Down by the water

Title: Down by the water
Author: Az
Email: Az.ombie[at]gmail.com
Homepage; http://www.nad-no-ennas.net
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel Erestor/Arato
Rating: NC-17
Beta; Lisbet dominatrix of commas
Disclaimer; don’t own them, don’t sue me. they belong to mr Tolkiens estate!
Summary: why wont Erestor see the obvious? And what is haunting his steps?
Warning: Angst. AU
Author's Note: This was not a little project I had counted on coming my way, since I had wanted to get writing on the other fic, secret garden, secret window. But since the beta for that one, misswilde, is pretty strung out these days, I figured I had time to throw in a little thing instead. – I planned on this being 3-5 chapters. So a kind of short fic. And yes, if the name Arato seems familiar, then he is from another fic I wrote, making him up as Glorfindel’s elder brother, why create a new character when I already have one to use. – Its based on a plot bunny of Cheysuli’s (Gods I love her plot bunnies) -Erestor's abusive husband disappears during the Last Alliance and is assumed dead. Thousands of years later, Erestor's husband returns and Erestor welcomes him back with open arms. Glorfindel, Elrond, and the Twins are happy for them; not knowing what Erestor's husband is really like. When Erestor starts getting hurt and blames it on clumsiness, will they realize what's happening before it's too late? - Its a hurt/comfort fic, and will have a fairly happy end. It will be rather heavy on the angsty issues tho for some time. - Dedicated to EJ and her love for Erestor angst, I hope you like it babe.

________________

Solitude stands by the window
She turns her head as I walk in the room
I can see by her eyes she's been waiting
Standing in the slant of the late afternoon

And she turns to me with her hand extended
Her palm is split with a flower with a flame

Solitude stands in the doorway
And I'm struck once again by her black silhouette
By her long cool stare and her silence
I suddenly remember each time we've met

And she turns to me with her hand extended
Her palm is split with a flower with a flame

And she says "I've come to set a twisted thing straight"
And she says "I've come to lighten this dark heart"
And she takes my wrist, I feel her imprint of fear
And I say "I've never thought of finding you here"

-Susanne Vega Solitude standing
________________________

1. Solitude Standing

Erestor sat at his oak desk; he looked at the entry he had made in his diary, reading it over as he waited for the ink to dry. He opened the desk drawer to search for yet another bottle of ink, because the one on the desk had just run dry. Instead his fingers encountered something he had not felt between his fingers for some time. Erestor picked it up and twirled it between his fingers. His locket. Somewhere in his heart he had wished the damn thing lost, and still he smiled as he pried it apart. He looked at the inscription inside, and frowned. This was his wedding gift, the token his husband had given him on that day they had spoken their wows. The dark-haired elf sighed as he remembered that day. He still bore a scar behind his ear to show for it. Erestor closed the locket and tossed it in his desk drawer again, and decided that the ink was dry in his journal; he closed the journal and placed it in his drawer as well. “I am not your flower,” he whispered as he slammed the desk drawer shut.

He rose to blow out all the candles but one, and walked to his bed. He sat down on one side. And a smile crept back onto his face. He thought of Glorfindel, the charismatic blond with the characteristic little smile crinkles in the corners of his eyes, something he had gotten after his time spent in Mandos, but something that most elves envied him. His smiling blue eyes and his contagious laughter. Erestor liked to pretend that he was immune to the Elda’s attempts to befriend him, but sitting here in the dim light in the privacy of his own bedroom, he had to admit that he was not. Glorfindel tried his hardest, the Glorfindel way, to breach all the walls Erestor had built around himself. And the dark-haired elf couldn’t help but to let down his guard when it came to Glorfindel. What he wouldn’t give to be his friend, but he couldn’t. Not the way Glorfindel wanted, he knew, and he hoped Glorfindel knew it. But never the less, he found himself extremely flattered over the attention that the blond was giving him.

Blowing out the last candle, Erestor stood up and shrugged off his robe, and flopped back on his bed. One of the twins, Elladan, had come to him today and had acted all strange and clumsy, trying to strike up a conversation, and Erestor had gone along, tormenting the youth with a playful grin. He knew what it was all about. Elladan wanted to ask him to the dance at the midsummer’s feast; maybe he should just have pity and ask Elladan himself.

Pulling the covers over his weary body, Erestor couldn’t help but feel his bed large and empty. Maybe it really was time to move on. Not since his husband. and not before, had he shared his bed with anyone, but the lack of body contact and closeness was getting to him. Or was he just glad he wasn’t bothered? He turned restlessly onto his stomach and sighed. No matter what, tonight his bed seemed impossibly big, empty and cold.
He closed his eyes, and tried to relax, but instead the lively blue eyes kept popping up in his mind. He tried to will the image away, but all he got for his effort was that his mind wandered to the soft full lips, and the slender neck. For a second he wondered what it would be like to be the one to kiss that soft skin, what the blond would smell like, and what he would sound like with his body buried deep inside him.

Erestor turned to his back in a annoyed move, and tried with extra effort to make this mirage disappear from his dream landscape. But Glorfindel seemed to have invaded his mind and his treacherous body this night. A little timidly the dark-haired elf snaked a hand down and caressed his beginning hardness. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. It just seemed wrong to touch himself while thinking of the blond. But his body didn’t seem to listen, as his member twitched in anticipation of the gentle touch, craving more. Erestor wrapped his fingers around the slick flesh and slowly started to pump it, feeling deliriously naughty and aflame. His other hand found his lips, tracing his own outlines, before he sucked on his fingers, closing his eyes. He saw the mane of golden hair spread between his legs. Whimpering softly, he imagined a wet tongue trace the folds around the head of his shaft.

The blond looked up, and smiled at his, and to Erestor’s horror, this was not Glorfindel. It was the blond who had once given him his locket. This was his long gone husband! Erestor gasped and sat up in the bed, covered with sweat, panting softly. Not even in his fantasies would this damned elf leave him alone. “Leave me alone,” he whispered as if to a ghost. He pulled the covers up over himself again, as he slowly lay down on the bed once more. His erection was disappearing. But the unfulfilled feeling of a release not achieved would not leave him alone, and his whole body tingled from it.
Leaning back with one arm planted behind him on his pillow, he pushed off the covers with the other, wrapped his fingers around his now half flaccid member, and started to stroke it with hard and sure strokes. Feeling the warmth spread throughout his body once more, he closed his eyes, Glorfindel gone replaced by other blue eyes, these one more steel grey, and the smile less warm. But otherwise the same fair golden hair, and flawless skin. The elf bit his lip, as he pumped faster, lost in his own fantasy, and before he knew it he spiralled down, gasping with sharp intakes of air, ejaculation on his own hand and stomach.

Not bothering to clean up, he just threw himself into the bed, and pulled the covers up to his chin, curling into a little ball. This release that had promised such safe sleep, now only had his eyes swimming in tears. The image of his husband would haunt him to the end of time. And as a ghost would whisper in his ear, he heard the voice from long ago whisper, “First and last and always, yours, your flower,” in his ear. Erestor gave in to his tears, remembering his own wedding vow. Why did the Valar permit that to keep tormenting him? Was he never to even think about another lover, no matter what his heart told him?

In the morning, Erestor braided his hair into a single plait as he always did, and left his chambers to join the others for breakfast. Long before he got there he heard Glorfindel’s laughter roar down the corridor, and his lips tugged upwards in a smile. He straightened his face before he entered the dining halls, where the elves of Rivendell were gathered around the breakfast table.

Elrond smiled as his chief advisor entered. “Good morning to you,” he said, apparently in a jovial mood this morning.

“Good morning, my lord,” Erestor answered and sat down on his chair, next to his blond nemesis. Glorfindel turned and smiled at him, reaching for the teapot and offering his friend some. And with a smile Erestor nodded and lifted his cup so Glorfindel could fill it.
“So, Chief Advisor Erestor,” Glorfindel started, “’tis a fine morning, is it not?”
Erestor nodded and took a little sip of his tea.

“And midsummer’s feast is almost upon us!” Glorfindel continued. “It is going to be absolutely breathtaking!”

“Of course, it always is, Lord Glorfindel,” Erestor replied and buttered a piece of bread.

“Did you see the beautiful paper lanterns and flower arrangements?” the blond continued.

“Yes,” Erestor just answered back. He didn’t know why, but something stopped him from indulging himself in conversation with Glorfindel. He wanted to, but didn’t know the right words. And so he had had to just learn to enjoy the infamous Balrog slayer’s morning enthusiasm. And as Glorfindel chattered on, Erestor and the rest of the elves finished their breakfast.

Later, back in his office.
He had used an hour to search for a book that listed all those damn binary rivers in Middle-earth, before and now. He sighed; it was not there. How was he to see if this map was correct if he could not double check?

He left his office and walked into the library, where he found Elladan, who almost tossed a book behind the couch in surprise. Erestor smiled to himself. He had a fairly good idea of what kind of book it was Elladan would pick up in Elrond’s vast library, and it was not the binary rivers of Middle-earth. “Elladan,” he said, moving over to sit next to the youth, inwardly grinning like an idiot at Elladan’s facial expression. “Did you by any chance see a book on rivers here?” he asked.

Elladan shook his head a bit too eagerly. “No,” he whispered with a flustered expression.

“Very well then,” Erestor said, and made a move to stand. Then he sat down again. “Elladan, penneth, I was wondering if you would mind dancing with me at the midsummer’s feast. I have no one to dance with, and I will be ridiculed by half the household if I sit out one more dance.” He knew it was a lie, but if this made it easier on Elladan, then he figured it was all right.

The elder twin son of Elrond nodded and bit his lip. “I would very much like to do that,” he whispered.

Erestor patted Elladan’s thigh with a grin. “See you there then,” he said as he stood up. Elladan seemed about to flee the library, and Erestor stood with his back to the young elf. “Don’t forget your book, young Elladan.”

Elladan stopped at a dead halt, and turned around, leaning behind the couch and picking up the book. “Thank you, Erestor,” he said softly, before he walked out of the library with a bit more dignity than before.

-tbc-