Glorfindel Unleashed

Title : 'Glorfindel Unleashed', 8/?
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: (R for this chapter, NC-17 overall)
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor in later chapters
Warnings: M/M, implied child abuse, angst, character
death


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?

Author's notes: AU as in it is my idea, but canon
where possible with regard to LOTR history.


Chapter 8

T.A. 149, Mid-winter


It was a red-eyed, weary Glorfindel who emerged from
his chambers that bright winter morning. For one so
recently re-born, he looked as though he would soon
return to Námo's Halls. He was well-dressed for he
would not shame himself or his new lord by neglecting
his appearance just because of a nightmare. But what a
nightmare. And what of the event that triggered it?
Certainly that terrible confrontation in Erestor's
office must have been the cause, for in all his time
since his rebirth no such dreams had ever occurred.
Indeed, Glorfindel could hardly decide which had been
the worst - seeing the balrog advance in his nightmare
or Erestor retreat in reality. No, there was no doubt.
Losing Erestor was worse.

For so long had Glorfindel yearned for that sweet
reunion. For so many mille had had he dreamed,
planned, plotted, envisioned the pressing of lips and
devouring of bodies. In those dreams they would now be
ensconced in Glorfindel's bed and Erestor would be
enfolded in Glorfindel's arms, sated and sleeping.
Instead the delightful bedchamber had become a haunted
room overnight, and the ghost of their love prowled
there still. Glorfindel straightened his shoulders
resolutely. He had to face Erestor again and determine
why the raven-haired elf was in denial of their love,
even of his life in Gondolin. What had become of the
young elf, what had he faced in the intervening years
that had provoked this extreme reaction? Did he resent
him for dying, for leaving him alone? How had he
survived? Did he not travel with Idril, with Tuor, or
Mirieth? He had been well loved by them all; surely
they would not have deserted his little one?

His route to Erestor's office was direct, and he
marched in without knocking. He was not willing to
face being barred from Erestor's presence. He was
thwarted in his device for its inhabitant was not
Erestor but Saelbeth, his assistant, who was laying
papers on the desk in preparation for his master's
perusal. He looked up, surprised.

"Lord Glorfindel! How may I help you?"

Glorfindel nodded his head in greeting. " I - I was
looking for Erestor. He did not dine this morning," he
stumbled over his words. "I thought that he may be -
ill," he trailed off feebly. Saelbeth stared at him
skeptically but made no comment on the poor
explanation.

"Master Erestor breaks his fast before the sun rises,
my lord. He has just finished the accounts and is now
meeting with Lord Elrond." He gestured to one of two
doors in the west wall, opposite the one from the
library through which Glorfindel had entered the
previous night. "I believe they are expecting you for
your first daily report?" he ended gently.

Glorfindel nodded numbly. He had forgotten the meeting
that had been mentioned during that ill-fated
discussion of the night before. Now he had to face
Erestor, not alone as he had wished, but in the
presence of the Lord of Imladris. Steeling himself,
Glorfindel followed Saelbeth through the indicated
door. He was a proud elf, and would not reveal his
grief to this descendant of kings.

Elrond was seated at his desk in his office, a
spacious room which was obviously a place of work. Yet
there was plenty of adornment in the chamber to
personalize it as Elrond's. Its walls were covered in
ceremonial knives, ancient paintings and a silken
banner which had obviously seen the blood-drenched
face of a battlefield. The ornaments bore testimony to
the occupant's valiant past as Herald to the late King
of Lindon, the High-King Ereinion Gil-galad.

The two elves within stood to greet him. Elrond rose
from behind his desk, a welcoming smile upon his face.
Erestor hesitantly met his gaze and Glorfindel
suppressed an exclamation when he caught a glimpse of
the depth of the sadness in those chocolate-brown
orbs. It was but a moment, but a moment when a
recognition of the pain he had caused the golden lord
flashed through Erestor's expressive eyes. Then the
eyes lowered and the counsellor resumed his seat.
Glorfindel took the empty one beside Erestor, moving
his chair slightly closer to the dark elf, ignoring
the nervous look he shot him.

"Lord Elrond, I must thank you once again for the care
that you and your wife bestowed upon myself last
night, and I must apologise for the disturbance I
caused," he said quietly. Elrond hurried to reassure
him.

"We only wish for you to make a comfortable home here,
without fear or worry. You are a member of our
community and, I hope, will regard yourself as one of
my own family. For indeed, you paid the ultimate price
to save my father and grandparents. I would be remiss
in the extreme if I could not repay even a small
amount of that debt with my skill as a healer."
Elrond's words rang with great sincerity and feeling,
and Glorfindel inclined his head in acknowledgement.

The conversation turned to his return and the
intentions of the Valar in sending him forth in his
renewed body.

"Times are darkening, my lord," said Glorfindel.
"During my stay in the Havens and prior to that in
Valinor, I was instructed in events which have
occurred in the time since I - died." The slight
twinge in Erestor's bearing at those words was barely
noticeable, and the golden lord registered it
wonderingly, hoping that it meant that his pen-vuin
was not totally cut off from him. Glorfindel chose to
leave it for the present, and continued. "The Darkness
*will* arise again and so I was told that I would play
a part. In preparation for that event I have been sent
to offer you my services, that I may become better
acquainted with the world as it is now and aid in its
defenses against the Dark Lord."

"And do you know what part you have to play?" the dark
counsellor asked softly. Glorfindel turned to look at
him, but the mask was firmly in place.

"I do not know," he responded gently, "save that the
deed will be perilous and fraught with danger."

The mask slipped and Erestor's eyes widened in alarm
and his lips parted as if to give a cry - yet no noise
escaped. Quickly the counsellor lowered his face,
murmuring "I hope not too perilous, my lord. It would
be too cruel to have you face Mandos a second time."

"I thank you for your concern, Master Erestor. But
there are many things in life's journey which can be
more painful to a soul than simple death. The loss of
a love, for instance. I have faced death once, I can
do so again with peace in my heart - if in doing so I
have saved the one - the ones - I have loved," he
ended. Glorfindel's meaning was plain and he saw the
reaction in the dark elf, a brief closure of eyes in
pain at the thought of the death of an elf.....

Elrond was confused at the drama being played before
him. There was an obvious tension between his
counsellor and his new seneschal but considering they
had met for the first time only a day before he did
not understand the scenario. He knew his old friend
better than any other, and he could sense a deep
disturbance in him. He could not bear to see his
friend so discomposed and so strove to continue the
discussion.

"I think then we would best be served by utilising
those tremendous skills for which you are renowned.
Your depth of knowledge of sword and bow, of tactics
and warfare and the leadership of men, place you in
perfect position to take up the role of Seneschal of
Imladris," said the dark-haired lord.

Glorfindel was pleased with this tribute and
acknowledged his host's past as a warrior in his
response.

"I am honoured by your confidence in me and I am
delighted to accept. I hope to serve you well. What I
know of your own skills I gleaned from Círdan, and I
believe your weapon of choice was the sword? It is
mine also, though I can wield most weapons with some
skill." He paused. "I once had an apprentice who
showed some promise with the knives. I wish I knew how
he had fared."

Sharp sapphire eyes watched for but got no response
from his near neighbour, but Elrond spoke up
enthusiastically.

"Ai, there is a master of blades here amongst us in
Master Erestor. He is the finest wielder of the knives
in elvendom in my estimation, as well as being a
formidable warrior in all other fields. He was
fearsome to witness at the Battle of Dagorlad, eh
Erestor?"

Ignoring Glorfindel's wide-eyed stare Erestor bowed
his head in acknowledgement to his lord.

"You - a warrior?" Glorfindel choked. Ai, when he
thought of all the times he and Ecthelion had cursed
his ward for abandoning the sparring ring for the
library...

"Oh, Erestor may be a scholar now and indeed he was
tutor to both myself and my brother Elros, even past
our majority, but he was the only scholar I knew who
practiced regularly on the training grounds. He sought
the most skilled of warriors, trained in sword and bow
and knife, learning from his mistakes until indeed,
the warriors began to turn to him to hone their
skills. He is still the only elf I trust to give me a
good workout. Perhaps you would like to cross blades
with him Glorfindel? I am sure Erestor would not
mind."

Glorfindel guessed by the straightened posture of the
elf beside him that Erestor was uncomfortable with the
testimonial and did not welcome Elrond's offer on his
behalf. However Erestor simply inclined his head, not
looking at Glorfindel.

"I am at the seneschal's disposal," he murmured.

In no way was Glorfindel going to let this opportunity
slip by. Erestor, a warrior? This was a great
surprise, and he longed to see how his ward had fared.

"Very well. I wish to take up my duties as soon as
possible, but perhaps I could come to your office
after this meeting to arrange a time?"

Erestor finally turned to face him, the calm mask
firmly in place once again. "I have many meetings
today, but I will be free before breakfast tomorrow,
say, at sunrise? I would not delay you by requiring a
visit to my office without necessity."

"Ah, but there are many other things I would like to
discuss with you, dear counselor," replied Glorfindel.
Oh, yes, many things - like love, and its denial...

Erestor did not reply, but Glorfindel had no doubt
that Erestor knew to what things he referred. When the
meeting drew to a close Glorfindel stood to follow
him. The black robes whispered along the floor as the
raven-haired elf crossed to the door to his office.
The poise and elegance in his posture sparked a flood
of desire in the seneschal, a physical reaction to the
presence of the one who had always been in his heart.
Erestor was*his*, his beauty, his love, his passionate
pen-neth. He had to find the reason for his reticence
so that he could recapture the elf, without whom he
doubted he could live. On entering the office
Glorfindel closed the door so that Elrond would not
hear them, but was annoyed to see that the office was
not empty - Saelbeth awaited them.

Erestor turned to Glorfindel. "I am sure Saelbeth has
many items for my attention. Perhaps if you wished to
return at a later time...?"

Glorfindel grinned. He was not going to be so easily
dismissed. "Not at all, Master Erestor. I will wait. I
am a patient elf."

A flash of irritation crossed Erestor's visage in the
face of such persistence but he gave no other visible
sign. Instead he started to discuss arrangements,
letters and queries with his assistant. Glorfindel
watched as the slim hand dipped a black-feathered
quill into the heavy crystal inkwell, fascinated by
the elegant sweep of the pen stroke across the cream
parchment. Would that that hand was upon him...

Glorfindel took the opportunity to look around the
office. There had been no time and he had had no
inclination to peruse the office in the dim light of
the previous night. Now he searched for clues to this
changed Erestor, this obviously efficient, cool and
respected ellon who, as Elrond had said himself, ran
Imladris. The room was a haven of order and symmetry.
It's shelves were neat, the papers stamped, noted and
filed in precise order. There was little of the
personal relics that he had seen in Elrond's office.
There was but one picture upon the wall, a painting of
a black horse running wild and free across an open
plain, a blue lake and distant high mountains visible
in the background. Glorfindel's heart clenched when he
saw it, for it was a scene he recognized well - the
Plains of Tumladen, where so often he had ridden in
joy and happiness with Erestor. That the horse was
Hirnîn he had no doubt, for Erestor had loved him
greatly, being his first true mount.

He rested his eyes once more upon Erestor, taking in
the controlled and efficient nature of the dark elf.
His voice was measured, his tone sure, his control
complete. This was his element, this was his world.
For whatever reason he had eschewed his past, he had
made for himself a present where power was at his
fingertips yet was wielded only in the name of his
lord - his new lord. Elrond. As he watched the
discussion was completed and Saelbeth, after bowing to
the new seneschal, retreated to his office to carry
out the tasks laid upon him. Erestor too retreated,
standing behind the wide mahogany desk, using it as a
shield between them. A wall which Glorfindel had to
try to break down. He looked at Erestor, wondering who
would speak first, holding the other elf's gaze
firmly, allowing no further withdrawal.

"So," he said finally, "you are now Erestor of Lindon.
Tell me *Erestor of Lindon*, what terrible thing did I
do to you that you have renounced our pledge entirely?
For I came back to Middle Earth to search for you, to
fulfill that pledge so that we would join together in
the union of our love and our souls. What hurt did I
lay upon you that you have rejected me so completely?
Tell me Erestor, so that I may make amends and turn
your heart towards me once more. For without your love
I cannot go forth. Without your love I am nothing."

The plea was extreme, it was from his soul and in
pouring forth his words, he poured forth the agony
which had encompassed him the night before. Surely his
pen-neth would not hold him at bay upon hearing the
honesty in his voice? The dark elf looked at him
squarely.

"I grieve for you my lord, do not doubt that, yet I
must reiterate - I am not Erestor of Gondolin." He
hesitated, lowering his gaze, breaking the connection
with the golden lord. The next words could barely be
heard. "The Erestor you knew was surely worthy of your
love and devotion for I see that it was great. I am a
different elf. My life started in Lindon. I
acknowledge no other life before that...." He paused
once more, before lifting his head to complete his
speech. His eyes glistened. "Erestor of Gondolin is
dead, my lord."

Glorfindel gasped, not believing what he had heard.
"No, no, meleth! Whatever happened, whatever has
turned you from me - please, it can be mended. Le
melin, Erestor! I am returned. You don't have to be
alone anymore."

He moved to circle the desk, to take Erestor in his
arms but the dark elf straightened, irritation
flashing in his eyes, determination evident in his
posture.

"Hold my lord! As I have spoken, so shall it remains!
I will brook no further attempt on your part to pursue
this matter against my will. I have told you and I
tell you again, I am Erestor of Lindon and I hold to
my word!"

This was the Chief Counsellor. This was cold, calm elf
that the twins had spoken of, this was the voice and
position and frontage he assumed when he was to be
obeyed. Glorfindel felt the determination in those
words and read the resolution therein. Only he had
chosen the wrong elf to practice those skills upon. He
felt fury rise that his pen-neth, his *ward*, would
confront him in this way. He too had his limits and
his temper rose. He moved towards Erestor, brushing
his lips against his love's cheek as he spoke into
that sweet pointed ear. His own voice was harsh, cold
in the pain of another rejection.

"I will not accept this, Erestor. I faced Salgant and
Turgon to rescue you from abuse; I faced restrictions
so tight that kissing you *once* as a lover broke my
oath; and upon the heights of Cirith Thoronath I faced
pain and torment and burning flesh, just to keep you
safe. I have lived my life for you, and I have died
for you, and I have challenged the Valar for you. I
will *not* accept that I have lost you! You are mine,
Erestor, now and forever, and no matter how long it
takes I will have your love once more!"

With that he turned and marched towards the door. As
he placed his hand upon the lever, he turned again to
the dark advisor.

"Tomorrow morning, at sunrise in the training grounds.
I will see you there!"


*****


Saelbeth was a discreet elf. One had to be, to be the
personal assistant to Master Erestor for the papers
that crossed his desk, the discussions that were held
in his office, the secrets that were entrusted to the
dark elf were all witnessed by Saelbeth. Master
Erestor trusted him, and he would never betray that
trust. So when voices began to float through the
heavy, closed door, he shut his ears to them. The
tension between his employer and the new seneschal had
been obvious but again, it was not in his nature to
pry. When the voices became raised he did not flinch
but simply bent over his work. Master Erestor did not
hesitate to use cutting words when patient reason did
not accomplish his objective. Nor did the slam of the
door cause any discernable change in the assistant.
After all, both Master Erestor and Lord Elrond knew
full well how to infuriate as well as placate.

When the resounding crash came, Saelbeth leapt in
alarm. *That* he heverever heard before! Swift steps
brought him to the door in seconds and he flung it
open to find Master Erestor calmly gathering his
papers together. Confused, Saelbeth stared at him,
then saw the huge ink stain splattered over one cream
wall. Beneath the stain, on the floor, was the
shattered debris of the crystal inkwell. The shards
were small, evidence of great force having been used
to smash the heavy item. Whoever had thrown it was an
elf of great strength. Whoever had caused such a throw
was a elf capable of great provocation.

Master Erestor looked up. "Ah, Saelbeth," he said
evenly. "There has been a slight accident. Please have
the servants clean it up before I return from the
meeting with the representatives from Bree." And with
that Master Erestor glided gently from the room,
leaving a bemused and admiring assistant.

*****

The remainder of the day was taken up with becoming
familiar with his post and his troops. In his work
Glorfindel could find release of his frustrn ann and
he leant all his energy into the ordinances of his
office. He reviewed the warriors, visited the barracks
and surveyed his new office in the outer courtyard.
The walls of his office were covered with fine and
extensive maps of the boundaries of Imladris and the
patrol routes required. The many records of patrols,
warriors, weapons and supplies were in cabinets
positioned around the room. Glorfindel grimaced.
Documentation was never his forte, even when he hruleruled a House of Gondolin. He regarded it as a
necessary evil, that was all. He smiled feebly in
remembrance of a young elf who had quietly taken over
some of those duties for him as he had grown towards
his majority. He stroked the polished desk,
remembering another desk, long ago. How he had been
tempted, how often had he been tempted to lift and lay
that elf upon that desk, to kiss him, to love him, to
cherish him there and then....

The flat of his hand came down upon the desk top. He
would not surrender. He would not give in. He needed
that elf so much - and that elf needed him.


*****

Glorfindel dressed with care the next morning.
Following his bath he took one of the bottles of oil
arranged in his bathing chamber for his use. It was
sandelwood, a scent he had always favoured and one
Erestor was sure to recognize. He took care to rub it
well onto his torso and arms, bringing up a sheen on
his firm muscles. Hticeticed once again a fine lattice
of silver lines on his body, evidence of scars gained
in battles in his previous life. When he hadn
rn
reborn he had commented on them and had been informed
by Varda that their placement was in remembrance of
his heroic acts. They were not unattractive and did
not cause discomfort so Glorfindel had dismissed them
from his mind.

A quick swipe of the oil through his hair then a firm
brush brought the golden locks to a shimmering
brightn res restrained only by side warrior braids and
a twist of leather to hold back the herring-bone plait
from his face. Form-fitting leather leggings would
show strong thigh muscles, and boots of a matching hue
were added to a crisp white linen shirt fastened only
with laces at the front and on the cuffs. He viewed
himself critically. If he could not appeal to
Erestor's mind then he would take what advantage he
could and seduce his body. They had never sparred
alone in Gondolin, always with Ecthelion or the other
warriors. Even in company Erestor had always found it
difficult not to show his admiration and desire when
he saw Glorfindel in full warrior mode. A good warrior
used all the weapons at his disposal -and Glorfindel
was one of the best.

The golden lord collected his sword and knives. The
weapons had been given to him by Tulkas himself, and
were finely-balanced and well honed. The corridors of
the Last Homely House were lightly traversed at this
time of the morning and his passage was swift to the
training ground to the rear of the building. The
grounds were divided into sections for the many
different disciplines of a warrior. The archery ranges
were furthest from the house, set in glades amongst
the trees so that the forest could be used for some of
the more advanced training. The sparring rings, large
and small, were nearer and many had benches or ranks
of seats to accommodate spectators in training or for
tournaments. The one Erestor had chosen was a smaller,
more secluded one, flanked by high bushes. The advisor
awaited him.

Erestor too had dressed with care - with care to be as
unrevealing as possible. No form-fitting leggings for
him, but wide-legged black pants, the toes of his
black boots barely showing from under the hems. The
black silk shirt was high-necked and long-sleeved, the
voluminous gathers shrouding his slim upper body.
Raven hair was tightly bound into one long braid,
allowing the dark elf easy access to the cream-handled
knives strapped onto his back. His sword hung in his
hand, gleaming in the pale morning light.

As Glorfindel stepped forward to greet him a stray
shaft of sunlight shone through the trees onto the
warrior elf, turning golden beauty into an
unbelievable vision of perfection. He heard Erestor
choke back a gasp and he knew that his care in
drng hng had had the desired effect. Erestor's eyes
were wide and today Glorfindel could see the
chocolate-brown tints he was so familiar with turn
warm in appreciation. His own loins grew warm at the
sight of his beloved's reaction. By the end of this
session, Erestor would be his again. Glorfindel bowed
to his sparring partner.

"Counsellor, I give you greeting of a good morning."

Erestor returned the bow and the greeting. "Mae
govannen, Lord Seneschal."
ow sow shall we start? I thought after a little warm up,
the sword then the knives?"

Erestor nodded in agreement and, as he had already
been through his preparatory exercises, he stood back
to let Glorfindel take the field.

Glorfindel made every stretch count, extending his
muscles, holding his turns, swinging the sword through
the salutations of the morning with poise and ease. He
could feel Erestor's eyes upon him, and knew that the
advisor watched him in rapt attention. Just tho thought of the result of the sight upon Erestor made
his own member twitch and grow in anticipation.

The moment of sparring arrived and the elves made
their formal salute. Glorfindel took up an attacking
stance but was not surprised when Erestor blocked him
with ease. He swung again, his sword forming a large
arc in its sweep and he was delighted to see the skill
and grace wihichhich Erestor turned to meet his blade.
Lunge, cross, parry, attack - the strokes were swift
and even as the swordplay continued and the elves took
measure of the other's proficiency. The pace began to
quicken and soon both were panting, their breath
forming trails of vapour in the crisp morning air. The
quickened breaths were not due to fatigue or the sweat
of exertion but of need, as the heat of desire swept
through them. As the metal swords clashed so other
swords engorged. Eyes darkened as they met in desire,
challenge given and challenge acknowledged, if not
accepted. Glorfindel felt his shirt clinging to his
torso, knowing that it outlined his muscular frame. In
turn he appraised the silk shirt of his opponent,
following the lithe muscles as they flexed beneath the
slim layer. The connection between the two elves was
such that their senses were heightened - a lick of the
lips by one was felt by the other as a sensual tongue
upon salty flesh; a thrust of the arm was echoed by a
pressure of strained leggings upon sen aen arousal.

Glorfindel was elated. His strategy was working.
Erestor was responding to that most basic of emotions
- lust - and if he, Glorfindel, could increase the
desire, bring to the boil the fervor which had been
building over the session then perhaps that lust could
release the love he knew was within. Glorfindel knew
that *he* needed release for he was as a wound coil,
needing to unleash his passion within the elf of his
heart. At a natural break in the conflict he addressed
his dark love.

"You are a warrior indeed, Erestor of Lindon, and a
truly worthy opponent. You seem flushed, as hot and -
breathless - as I. Perhaps we should divest ourselves
of at least our shirts so that we can continue with
the knives?"

So innocuous, so innocently said, yet the mellifluous
voice was laced in seduction and glamour. The
raven-haired elf could only comply in his
enthrallment. Glorfindel approached the counsellor,
his nimble fingers undoing the bindings of the knife
harness. He turned and lay them neatly on the ground.
He noted that they were not the ones Ecthelion had
gifted upon his ward but then, if Erestor had fought
in as many battles as Elrond had claimed those knives
would surely have been retired now. He turned back to
Erestor and saw that the dark elf had remained still,
as if spell-bound.

"May I?" Without waiting for an answer Glorfindel
began to unfasten the buttons on the black silk shirt,
his dexterous fingers slipping each one free slowly,
savouring each inch of creamy skin that was revealed.
Erestor closed his eyes, trembling beneath the
intimate gaze, the onslaught of desire which inflamed
him. Millennia of resolve seemed to melt in moments
and Erestor could feel himself swaying into the tender
touch of those calloused fingers on his flesh.

Glorfindel felt that sway but withheld any indication
of triumph. The shirt was now open fully and his eyes
devoured the lightly-defined muscles, the roseate
teats, the trickles of perspiration running down the
chest. As tempted as he was to stroke and tease, lick
and suck the proud nipples he reined himself in and
instead focussed on removing the black shirt from the
slender body. Eyes still closed, Erestor's lips
opened to allow an exhalation to ensue, his increased
respiration revealing his hunger for more. Over the
shoulders, down the arms Glorfindel's fingers slid and
the sword that was held in the advisor's hand slipped
unnoticed from lax fingers as Erestor arched into the
touch. A final twist and the material was free and
fluttered gently to the ground.

"My turn."

Erestor opened his eyes, unsure of the meaning of the
statement, his brain ue toe to process the words
through the fog of lust and desire. Sapphire eyes
gestured to the ties on the white shirt and as if in a
trance Erestor's fingers fumbled at the knots. They
released swiftly, uncovering the golden lord's frame
to his gaze. First one then the other of the cuff
laces were untied. Erestor's hand rose once more to
the open shirt and rested on the warm flesh. Fingers
splayed, he moved his hand to cover the area over the
seneschal's heartusinusing a groan to emanate from
deep within Glorfindel's throat.

"It beats." The words were filled with wonder, with
hesitant hope. They needed no explanation. Glorfindel
nodded.

"I live again, Erestor." He bit back declarations
which longed to burst forth, knowing that it was yet
too soon.

"You are here. Reborn." Almost a sob in those soft
words.

"Aye." Glorfindel could sense that this was a
revelation, a realization not until now truly
understood. Erestor had seen, but had not believed.
The warrior gestured to his shirt. "I should remove
this." He clasped the hem, and drew it over his head
in one movement. Golden skin was revealed, the silver
marks as gentle highlights of where his scars had
been. Erestor's fingers reached out to trace them,
fingertips a hair's-breath from touching them.

"Evidence of my warrior life, retained at the will of
the Valar," Glorfindel murmured.

"They shine like mithril."

No longer able to restrain himself, Erestor leant
forward to press his lips to one of the scars, hearing
Glorfindel hiss at the softness of the kiss. Erestor
looked up, searching Glorfindel's face and saw love
and hope and need upon that beloved face.

"Glorfindel...?" One word but it conveyed the ache of
a heart that had not dared to hope, a longing that
centuries of solitude had only nurtured, and a
lifetime of self-loathing and self-flagellation. A
tear trickled down Erestor's cheek, and Glorfindel
lift his hand to cradle Erestor's soft cheek, his
large thumb brushing that tear away. Though he longed
to pull his pen-neth into his arms and claim him, he
felt that Erestor needed a moment to compose himself,
a moment to fully comprehend that his heart's mate had
returned and that his soul could be completed.

"Let me dispose of this, ind nîn." He turned away,
turned his back to Erestor, folding the shirt, bending
to lay it upon the unused ks.
s.

"NO!"

Erestor released a strangled cry, of revulsion and
fear, of remembered pain brought into the here and
now. The advisor stumbled back and Glorfindel turned,
shocked to see sheer terror upon his
love's face.

"Meleth! What is wrong?"

Erestor swiftly backed away, forgetting his shirt,
neglecting his weapons in his overwhelming need to
flee from that which had horrified him.

"I am not your love!" he gasped, voice rampant with
fear. "I cannot be your love - ever! I am Erestor of
Lindon. I am Erestor of Lindon!"

The dark elf ran, ran as if a demon was behind him,
ran to escape the trap he had so nearly fallen into.
Ran to escape his own demons - but could not.

The elf who was left behind bellowed a roar, falling
to his knees as tears flooded down his face at the
collapse of his hopes when so near to completion, his
body so near to release, his Erestor so nearly in his
arms.

"Meleth nîn!"

The shout resounded through the forest and the
woodland creatures quaked at hearing the wounded beast
sound forth his pain. Elves within hearing also heard
the scream.

And wept for the loss within the tormented cry.

Elvish:

(with help from Nienna and Andrannath)

pen-vuin - dear one
pen-neth - little one
meleth - love
elin le - I love you
ind nîn - my heart