Half the Distance

Title: Half the Distance
Series: Innocence Stripped Away
Chapter: Seven: What Shadows See
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: soultornasunder@gmail.com
Website: http://www.hithanaur.net/
Update List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nairn_orchyd/
Beta: Fimbrethiel

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Imladris, Spring, Third Age 2086

How many nights had Glorfindel spent in the barracks, leaving Erestor's bed cold and uninviting? Half a dozen, at the very least, but the nights blurred together for Erestor, leaving behind only the sense of nightmares and dancing shadows. He knew that if he would simply swallow his pride, go to his lover and apologize for distrusting him, all could be well again. Erestor would again have Glorfindel at his side, unknowingly keeping away the ghosts that haunted him.

But that would be a lie.

The voice never gave him peace! Erestor's vision darkened and he jumped when he thought he felt the hot, damp breath of *him* near his ear. No, he was alone in the hall; no one stood behind him, especially not someone long dead and buried. He continued to walk toward the main offices of Elrond's staff, fighting the instinct to run into the nearest room and bolt the door against whatever followed him.

"Have you seen the King and Lord Glorfindel?"

Erestor stopped as soon as he heard the whispered words. Slowly, silently, he crept to the corner of the hall, peering around at two female Elves. Gossip, he tried to tell himself as he listened. They are only spreading gossip.

Tell yourself that all you like, lover, but you know it is not merely gossip. All gossip finds its roots in truth.

Shut up! Erestor screamed internally at the beast that hounded him.

"Aye! I think the whole valley has," the female's companion tittered. "Do they have no shame?"

A gasp. "What have you seen?"

"They take long walks in the moonlight, dine long into the night, and the King even goes riding with our golden Lord." The voice was feigning shock.

"I have heard that he no longer sleeps with his spouse. Lord Glorfindel takes his daily meals either with the King, or with his own warriors in the barracks." The first Elf was tsking as she finished speaking.

"Does Master Erestor no longer care who his beloved beds?" the second Elf asked in disbelief.

Of course he does, the voice said, mock pity dripping from the words. After all, it is not as if he threw him out because of who his beloved happened to be fawning over.

"I never believed Master Erestor could make Lord Glorfindel happy," the first Elf maid said, their footsteps and voices receding down the hall. "He has perverse tastes, if the rumours are to be believed, and Lord Glorfindel is too pure and noble..."

Pure and noble? Perhaps he was, once. But once you took hold of him, my dear, all that purity and nobility were destroyed with one swipe of the paddle. Do you have no shame, Erestor, for what you turned Glorfindel into?

Erestor closed his eyes, forcing out all thought, all sound, and cast his mind around the Last Homely House. With fervent need, he searched for the golden warmth of his spouse's mind. A small cry of triumph tumbled from his lips when he found that mind, distant from his touch but still within reach. Glorfindel was in a wonderful mood, his mind tinged with shades of rose and crimson, pale yellows and lavender. Through the tremulous connection he could hear the trill of Glorfindel's laughter, followed by the liquid sex of Thranduil's voice.

Startled, Erestor snatched his mind back as if burned. He opened his eyes, his vision clouded by unbidden tears of hatred and betrayal.

You know what he is doing now? the voice taunted. He is seated in the King's lap, his hair of sunlight spilling over Thranduil's shoulder as he kisses the long, pale throat you throttled. Glorfindel will moan softly, his eyes fluttering as Thranduil's hand caresses his chest. You can already see--

"By the Valar, will you not cease your horrible descriptions?" Erestor shouted in the deserted hallway.

Horrible? Horrible would be to tell you that Thranduil already has him stripped, bound, spread wide by a phallus as he lashes at the supple flesh you once touched with care. Horrible would be the image of crimson stripes crisscrossing Glorfindel's broad back, tiny rivulets of blood dripping down over that mark of yours. You do not know the depths of 'horrible' I can subject you to, so please, be more careful in your choice of words.

Tears fell down Erestor's cheeks, each image the voice had presented bright in his fevered mind. Yes, that was what his faithless spouse had chosen. He had chosen to give his body, his submission, his *soul* over to that whelp! Anger raged inside Erestor, and below the seething hatred of Thranduil, he could hear the familiar, quiet laughter of that ever-present voice.

*****

Glorfindel studied the board for a long moment before he allowed the smile to surface on his lips. He moved his pawn and looked up at Thranduil, victory shining in his eyes. "Checkmate, Thranduil."

"That is the fourth time this week, meldir," Thranduil chuckled, gathering up their pieces. "You are an accomplished tactician."

"I have to be," Glorfindel replied simply.

Glorfindel sipped his wine and sat back in his chair, allowing the tension from a day of training his newest recruits to bleed out. He enjoyed his nightly rituals with Thranduil; the game of chess had become part of their daily routine, and it was something Glorfindel looked forward to each morning.

He knew the servants and staff whispered. It did not escape his notice how they giggled and pointed behind their hands. It was because of such behaviour that Glorfindel had resisted Thranduil's repeated invitations for walks, private dinners, and other such secluded activities. He did not want harsh, untrue rumours to spread to Erestor's ears, for Glorfindel knew how Erestor would react to such words.

Instead, they met each evening in the main dining hall and ate, speaking of their days with heartfelt enthusiasm. It had been so long since Erestor had shown any interest in his daily life outside their bedroom... and even longer since he had shown any interest in his life *inside* their bedroom. Glorfindel had found a friend, a confidant, in Thranduil, and he clung to the safety that friendship offered him.

Aye, he did recognize their mutual attraction, but he fought such temptation. He was Erestor's, and no argument could change that simple fact. Glorfindel stretched and smothered a yawn.

"It is very late, Glorfindel," Thranduil said quietly, his sapphire gaze intent on the Elda's. "Are you certain you wish to return to your rooms this night?"

Glorfindel cocked his head and could not resist smirking at the King. "Ever intent on taking what does not belong to you?"

Thranduil's own lips curved into a dangerous smile Glorfindel had not seen for days. "Ownership does not impede possession, my golden beauty."

"You are hopeless," Glorfindel admonished as he stood up. "I have let him be for almost a week now. It is time I returned and try to repair what is left of our bond."

Thranduil shot his hand out, capturing Glorfindel's wrist. "If he will no longer have you, Glorfindel," Thranduil said with dark, serious eyes, "then come to me. I will always welcome you by my side." Warm, soft lips pressed to the inside of Glorfindel's wrist, speeding his pulse and sending a flush to his cheeks.

"Goodnight, Thranduil," Glorfindel choked out before he snatched his hand back and rushed from the room.

*****

Erestor sat on the sofa in the main room of their quarters, dressed only in his sleeping trousers. His dark eyes were trained on the door, his lips set in a grim line as he waited for his disloyal spouse to enter. By the time Erestor had counted to four thousand sixty three, Glorfindel's rosy face appeared as he opened the door. With unblinking eyes, Erestor stared at his lover, his fury still blazing white-hot in his breast.

"Erestor?" Glorfindel asked, his brow furrowed with bewilderment.

"You bothered to return?" Erestor spat out.

Glorfindel was visibly taken aback. "Of course! Why would I stay away?"

"It has been a week, Glorfindel. Without a word, a glance -- you left me for a week!" Erestor found himself on his feet, glaring up into Glorfindel's confused face.

"I thought it best we have some time apart. You were accusing me of things--"

"Of things I knew you would eventually do," Erestor interrupted. "Thranduil's whore, that is what you are," he accused. "I am the laughingstock of the entire house, Glorfindel! While you have been rutting like a bitch in heat with that mongrel from Mirkwood, I have had to endure sideways glances, tittering in the halls, and whispers as I pass."

Glorfindel's temper ignited. "How dare you! Do not condemn me, Erestor. Not for crimes I have yet to commit, you hypocrite!"

Erestor sneered. "I am no hypocrite."

"Yes, you are," Glorfindel said with deadly intent. "Or have you forgotten the taking of Haldir in the Golden Wood? I remember -- I remember being told not to touch myself, not to seek any type of release while you were away. While I was faithful, obedient, you shoved yourself into him while Celeborn had at him. You do not think those in Lórien were unaware of the goings on that night?" He laughed bitterly. "It is difficult to hold my head up high in Galadriel's domain. It is even harder to look her husband in the eye or speak to her Captain. Do not speak to me of humiliation, Erestor, because you have made me suffer so much more than silly rumours!"

"I helped a former Master," Erestor said with cold logic. "I did nothing wrong, it was your image in my mind, not his."

Glorfindel was agape. "Do you even hear yourself? You did nothing wrong?" He threw his hands up. "You were unfaithful to me -- with a friend and ally -- and then have the audacity to tell me that you did nothing wrong?"

"We are not discussing something that happened almost a century ago. You had your opportunity to address my indiscretion, as you see it, and chose not to." Erestor felt his stomach roil with his pent up rage. "I am taking *my* opportunity to address *your* indiscretions."

"There are no indiscretions!" Glorfindel shouted at his lover, his face red with frustration, and his eyes shone with a hint of fear.

"If you will not admit to your faults, then I am not certain I can even stand to look at you." Erestor crossed his arms and gathered up all the strength he could muster. "I want you to leave these rooms. Leave until you can be honest with yourself and with me."

Glorfindel just stood there, the frustration and fear draining from his expression, replaced by sadness and hurt. "Erestor--"

"Shut up!" Erestor snapped. "Get out of these rooms! Leave! Go back to Thranduil!"

And he was gone.

The door slammed shut with a finality that jarred Erestor from his fog of anger. His throat felt raw, his lungs burned, and for a moment Erestor thought he was going to empty his dinner onto the carpet.

"Bravo," a voice sounded from behind him. "What do you do for an encore?"

Erestor whirled around, searching for the owner of *that* voice... that voice which had been in his head just that afternoon. Now it wasn't. Now it echoed in his ears.

"You have given me life." The whisper was on his right, and he whirled again. Nothing.

"We will have so much fun, Erestor. Remember all the fun we had?"

Erestor's legs gave out under him and he crumpled to the floor. The laughter was all around him, and yes, he did remember. But what he remembered hadn't been enjoyment.

It had been nothing short of torture.

TBC...