Glorfindel Unleashed

'Glorfindeleasleashed', 4/?
Author: Eawen Penallion
Type: FPS
Beta: Beloved Nienna, so encouraging!
Disclaimer: all rights to the characters belong to JRR Tolkien – I’m only playing with them.
Rating: (PG for this chapter, NC-17 overall)
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor in later chapters
Warnings: M/M, implied child abuse, angst, character death

Author’s notes: Author's notes: AU as in it is my idea, but canon where possible with regard to LOTR history. Please note - I subscribe to a very moral position and Tolkien's ethics regarding underage elves. There will be NO illicit carnal connotations in this story.

Summary : When Glorfindel becomes a child’s protector, he does not realise what Erestor will be to him when he reaches majority. Can love survive the trials of death and destiny?

Chapter 4


F.A. 470 - onwa

Children are resilient. Although it cannot be said that Erestor was not affected by his early trauma, he became a bright, though reserved, child as he blossomed in the care of those he loved. Within his immediate family there was of course Glorfindel, his shining light; Mirieth, who though she had to attend to the needs of her own family was looked upon by Erestor as a mother; Díwen, who was his nursemaid as a child and a sister as a youth; and Ecthelion, who (so Glorfindel said) was ‘a bad influence’, for he loved to tell tales of the mischief he and Glorfindel had gotten in to at their own majority. However amongst the other elves of Gondolin, other than with Idril Celebrindal, Erestor remained a quiet child. He often stood in keen observation of the world around him, seemingly separate from it. His chambers in the house were near Glorfindel’s and were a treasure trove of books and toys and other childish treats, for Glorfindel could deny his pen-neth nothing. Fortunately Erestor was greedy for nothing except his golden lord’s attention, and did not become spoilt as the princess had predicted.

Physically he grew slim and willowy, and bearing a grace beyond his years. He would not be counted amongst the tallest of his contemporaries but his bearing and carriage gave the illusion of a height which he did not possess. His beauty also grew and his waist-length hair soon regained its deep lustre, swaying as a black veil around his shoulders. He left it loose except on horseback when it was braided into a single plait, thick as rope down the curve of his spine. His eyes, rich and deep, were framed by luscious lashes of which many ellethld old only dream. The exotic slant was much remarked on and drew many admiring glances as an elfling. His skin retained the hue of cream and the texture of silk and the rose-red lips curved in gentle smiles. As he became a youth both ellyn and ellith gazed upon him in desire and he was the secret target of lust of older elves.

His keen intelligence and thirst knowknowledge thrilled his tutors, and their reports were overflowing with compliments. Often when he did not appear at the table for meals he could be found engrossed in books, scrolls or other tomes and had to be physically removeom tom the library by an irate Mirieth.

His weapons masters were not so gushing with their compliments. Erestor could only be regarded as competent in the use of sword, knife and bow even with the extra tutoring such eminent elves as Glorfindel and Ecthelion bestowed upon him. In truth Erestor would often neglect his swordplay for an extra hour in the library. He *did* excel in horsemanship for his delight at being upon Asfaloth’s back transferred into a deep love of all things equine, and he soon progressed from gentle ponies to spirited mares. Glorfindel would not let him exercise Asfaloth though, much to his chagrin.

Most of all the devotion of the two elves was obvious to all. They seemed to many as to be of one mind; one soul in a single body, though none could define why. They did not look alike. They did not act alike. It was more in their reaction to each other - if one prospered the other was elated; if one was hurt in mind or body the second ailed until the first was healed. A separation of yards across a crowded room was not an obstacle; if one turned to look for the other their eyes met without searching; if one needed the other within moments they were side by side. They were each dependant on the other, though of course as a child for Erestor is mos more so. Glorfindel was like a bear with his cub, fiercely protective, his growl enough to cause fear in those who would have presumed or pestered the boy. No one was to harm *his* Erestor.

To Glorfindel the boy looked for all things - for sheer joy of life; for approval; to share a tale; to ride upon the plains of Tumladen; to stroll the market streets, Glorfindel’s arm flung across his shoulders, enjoying the delights of the day; for the touch of a gentle hand stroking his hair as they curled in conversation by the fire on long winter eves. Reprimands from his hero were few and far between and would make both of them unhappy for days. They were seen as father and son, though Glorfindel would not allow the use of those terms, protesting that he could not denystorstor his heritage.

“ His father was Galwion, a valiant warrior; his mother, Aerwithen, who loved him. I will not deprive him of his family. I am his guardian and he is my ward.”

To those who looked, that was the relationship they saw and they delighted in the happiness evident therein. For only with Glorfindel did the boy seem at ease and only from the warrior would Erestor accept those physical symbols of familial love – a hug, a chaste kiss onto black head or a re ofe of dark hair in jest or joy. But some can see farther and deeper than others, and one worried observer was alarmed at what he could divine from those seemingly innocent touches.


* * * *


F.A. 502

Even after her marriage to the human Lord Tuor, the princess had kept her promise of protection and interest in Erestor. As he grew into a fine young ellon she undertook his education in the intricacies of the King’s court and the manners expected from a young lord, for Erestor was regarded as Glorfindel’s heir and drew much interest from the Houses in that matter alone. Idril began to introduce him at small gatherings she held in the King’s tower, where the youth of Gondolin could mingle under the watchful eye of their parents and guardians. Thus Ereslearlearned to build his public persona, bowing to the elves who cast longing glances at his beautiful, exotic eyes. Glorfindel often attended these soirees, lightly flirting with those unbound adults who sought his attentions. Although he had not abstained totally during his guardianship his sexual liaisons had thinned somewhat, ostensibly because he did not want to expose his charge to unseemly ideas. Yet recently he had found himself becoming aroused for no apparent reason, his appetites enlarging and needing release. This evening the Lord and his ward were in great demand.

Erestor had recently passed his forty-first birthday and was beginning to awaken to the charms and attractions of males and females, though of course he could take no action until his majority. He and his acquaintances among the juniors of the royal court mingled extensively with the young ladies within the salon. Yet he constantly looked to where the chaperones stood, secretly watching that golden head. His glances were noticed by the one who watched, who frowned when he saw a sudden change in the expression of the boy.

Glorfindel was seated amongst the older elves and the current focus of his attentions was a certain lady from the House of the Tree. He had been conducting a delightful dalliance with her for some months now which the elleth was sure would evolve into something more permanent. Glorfindel was tempted for she was very fair but, as he had found so often recently, there was something unsatisfactory, something lacking in the relationship; some distraction that called his attention elsewhere. A physical cause of distraction at this moment was the dark Lord of the Fountain who, making his excuses to the lady, drew his friend away, seeking a corner where they would not be overheard.

“What do you need, ‘Thel? For I will tell you, you have disturbed a very promising liaison.”

“Nay, as always it would have come to naught,” said Ecthelion cryptically. He nodded at the gathering of elflings. “It is to another that I draw your attention.”

“Erestor?” Glorfindel turned to face the room. He did not have to search for the boy for the connection between them was such that he could feel his pen-neth’s direction. tuditudied the raven-haired youth. The lad had a sullen look on his face, swiftly hidden when he saw that he was being watched. Glorfindel frowned.

“What is wrong with him? He looks as a child would who has been deprived of his favourite toy. “

Ecthelion darted a startled glance at his friend, as if he had spoken a hidden truth. Glorfindel saw it and raised an eyebrow in question. The Lord of the Fountain hesitated, not knowing how to express his fears now that the moment had arrived.

“Not his favourite toy – his favourite Lord.” Ecthelion realised that Glorfindel had no idea of what he was intimating. “He fears losing you.”

Glorfindel laughed, confused. “What are you talking about? He’s not going to lose me!”

Ecthelion shook his head. “He saw you courting that elleth, mellon nîn. He isn’t happy about it at all.”

Glorfindel glanced over his shoulder at the lady in question. His attentions to her had been direct and she was watching him, flushed with obvious desire. Then he looked at Erestor, who too stared at the elleth. He was shocked to see the intense look of jealousy – no, hatred – upon his charge’s face.

“But I’m not looking for a mother for him!” the warrior protested. Ecthelion shook his head.

“He isn’t looking at her as a potential step-mother, ‘Fin. He sees her as a potential rival.” He placed a hand on Glorfindel’s arm, trying to convey the strength of his beliefs and his fears. “He’s not a child anymore, my friend, it is but nine years to his coming of age. Erestor knows what he wants – and he wants *you*. Perhaps you’d better examine your own feelings too, ‘Fin, because I’ve seen you looking at him in eligible company, when you didn’t think anyone was watching. You have worn that same look upon your face. Not protective - possessive.” He paused, considering his final words. “You’ve always said you didn’t want to be his father. Just what *do* you want to be to him, ‘Fin?”

With that he left, knowing that he had said all he could for the moment, hoping that Glorfindel would not hate him in the future for his warning.

Glorfindel stood stunned and silent at the edge of the room, as the full meaning of the conversation came crashing into his consciousness. It was if a veil had been torn down, a barrier had been shattered, and everything had a sudden clarity – the colours of the elves’ robes, the soft tunes played by the musicians, the clashing chatter of discussion, laughter, cries, shouts.

And in the middle of that stood Erestor. The raven-haired elf had turned, sensing his lord across the crowds - and Erestor smiled, a brilliant smile that had only ever been for him alone. In that moment, his heartbeat raced. He felt a fluttering in his stomach and a wave of heat swept from his groin as the blood began to pool there, as his desire began to swell. Glorfindel finally saw what Ecthelion had seen.

In every soft face he had touched recently, his hand had been searching for that creamy silk texture. The eyes that had met his own had all been dark, lustful, wanting – but he had seen only deep, warm, chocolate-brown pools of desire. As brunette hair had slipped through his fingers he had imagined those midnight tresses, as soft and as heavy as velvet. Lips had been plundered aplenty but he only sought those rose-red ones, petals parted in sweet surrender. All those willing bodies beneath his own; hot, slick, writhing and yet his thirst had not been slaked.

His heart and his soul had yearned only for that which could complete him.

The room faded and they were the only two elves who existed and the truth pounded in his brain.

Just when had Erestor fallen in love with Glorfindel – and when had he, Glorfindel, fallen in love with his sweet, precious pen-neth?

* * * *


They left the palace early, well before their usual departure time. Normally they would entertain each other during their walk home with titbits of gossip and news they had heard during their evening, but Glorfindel was silent and Erestor copied him. He could reise ise that the golden lord was deeply troubled but mild cajoling did not bring the issue forth and Erestor knew better than to press him. Nevertheless he was worried. Glorfindel would normally by now have reassured him, saying ‘It is not you, pen-neth, fear not, all will be well.’ He did not, and now the youth felt a cold spasm cross his heart.

There were no suggestions of refreshments, of sitting by the fire in comfortable company. Instead Erestor was bid a curt ‘Maer dú’ as Glorfindel shut the door of his bedchamber, and Erestor was left to make his way to his own room alone. Erestor washed and changed into his sleeping trousers but as he lay in his bed he could not sleep.

An hour later he heard Glorfindel’s door open, footsteps, then a short time after, the House door. Glorfindel was gone.


****


Ecthelion knew who stood silently at the door of his study, who waited for him to lift his head from the letter he was writing. He would not consciously prolong his wait, his agony.

The large elflord stood framed in the darkened doorway, the tension and anguish clear on his face.

“I love him, ‘Thel.”

Ecthelion leapt from his seat, crossing the room in two strides to enfold the shaking lord in his arms. They stood there for long moments as Ecthelion waited for the silent, violent tremors to subside, then led his friend to the chairs flanking the empty fireplace. Glorfindel crumpled into the chair, head slumped forward into his hands. Finally he raised his head and Ecthelion winced at the despair in those sapphire eyes.

“What am I ‘Thel? What kind of loathsome creature am I that I feel such desire for one so young? I felt him at my side tonight, I walked beside him and I realised that all I wanted to do was to pull him into my arms, to hold him, to kiss him, to – take - him and make him my own…” The lord’s voice had risen to the point of hysteria and Ecthelion had to act quickly to break that train of thought.

“You are Glorfindel, an elf of honour and high morals, strong ethics and intense emotions. That you can even *think* of yourself in those other terms tells me that you still hold true to the values that bind you so.” He took a deep breath, deliberately softening his firm tone. “You are a sensual, open-hearted, warm-blooded elf, Glorfindel, and Erestor is an astoundingly beautiful and enticing ellon. You are only feeling what many others do upon seeing him.” He held up a hand to forestall Glorfindel’s threatened outburst. “ Ai, I know my friend – that is not all that there is to Erestor. Do not forget, mellon nîn, I have seen you with him. You rejoice in his intelligence, his wit and his humour. You revel in his kind nature, his depth of insight and his sweetness of temper. You *know* him, Glorfindel. There is a connection between you which is beyond the understanding of those who desire him. The difference, my friend, is that the others only covet that beauteous exterior where as you love him in his entirety, hröa and fëa.”

Glorfindel started hearing Ecthelion say those words, words that were so integral to the elven binding ceremony.

“Surely you don’t mean……?”

Ecthelion nodded. “Yes, dear friend. I truly believe that he is the other half of your soul. Isn’t that what your own heart has been telling you? What drew you to him first as a child? Why did you protect him so strongly? What compelled you to rescue him at sword-point? The mind does not always recognize that which the soul knows so well.”

Glorfindel shook his head, hardly knowing what to believe. His mind had been in a constant whirl since the soiree, trying to take in Ecthelion’s revelations. And if Ecthelion could see the contents of his heart so easily, who else knew?

“Gods – if anyone else knows – ‘Thel, they will take him from me!” The panic was rapidly rising; the elf was becoming agitated. “I can’t lose him, ‘Thel – I can’t lose Erestor! What can I do?”

Ecthelion stood, hauling Glorfindel up with him. “What *we* are going to do, mellon nîn, is see Turgon – now.”

Glorfindel wrenched his arm from Ecthelion’s grasp. “Are you mad?”

“’Fin, as beloved as you are amongst our people, there *are* some who would be delighted to see you brought low – Salgant included. He hates you and loathes Erestor for the humiliation he thinks you brought upon him. If he gets wind of this he’ll go straight to Turgon and you’ll never see Erestor again. Oh, and Maeglin isn’t exactly your greatest fan either – you supported Tuor and danced at his wedding to Idril. And he at least has some influence with his uncle. We have to get in first, and get the king on *your* side. Come on.” Ecthelion started towards the door.

“Now? Ecthelion, it’s the middle of the night!”

The dark-haired lord turned at the exit. “’Fin, it is barely past midnight, Turgon is never in bed before three of the morn. Anyway he is expecting us – Idril and Tuor went on ahead to warn him.”

Glorfindel hesitated. “You told them?”

Ecthelion shrugged. “You needed allies. Now, let’s go.”

* * * *

It was a small gathering in the king’s private chambers. Turgon sat in an ornate chair, a strong impressive Lord wrapped in rich silk robes, his chin on his hand as he heard the dilemma facing him. He looked carefully at those ranged before him. Glorfindel, pale in his love and fear of loss, Ecthelion standing firm at his side; his daughter Idril seated near him, the swelling of her first pregnancy barely evident; Tuor, the human lord of whom he thought so highly that he bestowed his only child upon him, standing beside his wife’s chair with his hand on her shoulder. He sighed, knowing that this was a problem which could have no easy outcome.

“Ecthelion, you are an idiot. Your heart is good but this has not been handled well.”

Ecthelion gasped, and Glorfindel made as if to come to his friend’s defence but the king motioned them to silence.

“If you had come to me without telling Glorfindel, we could have made light of the boy’s infaion.ion. All youths must have a hero, one they think they will love forever, and the devotion of the boy could have been passed off as such without much comment. In bringing this to Glorfindel’s attention you have revealed his own feelings towards his ward, which is a much more serious matter.” He turned to the golden lord. Glorfindel was obviously dreading his judgement, and Turgon could only feel compassion for his friend.

“Glorfindel, I believe you when you say your love is true, and much of what Ecthelion had noted in your manner towards Erestor has been noted by myself and my daughter. You are one of my oldest and most devoted Lords, my friend, and although I allow my subjects freedom in their lives it does not mean I am unaware of their hopes and dreams. In other circumstances I would probably remove the boy from your care and place him out of perceived harm’s way.”

This was Glorfindel’s greatest fear and he protested - loudly.

“Never! I will never let him be taken from me again, king or no king!” His tone changed, a plaintive plea entering his voice. "My Lord King, I know that he is yet a child and much too young for a physical love. I will *not* approach him. I will not hurt him. I *cannot* hurt him, for how can I hurt the one I love? If I can protect my pen-neth from the predations of others, how can I not protect him from myself?" He paused, catching his breath, desperate to change Turgon's mind. "Please my lord, pe -"e -"

“Glorfindel!” The king spoke firmly without increasing the volume of his voice, and the warrior subsided reluctantly. “I did say, ‘in other circumstances’. Both Ecthelion and Idril have offered to care for him if my decision had been so but that, I feel, will engender the scrutiny we are trying at all costs to avoid. Now, are we sure of the boy’s feelings? Does he truly love Glorfindel or is this just a crush? Is he your soul mate, my lord?”

Glorfindel hesitated, numbly nodding. “He is to me, sire. We have not spoken to him, but ‘Thel believes he feels it too - ”

The princess leaned forward. “As do I father. It is very evident in Erestor’s eyes.”

Turgon nodded. “Were he but one hundred years older, this conversation would be redundant. Lovers of disparate ages have been accepted since the Awakening of our people, for Ilúvatar sends our souls into the world at the time He has decided. If it is meant to be, they meet and they . Th. The situation here arises from the fact that Erestor is still a minor.” He sighed, knowing this must be his final decision.

“So be it. Glorfindel, I will allow Erestor to remain in your charge under certain conditions. Tonight you will go to him and reveal to him your true feelings. Ecthelion will be your chaperone. If Erestor returns these feelings wholeheartedly then I place these restrictions upon you. You will both return here tomorrow night and in a private ceremony swear blood oaths that nothing improper will occur until the boy has come of age. No words, no touches, no kisses – nothing. He must be to you as he has always been, your ward. He must remain an innocent. And if on the day of his majority both of you still feel the same then I will, with all gladness in my heart, receive back those oaths in exchange for your betrothal vows.”

Turgon smiled, and delighted bursts of happiness and relief swept the room. The king, once again serious, continued. “However if I hear in any way that either of you is forsworn then I will take the boy into *my* custody and lock him up so tight you will need Manwë to break open his prison! Is that clearly understood my lords?!”

The fairness and compassion of the king was so generous that Glorfindel agreed without delay and, after many hugs from Idril and claps on shoulders from Tuor, eagerly swept Ecthelion from the room in his haste to return to Erestor.

* * * *

Erestor was still awake and quickly came to Glorfindel’s study when collected by Ecthelion. In the faint glow of the candlelight the Lord of the Fountain stood guard at the door so none would hear, as well as standing as chaperone for Erestor. The youth balked at first at discussing his feelings for he felt embarrassed and scared, but when he understood that Glorfindel returned his love he was overcome with ecstasy and flung his arms about his beloved, kissing him all over his face with wild abandon. Glorfindel too laughed with joy but then had to quiet his little love to put forth the restrictions placed upon them. Erestor was horrified.

Nine whole years we must wait and I can never say ‘I love you’, never hold you, never kiss you? I cannot bear to live that way. No, I cannot swear such an oath!”

“Then I hope you like the King’s Tower, pen-neth,” said Ecthelion wryly from the door, “for that will be your new home from this night.”

Erestor paled. Although he had been just a babe when he had first been torn from his beloved’s arms the pain which had twisted relentlessly in his heart then was still vividly remembered. He lifted his face to his love, seeking reassurance.

“Truly? If I do not agree then I must leave you?”

Glorfindel nodded, gripping his pen-vuil’s hands tightly, holding his eyes firmly locked onto Erestor’s. The youth slumped, defeated. Nine years without declaring his love was better than nine years separation. He nodded his acquiescence.

And so it was that the following night, in the presence of their closest friends, Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower and Erestor, son of Galwion took blood oaths of celibacy and silence before His Majesty Turgon, King of the elven realm of Gondolin.


Elvish:

ellon – male elf
elleth – female elf
ellyn – male elves
ellith – female elves
mellon nîn – my friend
hröa - body
fëa - soul
pen-vuil – dear one