A Warrior's Destiny

Author’s Note: Ok, I would like to thank everyone who has commented so far. Caethien, you are quite right when you say I have quickly passed over those early events. I have included a flashback here of Glorfindel’s first meeting with Gil-Galad and Elrond, which I hope you will enjoy. Also, this is where the story begins to live up to its NC-17 rating.


Chapter Two

They had known each other a few weeks before the opportunity arose to be with each other intimately. Privacy was a difficult thing to find on the road, and often there was just not as much time as Glorfindel would like to begin anything. But rain had been falling constantly lately, and one of Elrond’s advisors had suggested that they remain here for a few days, until the roads were easier to travel again. It was a good idea. The roads were muddy, and many of the wagons became trapped. It took so long to travel even a few miles in a day that it was worth waiting, and having the rest. Elrond had agreed. The advisor’s name was Erestor, and Glorfindel made a note to find out who he was. But for now… he grinned and went to find Thenindhír.

The elf was sitting in one of the wagons. Not surprisingly, it was one of those used for transporting the books and scrolls Elrond would need to set up his library. Thenindhír had said he was a student, and Glorfindel thought it seemed he couldn’t wait to get started. More books would come later, and the library would be immense, but for now there were enough books here to fill a large room. As always, Thenindhír started when he saw Glorfindel, as if unsure of his affection. At times he was so timid, and Glorfindel wondered why. Am I so very frightening? It was like the way Thenindhír didn’t like to be around others. It was as though he feared their gossip and ridicule for being with another male.

Without a word, Glorfindel took Thenindhír into his arms, happy enough for now that they had some time alone together. He didn’t need to address those concerns straight away. They kissed passionately, although Thenindhír gave way before the warrior in a sweet way that made Glorfindel smile. So much time! He decided to make the most of it.

Ah, he was sweet! They undressed in silence, both of them ready and willing. They had waited. Now they would know each other. His skin was as fine as brushed velvet, his hair like black silk, but he was male without a doubt. Thenindhír’s hardened member begged for his attention by the time Glorfindel had tasted all he wanted of the other elf’s upper body. His neck, his nipples. He had even teasingly bit lightly at Thenindhír’s fingernails, which made the other elf giggle and try to pull away. As it was, he had more or less accidentally pulled Glorfindel down to cover him, and they had looked at each other for a moment. Without thinking, Glorfindel had moved against him, and they both moaned.

But now he had moved lower, and he paid attention to Thenindhír’s arousal. First by licking and tasting the fluid that seeped from the head, and then teasing touches with his fingers that made the other elf arch up in desperation for a stronger, more definite caress. Glorfindel smiled and obliged. He had not come unprepared, and now he took a small bottle of oil from his discarded clothes. When he was ready, he reached down to Thenindhír’s cock again. This time Glorfindel stroked him firmly. Thenindhír cried out a little too loudly and hissed, trying to move up into Glorfindel’s touch, but the warrior’s weight rested on his legs, and it was impossible.

Savouring his lovers had always been something Glorfindel loved to do, and now he played a game. His hand would move faster and faster, with just the right amount of pressure to make Thenindhír cry out in need and pleasure. But when he saw his lover’s muscles begin to tense, Glorfindel would stop so that Thenindhír moaned in disappointment and frustration, too far gone to really protest at the treatment. He used more of the oil to slowly tease Thenindhír’s opening, rubbing one of his fingers against the muscle until the elf relaxed enough for Glorfindel to begin preparing him. Before too much time had passed he had Thenindhír writhing again while he used both his hands to stroke the elf inside and out.

“Oh, please!” Glorfindel smiled down at his lover. He was in delicious torment. He had closed his eyes and curled his hands into fists. There were red marks on his palms made by his fingernails. The teasing earlier must still be affecting him now, because Thenindhír was obviously trying to hold back. Maybe he thought that as long as he didn’t get close to release Glorfindel would carry on touching him. “Don’t stop!” he begged, and his voice was so forlorn and lost that Glorfindel didn’t stop this time. He didn’t stop until Thenindhír’s issue was all over his chest and stomach. Some of it was on Glorfindel’s hand, and he wiped it across Thenindhír’s chest now, pausing to rub it into the rosy nipples that stood out on the pale skin while his lover trembled with the aftershocks.

But he was prepared now too, and Glorfindel only waited long enough to coat his own aching hardness with oil before claiming the beautiful elf beneath him. His orgasm had made him relaxed and passive so that there was little resistance to Glorfindel’s entry. Still, he was so very tight! Glorfindel would have sworn he was a virgin if Thenindhír had not assured him it wasn’t so some days ago. He moaned as if in protest, but then became quiet while Glorfindel moved inside him, taking pleasure in his body. He had taken lovers since arriving back, but none of them compared to Thenindhír at this moment. How did he become so submissive? Most of Glorfindel’s lovers had been quiet, but that didn’t necessarily mean they surrendered so completely.

He took his time with this too, his thrusts almost ceasing at times so that he could lay with his head against Thenindhír’s neck, relishing the feel of the heat surrounding him while he listened to his lover’s heartbeat. But then he would claim a kiss from those sweet lips and begin moving again, until eventually Thenindhír was hard once more. Then, Glorfindel didn’t just take pleasure, he also aimed to give it, and was rewarded by Thenindhír’s gasping little moans. He was certainly tired, but Glorfindel didn’t allow rest, and he took Thenindhír’s hardness into his hand for the second time. When his lover came again, Glorfindel followed him with an animal-like cry, falling to rest at last against his lover’s chest. Glorfindel stayed still for a while until it became too uncomfortable; then he moved, allowing Thenindhír to rest.

They lay side by side, pressed closely to each other in intimacy, sharing something new, because it was their first time together. No two lovers were the same, Glorfindel reflected. And he already knew that he was going to love Thenindhír. He hoped it would last for a while.

“What are you thinking?” his new lover asked quietly. Glorfindel kissed Thenindhír soundly, cherishing the way he surrendered all over again.

“That you are made to be taken,” he replied, and then laughed a little wickedly when he saw Thenindhír’s eyes close and a faint blush stain his cheeks. He was captivated then when his lover nodded slowly. It was as if he was surrendering to the very idea. Glorfindel smiled and kissed him again. “You were just waiting for someone to take advantage of you. Didn’t you know that?” he teased, and Thenindhír smiled at him.

“Thank you,” he breathed tiredly, and they were silent again for a while.

“Do you ever…?” he stopped, as if uncertain as to what he wanted to say and then shook his head. Glorfindel was intrigued.

“Do I ever, what?” he asked interestedly.

“I meant, do you think that Imladris is a good idea? Do you believe we will succeed in settling there?” Well, that wasn’t what he had expected! It seemed he would have to try harder next time to make Thenindhír forget time and place. Still, he gave some thought to it before he answered. Imladris would be a success if he had anything to do with it, if only for Elrond’s sake. From the moment they had met, Glorfindel had found him easy to like…

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When the woods Glorfindel found himself in finally petered out, he walked a few miles across open countryside before he saw any signs of settlement. At first he didn’t encounter anyone, but then the occasional elf crossed his path. He longed to ask, but something kept him silent; intuition perhaps. On he walked until the farms gave way to more graceful architecture and stonework. There was no doubt now that he was about to enter a city of some kind.

At first he was ignored, but then the inevitable happened. An elf stood regarding him at a juncture in what had become a clear road. Glorfindel stared back, trying to place the elf. He was familiar, but Glorfindel only knew him by sight. He shook his head a little. He was surprised when the elf paled as he came closer. It wasn’t until Glorfindel drew close enough to see the eyes clearly that he realised there was something wrong. This elf was too old. Physically he hadn’t changed at all, but Glorfindel saw age in his eyes. What was this strange place? A part of his mind tried to tell him, but Glorfindel wasn’t ready to comprehend it.

He hurried on, unable to face speaking to the elf who looked like someone he knew, but wasn’t. His was only the first face Glorfindel recognised. As he drew closer and closer to the distant city, he saw more and more elves whom he nearly recognised. Each and every one stared as though they were seeing a ghost. At night he slept in stables, too wary of the strange place and unwanted attention to risk seeking lodging at an inn or house. Something wasn’t right here, and Glorfindel wanted to be ready for any trouble that might come his way. Maybe it was a trick of some kind.

At last he reached the palace, and by this time his progress was openly ogled as he made his way down the main thoroughfare. Glorfindel endured it, holding his head proudly in spite of the unnatural silence that had fallen. No wagons or horses moved on the streets where he was. Everything stopped for him to pass. It would have been unnerving, but questions filled him, and he hardly noticed the whispers that one shouldn’t be able to hear on the street.

What place was this? How much of his memory had he lost? Did he belong here? Had he gone missing? He requested to be allowed to speak with the King. He was certain that he would get some answers here. When he found that he would be seeing Gil-Galad, Glorfindel hid his surprise, and he managed to glean from a casual conversation with one of the younger guards that he did not actually live here, and that his appearance had caused a great stir.

He was shown into a large reception room that took his breath away. As the guard announced him, he took the opportunity to take in his new surroundings. He discerned that the Noldor must have been settled here for some time; the permanance of the houses and dwellings insisted that it was so. The palace of the King could almost rival the Tower of the King in Gondolin. The floor was a beautiful, highly polished white marble. The walls were works of art where skilled stonemasons had laboured for perhaps years to depict detailed murals of places and cities that had long since fallen, whether they had been destroyed or abandoned. Even Gondolin was there, and in the centre of the beautiful city, Glorfindel could almost discern the gold leaf and silver filigree that had been added to the tiny trees which had stood in memory of the two trees of Valinor.

But he had to tear his gaze away before he could inspect the wall any closer. He bowed deeply in respect to the King. His name now was Gil-Galad, but Glorfindel had heard his old companions speak of him as Ereinion. “King Gil-Galad.”

“Lord Glorfindel!” Glorfindel stood straight again, surprised at the warmth and easy good nature of Gil-Galad’s tone. He didn’t know what he had expected. Coldness, perhaps. Not one person had dared to approach him yet, and Glorfindel wondered if some terrible crime had been committed and passed on to his memory. “I did not expect to ever see you here.” The look in the King’s eyes was a refreshing, lively curiosity, instead of the shocked gaze and awed stare of those outside the palace. He indicated a couple of easy chairs before the huge stone fireplace. “Please, will you…?”

Glorfindel took the proferred seat and smiled in gratitude. “Thank you.” He wondered what he should say now that he was here. “I had expected to find your uncle until they told me the name of the High King.” In Glorfindel’s world, a few weeks ago, Ereinion had been but a child, and so the title of King had belonged to his uncle until he came of age. But it seemed the world had moved on without him. “I cannot reconcile the time that has passed,” he admitted uneasily. Gil-Galad’s face darkened a little, and he spoke quietly.

“My uncle fell at Gondolin.” Glorfindel closed his eyes briefly at that. So it was true. “You did not know,” the King said in the same quiet tone. The statement was only that, not a question, but Glorfindel decided to answer it anyway.

“I suspected the truth, but I had hoped to be proved wrong. This is sad news to me.” Glorfindel shook his head. A servant brought a tray with a bottle of wine and two goblets which the King poured and offered to his guest. Glorfindel accepted it with a smile of thanks. He saw that Gil-Galad’s curiosity had been replaced with keen perception.

“Many fell in Gondolin, and others have died or sailed for Valinor since. I’m sorry I cannot ease the pain of these discoveries for you. Can you take no heart from the survivors? You have friends here. Over the years they have told me so much of you that I find myself in awe now that I meet you for the first time, Balrog Slayer.”

The words were meant to calm and soothe him, but such a thing was impossible. Glorfindel looked at the King and felt the need to share what had happened. “Three weeks ago I awoke in a wood near the mountains,” he began. “I wandered here and there, eventually finding my way here. I did not know where I was, or whose people these were.” He paused. “Three weeks and a day ago, I died.” He caught the King’s little gasp of shock at that, and he hastened to what he wanted to know more than anything else. He had spoken of survivors, after all.

“We fled to the mountains… Your cousins, and the little one, Eärendil. Please,” he entreated earnestly, “tell me they did not perish too. I remember nothing else, and I do not know…” Glorfindel shook his head, unable to complete the thought. How many deaths would he learn of here? He wondered if he had a heart courageous enough to hear them all.

“They lived,” Gil-Galad said quietly, putting his mind at rest. “But they sailed long ago. Eärendil too, shortly after his parents.” Glorfindel nodded, trying to take the information in, and Gil-Galad continued more confidently. “He went to beg the aid of the Valar to rid Middle-Earth of Morgoth…” At Glorfindel’s blank look, he sighed. He looked disturbed then. “You are lost among them, aren’t you? Your old friends,” he observed sadly. Gil-Galad was extremely perceptive, and Glorfindel found it difficult to hide anything from him, but at the moment, he truly didn’t want to.

“When you return after many years to your home, to a house, it is never quite the same,” Glorfindel began, trying to explain what couldn’t really be put into words. He looked around him. Although he had no memory of this place, the analogy seemed a good one. “Memory and reality don’t agree. The corners of the walls seem too sharp, the bricks too uneven. You would swear the the hall you are standing in is too short. And you realise it’s not your home anymore.” Glorfindel looked at Gil-Galad, admitting the truth. “They have changed, while I have not. I don’t remember any of them.” He knew already what was to come, and it saddened him. To face his closest friends and not know them. It was in some ways worse than hearing of their death.

The large doors opened and two elves entered. Gil-Galad turned to Glorfindel and smiled brightly, dispelling the sadness a little. “Then it would seem you need new friends, Glorfindel,” he said kindly. They both stood up. “Allow me to introduce you to Elrond, half-elven, one of the twin sons of Eärendil. Elrond, this is Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, from Gondolin.”

They took in the sight of each other for a moment, and then shook hands. “Elrond.” Glorfindel nodded curtly. “I knew your father.” It seemed a strange thing to say. It was almost amusing. He had known a child, not a parent.

Obviously, Elrond had heard of his arrival, and he hid his fascination well. “You saved his life,” Elrond stated simply. “I stand here because of you.” Then his lips twitched in something that was almost a smile. “Thank you.” Glorfindel was silent for a moment, then he laughed heartily for the first time since arriving here, sharing a joke with the other elf. Thank you. As an understatement it won ‘I knew your father’ easily.

In the meantime Gil-Galad had shared a murmured conversation with the other elf, who was a messenger. “Please excuse me, there is something I must attend to. Glorfindel, rooms are avaliable for you. Just ask and you will be shown the way.”

Nodding and bowing again, Glorfindel replied, letting his words carry his gratitude. “Thank you, Sire.”

Gil-Galad smiled. “Until later, then. Elrond can answer some of the many questions you have, I hope.”

When Gil-Galad had left and they were alone, Elrond walked over to a small table. There was a game set out on it, one of Glorfindel’s favourites, as it involved tactical deployment of playing pieces. That meant he was extremely good at it. “Do you play?” Elrond asked pleasantly, and Glorfindel grinned.

“Only against fresh victims.” He took his seat and they passed a pleasant afternoon. Later, Elrond showed him around the palace, and he finally got to examine the curious stone carvings that had caught his attention earlier. Glorfindel found out many more things, and he was shocked when he realised how much time had passed. But not all of them hurt, and he grew to like Eärendil’s son. Gil-Galad was right. He needed new friends.

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Glorfindel shook the memories from his mind, and returned to the present. He replied to Thenindhír seriously. “I have as much idea as you about our chances, but I don’t see why not. And it is a good place, is it not? I think I will be happy there as long as you stay.” Thenindhír smiled, and they kissed again, before falling into a satisfied sleep together amongst the books and scrolls. Glorfindel’s last thought was that it was like falling asleep in a library, the smell of ink and parchment all around, the leather bindings of the books. The scent of their sex lingered though, and that was a far more familiar smell to him. Outside the rain continued to fall, and it beat on the covering of the wagon, but it felt safe and warm in here, with Thenindhír.

After that, Glorfindel became even fonder of seeking Thenindhír out while on the road. Sometimes he couldn’t be found at all, but when Glorfindel did find him, there was no greater sport than to tease him openly, watching while his colour rose and laughing when he tried to escape. At Thenindhír’s insistence they were always alone, and Glorfindel vowed to get to the bottom of this shyness once they reached Imladris. He was so meek too. Never had he tried to take Glorfindel, although the warrior would have appreciated it at times. It was as though the elf was trying too hard to please him, and yet he didn’t seem unhappy. Contradictions, he had so many. Glorfindel mused on them sometimes, but he wasn’t displeased with Thenindhír. In fact, he was happier than he had been in a long time. He just needed bringing out of himself, and Glorfindel was just the elf to do it.


To be continued…


Author’s Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. As always, comments and/or constructive criticism very much appreciated. Please review, or email me: pippychick_uk@yahoo.co.uk