Forsaken Master

Title: Forsaken Master

Pairings: Haldir/Glorfindel with Erestor

Status: Finished

Artwork available at: http://anira0.tripod.com (click on "Forsaken Master" link)

Warnings: Mild BDSM


The night was a pleasant one, mild and temperate, and Haldir was grateful for the change in scenery if not simply to be relieved of his Lorien duties for a few days. Festivities celebrating the impending birth of Arwen’s firstborn child had most in good spirits, for there was much laughter amongst the elves and talk of children’s antics with the new Mother-To-Be. Arwen accepted such advice most graciously, as did her husband, Aragorn, yet Haldir suspected that both secretly cared not for the incessant chatter of elders and their somewhat exhausting tales.

Leaning against one of the many ornate columns within Elrond’s dining hall, Haldir resisted the urge to yawn, for the idle conversations between his kin were of little interest to him. Lord Elrond had accepted young Saelbeth as a member of his council. Apparently, the child of an Elven Goddess was preble ble to that of a mere Elf, for Saelbeth was the lost son of Elbereth, a fact that seemed to please Elrond greatly.

Fickle, the minds of royalty, Haldir thought with a most unconcealed smirk. Running his fingers through his silver locks, he sighed heavily, for the lushly furnished dining area was far too modern for his tastes, the food too heavily spiced with unfamiliar scents and tastes.

He secretly wished Lord Celeborn would not have chosen to spend the whole week in Rivendell or at least, perhaps chosen Orophin to accompany him on the journey as so that Haldir could have taken his leave at some point to explore the woods near Rivendell’s boarders rather than remain privy to all that was spoken. Perhaps he would excuse himself for a bit regardless, for the confines of the dining area were suddenly becoming far too stifling for his liking.

And eyes were upon him. Eyes intent on his every move. Haldir resisted the urge to whirl around and gnash his teeth at his would be voyeur in a slow, Lorien Elf ferocity. Certainly if he did not return the advance, the other would cease in his foolishness. But still, thes wes watched him.

Against his better judgement, Haldir glanced over his shoulder, seeking a glimpse of his watcher. The elf was seated beside Lord Elrond, poised in an almost cat like posture, one gloved hand draped lazily around a golden chalice. His absurdly long hair was braided in a thickly dark plait, which was encrusted with glittering red jewels the shape of tiny flowers decorated with delicate fronds of emerald green. His attire consisted mostly of black, enhanced only by the ruby broach clasped at the neck of his high collared tunic, the heavily brocaded robes he wore obscuring most else from view. The sleeves of the rather sveltely fitting outer garment were trimmed with rich, crimson velvet and matching stitching. Upon catching Haldir's gaze, the strange elf raised his glass in acknowledgment and actually had the audacity to wink, a sly smile curving his most generous mouth into a rather wicked grin.

What nerve! Haldir whirled around and stalked away with a snort. This one would get none of his attentions on this eve. . . or any other, if he had a say in things. Despite the expansive dining hall, the piercing gaze of the dark elf sought to follow himreverever he lingered and although the other never moved from his position at the table, his eyes certainly had a life of their own!

This was a game that Haldir soon tired of. He glanced at the dark haired one from behind the cover of a pillar and watched as the elf casually lifted his chalice to the young servant who passed by, the bumbling elfling all too eager to serve the beautifully gilded elf. Haldir had to admit, his onlooker was quite stunning, although he did not see fit to make admiration of any type known, for the other’s rather blatant assessment of his personage was altogether unnerving.

Casting the elf a snide glare, Haldir wove his way through trowdrowd of many and into the courtyard where the deeply azure eyes could not penetrate the stone walls surrounding the garden. He much preferred the solace of the foliage to the prattle of people and sank gratefully onto one of Elrond’s comfortably furnished benches, setting the ornate bow of the Galadhrim at his side to rest against the wall. Closing his eyes, he savored the sweet allure of Spring’s unmistakable scent, indulging his senses in the relaxing perfume, for the air held a different fragrance than that of the Golden Wood.

So absorbed was he in the wondrous atmosphere that he almost failed to notice the approach of the softly gliding footfalls that drew near. Almost. He rose to his feet, the scent of exotic grass wafting faintly towards him as he turned to see just who it was that chose to disturb his moment of respite.

The coy smiled of the Dark Elf who had been monitoring him with such interest met his gaze and Haldir was taken aback by the boldness of the other’s stare.

“Ah, March Warden. So we meet at last. Lord Elrond speaks highly of you,” the dark elf spoke, “but your name, it escapes me. . .”

The Galadhrim stiffened. He wasn’t entirely certain he wished for this one to know his name, yet his mouth spoke against his will before his mind could further argue the issue.

“Hr,” r,” he said simply, offering nothing more.

“Mmmmm . . . Haldiiiiirr . . . mmmmm. . . ‘tis nice,” Erestor mused, savoring the sound of Haldir’s name as it rolled from his lips in a whimsically melodic purr, his curiously accented lilt piquing the March Warden’s interest rather keenly. It reminded him very much of the smoothly textured intonations of the Gypsy Elves.

“And you are?” Haldir asked, the casual sensuality of the other’s speech unnerving him to some degree.

“I am Erestor, Haldiiirrr,” the dark haired elf introduced himself at last, the corners of his lips pulling into what was decidedly a knowing smile of sorts. “Will you say my name with your Lorien tongue, March Warden?”

One brow arched suspiciously at this anomalous request. “What?”

“My name,” the other repeated, the cobalt flame of lust dancing tauntingly within his cerulean eyes, “I would like for you to say it.”

Haldir snorted indignantly. “I do not think so, mellon,” he replied with a sneer.
Just who did this elf think he was, asking such things. . .and odd things at that. . .of him?

“Ah, I see,” the one called Erestor said, giving Haldir the distinct impression that he was greatly amused by the exchange.

He swept up to Haldir and lifted his gaze to that of the March Warden, causing Haldir to shift uncomfortably where he stood. Although Erestor was a good three or so inches shorter than the Galadhrim, his stare was most penetrating. Demandingly so.

“Perhaps you shall change your mind, Haldir,” Erestor said, running one gloved finger beneath Haldir’s chin, his touch so feather light, that the archer was not at all sure he had felt it all.

“I think not,” Haldir’s lip curved into a snarl of disdain as he took a step back, away from this strangely seductive elf and his lascivious contiguity.

Erestor merely smiled in his bemusedly complacent manner. “We shall see.” With that, he turned and glided away, the jewels decorating his inordinately long braid glittering beneath Ithil’s pale gaze.

“Indeed,” Haldir scoffed, rubbing the now tingling spot beneath his chin where the other had touched him so indecently.

Obviously, this “Erestor” did not know to whom he had been speaking such casually lurid things. Haldir tossed his silvery tresses with a dismissive snort and retrieved his bow from its resting place near the wall. Perhaps he should have it in hand should this bold one seek to make his odd requests once again if only for the sake of frightening the other into leaving.


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