Enough for Tonight
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
7,533
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
7,533
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
chapter 16
Title: Enough for Tonight (16/22)
Author: Aglarien
Rating: NC-17
Type: FPS
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel, Caladir/Gurvelon (OMCs)
Disclaimer: Alas, not mine. Except for the cat.
Warning: AU.
Archive: Glorfindel of Imladris, AFF, Melethryn, OEAM
Summary: A caravan from Imladris goes east.
Part 16
Elven messengers flew across the valley. Before the day had passed, all were aware of the events. When it was confirmed there were only three groups of Orcs, the warriors returned to Imladris from the borders, leaving only the normal number of sentries.
Erestor, however, could not be moved. Elrond had finally managed to stop the bleeding and had carefully stitched his torn body together, but his life still hung by a thread. Glorfindel never left his side, never released his hand, never gave up their connection. Elrond refused to leave or rest, never leaving his friends.
Elladan and Elrohir took charge in Imladris, and the cleanup began. The Last Homely House emptied as its temporary visitors returned to their homes. The defenders worked with the others, ridding their home of Orc filth, and then once again became minstrels, servants, weavers and scribes. No one was sorry to quit his temporary profession.
Diwen and Tinnu again worked in the healing house, where many more wounded had been added. Little Saercaeron became the darling of the hardened old warriors when they were finally able to pull him away from his father’s side.
The three hundred warriors in the east all vowed they would stay and guard their lords until it was safe to move Erestor back to Imladris. So Imladris decided to go to them. The kitchens hummed, as fresh food was prepared. Scores of elflings were sent to the orchards to collect fresh fruits. Fresh clothing, casks of wine, flasks of miruvor, baskets of fresh bread, huge rounds of cheese, the finest delicacies from the kitchens, great piles of cloth that would become comfortable tents, rugs, cooking utensils, and great barrels of fresh water from the springs all juggled for position in the courtyard.
The twins had even decided to send one of the beds for Erestor, and were now engaged in trying to decide which one. They didn’t want to think of their old tutor and dear friend holding on to life on a makeshift cot.
“Elrohir, I really think Erestor will be more comfortable in his own bed.”
“But Glorfindel’s bed is the one they shared, the one they consummated their bond in. Do you not think that one would be better?”
Elladan thought for a moment, and then grinned. “Aye. Glorfindel’s it is.” And so Glorfindel’s bed joined the items in the courtyard, along with plenty of fresh linens.
Elladan would remain in Imladris, while Elrohir would lead the group carrying the supplies to the east. Wagons were finally brought and loaded. Nestoron, the chief healer, accompanied Elrohir. They knew Elrond would never rest unless Nestoron replaced his watch on Erestor. Many servants and cooks volunteered to go; Elladan thoughtfully chose those whose mates or close family members were among the three hundred warriors. One petite scribe, Gurvelon, who obstinately refused to be parted any longer from his beloved warrior husband, Caladir, also joined the group.
The little caravan set out at dawn, complete with an armed escort; Elrohir drove the first wagon with Nestoron beside him. And in between them sat a black cat, calmly watching the world around him.
The wagons reached the encampment after nightfall. Fires provided light to set up a great tent for Erestor, complete with the bed. Drops of cloth inside created separate rooms for Elrond and his chief healer, and provided privacy.
Nestoron and Elrond conferred over Erestor’s condition. They had settled Glorfindel beside Erestor on their bed, after they had made Glorfindel remove his clothing. Glorfindel’s body would help warm Erestor.
Wrapping his arms gently around his beloved, Glorfindel whispered, “Why does he not awaken?”
The chief healer answered, “It is a very deep, healing sleep, Glorfindel. He needs it. He will awaken when his body has had enough, fear not.”
Nestoron assured Elrond he would watch over Erestor, and begged him to take some rest.
Elrond knew he had to recover his strength. Stopping Erestor’s bleeding had taken a lot out of him. “Will you call me should his condition change?”
“Of course, my Lord.”
Elrond entered the private space they had made for him, collapsed on the mound of rugs and blankets that made up his bed, and promptly fell asleep.
Tinnu entered the tent, jumped on the bed, and stretched out along Erestor’s wounded side.
Glorfindel reached a hand over to stroke the cat, and whispered, “Erestor, my sweet one, Tinnu is here. We will keep you warm, my love. Never leave me, Erestor. Promise me you will not leave me.” A tear dropped onto Erestor’s face, followed by another, as Glorfindel bent down and softly kissed the sweet lips of his love. “I love you, Erestor. I will always love you. Stay with me, beloved.”
Nestoron sat quietly in his chair, his eyes on the book in his lap. Without looking up, he said, “Keep speaking to him, Glorfindel. Keep him with us. Touch him. He will hear you.”
And so all night long, Glorfindel did. Constantly stroking an arm, a hand, dark hair, a soft check, he whispered of his love. He told Erestor all about what happened in Imladris, how Elrohir and the others had brought everything they would need, how everyone loved him, how he loved him, and how he needed him.
~ ~ ~
Gurvelon had managed to remain unseen by his mate. The warriors were immensely grateful for the supplies from Imladris, and some were overjoyed at having lovers, brothers, or other family members with them again. After a hearty dinner, all reclined among their bedrolls, Elrohir and Caladir among them.
“I must say, that meal was delicious.”
“Aye. Having clean clothes again is almost as good, though. Don’t think I could have stood that damn Orc blood any longer.”
“Now tell us everything that happened in Imladris.”
And so the warriors heard all about it. How the wounded warriors had joined them and gave the first warning of the Orcs. How the warrior’s arrows from the heights had saved them. How little Saercaeron had killed an Orc and saved his father, and many other stories of the battle. The warriors were amazed at the elfling’s courage. And Caladir gasped and paled when he heard about his little scribe wielding a heavy sword in the courtyard against an Orc.
“He was fearless, Caladir, you should have seen him! Lifting that heavy old sword.”
“Good thing those two old warriors were up on the balcony, though. They weren’t about to let anything happen to your mate, Caladir. That Orc must have had thirty arrows in him before he dropped.”
If possible, Caladir turned whiter. “That little……Just wait until I get home. I’m going to..”
Gurvelon could wait no longer. Coming down from the tree he was hiding in, he plopped himself onto his mate’s lap, wrapped his arms around the large neck, and resting his brow on Caladir’s said, “What are you going to do, my love?”
Caladir growled. “This!” and captured his tiny husband’s mouth with his own, devouring it in relief that his beloved was safe in his arms again.
When Gurvelon was finally able to raise his kiss-swollen lips, he gazed into Caladir’s lust darkened eyes, and grinned. “Come, my love.” Rising, he grabbed Caladir’s hand, pulling him along.
“Good night, everyone.” Gurvelon called. The others could not control their laughter at the sight of the tiny scribe dragging his twice-as-large warrior husband along behind him. Caladir looked back at his friends and comrades, comically raised his eyebrows a couple of times, and smirked.
Gurvelon lead them to a secluded spot he had selected and readied. Bedrolls, along with a few pillows, two glasses and a bottle of wine already awaited them there. The scribe made short work of removing both of their clothes, and gently pushed his lover down to sit.
It never ceased to amaze Caladir that he would allow this little elf to lead him around and gently order his movements, while he quietly complied. But Gurvelon had stolen his heart the first time he had seen his beautiful little husband centuries ago, and he never wanted it back. Long, thick auburn hair that sparkled with light curled around shapely buttocks. Green eyes sparkled from his beautiful face, with its pert little nose and rosy, plump lips, and Caladir was lost.
Gurvelon climbed onto his lover’s lap, licking his way up from Caladir’s abdomen to his lips.
Caladir wrapped his arms around his little love, holding him tightly, and inhaling deeply his sweet scent. “I have missed you, my beautiful one,” and he captured Gurvelon’s mouth in a passionate kiss, delving into his sweetness.
Gurvelon moaned. “Oh, my love, I was so afraid…that Orc…I wanted you to be so proud of me. But I was so afraid, and all I could think of was I would never see you again, and I wanted you to be there with me so much. And then Turidon and his friend saved me, and I still wanted you with me, and all I could think of was you, fighting Orcs, and would I ever see you again, and…”
“Shh, sweetheart, it’s all over now and we’re together again. I love you so much, my sweet little one.”
“I love you, my Caladir, my light. Please, love, I need you. Please take me now.”
And Caladir did. And the only sounds that accompanied their sighs and moans were the chirping of the crickets and sound of the gentle breezes flowing through the leaves.
It was enough for tonight.
Tbc…..
Note on the meaning of the names used:
Caladir – Man of light.
Gurvelon – Strong heart/counsel.
Author: Aglarien
Rating: NC-17
Type: FPS
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel, Caladir/Gurvelon (OMCs)
Disclaimer: Alas, not mine. Except for the cat.
Warning: AU.
Archive: Glorfindel of Imladris, AFF, Melethryn, OEAM
Summary: A caravan from Imladris goes east.
Part 16
Elven messengers flew across the valley. Before the day had passed, all were aware of the events. When it was confirmed there were only three groups of Orcs, the warriors returned to Imladris from the borders, leaving only the normal number of sentries.
Erestor, however, could not be moved. Elrond had finally managed to stop the bleeding and had carefully stitched his torn body together, but his life still hung by a thread. Glorfindel never left his side, never released his hand, never gave up their connection. Elrond refused to leave or rest, never leaving his friends.
Elladan and Elrohir took charge in Imladris, and the cleanup began. The Last Homely House emptied as its temporary visitors returned to their homes. The defenders worked with the others, ridding their home of Orc filth, and then once again became minstrels, servants, weavers and scribes. No one was sorry to quit his temporary profession.
Diwen and Tinnu again worked in the healing house, where many more wounded had been added. Little Saercaeron became the darling of the hardened old warriors when they were finally able to pull him away from his father’s side.
The three hundred warriors in the east all vowed they would stay and guard their lords until it was safe to move Erestor back to Imladris. So Imladris decided to go to them. The kitchens hummed, as fresh food was prepared. Scores of elflings were sent to the orchards to collect fresh fruits. Fresh clothing, casks of wine, flasks of miruvor, baskets of fresh bread, huge rounds of cheese, the finest delicacies from the kitchens, great piles of cloth that would become comfortable tents, rugs, cooking utensils, and great barrels of fresh water from the springs all juggled for position in the courtyard.
The twins had even decided to send one of the beds for Erestor, and were now engaged in trying to decide which one. They didn’t want to think of their old tutor and dear friend holding on to life on a makeshift cot.
“Elrohir, I really think Erestor will be more comfortable in his own bed.”
“But Glorfindel’s bed is the one they shared, the one they consummated their bond in. Do you not think that one would be better?”
Elladan thought for a moment, and then grinned. “Aye. Glorfindel’s it is.” And so Glorfindel’s bed joined the items in the courtyard, along with plenty of fresh linens.
Elladan would remain in Imladris, while Elrohir would lead the group carrying the supplies to the east. Wagons were finally brought and loaded. Nestoron, the chief healer, accompanied Elrohir. They knew Elrond would never rest unless Nestoron replaced his watch on Erestor. Many servants and cooks volunteered to go; Elladan thoughtfully chose those whose mates or close family members were among the three hundred warriors. One petite scribe, Gurvelon, who obstinately refused to be parted any longer from his beloved warrior husband, Caladir, also joined the group.
The little caravan set out at dawn, complete with an armed escort; Elrohir drove the first wagon with Nestoron beside him. And in between them sat a black cat, calmly watching the world around him.
The wagons reached the encampment after nightfall. Fires provided light to set up a great tent for Erestor, complete with the bed. Drops of cloth inside created separate rooms for Elrond and his chief healer, and provided privacy.
Nestoron and Elrond conferred over Erestor’s condition. They had settled Glorfindel beside Erestor on their bed, after they had made Glorfindel remove his clothing. Glorfindel’s body would help warm Erestor.
Wrapping his arms gently around his beloved, Glorfindel whispered, “Why does he not awaken?”
The chief healer answered, “It is a very deep, healing sleep, Glorfindel. He needs it. He will awaken when his body has had enough, fear not.”
Nestoron assured Elrond he would watch over Erestor, and begged him to take some rest.
Elrond knew he had to recover his strength. Stopping Erestor’s bleeding had taken a lot out of him. “Will you call me should his condition change?”
“Of course, my Lord.”
Elrond entered the private space they had made for him, collapsed on the mound of rugs and blankets that made up his bed, and promptly fell asleep.
Tinnu entered the tent, jumped on the bed, and stretched out along Erestor’s wounded side.
Glorfindel reached a hand over to stroke the cat, and whispered, “Erestor, my sweet one, Tinnu is here. We will keep you warm, my love. Never leave me, Erestor. Promise me you will not leave me.” A tear dropped onto Erestor’s face, followed by another, as Glorfindel bent down and softly kissed the sweet lips of his love. “I love you, Erestor. I will always love you. Stay with me, beloved.”
Nestoron sat quietly in his chair, his eyes on the book in his lap. Without looking up, he said, “Keep speaking to him, Glorfindel. Keep him with us. Touch him. He will hear you.”
And so all night long, Glorfindel did. Constantly stroking an arm, a hand, dark hair, a soft check, he whispered of his love. He told Erestor all about what happened in Imladris, how Elrohir and the others had brought everything they would need, how everyone loved him, how he loved him, and how he needed him.
~ ~ ~
Gurvelon had managed to remain unseen by his mate. The warriors were immensely grateful for the supplies from Imladris, and some were overjoyed at having lovers, brothers, or other family members with them again. After a hearty dinner, all reclined among their bedrolls, Elrohir and Caladir among them.
“I must say, that meal was delicious.”
“Aye. Having clean clothes again is almost as good, though. Don’t think I could have stood that damn Orc blood any longer.”
“Now tell us everything that happened in Imladris.”
And so the warriors heard all about it. How the wounded warriors had joined them and gave the first warning of the Orcs. How the warrior’s arrows from the heights had saved them. How little Saercaeron had killed an Orc and saved his father, and many other stories of the battle. The warriors were amazed at the elfling’s courage. And Caladir gasped and paled when he heard about his little scribe wielding a heavy sword in the courtyard against an Orc.
“He was fearless, Caladir, you should have seen him! Lifting that heavy old sword.”
“Good thing those two old warriors were up on the balcony, though. They weren’t about to let anything happen to your mate, Caladir. That Orc must have had thirty arrows in him before he dropped.”
If possible, Caladir turned whiter. “That little……Just wait until I get home. I’m going to..”
Gurvelon could wait no longer. Coming down from the tree he was hiding in, he plopped himself onto his mate’s lap, wrapped his arms around the large neck, and resting his brow on Caladir’s said, “What are you going to do, my love?”
Caladir growled. “This!” and captured his tiny husband’s mouth with his own, devouring it in relief that his beloved was safe in his arms again.
When Gurvelon was finally able to raise his kiss-swollen lips, he gazed into Caladir’s lust darkened eyes, and grinned. “Come, my love.” Rising, he grabbed Caladir’s hand, pulling him along.
“Good night, everyone.” Gurvelon called. The others could not control their laughter at the sight of the tiny scribe dragging his twice-as-large warrior husband along behind him. Caladir looked back at his friends and comrades, comically raised his eyebrows a couple of times, and smirked.
Gurvelon lead them to a secluded spot he had selected and readied. Bedrolls, along with a few pillows, two glasses and a bottle of wine already awaited them there. The scribe made short work of removing both of their clothes, and gently pushed his lover down to sit.
It never ceased to amaze Caladir that he would allow this little elf to lead him around and gently order his movements, while he quietly complied. But Gurvelon had stolen his heart the first time he had seen his beautiful little husband centuries ago, and he never wanted it back. Long, thick auburn hair that sparkled with light curled around shapely buttocks. Green eyes sparkled from his beautiful face, with its pert little nose and rosy, plump lips, and Caladir was lost.
Gurvelon climbed onto his lover’s lap, licking his way up from Caladir’s abdomen to his lips.
Caladir wrapped his arms around his little love, holding him tightly, and inhaling deeply his sweet scent. “I have missed you, my beautiful one,” and he captured Gurvelon’s mouth in a passionate kiss, delving into his sweetness.
Gurvelon moaned. “Oh, my love, I was so afraid…that Orc…I wanted you to be so proud of me. But I was so afraid, and all I could think of was I would never see you again, and I wanted you to be there with me so much. And then Turidon and his friend saved me, and I still wanted you with me, and all I could think of was you, fighting Orcs, and would I ever see you again, and…”
“Shh, sweetheart, it’s all over now and we’re together again. I love you so much, my sweet little one.”
“I love you, my Caladir, my light. Please, love, I need you. Please take me now.”
And Caladir did. And the only sounds that accompanied their sighs and moans were the chirping of the crickets and sound of the gentle breezes flowing through the leaves.
It was enough for tonight.
Tbc…..
Note on the meaning of the names used:
Caladir – Man of light.
Gurvelon – Strong heart/counsel.