Forsaken Master

Haldir awoke tangled in Glorfindel’s gentle embrace, their naked bodies intertwined in closely melded perfection. The March Warden sighed contentedly, nuzzling his lover’s chin, for nothing was more blissful than the feel of Elven skin upon one’s own. Glorfindel murmured softly in his sleep, curling closer still to Haldir’s warmth, his arms encircled the archer and drawing him against his chest.

“Mmmmmm. . .meleth nin,” Glorfindel mumbled into Haldir’s abundance of palely flaxen hair, “how I love awakening wrapin yin your embrace.”

Haldir smiled gently, trailing one finger along the curvature of Glorfindel’s elegant neck and over his lin line. “And I you, meleth,” he said, planting a lingering kiss upon the other’s supple lips, “but if we do not rise from this bed soon, I fear I shall have to have you once more.”

Glorfindel feigned an expression of horror and pretended to swoon in Haldir’s arms. “How terrible that would be!”

The beautiful elf languidly spread himself ss tss the bed, presenting Haldir with a fine view of his naked backside as he stretched his limber muscles with a yawn, glancing teasingly at Haldir over his shoulder through the curtain of his sunny hair.

Haldir chuckled at the golden Lord and kissed the tip of his nose. “You are far too pleasing for my eyes, lirimaer. Now get dressed before I am forced to ravish you.”

It was now Glorfindel’s turn to laugh. “Perhaps you should cool the heat of your desires within the river, for unfortunately, I have duties I must attend to shortly.” He bent to touch his lips to Haldir’s own in gently passionate kiss.

Tossing his palely flaxen hair with a smile, Haldir rubbed his hand over the growing bulge beneath the coverlet. “I doubt even the coldest of waters could chase my desire for you from my body.”


* * * * * * * * *


Erestor draped his arm lazily across his chest, the other hand trailing freely within the cool waters of the river as he lay sprawled upon one of the many massive rocks that adored the stream’s edge. Clad only his breeches, he lolled his head over the rock’s edge, saturating the loosely plaited thickness of his hair, the river’s gentle caress slowly parting the strands into ripples of trailing darkness. He combed his fingers through the damply chilled mass of hair and shook the remnants of his braid free, his nearly waist length hair fanning out upon the water’s surface like a coiling mass of writhing serpents streaming behind his head.

Far before any in the House of Elrond had awakened, Erestor had taken his leave for the ritual of bathing in the sunlight as well within the tepid waters of the river. Rarely did he seek the company of others any longer this early, for few were willing to rise from the comfort of their beds. Erestor himself could have done without giving up the warmth of his coverlet, but important discussion with Lord Elrond were imminent and the chief advisor most certainly needed a bath. The pair of unnamed Lorien elves he had partnered with on the previous night had been so full of lustful ardor, Erestor had seriously considered taking his leave rather than spend the evening placating the younglings with his riding crop, for they were clearly most undisciplined. How he tired of these simple excursions where domination was so easily accepted. Defiant resistance was far more intriguing. Such was the March Warden. Erestor felt the muscles of his groin tighten at the mere thought of sampling such a creature, bending his will, tasting the sweet torment of rebellion before savoring the subordinate rapture of relinquishing control.

From the depths of the overgrown brush, Haldir peered at the lounging advisor with a mixture of fascination and disgust. Had the elf no shame? Never mind the fact that Haldir himself had often lain naked amongst the very same bed of rocks in full view of others should they happen to pass. At least Erestor was clothed from the waist down, but there was something almost obscene about the way the dark haired elf was sprawled upon the rock sunning himself, arching his back so that the fullness of his thick hair became saturated by the coolness of the gently lapping water.

Never would Haldir have expected such a finely chiseled body to lie beneath those fitted robes, for Erestor’s pale form was sleekly defined, each muscle clearly outlined within the milky white flesh, drawing taut as the elf stretched himself further into the river. An expression of heedless bliss adorned the wicked curves of his lips and a contented sigh rose from his chest. Unconsciously, Haldir wet his lips, more so for fear of being caught staring rather than actual lust.

One nimble hand slipped suddenly towards the leather thongs of his breeches and the advisor pulled the knotted cord free with a simple tug, peeling the supple material slowly over his hips, arching his back upward with a seductive wriggle of his arse, shedding the garment as if it were a second skin, leaving it to lie in a pile of wrinkled leather near his ankles before sliding off the rocks and into the water, vanishing completely from Haldir’s view.

Peeking over the tops of the hedges, Haldir craned his neck to see just where the other had gone but saw naught but the faint ripples of the advisor’s departure. Had the silly creature gone and drowned himself? He had been submerged for quite some time. . .

Several tense seconds ticked by with no sign of the dark head and Haldir began to worry. Although he was not very fond of this particular elf, he could not simply stand within the brush and allow him to drown! With a resigned sigh, he leapt over the surrounding foliage and walked hurriedly to the water’s edge where he had last seen Erestor before he had mysteriously disappeared. Only the discarded breeches remained upon the rock, the river’s clarity yielding no indication of the advisor’s whereabouts. Haldir glanced about rather frantically.

“Erestor!” he shouted, planting his hands upon his hips looking the picture of annoyance when his call went unheeded. “Errrreeessstoorrr!”

A pair of wet hands suddenly shot forth from the water and grasped both of his ankles, startling Haldir with a yelp of surprise. The shock of being grabbed offset his precarious perch upon the rocks and he flailed his arms about helplessly in attempts to maintain his balance. Rather by the grace of the Valar or sheer luck, he managed to twist free of the slippery fingers and stumbled away, staggering most ungracefully to the ground and flopping upon his arse in a panting heap.

Sleek arms crept over the rock and hoisted the grinning face of the dark elf upon the edge of the rock as he chuckled at Haldir’s expense, propping his chin upon one hand with a self-satisfied smirk of delight.

“Oh, how I do adore it when you call my name in such an urgent manner, Haldiiiirrr,” Erestor purred, his absurdly long hair partially draped over one shoulder, the rest rippling far beyond his back in the river’s lulling current.

“Bastard!” Haldir hissed, “I thought that you had. . .” he shook his head with a growl. “Never mind.”

Erestor cocked a dark brow at the fuming March Warden. “How nice. You were concerned for my well-being. How very touching. . .”

Haldir scrambled to hiet aet and flung his red cloak over his shoulder haughtily. “Next time I hope you DO drown,” he muttered, turning upon his heel to leave, promise of a relaxing bath forgotten.

“Oh. . Haldir?” Erestor called, smiling with amusement as the archer flinched to a halt at the sound of his name upon the lips of the dark advisor. “I do hope you enjoyed watching me undress, although you would have gotten a far better view had you not been hiding in the undergrowth.”

One fist clenched and relaxed as the bristling March Warden growled audibly and stormed away, leaving Erestor to chuckle with devious merriment in his wake.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


The walk back to the House of Elrond was quite a long one and Haldir found that by the time he had reached its gardens, the long flaxen strands of his hair had dried to a lightly sunny hue, the freshness of the river’s caress reviving his senses. He had chosen to bathe upstream of the taunting advisor, for it seemed everywhere he lingered, the dark elf was already there.

And Haldir watched him. Although he loathed to admit it, he watched. Soon, Lord Elrond would call for Council and then, the advisor would be gone, at least for the rest of the afternoon. Too bad Glorfindel would be gone as well. The thought of the golden Lord brought the faintest curve of a smile to Haldir’s lips, for he very much loved the elf more so than he had ever cared for another. Bonding with Glorfindel was the crest of pleasure’s peak, for to know another on such an intimate level rather than a mere carnal one was something Haldir had never dreamed he would himself experience. The pitfalls of love were among those he wished to avoid, yet Glorfindel had stolen him. . .mind, body and soul. Claiming him as his own. Making him a part of something far greater.

A flicker of movement with the dining hall caught his eye as he passed, drawing him out of his blissful thoughts and into the present. Perhaps the servants were still about, cleaning up the remnants of breakfast, a meal that Haldir had neglected. Intrigued by the thought of possibly snagging a last minute snack before lunch was served, Haldir began to stroll into the large room, but stopped short upon recognition of the one who resided there.

Erestor. Always Erestor. It was as if some strange force was intent on the clashing of their wills, for once again, Haldir found himself stumbling unwittingly upon the dark advisor. Thankfully, the elf did not see him and Haldir withdrew into the cover of shadows, watching.

Erestor swept a gloved hand over the polished dining table, fingering the soft petals of the roses that adorned it admiringly. Plucking a single flower from the impressive bouquet, he brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, savoring the heady fragrance with an approving smile before tucking it into the top of his braided hair, a gesture that Haldir found to be rather poncy.

“You are watching me again, Haldiiirrr,” Erestor purred, his back still to the March Warden as he stroked the thick plait of dark hair that he had draped over his shoulder. “Do you perhaps see something you like?”

Haldir snorted indignantly. “I see only the vain musings of an absurdly adorned elf.”

Erestor chuckled as he turned with a sweeping flourish of crimson-lined ebony, the heels of his boots clicking upon the wooden floor with an insistent tap as he approached the stiffly postured Warden of the March, fingers of both hands interlaced loosely before him. The richly spiced aroma of exotic woodland grasses wafted once again to caress Haldir’s senses as Erestor glided closer, coming to stand far too close to Haldir for his liking.

“Have you no appreciation of beauty, Haldir?” Erestor asked, plucking the rose from its odd resting place and sweeping the velvety petals across his own lips before caressing the March Warden’s cheek in much the same manner, twirling the stem slowly between his gloved fingers as it slid along the palely smooth skin.

Stiffening, Haldir swatted the errant hand away with a sneer. “Do not seek to touch me again, lest you relish the thought of losing a finger.”

Erestor laughed, a low, mellifluous sound that rose from the depths of his chest. “Ah, Haldir. . . how little you understand in the ways of permission.”

Haldir bristled. “What nerve you have, mellon. . .” he growled, his hand lighting upon the hilt of one scimitar. “I would hold my arrogant tongue if I were you, lest someone teach you some manners!”

“Perhaps I would rather you hold it for me,” Erestor said slyly, his hand snaking around the March Warden’s waist and jerking him roughly against his chest.

“You little.....!” Haldir’s snarl of rage was cut short by a pair of sensuous lips enveloping his mouth in a searingly demanding kiss, the warmth of a teasing tongue invading the moist cavern with a taunting flick as it lazily perused about, thoroughly tasting and exploring him.

Long fingers wound within his flaxen tresses, securing a fervently painful grip before snapping his head back with a gasp as sharp teeth sank into the flesh of his neck, the hot mouth nibbling and sucking upon the tender skin, branding him with the mark of lust. And against his will, the March Warden moaned softly.

Elbereth, what was he doing?!

“Unhand me!” Haldir barked, shoving the dark haired advisor away with such force that he was certain the elf would topple over the ornately carved table, but Erestor did naught but leap away rather lightly much to Haldir’s utter chagrin.

“My, but you are so feisty, Haldiiiirr. . .” Erestor purred, smoothing his hands over his slightly rumpled countenance.

“Get out,” Haldir growled, hand instinctively curling about the hilts of his weapons once more.

Erestor shot him a coldly amused sneer. “I shall do nothing of the sort. YOU get out if my presence bothers you so, for it is YOU who stumbled upon ME.”

“And it was you who forced your insidious action up me!” Haldir bellowed, drawing the scimitars from their sheaths with a snick of metal.

Erestor swept up to him and placed his palm flat against the tip of one blade. “Would it give you ease if my blood was to wet your sword, March Warden? For, as I recall, you kissed me back.”

Haldir snorted, nostrils flaring indignantly. “I believe your memory is failing you, oh coy one.”

“Oh?” Erestor pressed his hand into the sharpness of the glistening metal unflinchingly, a thin rivulet of crimson threading down his wrist and dripping onto the marbled floor.

Bringing the bleeding hand to his lips, Erestor licked the trickling blood from the tiny puncture wound with languid indolence, the small stream of life force a stain of brilliant red upon his tongue. Haldir could have sworn the elf was savoring the taste of himself, for he licked his lips most ostentatiously, his eyes fluttering closed as if in rapturous indulgence.

“You disgust me,” Haldir spat vehemently, whirling to storm away, leaving the advisor to lick his self-inflicted wound in the privacy of the dining hall.

He flounced into the public gardens, seething with humiliation. . . and something more. The heated coil of lust had begun to unwind within his belly and although he strove desperately to force the sensations down into the depths of his bowels, they blossomed with unabashed redemption.

Had he honestly kissed the advisor the way the dark elf had claimed? No, impossible! Never would one such as the haughty Erestor capture the privilege of his desire! Although he and Glorfindel had on occasion shared themselves with others in a trio of passion, Haldir simply could not imagine the dark elf in such a context, although he knew very well that Glorfindel had lain with him long before he even knew of Haldir's existence.

Such is Erestor. He is much like yourself, my love. Taking what he wants regardless of consequence. . .and apparently, it is you that he desires.

Haldir shook his head as Glorfindel’s words echoed within his mind.

“We shall see about that,” he muttered with a toss of his flaxen locks.

* * * * * * * *


Glorfindel strolled through the private garden of Lord Elrond, his arm linked through that of the Lord of Imladris, for the two had kept close company for many centuries and were closer than any brothers could ever be.

“So tell me, old friend, how is life in Lothlorien? Fallen out of any trees?” Elrond asked with a teasing smile, receiving a reprimanding pinch through theds ods of his robes from the golden Lord.

“I do not fall out of trees,” Glorfindel said, “I simply misstep.”

“Is that how it is, then?” Elrond laughed, his arm winding around Glorfindel’s shoulders and giving him an affectionate squeeze. “I must admitdo mdo miss having you around Imladris, but I understand the ways of love, and when one is called to the mate of his soul, that call must be answered, even it resides in the Golden Wood.”

“Yes,” Glorfindel agreed, returning Elrond’s gesture with a light kiss upon the other’s cheek. “I suppose you never imagined me to become the mate of Haldir of Lorien.” He then chuckled with grin. “And nei did did I.”

Elrond patted Glorfindel’s hand with a fond smile. “Haldir is a most unusual choice, yes, but a very good one. Your happiness is all that has ever mattered to me, dear friend.”

And it was true. Never had Elrond seen Glorfindel in such brilliant light before as that which engulfed him when at the side of the March Warden. Odd though the match was, it was most certainly one that would endure the test of time. Elrond knew these things, for he himself had once been very much in love, until that love had been stolen from him by the tainted talons of evil. Yet, despite all of the hardships he had endured, the blessings of his children and the light that they brought into his life more than made up for the heartache he had suffered.

And then there was Anyriand. The young Noldor had come to Imladris in order to study the art of healing, but in Anyriand, Elrond had found more than a mere pupil. Beneath the shy and rather clumsy exterior of the youngling lay an adventurously innocent heart with the desire for uncharted exploration. Elrond had found himself to be a teacher in more ways than one!

“How is Anyriand?” Glorfindel asked as if suddenly intercepting Elrond’s train of thought with his own.

Elrond’s lips curved into a smile once more. “He is. . “ he sighed almost deliriously and grinned, “he is wonderful, Glorel.”el.”

Glorfindel squeezed his friend’s shoulders once more. “Ah, it does my heart good to hear such things, Elrond, for you deserve all the happiness Arda can give.”

“Thank you, old friend. And I would say the same of you,” Elrond leaned into Glorfindel’s embrace, returning it fondly. “And speaking of lovers and mates, I believe that is yours approaching.”

Glorfl fol followed Lord Elrond’s gaze towards the path and smiled, for Haldir was, indeed, walking towards them. His gate seemed oddly stiff and one hand was upon his neck as if it pained him. Concern etched Glorfindel's aristocratic features as he excused himself from the Elven Lord and trotted to meet his love.

“Haldir, has something happened to you?” Glorfindel asked, but the March Warden would not meet his eyes, hand still firmly clamped over his neck. “Please, my love, tell me.”

Slowly, Haldir raised his head, hand slipping from his neck, revealing the purpled blotch that now branded the pale flesh. “Erestor,” Haldir said softly, “he. . .I could not stop him, Glorfindel! He is so insistent! So cunning! I shoved him away, but not before he had. . .eh. . .”

Perhaps Glorfindel would leave him for this mishap despite the intensity of the bond they shared and Haldir could not stomach the thought, for he loved his golden Lord far more than any being he had ever known. Shame colored his cheeks, an emotion that he rarely indulged in, much less harbored willingly. Tensing, he awaited the verbal blow to his heart.

Glorfindel practically melted with adoration, seeing his love humbled so by the haughty demands of Erestor and enfolded the March Warden into his embrace, hugging him tightly.

“So, Erestor saw fit to mark you, did he?” Glorfindel chuckled, “the coy bastard. I should have known your beauty would tempt him beyond his limits. Do not fret, my love, for I understand his methods having sampled them myself.”

Haldir pulled away just enough to meet Glorfindel’s whimsically amused gaze with a look of utter confusion. “But, Glorfindel. . .he kissed me. . .and I. . .”

“Liked it?” Glorfindel interrupted solicitously, cocking one brow at his lover. Upon witnessing Haldir’s look of sheer horror, Glorfindel laughed softly. “Meleth, do not worry! Erestor is quite . . . well. . .” a slyly smirking grin overtook Glorfindel’s mouth. “Let us just say he can be. . .persuasive.”

Haldir groaned a heavy sigh against Glorfindel’s shoulder. “I do not know what came over me, meleth. But I swear to you, it shall not happen again.”

The golden Lord grinned deviy, ay, a gesture Haldir had rarely seen. “And. . . why not?”

“Surely you jest, meleth!” Haldir said, puling away from Glorfindel, a look of utter shock replacing his former indignation.

Glorfindel merely laughed at the March Warden’s rather modest take on the situation. “It is not as if we have not invited others into our company before, my love. Perhaps you would not find Erestor so intimidating if he were in a . . . more compromising position?”

Haldir snorted. “He does NOT intimidate me, Glorfindel. He irritates me with his lurid forwardness and his insidious commentary. Intimidation is not a factor."

Glorfindel’s tone softened as he reached for the bristling Galadhrim’s arm. “Haldir,” he said gently, “whatever you decide is fine. I did not mean to pressure you into an encounter that you do not wish to be a part of.”

Haldir sighed and gathered Glorfindel into his embrace, feeling the soft strands of flaxen hair kiss his cheeks with their tender caress as he nuzzled the golden Lord’s chin, for his mate was a bit taller than he.

“No, it is I who am sorry, meleth-nin. I. . .do not know why I have reacted in such a manner. Eh, why does he irritate me so?”

Glorfindel cocked a graceful eyebrow. “Why do you rise to the occasion?”

Haldir chuckled. “Because I cannot let him have the last word. That simply would not do!”

Glorfindel laughed softly, kissing the top of Haldir’s forehead. “I must go, my love. Lord Elrond awaits my presence at the council. We shall speak more of this later.”

“Hmph,” Haldir grunted. “There is nothing more to speak of.” Taking the golden Lord’s slender hand in his own, he brought it to his lips. “Beguile them with your wisdom, lirimaer.”

The seneschal smiled at Haldir’s gesture, feeling a flush creep upward to warm his cheeks considerably. Only Haldir could make him feel as if he were a shy elfling with his romantic advances. He bid his lover farewell and glided to where Lord Elrond stood, waiting politely near the edge of the gardens, unperturbed by Haldir’s display.

“Look at you,” Elrond teased, brushing a hand across Glorfindel’s pale cheek, “you blush like a maiden, mellon-nin.”

“Oh do be quiet, Heru. . .” Glorfindel chortled, linking his arm with that of Lord Elrond once more. “I love the arrogance in him, what more can I say?”

“You, my friend, love everything about that haughty March Warden,” Elrond corrected him with a sly grin.

“Yes,” Glorfindel mused, “I suppose I do, now don’t I?”


* * * * * * * * * * *