My Heart's Desire - Part 2. If You Go Away.

Chapter 3. You Are Mine.

Haldir and Gildor were walking along the corridor leading to the dining hall and Haldir grew apprehensive once again. Judging by the welcome he had got yesterday, his assimilation to Imladris could prove to be more difficult than even Orophin had predicted. Gildor felt his unease and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“Breakfast is a family affair here. There won’t be many people present. Only those you’ve met before.”

That was not much of a consolation though, as the twins were sure to be there and Haldir knew he would have to watch his step when around them. Gildor opened a door and ushered him into something that was more of a private dining room than a formal dining hall. The chamber was not large but sunny and airy, with arched doors leading to a terrace. There was a table served for breakfast in the middle of the room, but the elves present had not taken their seats at it yet.

Gildor looked around and smiled. “Have we kept you waiting? We cannot be very much late.”

“You are not,” Elrond answered. “You are just in time.”

“Actually, we did not expect you to get up so early,” Erestor remarked archly, “after your no doubt exhausting recent ride.”

“May I ask who these “we” are, Erestor?” Gildor inquired nonchalantly.

Haldir missed the advisor’s answer, distracted by Gildor’s hand moving down from the small of his back to stroke his rump.

“Stop it,” he muttered under his breath.

Gildor chuckled softly, amused by Haldir’s embarrassment, and gave the taut flesh of his buttock a firm squeeze before placing his hand back onto its former spot.

“Relax, no one’s seen it,” he murmured as everybody moved to take their seats.

The Lord of the house sat at the head of the table with Elladan on his right and Glorfindel on his left. Elrohir’s place was on the right of his brother and Erestor’s – next to him. Gildor was on Glorfindel’s left and when Haldir took his seat by Gildor’s side, he found himself vis-à-vis with Erestor.

The twins were watching him, as Haldir had known they would. Their looks were not hostile though, just cool and expectant as if they were waiting for him to commit some kind of blunder. Then Elladan turned to Gildor and the steel of his eyes warmed.

“How was your first night at home, dagnir-e-guilen?” he asked. [bane of my life]

Gildor laughed. “Really, Elladan! Do you honestly expect me to give you the details? Suffice it to say that I slept well.”

“You slept?” Elladan feigned shock.

Haldir felt his irritation stir but a warm hand on his thigh started to draw soothing circles and he kept silent. However, Elladan felt his stare and looked at him quizzically.

“Yes, Marchwarden? Do you want to ask something?”

“Actually, I do,” Haldir began menacingly. But strong fingers dug into the muscles of his thigh and Haldir took a slow breath and turned to Elrond instead.

“I wonder, my Lord: is it done so on purpose that the dark part of your household is facing the fair part of it at your table?”

Elrond looked left and right and laughed. “I have never realized it, but you are right.”

Gildor smiled at his lover, his fingers stroking the suede of Haldir’s leggings again.

“Only – as you call it – the dark part is more numerous,” Elladan remarked.

“Which makes our fair part even more precious to us,” Elrohir added sweetly.

“I’m sure you have not seen so many dark-haired elves in one place before, have you, Haldir?” Erestor asked, steering the conversation into another direction.

“No, my Lord.”
“You needn’t my-lord me,” Erestor smiled, all white teeth and charm. “Call me Erestor.”

Haldir felt Gildor’s hand freeze on his thigh.

“So, Haldir, do you find the Noldorin type of beauty attractive? Some say it’s exotic, you know.”

“Er… yes,” Haldir answered politely. “Though, I must admit I prefer the gold of the Sun to the darkness of the night.”

He lifted Gildor’s hand off his thigh and brought it to his lips.

“Of course,” Erestor drawled. “We love what we are used to. But with time and practice one can learn to appreciate something quite different.”
Gildor’s eyes narrowed in indignation. The next moment Erestor hissed with pain as Elrohir, who had been playing with his napkin, knocked down his silver goblet, which fell and hit Erestor’s fingers.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Erestor. So clumsy of me,” Elrohir said, not a trace of remorse in his voice.

“But then, Erestor, you’ve been warned to keep your hands away,” Elladan remarked casually.

Erestor scowled, Elrond gave a huff of frustration and Glorfindel laughed.

“I think we two can as well start on our breakfast, Elrond. It looks like all the rest will never get to it, with all this bickering.”

Haldir was caught between amusement and resentment. He could appreciate the joke but he did not think Erestor had deserved such treatment. All the advisor had done was trying to put him at ease, and Haldir was genuinely grateful to him for his attempt at friendliness. Even if Erestor had flirted with him a little, it was absolutely innocent and much less demonstrative than the twins’ behaviour towards Gildor. Haldir smiled at the advisor. Erestor returned the smile and spread his napkin on his lap.

“So, as I hear,” he said as if nothing had happened, “the intractable king of Mirkwood has signed the treaty after all?”

Gildor hid a smirk: Erestor had not seen Thranduil’s version of the treaty yet.

“Yes,” he replied tersely.

“I was also told that he is sending his ambassadors to Imladris.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” The advisor played with his fork thoughtfully. “Why did he become so friendly, all of a sudden?”

“All of a sudden?” Gildor exclaimed in mock affront. “It took me centuries to persuade him to do it.”

Erestor waved it away dismissively. “I always thought you two were entirely content with things as they stood. So it makes his unexpected change of mind even more suspicious.”

“For pity’s sake, Erestor,” Glorfindel moaned, “could you, please, not talk business at table?”

“What is wrong, Glorfindel?” Erestor arched an eyebrow at the Elda. “Do you find diplomatic matters difficult to digest?”

Glorfindel gave an exaggerated sigh. “I know you enjoy listening to yourself talking, meldir, but I would prefer to have my breakfast to some other accompaniment, if I may.” [friend]

Gildor, who had a very good idea as to why Glorfindel was reluctant to discuss the reasons for Thranduil’s good will, hid his smile in his cup of tea. The twins watched their elders squabbling with merry interest while helping themselves to fresh buns and honey. Elrond shook his head in frustration and looked at Haldir apologetically.

“Please, do not think that it is always like this in our family. We do have our moments of peace and harmony, even though they might be sparse in between.”

“Oh, do not worry, my Lord,” Haldir laughed. “I’m well used to this sort of family interaction – I have two elder brothers.”

To Elrond’s relief, the rest of the breakfast was as uneventful as he could possibly wish. When the meal was over, to Haldir’s surprise the twins were the first to leave. With just a see-you-later they disappeared through the terrace door. Elrond and Glorfindel headed for Elrond’s study.

“I’ll join you in a moment,” Gildor told them and turned to Haldir. “I have to speak with Elrond about my trip to Mirkwood and other things.”

“I understand,” Haldir nodded.

“You can wait for me in our rooms or look around, or go out into the gardens if you wish. I won’t be busy for too long. And then I’ll show you the house and the grounds, all right?”

Haldir nodded again. Gildor kissed him and disappeared behind the door to the study. Haldir sighed and resumed walking along the corridor, wondering what on Arda he was to do with himself.

Erestor, who had stayed behind in the dining room to talk to the servants, caught up with Haldir when the young Galadhel reached the main hall.

“Left alone already?” the advisor inquired jokingly.

Haldir grew defensive at once. “Gildor has his duties and responsibilities.”

“Of course he has,” Erestor agreed lightly. “But we do not want you to feel abandoned, do we? Perhaps I could keep you company while Gildor is busy?”

“Don’t you have to be present there too?” Haldir asked hesitantly.

“Oh, they’ll be discussing Imladris’ defences and patrols. I trust they are able to manage that without my help.”

Haldir suddenly felt melancholic: defences and patrols were the things he had always been invited to discuss when in Lórien. Erestor put his hand on Haldir’s arm and a light sigh escaped his lips at the solid feel of hard muscles under the thin fabric of the Galadhel’s tunic.

“Would you like me to show you around the house?” he offered.

Haldir shook his head. “Gildor wants to do it himself.”

“I know he does,” Erestor laughed. “And I won’t spoil the pleasure for him by guiding you through Imladris’ main sights. I just want to show you some things that can make your life here easier – like convenient passages, shortcuts, hidden doors… ”

Haldir’s curiosity was piqued.

“Hidden doors sound intriguing,” he smiled.

“Good. Let us begin our excursion then.”

Haldir almost jumped when he felt Erestor’s hand on the small of his back. But the touch was very light and quick and was certainly meant only as an invitation to start moving, so Haldir chided himself for being too twitchy and thought no more of it.

Erestor turned out to be a very efficient guide and interesting company. He knew the place like the back of his hand and entertained Haldir with stories and anecdotes from the history of Imladris. Haldir found that he was enjoying himself in spite of the fact that Gildor was not with him at the moment. He once again felt sincere gratitude to Erestor for taking the time and the trouble to lessen his unease.

“We are in the family wing now,” Erestor said as they entered a long passage. “This is the door to my rooms. And that one is to Glorfindel’s.”

They walked the corridor at a leisurely pace. Erestor gave Haldir a side-glance.

“How did you like Gildor’s monster of a bed?”

Haldir chuckled. “I liked it. It’s… spacious.”

“Oh, that it certainly is. I never could understand why he wanted his bed that big when he had hardly ever put its size to full use. Well, of course it was convenient when the twins chose to sleep with him. But he couldn’t have known they would do it when he had that bed put into his room.”

Haldir turned his darkened gaze to Erestor. “What do you mean they chose to sleep with him?”

“What do I… Oh! No! I did not mean it that way!” Erestor looked at him in good imitation of embarrassment. “They used to come to his bed when they were children.”

“And why would they choose his bed?”

“Well, their parents’ bed was Arwen’s prerogative. Glorfindel’s was often… occupied. As for me, I always lock my door for the night, as I do not like interruptions. Gildor, for his part, never locks his. So quite often they were found in the morning, sleeping in his bed. I do not know if they had ever walked in on him. But if you do not want to be surprised in the middle of… any activity, you’ll have to bolt your door yourself, because Gildor has never learned to do it and the gwanûn have never learned to knock.” [twins]

Haldir looked back at the long passage they had walked from the staircase.

“It’s a far way for children to run in the night.”

“Ah, this is where a shortcut comes in very handily,” Erestor laughed. “Let me show you.”

He pulled aside a tapestry covering the wall in front of the twins’ door and Haldir saw stairs leading upwards.

“Shall we?” Erestor asked.

Haldir nodded and they climbed the stairway. There was another tapestry to be raised at the end of it and then Haldir found himself at the door to Gildor’s chambers.

“Convenient, isn’t it?” Erestor smiled. “Actually, if you look from the outside of the house, you’ll see that our rooms and Gildor’s are situated in different wings, on different levels and even face different directions. But with the help of this little staircase one can get from one to another very quickly.”

“There are no other rooms on this floor. Gildor lives here alone, why?” Haldir asked.

Erestor shrugged. “This was his choice. He likes solitude. A lone wolf, you know. That reminds me – we should get back. I think his meeting with Elrond must be over by now, and Gildor will have my hide if I keep you away from him.”

Erestor’s words were not very wide of the mark. They had hardly reached the library when the door next to it opened and Gildor walked out.

“Where have you been, Erestor?” he inquired. “We thought you would join us.”

The advisor hid his hands in the wide sleeves of his robe. “I decided for this once not to meddle with your military matters.”

“Erestor showed me around the place,” Haldir explained.

“Hm.”

Gildor’s eyes were fixed on Erestor, and it was obvious that whatever thoughts were hidden behind that cool, unnerving stare, they were not nice.

Erestor shifted from foot to foot. “Well, I really have to get to my work now,” he said. “If you ever want my help again, Haldir, you can always find me in the library.”

He put his hand on the doorknob but Gildor stopped him.

“Just a moment, Erestor.”

The advisor turned around, a hint of worry in his eyes.

“I’m sorry to add to your work but Elrond wants you to have a look at this.” Gildor offered him a parchment.

“What is it?”

“The treaty with Mirkwood. From Thranduil with love,” the Vanya gave him a bright smile.

Erestor took the parchment gingerly as if he were expecting it to explode any moment. He had a distinct feeling he was not going to like what he would see in it.

“Let’s go, Haldir.”

Gildor caught Haldir’s wrist and pulled his lover after himself. Haldir looked over his shoulder as he was being all but dragged away. Erestor was still looking at the paper in his hand, then he cursed under his breath and entered the library.

Haldir tried to free his hand several times but to no avail. At last he dug his heels into the floor, making Gildor stop.

“What ailed you?” he demanded.

Gildor let go of his wrist but did not answer at once.

“Are you angry Erestor showed me the house before you could do it?”

“I told him to keep away from you!” Resentment made Gildor’s eyes glitter.

“For Valar’s sake, Gildor! He’s just being friendly! What’s wrong with his trying to make me feel more welcome here than I’ve felt so far?”

“You do not understand,” Gildor shook his head. “You’ve always been a hunter, you haven’t been hunted yourself. So you do not see the signs. He is using your current vulnerability to get closer to you. And believe me, it is not friendship that he is seeking.”

Haldir’s temper flared up. He had been putting up with the twin show of overprotectiveness since he had arrived in Imladris. And now he was rebuked for not turning down someone who happened not to treat him like an odd elf in the happy family. He felt it was not fair. He looked away trying to curb his anger. His eyes fell on the fresco behind Gildor’s back and what he saw there made him scowl. The artist, who had made the picture, was no doubt talented. Haldir immediately recognized the person staring intently at him from the painting. Thranduil, another of Gildor’s bosom friends. Gildor did not have to turn around to know what Haldir was looking at. Haldir shifted his gaze back to the Vanya’s face.

“Erestor and I, we are only friends,” Haldir said, allowing an acid tinge to permeate his tone. “What’s so wrong with my wish to have my own close friends? Besides, even if Erestor is making a pass at me, I can deal with it myself. I need no shepherd!”

Damn, that hurt. Gildor shut his eyes for a moment. It seemed when one put down one’s armour, every scratch became painful. When Gildor looked at Haldir again, his expression was carefully guarded.

“Fair enough,” he said evenly.

Haldir was already regretting the words he had said in the heat of the moment. He immediately knew that it was not anger that Gildor was hiding so skilfully under his Ice Blade mask - it was hurt.

“Gildor, I’m sorry!” Haldir wanted to but dared not touch him. “I did not mean it like that.”

Gildor shook his head. “You have a right to make your own decisions and… your own mistakes. But if you want our relationship to be an open one, you’d better tell me about it now.”

Haldir gasped. “Open one? Are you insane?!”

He did not hesitate any longer but reached out, grasped Gildor’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “Don’t you understand that I want you all to myself? That I hate the very thought of sharing you with anyone? That I want you to be mine alone?”

Haldir jerked Gildor to himself and claimed his mouth in a fiercely possessive kiss. After several moments he felt Gildor’s lips soften reluctantly under his own and doubled his effort. Gradually the Vanya’s stiff body relaxed, warmed and moulded to Haldir’s, his hands slid up Haldir’s shoulders and got entangled into the Galadhel’s silken tresses.

“Tell me you are mine!” Haldir’s demand sounded low and dark and sensuous.

“Yours,” Gildor confirmed breathlessly.

As he kissed him again, Haldir threw a triumphant glance over his lover’s shoulder at Thranduil in the picture. When they drew apart finally, their lungs were burning for the lack of air. They were smiling at each other silently, giving themselves time to catch their breath. Haldir was the first to speak.

“Well, what is this place?” he asked conversationally, looking around. “I haven’t seen it yet. I never thought I’d find Thranduil’s portrait on a wall in Imladris.”

“This is not just Thranduil’s portrait,” Gildor argued good-humouredly. “If you look attentively, you’ll notice the Mirkwood army around him.”

Gildor disentangled himself from Haldir’s arms and turned to face the fresco.

“See? This is his father by his side. And this is the banner of Mirkwood.” Gildor sighed. “The last moments before the Battle of Dagorlad began.”

“Hmm,” Haldir looked around. “If there is a picture of the Mirkwood army here, there is sure to be one of the Noldorin forces too. And of you.” He smiled at Gildor. “So, where is it?”

Gildor chuckled. “Further along the passage.”

“I want to see it.”

Gildor led Haldir to another fresco and Haldir found his lover in it at once. Gildor looked so incredibly young and exquisitely lovely and so lethally dangerous.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Haldir remarked.

“Yes, you’ve said it before,” Gildor laughed. “And you’ve said you like it.”

“I do.”

Haldir tore his eyes away from Gildor’s likeness and looked at other elves in the picture. He recognized Glorfindel and Elrond, who flanked a tall elf with piercing blue eyes and a proud countenance. Haldir regarded him for several moments

“Is this what Gil-galad looked like?” he asked.

“Yes, very close to it.”

“One can see at once he was a formidable warrior.”

“Yes,” Gildor agreed quietly.

After a while Haldir turned to Gildor again. “Now show me the Chamber of the Sword,” he demanded.

“Yes, my Lord.” Gildor gave him a mock bow. “Follow me, please.”

They walked along the corridor that led them into the room where the shards of Narsil were kept. Haldir studied the broken sword of Elendil, displayed on a plateau, covered with a dark satin cloth and held by the wooden, larger-than-life likeness of a male Elf.

“It must have been a proud sword once,” he observed.

“It was,” Gildor confirmed softly. “It could be such again one day, who knows… ”

There were paintings on the walls of this chamber as well. Haldir came closer to the one depicting Isildur with the hilt-shard of Narsil in his raised hand and the dark, helmed figure of Sauron looming over him. Haldir studied the picture closely.

“I never liked the Man,” he heard Gildor’s disdainful voice.

He turned to look at him, surprised. “Why?”

“He was weak and vain. I wish I had been by Orodruin’s fires with him instead of Elrond.”

“What would that have changed?”

“If he had refused to destroy the Ring, he would have gone down into the fires together with the damned thing.”

“No!” Haldir stared at the Vanya in disbelief. “You would have never done such a thing.”

“I would. Have no doubt of that. I would have gone down too, if I had had to. And that would have been a small price to pay.”

“But the Ring is lost anyway,” Haldir remarked soothingly.

Gildor sighed. “Unfortunately, such things are never lost forever, Silfael. But let us not speak about it now. Is there anything else you want me to show you?”

“Yes, gardens and all those bridges.”

“Well, maybe, *some* of those bridges,” Gildor laughed. “It’s impossible to see all of them at one go.”

As they headed for the staircase leading down to the gardens, Haldir asked curiously, “What are the mortals like? I haven’t seen many of them. So what are they like, generally?”

Gildor made a face. “Hairy. And they can go without a bath for weeks.” He gave a theatrical shudder.

Haldir snickered. “Gildor! I’m serious.”

“So am I. But perhaps you’ll like them better than I do. You’ll be able to get your own opinion of them for they are more frequent visitors here than in Lórien.” After a moment of contemplation he added, “But I’d say they are still better than the dwarves. Women, at any rate.”


They stayed in the gardens till it was time to return to the house for lunch. The meal was served in the same dining room where they had had breakfast. Erestor was absent as he preferred to have his midday meal in the library and the twins were reported to have already had their lunch. So only Elrond and Glorfindel were there to keep Gildor and Haldir company. Haldir was genuinely grateful for this respite.

“I hope we shall see you two at the party tonight?” Elrond asked them when the lunch was over.

“Party?” Haldir looked at Gildor in question.

“Yes,” the Vanya answered. “We are fond of such things here. I did not show you the Hall of Fire because you’ll see it in the evening anyway. But we still have plenty of time before that, so we can go and have a look at how our guards are doing at the training grounds. And we could have a sparring match, if you wish.”

“I do.”

“Well,” Gildor turned to Elrond, “then you are sure to see me in the Hall of Fire tonight. And maybe, Haldir too, if he survives the match.”

Haldir glared at his lover in mock affront. “We’ll see who survives it!”

“I take it that at least one of you will be present in any case,” Elrond remarked conversationally.

“Yes,” Gildor and Haldir said together and rose from the table.

They went to their room first, to change and to take their swords. As they came out of the house and Gildor was leading Haldir to the training grounds, he asked, “Tell me, Silfael, what would you like to do here, in Imladris?” [Moonbeam]

The question took Haldir by surprise.

“I thought I could join your patrol,” he said hesitantly.

“Of course you can. But I have a better offer for you.”

Haldir grew a little suspicious: what else could he do but to be a warrior?

“We have three patrol shifts,” Gildor started to explain. “Glorfindel leads one of them, Convaethyr leads the other and the third is mine. We want to form one more and you could take the command of it if you wish. Of course, there are things you’ll have to learn first. But you’ll have plenty of time for that while guards are chosen and trained.”

“I do not want to be away from you,” Haldir frowned.

“There will be four shifts, Haldir. We’ll still be spending half of our time together. And, you’ll have a rank that equals the one you had in Lórien.”

“I do not care about the rank,” Haldir replied stubbornly. “And I do not like the idea of your fighting without me.”

Gildor smiled. “Do not worry, I’ll be fine. I always am. Please, I would like you to think it over. I’m sure you are well suited for this position and Glorfindel seconds my opinion. Promise me to give it a thought.”

“All right,” Haldir agreed reluctantly. He could not deny, though, that the offer was really generous and very tempting.

They came to a large field on which about two dozen elves were engaged in sparring matches, practicing sword fighting or hand-to-hand combat. One pair of combatants Haldir identified at once. He was not sure if the twins saw them. They did not interrupt their fight though.

At the far end of the field there were shooting ranges. Some elves were practicing with their bows and others stood waiting for their turn. Haldir almost stumbled when he recognized one of them. Dóghered. He had bedded the elf about a decade ago when the Noldo came to Lórien as a messenger. Darn! It was stupid of him not to have thought that they were sure to meet in Imladris. But to tell the truth, he had forgotten all about the elf.

When Dóghered saw Haldir, his eyes grew wide with surprise. Then his look darted to Gildor and surprise in his eyes was replaced by anxiety. Of course, Gildor did not fail to notice the exchange of looks between his lover and of one the soldiers. The guilty expression on Haldir’s face told him everything he had to know. Gildor chuckled.

“Haldir, I’m not going to chase down and kill all your former lovers. For while Imladris could survive such a hunt, Lórien would be horribly depopulated, I’m afraid.”

Haldir gave him a self-conscious smile.

“So go talk to Dóghered,” Gildor continued, “and tell him that I won’t be after him as long as he sleeps in someone else’s bed.”

Haldir nodded and went to speak with Dóghered. To his relief, he found that the elf was as much anxious as himself to forget all about their tryst. That cleared up, they both felt more at ease and chatted amiably. Dóghered introduced Haldir to his friends and the conversation became even livelier, as the Imladris elves asked Haldir about Lórien and her guardians and Haldir entertained them with some stories of his patrol life.

When finally Haldir turned to the place where he had left Gildor, the Vanya, of course, was no longer there. Haldir’s eyes darted around the field, searching for his lover. When he spotted him, he sighed. Gildor was engaged in a sparring match with the twins, both at once. Haldir took a seat on a bench near the edge of the field and watched.

The triad was bare to their waists and Haldir could see powerful muscles ripple and bunch under smooth skin that was already covered with a sheen of sweat. All three of them moved with the fluid grace and powerful step of born warriors. Haldir saw with respect that the twins were accomplished swordsmen. Gildor was forced to move around the ground by the impact of their combined attack. Though, he let them neither come too close to him nor corner him between them. He did not attempt any attacks himself, just fended off their blows.

“Have we made you sweat already, Gildor?” one of the twins taunted. “Were you slacking during your trip or has your age finally begun telling on you?”

“Shut up, El,” Gildor answered tersely.

“Ah, the truth tastes bitter,” Elladan laughed.

“When you talk too much, you lose your breath,” Gildor smirked. “And your focus.”

The next moment he delivered a sudden powerful blow and Elladan’s sword was knocked form his hand and flew in a wide arch to fall down some distance away. Elladan stepped swiftly out of Gildor’s sword’s reach and ran to get his weapon back. Elrohir was left to face the Vanya alone. Gildor gave him a predatory smile.

“Do you think you can take me, pen neth?” [young one]

Haldir watched Gildor’s every movement, as he did not want to miss anything: he knew from his own experience how quick the Vanya could be. And he was right to expect fast action. Gildor lunged, then made a feint and ducked under Elrohir’s arm, gripping him from behind. The younger twin froze at the cold feel of Gildor’s blade at his throat.

“Drop your sword, Ro,” Gildor murmured, his breath stirring Elrohir’s hair near his ear.

Elrohir’s eyelashes fluttered, he sighed and unclenched his hand. His sword fell to the ground by his feet. When Elladan turned back, he found his twin weaponless and with a blade under his chin. He cursed.

“Couldn’t you have held out just a little longer, Ro?” he asked, disappointed, as he walked back to them.

“I found him irresistible,” Elrohir smirked.

Gildor chuckled and pushed the younger twin into his brother’s arms, smacking his backside with the flat of his sword.

“Ouch!” Elrohir rubbed his rump and turned to glare at the Vanya.

“Poor thing!” Elladan was all sympathy. “Let me rub it for you. Or shall I kiss it better?”

“Not here,” Gildor ordered sternly, though his eyes were glittering with laughter. “Take him to your rooms and subject him to your healing methods there.”

Elladan stood to attention. “Yes, my Lord.”

Then he wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Let’s go, meleth. I’ll make it good for you, oh so very-very good.” [love]

When they sauntered away in the direction of the house, Gildor turned to Haldir.

“A match, Marchwarden?”

“You’ll be at a disadvantage – you’ve just fought with two opponents.”

“Well, that will even our chances to some extent, so I won’t have to feel too guilty for beating you.”

“And they say I am arrogant! Very well.”

Haldir rose to his feet and took off his tunic. Then he unsheathed his sword and joined Gildor on the training ground. They took position on front of each other.

“Ready?”

Haldir nodded and the match began. As they circled each other cautiously, Gildor ran his eyes over his lover’s form appreciatively.

“You look good,” he paid him a playful compliment.

“Don’t lose your focus,” Haldir smirked.

“Not to worry, you won’t catch me off-guard.”

They exchanged the first test blows and broke swiftly apart.

“Not bad,” Gildor commented. “But you’ll have to try harder if you want to really impress me.”

Haldir gave him a scornful look and did not waste his breath on answering. Soon they were engaged in the fight in earnest, trading fierce jabs and blows. After a while, though, Haldir realized that he was the one doing the most of attacking.

“You said you were not tired,” he breathed.

“I’m not,” Gildor grinned, parrying Haldir’s lunge. “I just don’t want it to end too quickly.”

“Braggart!”

Haldir delivered a powerful blow, which Gildor blocked. Their blades clashed and strained against each other. Their eyes locked, their faces were set in effort. Then something changed swiftly in Gildor’s look. But even before Haldir had time to fully register it, Gildor grabbed a fistful of Haldir’s hair quickly and pulled him into a fervid kiss over their crossed swords. Then, just as quickly, he shoved Haldir away. The Galadhel staggered back a couple of steps before he could regain his balance and his composure. He looked at his lover, breathing heavily.

Gildor gave him a smug grin. “Shall we continue?”

“Indoors,” Haldir suggested.

“So that no one could witness your disgrace?” Gildor teased. “Are you afraid to be defeated in public, Marchwarden? Well, all right. I think I’ll spare your pride this time.”

“Two can play this game, glinn-e-guren,” Haldir smirked as they sheathed their swords and gathered their tunics. “We’ll see who tops whom in the end. But no more dirty tricks, you cheat!” [song of my heart]

“Bah!” Gildor laughed. “Everything is fair in love and war, Silfael.”

They headed for the house, still bantering.

Gildor and Haldir came out of their room, making for the Hall of fire. When they reached the stairs, Gildor stopped suddenly, gave his lover a once-over and sighed.

“I think we should go back and find you something else to wear.”

Haldir looked down at his tunic. “And what is wrong with my current attire?”

Gildor sighed again. “You look too good in it. I’d say you look outrageously beautiful. You’ll be a walking temptation for everyone in the Hall. The only way to prevent your abduction, I believe, is to chain you to me.”

Haldir laughed. “There is no need for such extreme measures. Binding will be enough, I think.”

Gildor held his breath for a moment. Surely, Haldir could not mean it that way? No, of course, not.

“No, Silfael,” he said ruefully. “Mithril chains are the only means.”

“Hmm, strange. I had an impression that no one dared come close to something or someone you called yours. Besides, don’t you think I have the same reason for worrying?”

Haldir fell one step behind to steal a look at Gildor’s slender legs clad in tight suede. It was his turn to sigh. But Gildor dismissed his argument with a slight shrug.

“Not to worry. I haven’t been made a serious pass at for… ” he tried to remember, “a long time.”

“I wonder why,” Haldir chuckled.

Gildor gave another little shrug. “Everyone here knows it’s a mug’s game.”

They came up to the entrance to the Hall of Fire, looked at each other and smiled.

“All right. Here we go,” Gildor said and they entered the wide doors.

The large chamber was already filled with talking and laughing elves, dressed in brightly coloured clothes. Though Haldir found some of the colours too extravagantly vivid, he decided that, all in all, he liked it. It made the Hall look like a summer garden.

Of course, their appearance in the doorway attracted immediate attention. As they wove their way to the place where the Lord of the House was sitting in his armchair, Haldir found himself being regarded with keen interest. The Imladris elves did not try to hide their curiosity and when Haldir caught someone staring, they just smiled at him friendly or coyly or playfully. Haldir studied them in turn. He discovered that Erestor had been actually right – the dark-haired Noldorin type of beauty was really exotic and, as such, had some undeniable enticement. Then Haldir noticed a young elf whose looks held his gaze.

The elf in question was sitting sideways on one of the windowsills, with one leg folded gracefully under himself. He dangled his other leg in the air as he plucked on the strings of his lute absently, watching the crowd. He was no doubt a Noldo; the dark hair around his face was arranged into several intricate braids and decorated with mutlicoloured beads. He was regarding the world around him with wide and clear blue eyes, full of trust, enthusiasm and admiration. He had an air of gentleness and sweet innocence about him. When he saw Haldir staring at him, he gave him a bright smile of a happy child.

“Who’s that?” Haldir asked in astonishment.

Gildor looked that way and laughed. “Ah, so you are hooked, aren’t you? And you haven’t even heard him sing yet. This is Lindir, our minstrel.”

“Is he as young as he looks?” Haldir asked suspiciously.

“Well, more or less. He is about your age.”

“I have never thought a Noldo could look so fragile and pure.”

“We are not born kin slayers, you know,” Gildor snorted. “Besides, appearances are deceptive. Actually, he is nowhere near as innocent as he seems, but it is gloriously easy to forget when he beams at you like that.” Gildor smiled. “He is quite a passionate little thing, in fact, who knows exactly what he wants and has a hundred and one tricks to get it.”

“Are you speaking from you own experience?” Haldir asked, amused.

“Oh no, I’m not telling you,” Gildor laughed.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not of the kiss-and-tell type, sir. That’s why.”

Haldir looked around and sighed dramatically. “I wish I had come to Imladris before I met you. So many missed chances.”

“Don’t even start dreaming about catching up on them. You are mine and I do not share with anyone.”

They finally reached the seat of the Lord of the House and Elrond rose to greet them. Then he asked for everybody’s attention and introduced Haldir, saying that the Marchwarden was a welcome and valuable acquisition to Imladris’ community and asked his subjects to give the young newcomer a warm reception.

“How warm exactly, Ada?” Elrohir murmured when Elrond sat down again.

It was Erestor who answered him.

“Only as warm as it is allowed,” he smirked, looking pointedly at Gildor, who ignored him entirely.

Soon the party was in full swing and Haldir found to his amusement that the elves in the Hall had taken their Lord’s request close to heart: almost everyone seemed to be eager to talk, to dance or to have a drink with him. At first, he tried to stay close to Gildor but failed and was swept away by the merry, multicoloured crowd.

“He is already popular,” Glorfindel remarked as he joined Gildor by the column the Vanya was leaning upon.

“It was only to be expected,” Gildor replied, watching Haldir being pulled onto the dance floor yet again by one of the ellith.

“Are you comfortable with it?”

Gildor shrugged. “I cannot keep him on a leash.”

“But you would like to?” Glorfindel teased.

“Oh yes,” Gildor agreed laughingly. “Or better – locked up in my room.”

“And bound to your bed, no doubt,” added Elladan, coming up to him with Elrohir and Lindir in tow.

Gildor chuckled. “I must admit to wishing to do this very thing.”

Lindir caught some slight tension in Gildor’s tone and changed the subject by asking, “Are you going to sing tonight?”

“No, I do not think so.”

“Pity.” Lindir was genuinely disappointed. “Glorfindel said you brought Legolas’s new songs. I’d love to hear them; he is so good at composing.”

“True,” Gildor agreed. “I wish he were here to sing them himself.”

A sigh nearly escaped Glorfindel, unchecked, at these words and Gildor’s lips twitched slightly.

“Hmm.” Elrohir looked thoughtful. “We would also like to see the fair prince here, wouldn’t we, El?”

“Yes,” Elladan confirmed readily. “If he is as skillful as our Lindir… ”

“ … we would certainly wish to know him better.”

“I do not think it’s a good idea,” Glorfindel remarked tensely. “He is too young for an acquaintance with you.”

“But he could find our acquaintance rather beneficial,” Elladan argued.

“We could teach him some useful things,” Elrohir seconded his brother.

Gildor felt Glorfindel’s annoyance and subtly gave one of his braids a tug. ‘You are becoming too obvious, Mallos.’

“Actually,” he said aloud, “there is a good point in Glorfindel’s words. If Thranduil catches you teaching his younger son any of your useful things, all the lovemaking you’ll be able to do after that will be holding hands.”

“Oh,” the twins breathed in unison.

“I do not think our father guarded our virtue so fiercely,” Elladan said ruefully.

“No, he did not. We had to take care of it ourselves,” Elrohir chorused.

“But of course we were only children then... ”

“…that’s why we did such a poor job of it.”

“Incorrigible,” Glorfindel sighed.

“But there is one more prince in Mirkwood,” they were reminded by Haldir, who had finally managed to escape from the dance floor and joined the company. “He is Legolas’s elder brother and is of the legal age.”

“Indeed? What’s he like?” Elrohir inquired.

“Fiery and heady, like everything that comes from Mirkwood.”

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow; he could not imagine Legolas to be ‘fiery and heady’. Lindir’s eyes turned dreamy and the twins looked at Haldir with sarcastic interest.

“You seem to know him well,” Elladan remarked.

“We met when he came to Lórien with his father.”

“What does he look like?” Elrohir continued his inquiry.

“He is the younger image of king Thranduil.”

“Well, that does not say much to us, as we’ve never seen the king,” Elladan shrugged.

“There is a picture of Thranduil near the Chamber of the Sword,” Lindir said.

The twins laughed. “Oh, you would know, of course.”

“You see,” Elrohir explained to Haldir, “our Lindir has a thing for blonds. Unfortunately, we have tragically few of them in Imladris. In fact, only two – Glorfindel and Gildor. I could never understand why he did not just settle for one of them.”

Glorfindel and Gildor exchanged a quick glance and Lindir blushed furiously.

“But now we have a valuable acquisition in your face,” Elrohir went on archly. “Perhaps, he’ll like you better.”

“Idiot!” Lindir hissed at him and stormed away.

“You really shouldn’t tease him like that, Elrohir,” Glorfindel chided. “You know how sensitive he is.”

“Never mind. He’ll be fine in a moment. He likes us too much to be angry with us for long.”

“You two are so arrogant,” Gildor laughed.

“Yes, we are,” Elrohir declared proudly.

“But then, we have good reasons for it, aren’t we, Ro? Though we are not blonds.”

“Windbags,” Glorfindel sighed.

“You know, Ro,” Elladan continued, unperturbed, “I think we could make Lindir a present and take him along when we go to Mirkwood. Only imagine - a whole realm of fair-haired elves. Let his wildest dream come true.”

“Oh yes,” Elrohir drawled, “and let him show those Sindar what a grand performance a Noldorin minstrel can give.”

They looked at each other and snickered.

Glorfindel shook his head. “Absolutely incorrigible.”


Musicians started playing a slow tune and Haldir was again approached by one of the ellith.

“May I have this dance, Haldir?” she asked.

Haldir gave Gildor a pleading look and the Vanya hid a smile.

“It seems you’ve made a hit today, Silfael. I think I should start getting jealous.”

“I would have asked you, Gildor,” the girl laughed, “but you would refuse anyway.”

Gildor chuckled. “You know me too well, Brethil.”

Haldir and Brethil went to join the dancing couples and Gildor followed them with his eyes. When he turned back, Elladan gave him a provocative smile.

“I shall ask you for a dance, dagnir-e-guilen. You won’t refuse me… us, will you? Dance with Ro. I haven’t seen you do it for ages.” [bane of my life]

Lindir’s velvety voice wove into the rhythmic tune, making the sultry melody sound even more sensual.

A slow smile touched Gildor’s lips and he looked at Elrohir. “No. I won’t refuse you.”

He took Elrohir’s hand and led him to the dance floor.


“Why were you so sure Gildor would refuse to dance with you?” Haldir asked Brethil when the girl put her hands on his broad shoulders.

She laughed. “He does it rarely and only with those, whom he finds sexually attractive. Sort of philosophy of his, I believe.”

“You must be joking!” Haldir stared at her in open surprise.

“Ask him if you do not believe me,” the girl shrugged. Then she looked over his shoulder and her eyes widened a little. “Oh!”

Haldir swirled his partner so that he could see what had caused her surprise.

“Sweet Lady of the Stars!” he breathed.

Brethil chuckled. “You have never seen them dance, have you?”

“No,” Haldir answered tersely, his eyes still glued to the pair in question. “Well, what conclusion am I to draw, according to your theory?”

Brethil looked away uneasily. “I do not know. They’ve been dancing together since Elrohir learned to do it. Perhaps, in this case it’s only dancing and nothing more.”

‘Of course,’ Haldir thought sarcastically. ‘We are only friends. They are only children and that is only dancing.’

Gildor and Elrohir moved to the music in perfect synchronism, their bodies matching the rhythm with ease. Their hips and thighs were pressed against each other. Elrohir’s right hand was curled around Gildor’s neck and Gildor’s palm lay flat against the small of the younger elf’s back. They kept their left arms loose and relaxed. Their eyes were locked as if they were talking silently and for all Haldir knew they very well could be. They both moved with liquid, natural grace, swaying and gyrating their hips and looking deeply into each other’s eyes. As Haldir watched, Gildor’s hand slid just a little lower to press Elrohir even closer.

“I’d say they are making love in public,” Brethil breathed in rapture. “It’s absolutely breath-taking, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Haldir murmured. “Absolutely breath-taking.”

He threw a glance at Elladan and saw that the elf was watching his twin intently, pride and hunger mixed in his eyes.

“Elrohir is such a responsive partner,” Brethil went on enthusiastically. “He seems to feel Gildor’s minutest move and yields to his lead most readily.”

“Indeed.” Some vague thought started to form in Haldir’s mind, but before he could catch it by its tail, he was distracted by Gildor’s sudden movement.

The Vanya twirled his partner around so that now Elrohir’s back was pressed against his chest. Their left arms were still lowered while their right hands rested on Elrohir’s hip, with their fingers laced. The sight they were making became even more provocative, if it was possible. Haldir did not like the look he saw in Gildor’s eyes. He knew it too well by now: the Vanya was aroused. No wonder at all, taking into consideration all the touching and rubbing that were taking place. Damn, he was aroused himself by merely watching them. Now Gildor was talking to Elrohir. The younger elf flushed slightly and a faint smile curved up his lips. With the last sounds of the song Elrohir let his head fall back against Gildor’s shoulder and Gildor pressed his lips to his throat in a quick kiss, before they broke apart and walked back to the column where Elladan and Glorfindel were waiting for them.

“Ro, you are incredible,” Elladan breathed, pulling his twin into his arms and allowing him to feel the evidence of his admiration. “I wish I could move like that.”

“You can,” Elrohir smiled at him affectionately. “But in a different sort of dance.”

“Hm?” Elladan leaned forward and whispered, “Dance with me, then. Now.”

Elrohir gave a quick, eager nod.

“Please, excuse us,” Elladan said casually. “We have an urgent business we need to attend to.”

“Oh, of course, Your Highness,” Glorfindel snorted. “Do not let us delay you.”

The twins were gone in a flash.

“I think someone else is going to be snatched away for a private dance,” Glorfindel chuckled.

“What?” Gildor asked, baffled.

The next moment a warm and very aroused body was pressed to his own from behind and Haldir’s low voice murmured into his ear, “I would have you now... for a dance, if you are willing.”

A little sigh escaped Gildor’s lips. “I am,” he breathed.

Glorfindel watched with amusement as his friend put his dominant ways aside imperceptibly and let his young lover take over the control. They were well into the dance before Haldir realized that it was he who was leading it. A faint bell rang in his mind again but his body rebelled against thinking. He could only feel at the moment and what he felt was a burning need to be closer to his lover, and even closer – to be inside.

“I want you,” he murmured against Gildor’s lips.

“I know,” the Vanya chuckled but his need was as obvious as Haldir’s.

“Can we leave now?” Haldir breathed.

“I think we must leave now.”

They manoeuvred their way out of the Hall as unobtrusively as they possibly could, making for their room.


They collapsed through the door to their suite in a frenzy of kissing, opening each other’s clothes feverishly. Their tunics and shirts were dropped down carelessly somewhere on the way to the bedroom. Haldir moaned into the kiss as the ties of his leggings were loosened and his rigid shaft sprang free of his clothing and leapt eagerly into Gildor’s waiting hand. He gave a cry of dismay when, after a couple of teasing strokes, Gildor let go of his heated flesh.

Gildor grinned, made him cross the remaining distance to the bed and then fell down on the mattress, pulling Haldir on top of him. They both gasped and moaned in pleasure at the contact. Gildor writhed under his lover’s body, trying to nestle his narrow hips even more snugly against Haldir’s.

“Haldir,” he breathed, his eyes firm on his desires.

Haldir gave him another hard and hungry kiss and rolled off him. He quickly divested Gildor of his leggings and boots and stripped off the rest of his own clothes.

“Flip over,” he commanded, his voice a low seductive rumble.

Gildor obediently rolled over on his stomach, presenting him with a firm pair of buttocks. Haldir inhaled sharply at the luring sight, climbed on the bed and kneeled between Gildor’s spread legs. He gathered the Vanya’s golden hair and pushed it over one of his shoulders. Then he gripped Gildor’s hips, pulling him up onto his hands and knees. A shivering moan escaped Gildor’s lips, as the moist heat of Haldir’s rigid sex was pressed tight against the crevice of his rear.

“To Mordor with preparation,” he ordered breathlessly.

“You’ll be sore,” Haldir warned, clutching desperately at the remnants of his self-control. He stroked his lover’s back and felt the strong muscles jump and flex under his palm.

“Who cares!” Gildor rocked himself back and forward impatiently.

Haldir snatched a vial of oil from the night table and poured it on his aching member and his fingers. He quickly spread some lubrication inside Gildor’s channel. Then he steadied Gildor’s hips and took him with a sure, smooth thrust. Gildor clenched his teeth against an involuntary sharp groan, blinking back the reflexive tears that pricked at his eyes. Haldir stretched himself out along his lover’s back, kissing his shoulder soothingly and trying to keep as still as possible while Gildor sucked in short, almost sobbing breaths.

“Move, for Valar’s sake,” Gildor pleaded at last.

Haldir sat back slowly, pulling Gildor backwards and into his lap.

“*You* move,” he panted. He entwined his fingers with Gildor’s, resting their joined hands on Gildor’s hips.

Gildor began a rocking motion, raising himself and pushing down to press his backside tight against Haldir’s thighs, taking command of the tempo and setting the pace hard and fast. Ragged moans ripped from their throats as a delicious sensation was rising and building within their bodies.

Soon Haldir could remain still and passive no more. He pushed his lover forward onto his hands and knees again, pressing him down with a palm between his shoulder blades, and started shoving into the tight confines of his body. Gildor accepted eagerly the forceful thrusts Haldir could no longer restrain, willing him to drive harder, faster. He bit onto a pillow to muffle his cries but Haldir yanked his head up by the hair.

“No! I want to hear you! Scream for me!”

And scream Gildor did as his world exploded into a starburst of pleasure and he spilled himself with abandon upon the bedcover. The spasms wracking the Vanya’s body were so violent that Haldir had to press him down with his weight. The Galadhel was trying to steady his lover’s shuddering form and was taken completely by surprise by his own climax when it suddenly rushed through his body with the power of a spring flood. Gildor’s tight channel constricted spasmodically around Haldir’s engorged member and a wave of purest delight swept him away and tossed him up into the starry darkness. He gasped and bit hard on Gildor’s shoulder to stifle his own scream.

“No!” Gildor slammed a fist into the mattress. “I want to hear you!” He jerked his shoulder.

Haldir gave a long low moan and, drained, fell with all his weight down on Gildor, struggling to get the breath back into his lungs. In several moments, he rolled them onto their sides slowly, their bodies still joined. They lay silently for some time, allowing their heartbeats to slow down and enjoying the feeling of completion.

“You are such an animal, Haldir,” Gildor mumbled drowsily after a while. “I won’t be able to strip on the training grounds for days now.”

Haldir kissed the purple bite on Gildor’s shoulder guiltily. “Sorry.”

He slid carefully out of Gildor’s body, earning a sleepy pout from his lover. Then he turned him over gently and cradled him in his arms, tucking Gildor’s head under his chin. A sudden feeling of ferocious possessiveness welled up in him.

‘You are mine!’ he thought fiercely, tightening his embrace. ‘Mine!’


Dagnir-e-guilen – bane of my life
Meldir – friend
Gwanûn – twins
Glinn-e-guren – song of my heart
Silfael – Moonbeam
Elleth/ ellith – a female elf/elves
Pen neth – young one
Mallos – Golden flower