NEW MEMORIES

When Glorfindel awoke, he immediately nudged Elrohir until Elrond’s son awoke too. The Balrog-slayer felt a great deal better. He had resolved the night before, with Elrohir’s encouragement, that he would bare his soul to Legolas at the first opportunity, declare his love, apologize profusely, and throw himself at the Mirkwood prince’s feet to beg forgiveness. Glorfindel felt exhilarated. He was sure that if their love for each other was true, that it should have withstood his foolishness all those years ago. Excited in the anticipation of seeing Legolas again, Glorfindel bounded out of bed and quickly stripped naked, striding into his bathroom and lowering himself into the tub of water, as Elrohir yawned and stretched while watching him.

“May I join you in your bath?” Elrohir asked while he lit a taper from the fire and held the flame to a row of candles arranged on a table alongside the tub.

“You may not,” said Glorfindel emphatically.

“Oh, come now, Glorfindel!” cried Elrohir. “After everything we discussed last night and the conclusion to which we came regarding your plans, you can surely trust me. I promise that I will not touch you.”

“Were you watching me cross the floor nude and climb into the bath?” asked Glorfindel.

“I could not help but notice you, Glorfindel,” said Elrohir.

“That is what I thought,” said Glorfindel. “I can see evidence in your leggings of your excitement at seeing my nakedness. Therefore you are not permitted to enter the bath with me.”

Elrohir looked down at the protuberance causing his leggings to push awkwardly forward. “Ahh, Glorfindel, but the mere sight of you arouses me,” he sighed. “I cannot help myself.”

“Then you shall bathe after I come out,” admonished Glorfindel, but he could not suppress a smile. “Now please hand me a towel.”

Elrohir complied, but made sure that he caught a glimpse of the warrior’s form before the towel was securely wrapped around him.

While Glorfindel dressed for breakfast, unaware of Elrond’s son’s bathroom doings, Elrohir took himself in hand beneath the surface of the bathwater and sighed as he brought himself to lonely completion, with the recent vision of Glorfindel fresh in his thoughts.

When the two Elves were dressed, they made their way to the dining hall where a sumptuous breakfast had been laid out for the inhabitants and their guests. Glorfindel and Elrohir found two empty chairs together at the table, already occupied by at least a dozen Elves, the buzz of conversation humming busily in the air. Elrohir helped himself to a pear from a fluted glass bowl full of fruit. “Are you not hungry, Glorfindel?” he asked, taking note of his companion’s pale countenance.

“I am nervous beyond imagining,” said Glorfindel.

Within the next half-hour, several different Elves joined Elrohir and Glorfindel in conversation, greeting them and exchanging other small pleasantries. Glorfindel, remote and responding mechanically, would not have remembered any of the conversation, nor the Elves to whom he was speaking, if he had been asked to recall them later.

He awaited the arrival at breakfast of only one person. Soon he was rewarded, for Legolas presently entered the room, followed by a few other Silvan Elves. Glorfindel felt the blood drain from his face and he became nauseated. Elrohir squeezed his knee with a supportive hand. Legolas gracefully took a seat at the table and looked around at the other diners.

When the prince’s glance landed upon Glorfindel, his relaxed but cool expression changed to one of stony immobility. He took in the Balrog-slayer’s pale skin, craggy features looking as if they had been carved of rock, with more lines than Legolas had remembered, and a leaner appearing body. The Balrog-slayer’s hair was more magnificent than he recalled—longer, shaggier, and worn completely unbound. Glorfindel’s glittering grey-blue eyes shone like the sea-water with an expression that looked somewhat akin to fear. ‘Ah, but he is so beautiful’, Legolas thought, ‘more so than he has been in my dreams.’

Glorfindel noticed that Legolas looked older. Or perhaps it was wisdom showing in his face that had not been there before. The warrior wondered if Legolas’ memory had returned, and had caused this more focused aspect to his countenance. His round blue eyes looked sad, and his face was set in an inscrutable gaze. Glorfindel could not fathom the meaning behind his look, his face expressionless except for his eyes. Was Glorfindel reading him correctly? Was Legolas still in love with him? Something in Legolas’ bent-forward posture seemed welcoming to Glorfindel and his heart became uplifted. Color returned to his cheeks and he began to eat a tiny bit of the food. He determined to try to speak to Legolas at the first opportunity.

That came when the Elves finished eating and gradually began to rise and to mingle, continuing separate conversations that had begun at table. Elrohir managed to whisper, “Good luck,” to Glorfindel before he drifted away. After a few maneuvers in the right direction, Glorfindel at last came face-to-face with Legolas and smiled down upon him, looking into the prince’s eyes with all the warmth he could muster.

“Well met again, Your Highness,” said Glorfindel.

“And how are you, Lord Glorfindel?” asked Legolas, returning his polite smile.

“To be truthful, I am in turmoil,” said the Balrog-slayer, keeping his tone quiet. “Would you care to accompany me to a small library where we may converse in private?”

“If you lead the way,” said Legolas with a catch in his voice, “I will follow.”

Glorfindel complied, and the two Elves excused themselves from the gathering and walked stiffly toward the room in question, Glorfindel walking ahead of Legolas. When they reached the library, not the main one but a small room not unlike a parlor, its walls lined with bookshelves, Glorfindel shut the door firmly and then turned to face Legolas. His words spilled forth in an impatient stream. “Legolas, I am so sorry for the estrangement between us. I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you again. You will not believe how much I have berated myself over the years for not contacting you.”

“Why did you not, Glorfindel?” asked Legolas. His tone held a touch of melancholy, though his expression remained placid and unrevealing.

“I had many reasons,” said the flustered Glorfindel, his face flushing. “Not the least of which was my worry that our relationship might not be acceptable to your father or your people, and I wished to spare your life any further complications as you dealt with the return of your memory.” The Balrog-slayer paused for a moment to consider his own words. Legolas still did not speak, but stared at Glorfindel with rapt attention. He did not look either angry or pleased.

“Tell me,” the warrior continued, “Did your memory return? Did it happen right away, or did it occur over many months? And did it return all at once or in pieces?”

“It has never returned,” Legolas replied after a slight pause. “But I do remember everything that occurred since the day you found me on the battlefield.” He took a step closer to Glorfindel and paused, gazing into the warrior’s eyes with burning intensity. “Vividly,” he added.

Glorfindel was dumfounded. He was frustrated with himself for not knowing how to speak the right words, and use the perfect phrase that Legolas should hear so that he would know exactly what Glorfindel felt. “Legolas, I do not know what to say to you,” he confessed, fumbling with his words.

“Do you not?” asked Legolas quietly. “After what I said to you?”

Glorfindel looked puzzled for a moment, and then a dawning light shone upon him. “Legolas, I should have told you this long ago, at the time of our parting. The reasons I did not do so at the time were many-fold, but primarily it was because I am a fool. I may have great prowess as a warrior, but in matters of the heart I am a clumsy novice. Said simply, I love you.” He stood, his arms at his sides, feeling as awkward as a schoolboy.

“Do you mean that, Glorfindel?” asked Legolas, his voice echoing the soft sound of the rain that had started to fall outside the library window.

“I mean it now, and I should have said it then,” said the warrior. “For I have always felt it. Can you forgive me?”

For answer, Legolas moved closer until his chest pressed against Glorfindel’s. He lifted his head so that the taller Elf could see his face. “I have never stopped loving you,” he said, “and never doubted that we would be together again.”

Glorfindel bent to kiss him, the pent-up love and passion he felt for his wounded soldier of long ago manifesting itself in the tenderness his lips bestowed upon those of his prince. He closed his eyes that he might relish all the sensations he felt. Legolas’ lips were soft and sweet, as he remembered, and far from being tentative as the prince’s kisses once were, he returned Glorfindel’s caresses eagerly. Their bodies melted together, the touch of their groins inflaming them both. Glorfindel slid one hand to Legolas’ buttocks and pulled him closer, causing their thighs to slide against each other. The prince’s hands caressed the golden warrior’s back and shoulders. Glorfindel’s other hand stroked the silken hair behind the younger Elf’s head.

After kissing for many minutes, Glorfindel lifted his lips just far enough from Legolas’ in order to ask him, “Would you like to go up to my rooms?”

Legolas’ lips brushed feathery-light against Glorfindel’s as he replied, “I would like nothing better.”

Glorfindel led the way, ignoring the curious stares of guests, residents and servants, as he and Legolas made their way back to Glorfindel’s chambers. Gossip began to grow among the servants of Imladris about a possible love triangle between Lord Glorfindel, Elrohir and this young prince from Mirkwood.

“It is not far now,” Glorfindel explained breathlessly, after the two Elves had negotiated a flight of stairs and several corridors. His breathlessness, born of exhilaration, not from stair-climbing, caused him to pause in the hallway and lean with his back against the wall for support.

“Are you all right, Glorfindel?” asked Legolas, concern causing him to dash to Glorfindel’s side and place a soothing hand against the side of the warrior’s face.

Glorfindel grasped his hand and kissed it. “Yes, I am fine. What I am feeling comes from hundreds of years of strong, buried emotions that have suddenly risen to the surface and are flooding my senses. How is it that you remain so calm, Lember—I mean—Legolas?”

“I have kept only the single thought foremost in my mind,” said Legolas, “all these long years, that one day we would be together again, and that it would be forever, and that belief has sustained me through every day that we have lived apart. I suppose, too, that because of my memory loss I concentrated upon learning everything I could about my home of Mirkwood, and got to know again my father and all of the people who were my friends before the battle. There were problems in the past that I still do not remember but they have been relayed to me by the people I know. Some rifts have been mended. It has been both an enjoyable and a trying time.”

“Were you very much hurt that I did not come to see you?” asked Glorfindel.

“I did wonder,” said Legolas, “and it did hurt me, but I told myself that it was because you did not wish to interfere in my reunion with my people and that you probably believed that my reintegration into society there might be difficult enough as it was without the added complication of an illicit relationship. And you were right not to come too soon, Glorfindel. Mirkwood society is rather structured and rigid. Peoples’ beliefs in their moral doctrines are strict. While relationships between males are not uncommon, it is preferred that male-female bonds be the choice among Mirkwood Elves, so that we may strengthen our numbers. As the years passed, I did hope that you would eventually come, but I felt that I could, after a while, come here to find you. And that is what I have done.”

“You were right about me, Legolas,” said Glorfindel, taking his loved one’s hand. “That was one of the reasons I did not come to Mirkwood. I did not want to cause any problems for you. There were other reasons too, and as time went by—“

“That is fair, Glorfindel,” stated Legolas, his acceptance showing in his raised brows and soft eyes full of liquid sympathy.

A wave of love for Legolas rushed through Glorfindel’s being. “Come,” he said, “let us go now to my rooms. I do not think I can abide being apart from you a moment longer.” And he pulled Legolas by the hand the remaining few steps down the corridor to his rooms and they went inside. Upon entering, they found some servants dusting and tidying, and Glorfindel shooed them away. The servants raised eyebrows at each other on their way out.

A fresh fire had been lit in the grate and the room felt comfortably warm. Glorfindel went about to light a few candles, which soon infused the air with their faint scent of honey, and a soft yellow glow. The rain outside was falling heavier now, its soft sound a soothing background for the lovers’ low moans and whispers, as they hugged and caressed each other upon Glorfindel’s bed.

Glorfindel began first to remove Legolas’ clothing. The smaller Elf was lightly dressed in a simple tunic and a pair of leggings worn with light shoes. His hair was plaited on the sides, and the two braids were swept back and tied together at the back of his head. Glorfindel bade him lift his arms over his head and he slid the tunic off, casting it onto the end of the coverlet. He noticed traces of the old deep gash sustained on the Dagorlad, well-faded on Legolas’ body, and he traced the faint line of the scar down Legolas’ side to his waist. He gently guided Legolas to lie down upon the bed, where he pulled off his shoes. The golden warrior bent forward over top of the younger Elf and pressed his lips to Legolas’ mouth, while his hands busied themselves with the ties of the younger Elf’s leggings. Glorfindel slid these leggings down slowly until they fell from his feet, and then he caressed his lover’s slim hips, while his lips sought the side of Legolas’ neck, and he pressed kisses down the length of the smooth flesh to the prince’s shoulder.

Legolas moaned under Glorfindel’s touches. “How can you remain dressed, Glorfindel,” he whispered, “while I lie here naked and aching for you?”

Glorfindel groaned at these plaintive words coming from the prince’s desirable mouth. “Stop, Legolas, or you shall have me finished before I even begin,” he cried. He stood and quickly stripped off his own clothes, all the while staring at the prone form of Legolas on his bed, the prince’s beautiful body well-shaped, and somewhat fuller and stronger than it had been long ago. His arousal was strong and insistent and it excited him to a state of lust that he had long forgotten it was possible to achieve.

“Oh, my love,” he groaned, and when he was naked he threw himself down beside Legolas, covering the young Elf’s body with his powerful one. Glorfindel was slim but muscular, and bigger than Legolas. The warrior pressed kisses to the younger Elf’s chest, alternately pinching and licking his tender pink nipples as he lowered his face down the length of Legolas’ body.

When Glorfindel came to the straight, erect evidence of Legolas’ desire for him, the warrior paused to admire its length and form, while running his hands along the grooves on either side of Legolas’ belly. Legolas groaned under these touches, placing his hands over top of Glorfindel’s, and moving the older Elf’s fingers toward his waiting member, aching with desire for the caresses of his long-missed lover.

Glorfindel cupped his hands around the soft sac and hard member and lowered his head, while Legolas fought to stop writhing, clutching the bedcovers in one fist, the other buried in Glorfindel’s unbound mane of hair. Legolas pulled Glorfindel’s head down until the golden Elf’s lips met his seething, throbbing member, and then he cried out: “Ai! Glorfindel, please do not tease me!”

Glorfindel eased Legolas’ agony by taking his arousal deeply into his mouth, and with tender caresses, brought him to climax. Legolas spent himself while crying his lover’s name, both hands now in Glorfindel’s hair, relishing the feel of the golden Elf’s stiff locks in his hands and his gentle mouth on his hardness.

Raising his head when Legolas was fully sated, Glorfindel’s breath came hard. “I would like nothing better than to take you and possess you in the way I have desired for years of dreaming, my love. Please turn over.” His turn was urgent.

“Turn over?” asked Legolas, startled.

“Yes,” whispered Glorfindel. “Onto your stomach.”

Legolas complied, but he was curious. “Don’t you want me to give you the same pleasure you gave me?” he asked, reaching for Glorfindel’s own insistent-looking arousal. The warrior groaned at the exquisite feel of the prince’s fingers on his aching flesh.

“Oh, but you will,” he hissed. “Now slide your legs over the side.” And he helped Legolas by grasping him around the hips and pulling him down so that his legs were off the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor. Legolas’ firm backside was bent toward Glorfindel, and the warrior admired its roundness, placing his hands on either side of Legolas’ hips. He slid one hand over the smooth cheeks and deftly caressed the deep crevice between them. His heart was pounding. Taking a vial of oil from his nightstand, Glorfindel slicked some of the viscous fluid over his shaft and in between Legolas’ buttocks. “Ready?” he hissed insistently to the shocked prince, and he inserted two fingers into Legolas’ opening. The young Elf cried out sharply.

“What is wrong, my love? Glorfindel asked. “Do you not wish to sheathe me? Have you not waited many years for us to complete our bond?”

“I have waited for you,” the younger Elf replied. “But why are doing this? Have you done it before?”

“Why yes, of course,” Glorfindel blurted out before he realized that this was not the response his lover wished to hear. “Legolas?” asked Glorfindel, after a moment, noting that the young Elf was upset and tears had begun to course down his cheeks. “What is the matter?”

“I—I—you—have taken other lovers. You have learned to do these things—everything—with others,” said Legolas. He rolled over to look at Glorfindel with sad, pleading eyes, and brushed away his tears. “Why did you think to do that to me?”

“What are you talking about? Are you a virgin?” Glorfindel was shocked.

Legolas nodded, his lips trembling. “I thought you were, too. I remember how we were so innocent, just learning how to explore each other the last time we were together. Today you were—are—so different. You have lost your innocence. Why did you do it, Glorfindel?”

“Oh, Gods,” Glorfindel said, his folly becoming agonizingly clear. “You are a virgin. You waited for me.” He reached out to caress Legolas’ cheek. “All those years…and you waited for me.”

“Of course I waited,” said Legolas, his eyes brimming with tears. “Because I loved you. But you did not wait for me, I can see. Did you, Glorfindel?”