DISENCHANTMENT

PART TWO: COVENANT


Elrohir did not come to Glorfindel that night, and the golden-haired Elf fell asleep alone in his bed, as he had become accustomed to doing for so many long years.

It took many days for Elrohir to become comfortable with his feelings. He was still bothered by uneasiness whenever he looked upon his father, thought about Elrond’s relationship with Gil-galad and subsequently with his mother. When he applied thoughts of his own attraction to Glorfindel and Glorfindel’s admission of reciprocal love for him, it became too much of a burden for Elrohir to bear.

Thinking that he must speak to his father in order to come to some sort of understanding about his affair with the High King of old before he could possibly embark upon a relationship with Glorfindel, Elrohir went to Elrond’s study to seek out his father for a conversation.

He knocked upon the heavy oak door and a few moments later it was opened by a servant and he entered. Elrond was sitting behind his desk, its vast surface covered with neatly stacked books and papers. The servant who had opened the door and who had deftly organized Elrond’s desk, now departed, silently closing the door behind him.

Elrond’s eyebrows rose in surprise to see his youngest son standing before him with a worried look pinching his dark eyebrows together over his flashing grey eyes.

“What troubles you, my son?” Elrond asked, leaning back in his chair and regarding Elrohir with a steady gaze, his piercing eyes bright with interest in the reason for his son’s unusual visit.

“Do I look troubled, Atar?” asked Elrohir, walking up to the desk and tapping his fingers rapidly and nervously upon the newly-polished surface.

“So formal?” asked Elrond. “You have become so serious of late, my son. What has happened to calling me ‘Ada’?” He said this in a soft voice, yet his look was grave but not mocking, his mouth downturned, the lines in his cheeks deepening.

“I need to speak to you concerning a serious matter,” said Elrohir, now pacing back and forth in front of the desk. “Several weeks ago, I chanced to come across you unseen in the armory with—with—his—halberd—“ Elrohir faltered.

“I remember that night,” said Elrond quietly. “Will you not sit down, Elrohir?” He gestured with an elegant hand toward a chair that faced the desk.

“I cannot sit,” said Elrohir. “Restlessness came upon me that night and has been upon me since. I cannot settle until I have resolved certain conflicts within myself.”

“I do not understand how upset you have become over a private relationship of mine that was finished thousands of years ago,” said Elrond, not unkindly, but with a certain resentment creeping into his voice.

“I thought at first it was because of my mother, and I had believed that you insulted her memory by holding onto your thoughts of him, displacing your memories of her,” said Elrohir, still pacing and not yet ready to look at his father directly. “But I was wrong to let my own disgust with myself enter inappropriately into my thoughts when I found you in the weapons arsenal that night,” said Elrohir, still pacing in front of the desk.

“You should not be disgusted with yourself over having honest, heartfelt feelings, my son,” said Elrond. “Of course I will accept your apology, and I forgave you immediately at that time for any ill will you may have borne against me, for I understand—“

“No!” cried Elrohir. He stopped pacing and whirled around to face his father. “You do not understand!” He slammed a balled fist down upon the desk-top, the violence of the movement making a dull thudding noise that disappeared immediately into the stillness. Silence hung in the air for a moment between son and father.

Elrond clasped his hands together, and held them under his chin. His piercing gaze turned upward to stare at Elrohir and he waited.

“Here is my confession,” cried Elrohir, slumping finally into the tub-shaped chair that had been neatly pushed toward the front of the desk. He pulled it back so violently that its clawed feet scraped two white lines across the polished hardwood floor.

The agitated young Elf felt he could not look at Elrond directly and chose to drop his forehead into his hands as he spoke, while gazing into his lap. “The thing is,” he went on, “I know that I am in love with Glorfindel, and he has confessed the same to me—he said that he has loved me for many years.”

“What?” cried Elrond, rising to his feet.

“No, Ada, no! Listen to the rest,” Elrohir cried, raising his gaze to Elrond’s face and gesturing with an outstretched hand for him to sit down.

“The reason I am telling you this now is that I have come to terms with my own conflicted feelings. I have decided that I will not deny myself any longer my own pleasure being with the one who has captured my heart, however much it frightens me. At the same time, I believe I can understand now how you must have felt about the King—Gil-galad—I find I can now speak his name without loathing—and I offer you my apology for ever thinking ill of you or your relationship with him.”

Elrond, who had remained standing, now came around the corner of the desk, pulled Elrohir up by his arms. “My son, there is no need for your apology!” he cried. “Though I am happy to hear it. But now I must deal with my own feelings about my son and my seneschal!” He held Elrohir at arm’s length and gazed into his deep grey eyes, an expression of concern replacing his wide grin of joy.

Elrohir blushed. “It is difficult for me to accept that I will never marry and have children as you have done. But I know I love Glorfindel, although we have not yet spent any time together,” he said. “In fact, I bade him wait until I was ready to go to him. He does not know of my change of heart, and does not know I have come here. You are the first person I have told, and now I feel I must go and tell Elladan of my choice, before I seek Glorfindel.”

Elrond gave his son an affectionate hug and pat on the back. The two Peredhil embraced, and then Elrohir left to go and find his twin.

Several hours later, it was deep into the night, and Elrohir sat on his bed facing Elladan, who sat upon his own bed opposite his twin, staring back at him with rapt attention.

“I never felt the same way as you about Gil-galad and Ada,” said the older twin. “I knew that it had been hundreds of years after the king’s death that Ada met naneth, and as a result there was no conflict between the two that I could see. Ada has never strayed while he was married to her, of that I am sure.”

“I know that now,” said Elrohir. “But I wish I had never seen him with Aeglos on that night, for then I would have not felt the overwhelming revulsion toward him that I did at that time.”

“But then you would not have run into Glorfindel that night and neither of you may have spoken of your feelings for each other to this day.”

“The issue at that time though, was with my revulsion, which I found, ultimately, was for myself and my own feelings of guilt for loving Glorfindel, which I believed at the time were not reciprocated,” Elrohir replied. “When I found out that he loved me on the same night that I found out about Ada’s true feelings for Gil-galad—it all became too much for me to absorb, and I behaved badly.”

“Will you go to Glorfindel now?” asked Elladan.

“Brother, you know my own mind before I do.” Elrohir smiled, his eyebrows lifting in an expression of sardonic amusement, and he rose to his feet, throwing his arms about his twin in an affectionate embrace and then he let himself out of their shared room for the last time.

The dawn was beginning to rise in the east, the first diffused rays of orange and gold appearing above the trees outside of Glorfindel’s window. He sighed and rolled over. He had been unable to sleep all night for a feeling of prescience that he could not fathom, occupying his thoughts. As he rolled onto his side there was a knock upon his bedroom door. His pounding heart bade him get up and answer it himself, rather than calling out for the visitor to enter.

He picked up a robe from his chair, wrapped it around his body and went to the door. When it swung open, he saw that Elrohir stood upon the threshold. The dark-haired Elf’s face was pale, his lips were trembling and his fingers were clasping and unclasping in front of him.

“I could not wait one moment longer to come and tell you this, meleth-nîn,” said Elrohir, his voice barely audible. “I know now that I need you.”

“Come in,” Glorfindel motioned to Elrohir to enter, his voice husky with surprise as well as lack of sleep.

Elrohir hesitated. “ I have never done this before, Glorfindel. I am frightened.”

Glorfindel closed the door quietly and then turned to Elrohir, who was wearing the same satin robe that he had been wearing on the night in the garden. The older Elf’s own robe slipped open, revealing his slender yet muscular physique briefly before he pulled it closed around him again. “Come and sit down,” he said softly, indicating the chair at the foot of his bed. “I know it is very early morning, but I do believe some wine, or perhaps brandy, might help us feel more relaxed with each other.”

“Ugh,” said Elrohir, placing his fingers to his lips. “ I do not think I could stomach wine, but brandy would be welcome.” His face relaxed into a hesitant smile.

“Very well, then,” said Glorfindel, giving his companion a reassuring pat on the arm, and walked over to a long console cabinet where he produced a bottle of brandy and two plain glasses from a pull-open drawer. He poured a half-inch of the amber-colored liquid into two glasses and walked back to Elrohir, his robe swinging open once again, and handed him one of the glasses. Then he sat down on his bed and lifted the glass to his lips.

Elrohir sipped as well, in silence, regarding Glorfindel carefully. He had glimpsed a strip of the warrior’s golden-hued flesh when the robe fell open, and the sight of the luminous skin had caused his eyes to widen with interest and his breath to catch in his throat. He felt a stirring within him and took another sip of brandy. “I don’t know what to do, Glorfindel. This situation still feels awkward to me though I crave to be with you more than anything else,” he blurted out.

“Hush, pen-neth-nîn—your feeling of awkwardness is normal, but it is not wrong if the desire is there between two parties, and then it is there for a reason. I believe in this case it is love that we both feel for each other. Many Ellyn have taken both male and female lovers—your father, for one—for some it may be that they wished to father heirs—but your father loved your mother no less than if he had never loved Gil-galad. You must believe that, Elrohir. I believe that that is the cause of all your worry and your inhibition.”

Elrohir drank more of the brandy. “I know that now. However, I have something new to worry me. It seems I am not myself if I do not have something to worry about. Have you taken lovers before, Glorfindel?”

Glorfindel leaned back and sighed. “Many, many years ago, yes. But when I realized my feelings for you, I forsook the lifestyle I previously lived, and I have been chaste for several hundred years.”

Elrohir’s eyes widened. “You have been chaste that long because of me, Glorfindel?” he asked, incredulous.

Glorfindel chuckled and rested on one elbow, turning to face his loved one. The robe slipped again to reveal a shapely thigh and part of a sculpted chest gleaming in the rays of the sun that were beginning to shine through the open window.

Elrohir sighed. He gazed longingly at Glorfindel’s form, from his unbound golden hair and twinkling blue eyes, to the perfectly sculpted planes of the slender body displayed before him. Glorfindel shrugged and the robe slipped off of one shoulder. Another shrug and his arm was free.

“You should just try to forget your worries and relax, my love, and let this happen naturally, and we will see how well we come together. I have no qualms. Come over to the bed,” he whispered.

Elrohir downed the remainder of the brandy and got to his feet. He walked slowly to the end of the bed and stood before the splendid beauty of the Elf half-displayed upon the coverlet. His breathing quickened as his gaze roamed over the sight before him of Glorfindel, half-naked and aroused.

“Please remove your robe and let me look at you,” whispered Glorfindel.

Elrohir undid his sash and let the satin garment drop to the floor.

“Ah, yes,” crooned Glorfindel, gazing at Elrohir’s magnificent, muscled form, every inch of it perfection honed by hard exercise and fighting practice. “Please sit down beside me, Melethron.”

Elrohir complied, feeling both excitement and embarrassment, and Glorfindel sat up, shaking his robe all the way off, until he was as naked as his lover. They sat and looked at each other. Glorfindel placed a hand tenderly against Elrohir’s cheek. “We are both very beautiful, are we not, pen-neth?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper, as his lips brushed Elrohir’s ear.

“Yes,” Elrohir whispered in return.

“We are both aroused, are we not?” asked Glorfindel, his tongue daintily tracing the edge of Elrohir’s sensitive ear while a finger gently stroked the hard shaft of the appendage that lay between the dark Elf’s ivory thighs.

“Ai—yes—we are,” hissed Elrohir, tentatively looking down at his companion’s arousal, raised in desire for him.

“And we love each other, do we not? What do you think we should do about it?” asked Glorfindel, encircling Elrohir’s waist with one arm and nuzzling with soft lips the crook between his neck and shoulder.

“I don’t know,” sighed Elrohir, shuddering with delight at Glorfindel’s touches.

“Do you not? Then I shall guide you. First, I think we should kiss,” said Glorfindel.

“Yes, very well,” murmured Elrohir, his breath quickening, his lips parting.

“Give me your lips then,” murmured Glorfindel, and with fingers gently holding his lover’s chin, he turned Elrohir’s face to his. His eyes misted as he gazed into the grey eyes of the dark-haired Elf before claiming his lips in a tender kiss, pulling Elrohir’s shoulders closer to his own eager body.

Elrohir melted into the kiss, letting Glorfindel pull him forward until he fell on top of the ravishing Elf, his long black braids falling onto Glorfindel’s chest, and his muscled thigh brushing against his lover’s slender one, causing him to feel the electrifying pulsing of desire in his veins.

He groaned softly as Glorfindel’s hands slid down his back to his buttocks, and adjusted his hips so that his arousal slipped between the golden Elf’s thighs. Elrohir was acutely aware of Glorfindel’s own erection pressed between their two bodies and he moaned while his lover deepened the kiss and began to grind his hips in a slow circle.

Glorfindel! Ai!” cried Elrohir, thinking that he would explode too soon from the state of arousal in which he exulted. A tumult of emotion threatened to sweep him away in a wave of pleasure that he could not control, and he clutched Glorfindel’s arm, digging his fingernails into the hard flesh.

Sensing Elrohir’s anxiety, Glorfindel, the more experienced of the two, pulled suddenly away from his companion, stroking his dark, glossy hair and pressing kisses to his forehead, trying to slow down the driving force of their passion.

“What is it, melethron?” Glorfindel crooned into his beloved’s ear, sensing his anxiety. His hand traced a pattern over Elrohir’s muscular chest, and when his fingers touched a nipple, he tweaked the hard nub between mischievous fingers.

Elrohir squirmed and his hand released the thick strands of Glorfindel’s mane of hair in an attempt to reach down and staunch the flow of milky fluid that leaked from the tip of his arching member. He held his rock-hard shaft in his trembling hand and moaned. “Glorfindel—I need—“, he cried, stopping because he did not quite know how to say what he needed.

“What is it you desire, my love?” whispered Glorfindel, pulling himself up onto his knees beside his lover and bending over him. “Do you need more of my kisses?” He bent and placed his lips upon Elrohir’s, gently sucking them and using his tongue to press wet kisses upon their soft surface.

Elrohir moaned again. “Yes,” he sighed, when Glorfindel released his lips from his tender caresses.

Glorfindel cast his appreciative glance along the length of Elrohir’s trembling body, noticing the dark nipples standing erect and the fluttering muscles in the Elf’s taut abdomen betraying his acute sensitivity.

“Ahh…” groaned the older Elf, “but you are so beautiful in your need, melethron.” He sank his head to Elrohir’s chest so that he could suck upon one of the dusky nubs and at the same time he rubbed his own throbbing need against his lover’s thigh, seeking a merciful and quick release.

When Glorfindel surfaced again, it was to still the movements of the writhing Elf beneath him, who groaned as if he was in agony. “Let me bring you relief,” said Glorfindel, panting, not able to wait any longer, a rush of desire claiming his reason. He dropped his golden head down to rest between Elrohir’s thighs. Placing a hand upon each alabaster limb, he first placed his tongue to the tip of his lover’s arousal that was slick with wetness, and smiled when Elrohir bucked his hips at least a foot up from the bed. He plunged his lips over top of the glistening head and sucked the juices that sluiced out of Elrohir’s turgid member. Within seconds Elrohir came, exploding his essence down Glorfindel’s throat. After swallowing the salty drops and licking the sides of the delicious shaft, Glorfindel laughed. Elrohir suddenly sat up, grasped his lover by the shoulders, and pushed him back down on the bed and straddled him between two strong thighs.

“Elrohir!” Glorfindel cried. “You are being rough with me!” He threw back his head and laughed again, displaying a set of brilliant white teeth.

“I cannot wait any longer to taste you!” cried the younger Elf, spreading his lover’s legs apart with eager hands and grasping Glorfindel’s long shaft in his hand.

“Be gentle with me, my love!” cried Glorfindel. “It has been too many years since I felt aught but my own hand, and I do not wish to come quicker than you have just done!”

Elrohir grinned at him, taking up the challenge, and bent down to place his lips around the head of Glorfindel’s smooth shaft. Though he was inexperienced, he savored every caress that he made to the beautiful appendage that lay between his lips, and with an unpracticed but eager tongue, he brought the golden Elf to a screaming crescendo of a climax. Glorfindel spilled his seed within seconds into his lover’s waiting mouth. Elrohir was already hard again as he swallowed the last drop of Glorfindel’s fluids.

He knelt above his beautiful lover, cupping the fine-boned face in his large, warm hands. “I win,” he said. “And I want to do it again right away.”

The sound of Glorfindel’s laughter echoed musically throughout the room. “Oh, do let us enjoy each other many more times,” he enthused. “Clear all but the most urgent business from your calendar. For the next five hundred years are mine!”

~~ THE END ~~