Unattainable

Title: Unattainable (Title courtesy of angelariesdc’s recommendation – thanks bunches)
Author: Krit
Email: kritblack1@yahoo.ca
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, AU, NC-17 in chapter 7
Disclaimer: Well, obviously they belong to Tolkien/ Tolkiens Estate as I am not original enough for my own characters (else I would be writing/publishing novels by now) so I use those belonging to other people. Don’t own, don’t profit and don’t have permission to play with – but I’m a rebel and can’t control myself.
Notes: All mistakes are mine and mine alone; I cling to them devotedly because for some reason I get a kick out of re-reading my work and laughing at my own stupidity *shrugs*.
Summary: Glorfindel pursues Erestor, there’s a wager and loads of misunderstandings.


Part 1....

Glorfindel sat, sipping a goblet of a sweet, subtly spiced wine, silently brooding as his gaze surveyed the form of Lord Elrond’s chief advisor from across the room. Erestor. Glorfindel heaved a sigh and averted his gaze, lest someone, perhaps Erestor himself, take notice. He had found, to his ever lasting annoyance that, as of late, his gaze tended to continually seek out and linger upon the counselors form. Meetings, the library, breakfast, lunch, supper, essentially any time the counselor was within sight. Frankly Glorfindel was becoming slightly worried at his apparent obsession wthe the dark haired elf. It wasn’t as if there was anything infinitely appealing about Erestor that should so occupy his thoughts. True Erestor did have exotic features that seemed to set him apart from all others. With his high cheek bones, full pouting lips and dark brown eyes, which seemed to spark with a fire and turn to black during a heated debate, marking him as a bona fide beauty to be sure. Then there was the hair. Long black hair rippling down his back, swaying as he walked, drawing attention to his shapely derriere. At least Glorfindel assumed is to be shapely; frankly with those unflattering black robes Erestor insisted on wearing on every occasion it was difficult to tell.

Glorfindel blink and once again jerked his gaze from the advisors form, glaring into the fire as it danced and sparked in the hearth. Never, in all his years as a resident of Imladris and a respected member of Lord Elrond’s household, had he once considered Erestor as a potential lover, due to his distant attitude and more often than not cutting remarks. But now it seemed that had changed, because Glorfindel could not help but wonder at what Erestor would look like in the heat of passion. Would his eyes go black? Would he lose his renowned control and give himself over to passion? Would he gasp and moan, Glorfindel’s name falling from those perfect lips?

Clenching his jaw in aggravation and once again tearing his gaze away from Erestor, Glorfindel stood, resolutely moving towards the balcony over looking the garden. Since he couldn’t seem to summon enough strength of will to keep his traitorous eyes off the object of his desire, perhaps he had best remove himself from the temptation all together. Gazing upwards at the stars and allowing the sounds of song and merry making from inside the dining hall to dim into the background he reflected upon the conversation he had over heard three nights previous.

It had been on the eve of the banquet welcoming the delegations from both Mirkwood and Lothlorien that his interest in Erestor had been piqued. It seemed that the attention of two of the Galadhrim had been ensnared in regards to Erestor and they were discussing the possibility of perhaps snaring the comely councilor for a night or two of passion. Lindir, a young and friendly minstrel had taken it upon himself to educate the two that Erestor was extremely reserved and not given to such dalliances as that which the guardians were interested in. Lindir, being the sociable gossip that he was, had then proceeded to explain that Erestor had never, to the knowledge of anyone, had a lover. The young elf had gone so far as to insinuate that Erestor most likely did not even feel the stirrings of lust or any deeper emotion and it would be absolute folly to attempt to woo him. It was at this point Glorfindel had realized that Lindir had obviously had too much to drink and had taken it upon himself to escort the inebriated elf to his chamber where he could pass out and look forward to a lovely hang over the next morning. That should have been the end to that…but it wasn’t. Upon his return to the hall, is gaze had unerringly drifted to Erestor, the image of Erestor as a lover taking permanent root and refused to be dispelled. Since that night Glorfindel had spent the majority of his time attempting to control his rampaging hormones, dismiss his lust filled thoughts and forget his extremely erotic dreams, all revolving around one Erestor of Imladris. All to no avail. Closing his eyes, Glorfindel tiredly dragged one of his warrior roughened hands over his face. Well, if he couldn’t manage to rid him of of this fixation then perhaps it was time to do something which would hopefully lead to the presence of Erestor in his arms and subsequently into his bed. Straightening his shoulders in determination Glorfindel turned back towards the dining hall and purposefully made his way over to Erestor side.

TBC...