartbeats, wordlessly acknowledging the fire that could easily spark between them were they not reluctant to fan the flames of desire. Both had lost lovers in the past and although each knew that his heart harboured a secret desired for the other, neither Elf was yet willing to cross the boundary from friend to lover.

“I wonder if he realises how attractive he his is to my eyes?” mused Glorfindel as he reached towards his companion to tuck a few strands of ebony coloured silk back behind an elegant ear, his finger ever so lightly touching the sensitive tip as he did so. Erestor leaned slightly into the touch, unable to stifle a deep moan at the erotic contact that caused him shiver involuntarily as his body responded to the tingling sensation that travelled down his spine. The Noldo closed his eyes to savour the sensation, and when he opened them again the glitter of desire in his friend’s eyes momentarily took his breath away and he could not resist placing a feather light kiss on the deliciously tempting cheek of the handsome Balrog slayer. With soft sigh and a flicker of … was that regret?... in his dark eyes, he stepped away from further contact, the slight shake of his head quelling any further advances Glorfindel might have made.

“I will pay you whatever price you demand,” theescheschal whispered as he his hand fell to his side and he allowed the moment of temptation to pass.

“For now all I want is for you to play your harp for me while I work.” It was a simple request, but Glorfindel did not fail to hear the hint of a promise of something more in the future, something for which he was prepared to wait. Taking Erestor by the arm in a comradely gesture, he collected the opened bottle of wine and guided the advisor into the passageway that led to the seneschal’s sleeping chambers.

*******

Moving straight to the desk near the balcony doors, the meticulous Erestor was barely able to contain a shudder of disgust at the disarray that greeted him.

“How can you possibly bear to even look at this mess?” he asked, as he began clearing away some of the papers to make room in which to work. Glorfindel glanced at his desk, and privately admitted it may have been a little untidy compared to the advisor’s or even Elrond’s tastes, but it mattered little as far as he was concerned.

“I try not to, if I can help it,” replied an amused Glorfindel as he handed Erestor a goblet of wine. The advisor accepted it gladly and took a large sip, for he was in dire need of something to calm his anguish at such disorder.

“Ai! Erestor, do not put that aside, it is my attempt at the roster,” said Glorfindel as another partially completed piece of writing was about to be added to the already large pile on the chair next to the desk.

“A very half hearted attempt, if you ask me,” commented the advisor as he quickly glanced over the poor excuse for a document. “The best course of action would be to discard it and start afresh.”

“It is not that bad,” protested Glorfindel with a slight frown as Erestor raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Well, on second thoughts perhaps it is, but you are such an expert at planing that I am sure you will manage to fix it for me,” conceded the seneschal with a slight shrug. Erestor smiled at the compliment and turned his attention to the task.

“You have not given me much to work with, but I do like a challenge,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eye that caused Glorfindel to suspect he was not merely talking about rosters. This was beginning to be a very interesting afternoon. “Now tell me, how often do you change the rotations of your patrols?” asked the advisor as he sat at the desk and began making a rough draft, just now realising how little he knew of what the Captain of the guard really did, aside from training soldiers and fighting orcs.

“Once a month,” replied Glorfindel as he removed the silk cover from his harp and began tuning the instrument as he spoke.

“Then why not simply copy the last one, advancing each patrol to the next area as you go?” enquired Erestor. On first glance the solution to the problem appeared to be quite simple.

“That is what I usually do, but if you look at the maps to your left, you will notice that several new areas have now come under the protection of my soldiers,” explained Glorfindel as he put his harp aside and moved to the desk and leant over Erestor’s shoulder as he pointed out the relevant details. The closeness of the position disturbed Erestor’s concentration, and he had to shake his head to refocus on the words the voice he loved so well was saying. “I have also had to include the new patrol groups that have been formed, as well as take into account those due for a rest period in Imladris.”

The advisor was silent for a while as he studied last month’s roster and the list of additions that needed to be reconciled with both the areas patrolled and the increased numbers of soldiers. It was indeed more complicated than it first appeared, but it still puzzled him why Glorfindel, who had obviously prepared such documents for centuries, could not manage the task this day.

“I see what you mean, but surely an experienced warrior such as yourself can coordinate his forces without my assistance?” he could not help but ask.

“Were I on a battlefield that would indeed be so. When I am fighting I can easily *see* and coordinate numerous strategies and plans in my mind’s eye during the heat of battle, but when it comes to putting it on paper… well let us just say that I wield a sword far better than I do a quill.” Erestor laughed lightly at that admission but he understood what Glorfindel meant, at least from the opposite viewpoint. As a warrior of ages past, Erestor had always been far more talented in drawing up strategies for the High King to discuss with his allies than in actually putting them into practice in the field. That had been part of Elrond’s duties.

“Not to mention the fact that you are in no mood for working on this rainy afternoon,” he teased nonetheless.

“True, but at least I now have some excellent company to ease my boredom, and I am more than willing to spend the time playing my harp for you,” Glorfindel willingly agreed, his manner displaying the considerable charm to which even Erestor was not immune and he quickly took another large sip of his wine.

Glorfindel smiled inwardly at his friend’s slight discomfort and then settled himself on the long seat beneath the window and began to play. The seneschal was a very talented musician and Erestor found that he was mesmerized by the beautiful music, not to mention the look of rapture on his companion’s fair face as his sweet melodies filled the chamber. He stopped work so often to merely indulge in his enjoyment of both, that what should have taken half an hour or so to be completed, in fact took two hours.

“Glorfindel, I have finished the rosters, come and see if they met with your approval,” he called as he rose and stretched the muscles in his back that were beginning to ache from being seated for so long. The music stopped but when he received no further response, he moved over to Glorfindel’s side and noted with concern that there were tears in his friend’s eyes and the harp was now held in limp hands. “What saddens you, mellon nin?” Erestor asked as he carefully removed the harp from the seneschal’s lap and tenderly took the elegant hands of the musician in one his own, using ttherther to tenderly wipe the tears from his friend’s cheeks. Glorfindel started slightly at the unexpected touch, but then smiled affectionately at the one kneeling before him.

“That piece I was playing was the last song I wrote before Gondolin fell. It brought back some sad memories,” he explained as Erestor continued to massage his fingers.

“Did you write it for him?” asked the advisor, his voice barely more than a whisper, knowing the Balrog slayer had lost everything, including his lover his his life, with the fall of his fair city.

“Then please forgive me, had I known my request would bring back painful memories I would never have asked it of you,” said Erestor as he moved to sit beside his friend and drew his arms about him in a comforting embrace, feeling a glow of warmth that was both affection and pleasure spread through his body as the head of soft gold silk rested on his shoulder and a soft voice whispered that there was nothing to forgive.