Amin

Had he slept for hours? Days? Erestor was no longer certain. All he knew was that his body felt far more rested than before. Banners of rose and gold were strewn across the deepening blue of the evening sky, unraveling into coils of hazy red blotted upon a purpled backdrop. Sighing contentedly, he snuggled beneath the warmth of the many blankets for a moment longer before rising, his growling stomach reminding him that he had not eaten for some time.

None had bothered him during his slumber, yet one visitor remained clear within his mind.

Ereinion. . .

It had not been a dream, the gentle touch of the High King’s hand upon his fevered skin, the incantations of sleep.

Lirimaer, what have you done to me. . .

Certainly the Noldor had not said that. Those words he had imagined. Yes. . .a product of his somewhat hopeful mind.

The lightweight cotton of the tunic in which he had slept was damp with sweat and smelled as such. Wrinkling his nose, the advisor peeled the thin fabric from his body and tossed it aside. He could definitely use a bath. Perhaps he would ask Elrond where he might enjoy such a luxury after filling his belly.

He pawed through his belongings quickly and selected the thickest tunic he had brought along with a clean pair of breeches. Hopefully, very few would be about.

After combing his long locks into some semblance of order and rebraiding them, he shrugged his signature black robes over his shoulders and crept silently down the many stairs that led into the kitchen where he pilfered several honey glazed rolls and a wedge of sharp cheese. A mug of mulled cider was also smuggled from the counter before any of the lingering kitchen help even knew he was there.

Being confined to his quarters had suddenly left him longing for the freshness of the sea air and he ventured outside to enjoy his supper where he could enjoy the view in peace.

The expanse of the massive ocean was astoundi Nev Never had Erestor beheld a body of water such as this, stretching further than even the Elven eye could see.

“It is impressive, is it not?”

Erestor glanced over his shoulder, knowing full well who the voice belonged to before the noble visage of the High King came into view. Ereinion crouched beside him, laying a hand upon the advisor’s shoulder as he pointed towards a cluster of craggy rocks that dotted a distant shoreline.

“That is where I first set foot upon this land,” he said. “It was not until I journeyed further to the East that I discovered the terrain to be hospitable for living. Through the help of Vilya, the climate has evolved into a milder version of what was originally a rather hostile environment.”

Clutching his robes closer to his body, Erestor shivered. “One would think that Vilya would have sought to make it a bit warmer.”

Ereinion chuckled. “You are of the woods, my dear Erestor. I am certain temperatures in your home vary little from the pleasant warmth of Spring. Much of Lindon’s wildlife is accustomed to the cold here. Changing such things too greatly would pose a threat to the livelihood of the creatures that dwelt here long before our people settled upon these shores.”

“I fear wthe the winters must be like,” Erestor muttered with a sniffle, for the chill of the wind was becoming more of a nuisance than he planned.

The warmth of Ereinion’s hand gravitated further down his back as the Elven King’s touch slid from his shoulder to a lower point.

“Are you cold, morier?” he asked, his thumb rubbing lightly over the ridge of Erestor’s spine, eliciting a shiver of a different nature from the huddling advisor.

Instead of replying as he wished, Erestor sneezed rather harshly followed by more of the wretched cough that refused to take leave of his body.

The heavy wool of Ereinion’s cloak descended over his shoulders, draping him in the spicy subtly of wild bergamot blossoms.

He sneezed again.

By the sea and stars……!

The High King pressed his handkerchief into Erestor’s palm, closing his fingers around the soft fabric.

“Galu,” Ereinion said as Erestor dabbed daintily at his reddening nose with one corner of the cloth.

“Thank you,” Erestor murmured, bowing his head so that Ereinion could not see the blush that crept over his cheeks to match the hue of his nose.

From beneath the cover of his dark lashes, the advisor glanced at the Noldor King who now sat in little more than a sleeveless tunic and breeches. The lithe curvature of Ereinion’s arms boasted of far more power than his flowing robes revealed, the muscles lean and carved, honed from battles fought since before Erestor’s birth. A band of elegantly crafted mithril encircled the upper portion of one of those arms, swirls of curling vines and leaves etched into its surface along with a cluster of stars which seemed to glint as clearly as those that resided in the heavens themselves. A chilling wind billowed the dark silk of the High King’s lustrous hair, lifting it away from his shoulders to resettle in a cascade of inky ebonite down the center of his back.

Surely, he must be freezing! Erestor could not simply sit there like a newborn Elfling swaddled in blankets while the High King of Noldor was at the mercy of the elements….
Shrugging the warm cloak away from his shoulders, Erestor moved to return it to Ereinion, but felt a firm hand pull the thick material back upon his body once more.

“No, morier. The chill of the air does not reach my bones. I am quite used to it, I assure you,” Ereinion said.

“But. . .” Erestor began.

“No,” the High King said once more.

“Then I insist you allow me to share it with you,” Erestor said, realizing all too late that he had just more or less offered to share a blanket with the Noldorian ruler.

One graceful brow arched upward as Erestor silently cursed his treacherous tongue.

“Forgive me,” Erestor muttered. “I did not mean to imply. . .”

The side of the cloak lifted and a strong arm encircled his shoulders, drawing him suddenly far closer than he wished to be, his still shivering body gleefully betraying his need for warmth.

His ear nestled involuntarily against Ereinion’s chest, the steady thrum of the King’s heart resounding within his ears. Abruptly, his fevered chills ceased and he melted into the embrace against his will, allowing the High King to cradle him against his lean form if only for a moment.

“Are you cold now, morier?” Ereinion asked softly.

“No,” Erestor said quietly. “Not anymore.”

Ereinion hugged the slightly shivering body against his own, drawing the dark advisorser ser into his embrace.

“I know of something that will soothe your ails, morier. The warmth of the bathing pools can chase even the most stubborn of chills from your bones,” Ereinion said, his hand rubbing the nape of Erestor’s neck in an absently affectionate gesture.

“I have already tried,” Erestor mumbled into the thick silk of the Noldor ruler’s tunic.

“Yes,” Ereinion said. “Come with me, my dear one. I assure you that your experience will be all together different.”

Erestor buried his face further within the confines of Ereinion’s arms. “Very well,” he agreed, breathing in the lingering scent of warm spice that clung headily to Ereinion’s dusky skin.

He suddenly longed to brush his lips against the softness of the inviting curve of Ereinion’s neck, traveling to sample the exquisite taste of his mouth once more, but the slight chattering of his teeth would allow him little more than a nuzzle beneath the chin. A gentle kiss graced his forehead in return and Erestor almost wished that he could simply remain upon the cliff wrapped in the tender embrace of the Noldorian Elf.

“Come,” Ereinion said, “let us get you out of this wind.”

The regal Elven King’s arm did not stray from Erestor’s shoulders as the two of them rose, leaving Erestor’s uneaten meal of cheese and bread upon the rocks for the sea birds to enjoy.

* * * * * TBC......