No Remedy

NO REMEDY - CHAPTER FOUR


Erestor lay perfectly still, too stunned to move.

Glorfindel...

Glorfindel was on *top* of him. Warm and heavy
and real, big hands twisted in his hair holding him
firmly in place.

Not that he really wanted to move - except it was
going to be very embarrassing when the blond woke
and realized what he was doing. Erestor was quite
sure that *he* was not the one Glorfindel was dreaming
of, not the one making the bigger Elf nuzzle his face
into his neck and oh, *Valar*! Was that his *tongue*?!

Glorfindel peeked at the dark Elf through his eyelashes,
careful not to open his eyes too much. Erestor’s own
dark eyes were wide with astonishment, and his cheeks
were bright red.

But he wasn’t fighting.

Glorfindel grinned, knowing it was hidden by his own
hair, and bent back to that slender white throat. It was
quite delicious, soft and smooth and tasted rather like
honey. He let his lips search leisurely until he found a
spot that made the Elf beneath him gasp, made the slim
hips give a tiny, involuntary thrust against the large thigh
he had insinuated between Erestor’s own legs.

‘So responsive...’ he thought, pleased, and proceeded
to worship that spot until Erestor was writhing and he
was grinding his own hardness against one of those pretty
thighs. Erestor still wasn’t fighting, so he let go of his hair
and let his hands do what they’d been aching to do all
night - explore that slender body.

‘Valar...’ was the only thought going through Erestor’s
head. This had to be a dream - there was no way this
was really happening, so he just let himself go with it.
There was a strong warrior’s hand working its way
between the fastenings of his tunic, another stroking
his hip and then gripping it, shifting him slightly until
Glorfindel’s erection was grinding against his groin
instead of his thigh.

Erestor was quite sure he was about to die. Or explode.
Or both.

That warm hand was inside his tunic, now, stroking the
soft skin of his abdomen and wandering up to find a nipple,
playing with it gently until it had tightened into a hard little
nub. The touch sent shocks like lightning straight to his
groin and he whined, feeling himself near climax.

Glorfindel moved his mouth along a delicate collarbone
and moaned softly. No more than touching, and they
were both still wearing their clothes, yet this was rapidly
becoming the best sexual experience he’d ever had.
Erestor was all soft, satin skin over surprisingly firm
muscles, so slim, and sensitive to the slightest touch.
And his hands were moving over his own broad back
with light, shy touches, smoothing his hair away from
his neck and shoulders like he didn’t dare to explore
further. The very innocence of his touches were
making Glorfindel’s desire burn hotter.

His thrusting became a little more desperate.

Erestor didn’t seem to mind - he sighed and his own
hips tried to thrust back. Not an easy task, Glorfindel
knew, with his own considerable weight pressing down
on him, but the motion was intoxicating. He let the hand
on Erestor’s hip slide beneath him to cup a backside that
felt every bit as lovely as he’d imagined. He pushed the
tunic off of one pale, creamy shoulder and mouthed the
soft curve of it, giving one last hard thrust and biting down
gently as he came. Marking Erestor where no one could
see, since he was fairly sure the Counselor would die of
embarrassment to have a love bite visible on his throat.

The feeling of Glorfindel’s teeth against his skin pushed
Erestor over the edge into his own orgasm, and he
relaxed beneath the blond, flushing slightly at the wet
feeling of both their leggings. His fingers twitched
nervously in the golden hair, sure Glorfindel was
going to wake up now and be utterly horrified.

He lifted worried dark eyes and blinked to find the
warrior beaming down at him, blue eyes full of satisfaction.
He opened his mouth to say something - anything - and
Glorfindel kissed him, lips slanting over his, a demanding
tongue thrusting past his teeth to explore his mouth.

Erestor’s brain was running around in little circles,
screaming to know what was going on, but his body
didn’t care. His arms wrapped around Glorfindel’s
neck all on their own, and his back arched in delight
under the merciless onslaught of insistent lips.

He was gasping by the time the blond lifted his head.
Those blue eyes were absolutely smug by now, and he
wished his brain was working well enough to say
something biting enough to wipe that smugness off
his face. Glorfindel just smiled, and brushed a surprisingly
delicate kiss over his bruised lips.

“We should get cleaned up,” he said softly, “the morning
meal will be ready and we leave soon.”

Erestor blinked at him as he got up and changed rapidly,
turning his eyes before he could stare at the vision of a
naked Glorfindel. He heard the blond laugh, but he set
his jaw and refused to look. A moment later and a clean,
dressed Glorfindel was poised over him again.

“I’m going to see that the escort is ready. Erestor?”
When the dark eyes looked at him again, he gave him
his best smile, the one reserved only for the people he
truly cared about.

“What?” Softly spoken.

“Thank you.” Just as soft, and another of those gentle
kisses.

Then the tent flap was swinging as Glorfindel vanished
through it, and Erestor was left sitting on the makeshift
bed, fingers on his lips as he stared after him.


*


Elrond opened his door and was immediately met by
three worried-looking Elves. He raised an eyebrow
in question, and they started babbling.

“The emissaries from the Trade Guild have arrived
early!”

“And the guest rooms haven’t been refreshed yet!”

“They are asking where they shall stay...?”

The Lord of Imladris blinked at them. “The guest
rooms are always prepared - or should be.”

“Oh, well, yes...” One Elf that he vaguely recognized
as an Assistant whom Erestor had replaced a century
ago said, “but, you see, Lord Erestor always gives the
order to have them cleaned once guests leave, and no
one else thought to tell the servants, so they weren’t
sure they should go ahead...”

Elrond sighed. “Well, put the Traders in the Fire Hall
and offer them refreshment while the cleaners take care
of the required rooms.”

The former Assistant looked relieved, and ran off to do
as he was bidden. The other two remained, and Elrond
sighed. “Something else?”

“The patrols haven’t received today’s orders, and no
one knows where the orders are.”

Elrond glared at the Elf. “Whose responsibility is it to
have those orders ready?”

“Lord Erestor always does it,” the Elf replied, shifting
a bit nervously. It was really his own responsibility, but
he was hoping his Lord didn’t know that.

Elrond put a hand to his face. “I am quite sure that
Erestor left orders for *someone* to handle this.”

“Well - he said the orders for this week were ready
and that they would be on his desk, but we have yet
to find them.”

“And why is that?”

“Well... um...”

Elrond stared at the Elf, then turned to the study he
and Erestor shared when doing most of the paperwork
for Imladris. He pushed open the door and stared.

Erestor’s usually neat desk was piled high with stacks
of papers, scrolls, letters, and books with notes placed
between the pages. Half a dozen Elves were going
wildly through the stacks, disarranging what Erestor
had probably carefully set out.

“I can’t find the plans for tomorrow’s banquet! Has
anyone seen them?”

“They were under the scrolls to Mirkwood. How
about the instructions for the blacksmith? He is
demanding to know which weapons he is supposed
to repair this week.”

“Neither of those are as important as the treaty to
the town of Yindergath! It was supposed to go
along with this morning’s patrol!”

“What are you worried about? The patrol is still
milling around the courtyard!”

“I *need* those banquet plans! The cook has to
start immediately or nothing will be ready!”

“The cook’s going to have a hard time cooking if I
can’t find the supply lists! Hard to make a banquet
with nothing in the larder but two barrels of flour and
a crock of preserves!”

Elrond nearly groaned. He hoped this was just
first-day chaos. Hopefully it would settle down
soon.

...but strange, he’d never noticed that Erestor did
so much... what did all these other Elves do with
their time, if they were falling apart now?

He’d have to have a long talk with his Chief Counselor
when he got back.

For now, he supposed he’d best take care of these
Elves before they started throwing things at each other.


*


Erestor skipped breakfast, determined not to even
look at Glorfindel. He knew he’d never manage it
without turning as red as the apples in Elrond’s orchard.
He had cleaned up and then waited in the tent until he
saw the other tents being taken down - then he’d gone
to the horses and saddled the little grey mare himself,
quietly asking her name from the Elf responsible for the
horses’ care.

Then he remained with Alethea, getting acquainted,
until the rest of the company was ready to leave.

As they began to sort out their places in the group,
Erestor was surprised - and far from pleased - to
find himself suddenly surrounded by the Mirkwood
Elves. All of their horses were bigger than Alethea,
and all of them were taller than he - he felt like an
Elfling who had wandered into an adult’s party. He
would have urged the little mare, who was already
picking up on his nervousness and beginning to prance
uneasily, away from them, but one Elf leaned over to
catch her reins.

“Good morn, Cousin Erestor,” Araden said sweetly,
his blue eyes smiling at the smaller Elf.

Erestor was surprised to see little malice in them.
Perhaps Araden *had* improved. He’d give him
the benefit of the doubt. “Good morn, Araden.”
He deliberately left the ‘Cousin’ off; in their childhood,
Araden had forbidden him to call him by that title.

A flicker went through the blond’s eyes - he almost
looked sad. “Erestor... I wanted to speak to you...”

“Lord Councilor?” A firm voice interrupted. “Your
place is waiting.”

Erestor had never been so grateful to see Glorfindel.
He gave Araden a brief nod and attempted to move
Alethea forward. His cousin let go of her reins
reluctantly. “Can we speak later, then?” he asked.
Erestor was forced to nod, or look uncouth. Alethea
was finally able to walk away, but not fast enough to
miss the comments being made behind him.

“You were right, Araden, he is *quite* different from
you.”

“Such a dark little thing - all of your other relatives are
tall and blond. Where did he come from?”

“He certainly must have been a surprise...”

“Well...” Araden sounded rather reluctant to speak.

Erestor was going to just leave them and their
comments behind, when he saw some of the
Imladris guards looking at him with beaming
smiles. For an instant he was angry, thinking
they were laughing at him, then he realized that
the odd look in their eyes was expectancy. They
were waiting for his usual razor-sharp retort to
such comments.

Well, if they had decided to find some sort of
pride in that, he wasn’t going to let them down!

“You’re quite right,” he said calmly, knowing the
Elves heard his voice when they went silent behind
him. He turned narrowed dark eyes on them and
their own eyes widened. Araden looked at him like
he’d never seen him before. “I am very different from
Araden and *his* family.” He placed just the right
delicate emphasis on ‘his’ to make them realize he
did not say ‘ours.’

“And how is that? Were you just born different?”
the bravest of them asked, raising his chin haughtily.
His eyes flickered over Erestor, then Araden, and all
the watching Elves were made well-aware of the
differences between them.

But Erestor wasn’t going to mention height, or coloring,
or attractiveness. “Yes,” the word was like ice, “I was.
I was born intelligent.” He turned Alethea, and the little
mare tossed her head and trotted to her place at the
head of the Imladris diplomats.

Who were grinning quite broadly.

So were the Imladris guards.

So was Glorfindel, though Erestor still wasn’t about
to look at *him.*

He didn’t look at Araden, either, so he didn’t see the
amazement on that face, followed by a slow, disbelieving,
oddly happy little smile.

The Mirkwood Elves were very quiet for the next few
hours.


*


Glorfindel was still grinning when Lady Riel managed
to move her horse close to his. His brain was wrapped
completely around Erestor - he ignored her until he
heard the little huff of discontent.

“Glory...” she whined softly, and he winced. He
really hated that little nickname. Best to speak to
her, though, before she *really* got going, and
they had an audience.

“Yes, Riel?” It was with great difficulty that he
refrained from calling her ‘Lady’, but he knew
she would start fussing - loudly - if he reverted
to being formal with her.

“Glory, I truly do not like my tent-mate. Is there
*no* one else that I may share with? She broke
my best mirror and did not even apologize. She
chided me for carelessness, instead.” Riel sniffed
and shot a glare back at the Mirkwood She-Elf.

Who was glaring right back, while the Elves
around her grinned. They had been quite amused
by Lithilia’s tale of the mirror in the bed. The
story was already going on to the Imladris Elves,
who had been a bit less amused - the Lady Riel
was their Captain’s lover, after all, and they all
loved Glorfindel.

But he didn’t look very lover-like right now... perhaps
there had been a rift between the two? It wouldn’t
cause much heartbreak among the guards if that was
so; Riel had always seemed to think that being Glorfindel’s
lover made the Elves under him her servants. They’d been
ordered - and not very politely - to do all sorts of inane
things for her, fetch this, bring that, find me some flowers,
braid my mare’s mane and tail...

Now that they thought of it, that mirror story *was* pretty
funny...

Glorfindel blinked, wondering why all the Elves around him
were starting to grin. Did he miss something? It started
when Riel had mentioned the mirror.

He’d have to find out the real story behind that, he
supposed. He glanced over his shoulder and saw
one of the Advisors beside of Erestor leaning over
to the Chief Counselor and whispering rapidly. Erestor
looked vastly amused - he was visibly trying to fight off
a smile.

Yes, he’d definitely have to get the rest of that story later.

“Well?” Riel demanded, her voice raising a little when
she realized Glorfindel was ignoring her.

“Well, what?” The Elda asked, confused. He’d forgotten
her question in wondering about the mirror.

“Well, is there someone else I can share a tent with?
Perhaps you have decided that your own tent-mate is
not to your liking?” She asked the last in a low voice,
remembering how reluctant Glorfindel was to behave
with the slightest impropriety. Silly, really, but she’d
humor him for now.

Glorfindel was staring at her. His tent-mate, not to his
liking?! He had a sudden vision of Erestor as he had
looked when Glorfindel was leaving the tent - sitting
on their blankets, curly hair in wild disarray around
him, slender fingers against his lips as he stared after
him, his tunic hanging off of one white shoulder, a red
love-bite showing clearly against his skin, dark eyes
wide with surprise and the remnants of their passion...

He swallowed hard, and shifted in his saddle. Now
was *so* not a good time to get aroused!

“No, Riel, I am... quite *satisfied* with my tent-mate.
And I am afraid there is no other She-Elf for you to
share with. I will see if there is not some rearranging
that can be done, to get you a tent of your own.”

“Well,” she sniffed, “I suppose that will have to do, if
you are sure you will not join me.”

Glorfindel rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. He wasn’t
about to give up Erestor for the pouting blond beside him
- he was beginning to wonder what he’d ever seen in her.
She had been such fun when he’d first started courting her.
Always happy to oblige him when he was between more
serious lovers, usually seeking him out herself when she’d
heard a relationship had ended, offering herself as company
until he found someone else. He’d only slept with her twice,
yet she seemed to think there was some deep and abiding
bond between them, despite the fact that she, herself, had
so many lovers Glorfindel had lost count of them.

And as for asking her to bind with him... ha!

He’d have to be insane.

He nudged Asfaloth into quicker motion, pulling away from
Riel’s flimsy little white mare. Poor horse was already showing
signs of strain, and it was only the second day of their trip.
He’d have to speak to the Elf caring for the horses, make
sure she got special attention. It wasn’t her fault that her
mistress was so thoughtless as to bring her on what promised
to be a rather grueling journey.

“Lord Glorfindel?” He turned his head as one of the guards
addressed him. “There is something strange about the road
ahead...”

He looked, and he saw what the Elf meant. The ground was
choppy, as if there had been some sort of battle fault. There
were deep gouges from hooves, and some of the trees had
score marks, as though they had been hit by both sword and
arrows.

“Slow them down,” he ordered, switching easily into his warrior
mode. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to the Elves
under his care - the mission to Imladris was important, the
lives of his friends and the other diplomats were important.

Erestor was so important that his throat ached, just thinking
of something happening to him.

They proceeded cautiously, but it seemed safe. No Orcs
came from the trees, no sounds of danger came to the listening
ears. Yet something just wasn’t right - the birds weren’t
singing, the trees seemed so very still...

Glorfindel raised his head sharply, his senses going on high
alert? What was that?

Not a sound, nothing in sight, but something was jarringly
out of place...

It was the smell. A thick, sweet scent that floated through
the leaves, cloying and heavy. It was like the time Riel spilt
her perfume jar all over his tunic - he hadn’t been able to
breathe properly for days.

Even now, his head was beginning to spin...

He realized suddenly what was happening. He turned
Asfaloth, noticing that the big stallion’s motions were
slower than they should be, and tried to shout.

It came out a sad whisper, “Back! Get them back...”

But his guards to the rear were already toppling off
of their horses, to be followed by the horses themselves.
He saw Riel hit the ground, and her little mare take two
more steps before following her into the dust.

His eyes went to Erestor, and he tried to urge his
stallion to move faster as he saw his Counselor
sway, then slide almost gracefully down, those
big black eyes rolling back.

*No...*

He tried to go forward again, and realized he was
no longer on Asfaloth, that the big horse was stumbling
away from him, tottering dangerously, while he himself
was on the ground. He gathered all his strength and
pulled himself toward Erestor.

He managed to wrap his fingers around the other
Elf’s hand before his vision began to darken.

The last thing he saw were some dark shapes
appearing out of the undergrowth and coming
toward them...

.