By Elbereth's Grace

Title: By Elbereth's Grace
Authors: Maybe (miztruzt@blueyonder.co.uk) and Ilye (ilye@hithanaur.net)
Paring: Erestor/Glorfindel
Summary: Sometimes, tragedy is what it takes for two people to realise that they're meant to be together.
Author's Notes: This plot bunny bit us a fair old while ago and although it's taken some time to write, we just had to finish it. We’re very proud of it and hope you'll all enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it, now that we've seen the light :)

***

Erestor shouted at Glorfindel again as the tall, handsome, ecxentric blonde crashed into his office in his usual style.

"Glorfindel!" he shouted. "Can you not be a little more quiet?" He kept his eyes averted from the other Elf, so Glorfindel wouldn't see the longing hidden in the dark depths.

"Why would I do that, my dear advisor?" Glorfindel answers, batting his eyes playfully. "For then you would be unable to chide me."

Erestor ignored him, the wall of icy coldness slipping into place as it did whenever he was near the Balrog Slayer. He could never let Glorfindel see how much he loved him - he was not worthy of such a shining regard, so why should he ever try to gain that love?

Glorfindel withheld a sigh as Erestor turned away. No matter what he did, the other advisor always blanked him. For some reason, that always made him try harder than ever. Feigning indifference, which he did not feel, he ambled over to Erestor's desk and began to pick up his papers.

"Oh, Glorfindel!" Erestor snapped as the blonde shoved one sheaf of papers against another and send them fluttering to the floor. In truth he would have forgiven him anything, but to show he did not mind would mean his true feelings would creep ever closer to the surface. So instead he continued, "You are such an oaf! You are clumsy, then you waltz around because you are so beautiful and famous and everyone loves you, and you think you can get away with murder! Well spare me that and just go AWAY!"

Glorfindel looked sheepishly at the dropped papers, wondering how it was he managed to be beautiful and famous around everyone else but Erestor. Around him he was always an oaf. It was probably because although he always liked everyone else's attention, he wanted Erestor's more. The fact that he couldn't have it made it more important. He brought his head up suddenly, as he realised what Erestor had said. Raising an eyebrow at the dark-hared elf, he said, "You think I'm beautiful?"

Rolling his eyes, Erestor said in his most sarcastic tone - one that he reserved especially for this Elf - "No, Glorfindel at least TRY and listen! I was referring to your enormous ego and the way you THINK you should get away with this when in fact it makes you no more special than anyone else!" Erestor was not about to let on that he really did think Glorfindel was much more special than anyone else.

"You said that I think I can get away with murder," Glorfindel corrected, trying to stop himself smiling. *Erestor* was the beautiful one - especially when he was angry. "You said I am beautiful and famous and everyone loves me. I'm touched," he added, more to keep winding Erestor up than anything else. "I thought you hated me." Which it was obvious Erestor did. It hurt to think it, but he knew it was true. He just wished Erestor had actually meant what he said. Glorfindel wouldn't have been teasing him if he had though. He'd probably have kissed him instead. And hoped he didn't bang their teeth or heads together or soemthing.

Erestor rolled his eyes again. "Haven't you gone yet, Glorfindel?" he sighed. "I thought I told you to go away." This time he turned his head away and made sure Glorfindel knew that he wasn't going to get a rise out of him anymore.

"I can't go away *now*," Glorfindel declared breezily, trying not to feel any more hurt that Erestor was determined to ignore him. "I was ordered to inform you that you will be working with Lindir next week. Because I *am* going away. I'm commanding a patrol to the Misty Mountains to clear the passes of orcs. Would you like a hankie? I am sure you will weep as you wish me farewell." He grinned at the other advisor, wishing inside that it were true. That Erestor would even care that he was leaving - he didn't actually want him to cry. He would feel terrible if he ever made that happen.

Biting his tongue, Erestor waved Glorfindel away with his quill. Outwardly he hoped he was keeping his cool face of indifference, because inside he was suddenly jarred at knowing that he wouldn't see that shining face that only compared to Arien herself for weeks on end.

Glorfindel forced a laugh, tweaking one of Erestor's braids as he strode away towards the door. He had to leave quickly, because Erestor's indifference meant he might be the one who would start crying. And Glorfindel of Gondolin couldn't do that. He hurried out into the corridor, leaving the door open behind him. It was only Erestor who could make him feel this way. He'd thought, hoped, that this dangerous mission might make the advisor show some friendliness towards him, but that didn't seem to be going to happen. It was best if he just left as quickly as possible, so he coudl do what Lord Elrond needed him to do. And so he could stop thinking about Erestor. His beautiful Erestor.

Erestor's midnight eyes flicked up to watch Glorfindel as he breezed out of the office, leaving it suddenly feeling very empty inside. As he looked back down to his work - though he knew he would not concentrate on it, worrying on Glorfindel's dangerous mission - he vowed not to wash that braid the blonde had touched until his return.

***

Glorfindel ran down the steps to the grounds of Rivendell two at a time. His patrol was already waiting for him in the stable yard. He took his big white horse from one of the waiting elves and jumped up onto his horse's back. He patted the horse's neck. "Come on my beautiful steed," he whispered. "Duty calls." He looked around at his troop of riders, some of them looked anxious, some ready and confident. He wished he wasn't having to take some of the novices on this trip. It would be good training for them, but it was going to be difficult and not all of them would make it back.

"Come," he said to rally them, "For Elrond and Middle-Earth, let's hunt some orc!" He kneed his horse in the flank and sent it cantering up the slope. He would much rather have stayed in Rivendell, hunting Erestor. But he was Glorfindel of Gondolin and, if they made it back alive, maybe, just maybe, he might impress Erestor.

The advisor might be more impressed by his corpse though. Glorfindel just hoped, whichever way, he did manage to impress him. He was beginning to despair that he ever would.

***

From his balcony overlooking the courtyard, Erestor watched Glorfindel lead his patrol away on their dangerous mission. It broke his heart to see him riding into the face of peril in such a way, but Elrond had ordered Glorfindel to do so and Erestor knew the blond would never refuse a challenge.

With a sigh, he turned away from the sight of that golden hair streaking banner-like behind the Balrog Slayer. That golden hair was always the stuff of his dreams. How Erestor wished he could let it run like a river through his fingers, how he wished he could feel it tickling his chest and his thighs as Glorfindel worshipped his body...

Before he knew it, Erestor found that his fingers had loosened the laces on his leggings and slipped inside to grasp his by-now glistening shaft. He closed his eyes and leaned back onto his bed as he imagined that it was Glorfindel's fingers curled around his shining member, that swiped across the weeping head and lovingly caressed the shimmering length.

His breath grew short and his heart pounded, in time to the hooves of Glorfindel's stallion that were taking his love further away from him every moment.

In a rush of surprise, he found his release; warm cream spilled between his fingers and coated his softening sex, as he came with Glorfindel's name on his lips.

Shame burned his cheeks to the rosy red he wished they would turn for other reasons and, sighing deeply and wishing for his blonde beloved, he cleaned himself up and got on with the rest of his dreary day.

***

Glorfindel rode his horse fast, urging his troops to keep up with him. The orcs had been stopping the trade routes and attacking travelling parties going through the Mountains, until it was almost too dangerous to cross - anyone who did had to go with an armed guard and that slowed down the message riders, who sometimes had to carry urgent missives between kingdoms. It was vitally important that the fell creatures were stopped and as soon as possible. Sooner, if Glorfindel had anything to do with it. That way he could get back to Rivendell all the faster and see Erestor again.

Asfaloth galloped along willingly, tossing his head eagerly, and Glorfindel felt a sudden surge of excitement. This he was good at, horses and fighting. He was good at a lot of things, actually - if he didn't listen to Erestor - like dancing and advising (not singing, at least not unless he'd had too much fey wine) and he was proud of all those things.

But he would have given most of them up just to be able to impress the dark-haired advisor. Not this though, not fighting and riding. He was doing something for Middle-Earth again, for Elrond, just as he had for Gondolin, for Tuor.

And to win Erestor's heart. It was, he thought as he urged Asfaloth faster and faster, a unique predicament. If Erestor had not spent years ignoring him, Glorfindel wouldn't have persisted. He hoped, in his absence, that Elrond didn't happen to mention that. Erestor *had* spent years ignoring him and that meant Glorfindel wanted him to notice him, more than anyone else. It made him desire him. Because he always wanted what he couldn't have. And Glorfindel of Gondolin had always been able to have whatever he wanted. Somehow, though, he didn't think he'd stop wanting Erestor even when he did have him.

He shook his thoughts away quickly. He had to concentrate! If he didn't he wouldn't get anything he wanted at all, except maybe dead. And that wouldn't get him Erestor - at least not so he'd be in any position to enjoy it for another few thousand years. He'd been reincarnated once. It was very boring having to wait around for it to happen. He had to come back alive! He had to win this. For Elrond, for Middle-Earth, and for Erestor!

***

Elrond tapped on Erestor's door later that night. He knew his dark-haired advisor would not be asleep. Erestor got so little sleep that it could not be healthy - but Elrond knew why that was, and had decided once and for all to put things right. He had seen the longing looks Erestor had cast at Glorfindel's back as he flew from the valley and, knowing the way that Glorfindel felt in return, had decided to help things along.

"Erestor?" he called and tapped again. "Erestor! I know you're in there."

There was a pause, before the door swung open and Erestor stalked away again to his place on the bed.

"What do you want, Elrond?" he asked warily, picking up his book and pretending to read it.

Elrond knew this pretence - it was Erestor's way of forming a protective barrier around himself - and broke right through it. "Erestor, this is silly. When are you going to stop being so mean to Glorfindel and tell him you love him?"

The book fell out of Erestor's hands and he looked up sharply. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered. He fumbled for the book with one hand and pushed his dark hair out of his eyes with the other, trying to create a distraction.

"Erestor." Elrond came over to the bed and sat down next to his long-time friend. "Before today I would have truly guessed that you hated the ground Glorfindel walked on, but those longing looks you gave him as he left gave everything away."

Erestor felt his cheeks flush and he turned his face away from Elrond, but the half-elf continued.

"Glorfindel likes you too, Erestor. I don't know how you can't see that - how you can keep pushing him away like this. It is not normal behaviour! If you both fancy each other, why do you not act on that feeling?"

Erestor cast his eyes to the duvet. "I... I don't... I don't fancy Glorfindel," he tried weakly, but Elrond cupped his chin and forced their eyes to meet.

"Don't lie to me, Erestor. I have known you too long for that."

Erestor's dark eyes suddenly seemed to swim with tears. "Glorfindel doesn't like me," he whispered, ashamed of himself. "He is just all ego and everything is notches on a bedpost to him! Look at how beautiful he thinks he is, how shiney he thinks his hair is, how strong and famous he thinks he is - all he can see is himself. He would never want to see someone as worthless as me."

A single tear rolled down Erestor's pale cheek, which Elrond brushed away with his thumb. "You are not worthless, my friend," he murmured back, pressing their foreheads together. "Just because you were made to feel that by the Orcs when you were captured and tortured, doesn't mean that you ARE worthless. Glorfindel loves you - he told me himself - and I think you are a very strong Elf and more than deserving of him."

Try as he might, Erestor could not keep more tears from following at Elrond's words. Most of the time he managed to forget when he had been captured and tortured along with Celebrian, but Elrond had reminded him and now he could not stop the memories.

***

Glorfindel and his troops made camp for the night in a small clearing. The moon was bright and beautiful overhead. It made Glorfindel think briefly of Erestor's eyes, full of light and life, yet mysterious. It was also dangerous, like Erestor. The advisor had also been a skilled fighter in his day, though Glorfindel had not seen him wield a blade since the Last Alliance. He had improved a lot since they had both learned to fight in Valinor. Erestor had been terrible then! Even so, Glorfindel hadn't been able to tease him much. Erestor was the one person who had not thought he was glorious and brave for fighting the Balrog. He'd used the words arrogant and incompetent instead. For his own sake, and that of Middle-Earth, Glorfindel hoped that it wasn't true any more. He had a mission to accomplish and he couldn't afford to be arrogant. Not that he could be, with Erestor's words still ringing in his ears. Oaf. Oaf. Clumsy. Oaf. Even so, Erestor would have been more welcome company than the moonlight right then. His kind of dangerous was the kind Glorfindel could have used right now. The moonlight just laid them open to the risk of a night attack.

Being an elf, Glorfindel's night vision was nearly perfect. Nature seemed to be trying to put the orcs on equal footing. Glorfindel settled his horse, wrapping its reins around a tree branch to keep it safe for the night, and then sat up to take the first watch.

It was going to be a long, lonely night. He forced himself to keep his eyes on the surroundings. It would not do him any good to keep thinking about Erestor. Getting distracted on patrol was...clumsy. Oafish. Arrogant. He put his hand on his knife and dug his fingers into his palm to keep himself alert. Morning couldn't come soon enough.

***

Erestor awoke that morning still in Elrond's arms. The half-elf son of Earendil was already awake and looked down on Erestor with kindliness shining in his eyes. Erestor returned the look with gratitude and thankfulness blatant in his brilliantly-gleaming slate-grey orbs. As he looked at Elrond, with the morning beams of Arien dancing the foxtrot along Elrond's hair, Erestor had a sudden urge to kiss the half-Elf, whose beauty he had failed to notice until this precise moment. But no! That would be wrong!

Erestor mentally chastised himself, for it was Glorfindel that he loved and Elrond was just here to comfort him in this time of need. Elrond noticed how Erestor's veil of coldness closed down around him all of a sudden, and wondered what it was that had made that happen. But then, ever since his torture Erestor had not been the same, so it was little wonder that he was so changeable now it had all been brought to the surface again. Erestor pulled back in his arms and he reluctantly let go - ah, how good it had been to hold someone in his arms throughout the night again! He had missed that when Gil-galad had died after he had moved to Imladris, and even more now that Celebrian had gone as well.

He sighed, watching his advisor wander over to the balcony and cast his gaze in the direction that Glorfindel had gone, and wondered if everything would ever be alright.

***

Glorfindel's sword flew in a wide arc, blood spraying up like water. It spattered across his face, hot, wet and blinding. He swiped frantically at movement to his other side and felt his sword connect, hard. Something squelched wetly. He grimaced, hauled his blade back, and kicked his horse deeper into the melee.

The night had passed in relative peace, but his vice-captain had woken him early. The horses had been restless and nervy, shaking their bits and stamping their hooves until they'd stirred the whole camp. Within the hour there had been orcs running up across the landscape, blades out and teeth bared. They'd been hiding along the routes that led to the mountains as well. It was no wonder the messengers hadn't been able to pass.

Glorfindel dug his sword into another orc's side and clenched his teeth. They hadn't brought a big enough patrol!

***

Elrond had been watching Erestor all day and was starting to wish that he'd not brought up the subject of Glorfindel. All day Erestor had been distracted and staring into space during the council meetings. He'd spilt ink down his front, which had made him look most unprofessional - but more than that, Elrond was worried by the upset look in his friend and advisor's eyes as he saw the disgust on everyone else's faces.

It was towards the end of the day when Erestor started to fidget nervously that ELond finally dismissed him to his rooms. He could feel the unrest in the disturbed spirit and didn't like it one bit . He only hoped that Erestor was not feeling some kind of turmoil from his secret beloved, which would not bode well at all.

***

The ground was slippery with the blood of orcs and elves. They were outnumbered ten to one and Glorfindel knew a losing battle when he saw one. More and more orcs had been coming up from the passes as the fight went on. It was impossible, yet it was happening. Orcs were not comrades in battle. They fought, they died, they ate each other. They didn't bring back up! But this group were and the elven patrol had no backup to call on.

"'Ware behind!" Glorfindel wheeled his horse on its back legs as his vice-captain yelled to him. A moment later the elf pictched forward, an sword in his own back as Glorfindel struck the attacker creeping up on *him*! He had time to cry out in anger and horror, swinging his own blade like his former self, all furious white-light and blazing righteousness, feeling the weight of Gondolin in his past join with the determination to protect Rivendell, before he saw a new wave of orcs thundering up towards them.

One orc, the tallest of the bunch, who had been fighting non-stop since the beginning, motioned to them, and Glorfindel turned his horse to face it. The orc had the remnants of dark hair clinging to its slimy scalp. And something in its dark eyes seemed to recognise him.

This was the ring-leader. The 'balrog' of this latest battle. Glorfindel grabbed his horse's reins tighter, took up his sword in a better grip and rode straight towards it. The orc charged forward to meet him and their blades crossed in a flare of silver that sent up sparks into the sky. His horse shied and then screamed, as the orc plunged a dagger into its throat.

It staggered and fell, throwing Glorfindel down hard. He rolled sideways to avoid a swipe from the big orc's blade and cried out as one of his own horse's feet hit his shoulder, sending a wave of pain down his sword arm. He scrambled out of the way as the horse lurched to its feet, shaking its head, teeth bared in fear. The knife had missed the jugular! Blood was running down its neck but it reared up, striking out with its front feet as the orc lunged towards Glorfindel.

The horse tossed its head, shaking more blood from its wound, and then swung away, galloping back across the landscape, as Glorfindel ran forward to face his opponent again.

***

As he was looking over the balcony that evening, still smouldering at having been dismissed from his job, Erestor felt a sudden pang of unease, stronger than it had been all day. It almost doubled him over and he grasped the railing, trying to focus his mind where it was needed.

"Where are you, my love?" he whispered to the sky. "What is happening? Send me a sign..."

At that moment, he head the clattering of hooves coming over the bridge to the Bruinen and into the courtyard below. It was dusk, but even in the failing light he could see the white coat of the horse in the distance, splattered in black blood. It must have been Asfaloth.

His hands gripped the railings tighter and he craned his neck to get a better view - was that blood running down the horse's throat?! And where was Glorfindel?!

***

Glorfindel was fighting for his life. Half his patrol was gone and the rest were tiring. The ground was littered with the bodies of horses and warriors. He crossed blades again and again with the orc, searching frantically for a weakness. But there seemed to be none. Most orcs fought without a care for their own life, but this one fought...like an elf.

Their eyes locked for a moment, and their swords. Over the crossed blades they stared into each other's eyes, strength matched against strength. Then the orc threw up his free hand and, ducking to block what he thought was a dagger, Glorfindel was startled when it grabbed a handful of his hair. To his horror, for the second time in his life, he was yanked off his feet and cast down, but instead of a long fall into darkness, he hit solid ground.

A moment later, he felt steel plunge into his chest. The world swam out of focus, turning red and golden and began to darken around the edges. As he lost consciousness, the orc's voice rasped in his ear: "Glorfindel."

~~~

Maeglin stared at the limp body he had dragged back to his cave. Glorfindel was covered in dirt and blood black and red. He had not realised who it was until he had stabbed him, and by then it was too late - Glorfindel was dead for a second time, and he had been responsible again.

Guilt consumed him like fire consumes a log. He he was, he had survived the fall of Gondolin and he had been tortured and made into this horrendous creature, and he thought he had attoned for his sins. But now he had undone all of that with one slice of his sword... what was he going to do?

An idea hit him. He found a piece of rope that he had saved under a rock and tied it around Glorfindel's torso. He then whistled for Glorfindel's horse, an Elvish grace that the torture could not have taken away from him, and then heaved the blond balrog slayer onto the horses back. A few more ties of the rope and Glorfindel was secured to his horse, and then Maeglin whispered into the horse's ear and sent him home.

~~~

He was floating. Floating through blackness and fire that did not burn him. Red became orange became yellow became white. Became white flowers on long green grass. Flowers were clustering together in his sightline, becoming white pearls on the hem of a gown. Glorfindel lifted his head, squinting in the brightness of a light without source and gasped. Framed by an ethereal glow, dressed in the white, pearl-decked gown, her long silver hair flowing down her back, stood an eeriely familiar figure. Kind, worried eyes, their pupils gleaming silver stars looked down upon him. She held out a hand.

Glorfindel took the hand, feeling a cool sparkling power flow down his arm. It poured strength through him, coalescing in a glittering dome of light around his chest. On his feet now, he looked down and saw the faint shape of a sword dissolving in mid-air. Distantly he was aware of pain, somewhere deep in the core of him, and, strangely, in his scalp. The words were out before he could stop himself.

"Not again?"

"A fine way to greet your gods, Glorfindel of Imladris." Elbereth laid a long finger over his lips, giving her head a little shake.

"My Lady of Stars, I apologise." He bowed his head quickly, but caught the sparkle in her starlight eyes. She was trying very hard to keep stern.

"Thank you." She smiled. "But, my brave warrior, 'not again' is a fair summation of the circumstances."

Glorfindel frowned at her. "I have a sword through my heart, my lady, I rather think that means it is again."

She waved her hand dismissively. "It is a flesh wound."

"A flesh and organs and right through me and out the other side wound," Glorfindel corrected, crossing his arms over the place where the sword had been and now was not.

"Yet you are still standing, still speaking, still being sarcastic, my warrior," Elbereth said, with a flicker of severity again. Glorfindel closed his mouth and bowed his head in apology again. The lady tipped his chin up with her fingers. "No, continue, my fine warrior. It is your spirit that has spared you. Those once sent into the care of Mandos do not so easily return to it. The body can heal far more than it once could, if the will remains. Have you nothing to return for?"

Glorfindel felt a sudden sharp pain in his chest that had nothing to do with the sword. Erestor. She read the name in his eyes and nodded gently. "Yes, my warrior, yes. Your life, your strength we return to you so that you may continue to protect the line of Earendil; your heart, we give back intact. Make use of it this time. Until we found the sword in it, we were starting to wonder if you had one."

Glorfindel stared at her, trying to make sense of the glitter in her eyes that might have been amusement or sadness. Then again, it could have been hope… or just the glitter.

She touched his face again, sending that sparkling, cool shiver down through him.

The white light behind her brightened, spreading through his vision and then he was floating again, distantly conscious of the warm hard presence of a horse beneath a body, his body, and the trickle of the streams that ran into Imladris. He could not, however, quite open his eyes. The whiteness stayed in his vision. All around the edges it spangled with stars.

~~~
When Elrond had seen Asfaloth jump his stable door and gallop off back into the wild, he had called the search party proceedings to a halt because he knew that the stallion would bring his master back safely.

Erestor had not been happy with the idea, but Elrond had told him it was not worth risking more lives and anyway, the only person who could summon Asfaloth was Glorfindel himself and so he must have been okay.

Everyone was poised for the moment that they would hear the sound of hooves coming back into the valley - the magical properties of the sheer sides meant that the particular frequency of a horse's hooves resouded off the sides of the cliffs and into the Last Homely House so people knew there was someone coming.

As soon as he heard it, Erestor leapt from his chair and ran down into the courtyard. Elrond joined him a moment later, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him from pacing.

"Peace, my friend," he said to the agitated advisor. Erestor drew a deep breath, then gasped, for at that moment Asfaloth rounded the corner with Glorfindel on his back.

Elrond hurried forwards, eyes wide, at the sight of his bleeding and unconscious captain, but before he reached the horse Erestor had pushed past him and was frantically fumbling at the ropes that held the blond to the horse.

"Glorfindel! Noooo, Glorfindel, can you hear me? Don't be dead, you can't be dead!" he cried. A low wail escaped him when Elladan and Elrohir caught his arms and pulled him away so that Elrond could see his patient, and he thrashed in their grasp.

"Glorfindel! No, Elrond, tell me he's alive! He can't be dead, I love him!" When he received no answer, he broke off with tears streaming from his eyes and then, mercifully, everything went black.

~~~

When Erestor came to, he was lying in a large double bed with clean sheets. He recognised the room as one in the healers' and wondered what he was doing here.

"Be gentle," said a voice from the other side of the bed. Erestor rolled over to see Elrond sitting at the bedside - but his attention was stolen away by seeing Glorfindel lying next to him in the bed.

"Is he alive?" he whispered, reaching out a hand to the blond but not daring to touch him. He looked so fragile, like a doll!

"He will live, yes," Elrond answered. "By the grace of Elbereth. He very nearly died."

With shaking fingers, Erestor touched first the strands of dirty golden hair that lay across the pillow, and then a pale white cheek that was icy cold to touch.

"Glorfindel..." he whispered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "Glorfindel, I can't believe I almost lost you and I never told you..." He tailed off, trailing his fingers all over the blond's face, unable to believe what was happening, not noticing that Elrond had left.

"Glorfindel, I love you, I am saying it now because I so nearly never got the chance... I love you!"

Sobbing, Erestor broke off and laid his head on the pillow next to Glorfindel's. He fumbled under the sheets for Glorfindel's hand and held it tight, letting out a low moan when he saw the bandages that covered the blond's chest.

For a long time he lay with him like that, until eventually Glorfindel stirred.

~~~

Glorfindel had been awake for some time. He had drifted in and out of the strange white consciousness while around him shapes almost ghostly had milled as healers tended him, seeming to belong in a world of which he was not quite part. But, when he felt new fingers touch his hair, fingers that he did not recognise as Elrond or another healer's touch, consciousness had returned to him. Full consciousness. In which he had heard, quite clearly, the cold tones of Erestor shakily confessing that for which he had not quite dared to hope.

He lay still, scarcely even breathing - partly because breathing hurt now he was awake enough to realise, but mostly in the hopes that Erestor would go on. Or taht the hallucination would continue. If it was only a dream, it was a good dream. And it could not be a dream, the sharp ache in his chest reminded him. Heartache did not feel like a sword through the chest. A sword through the chest felt like a sword through the chest. And the heartache seemed to be lifting.

But now there was only silence. For a moment, heartache joined the sword-ache and he almost couldn't breathe for the pain. Then, he felt cold, teary fingers fumble for his hand and grip it tightly beneath the covers.

When he could breathe again, Glorfindel licked his lips tentatively; his mouth felt dry and not just from the drugs. Yet with Erestor's hand so firmly wrapped around his own, he dared to say what all his balrog-slaying courage had not permitted him to say before.

"Why, Erestor, don't stop there, I was almost starting to believe you." Well, not quite that. Exactly. But it would do for now.

Erestor was so shocked at hearing Glorfindel's voice, now when he least expected it, that he blanched and dropped the Balrog Slayer's hand back onto his chest. Glorfindel's gasp of pain was echoed by his own, for he felt a searing agony in his chest similar to what his beloved must have been feeling when he realised that he had caused Glorfindel pain.

"My love, I am so sorry! I didn't mean... Are you okay? How badly does it hurt?"

How badly did it...? Glorfindel resisted the urge to shake his head. Probably he'd hit it when he fell; come to think of it, that hurt too. Which given how hard-headed Erestor seemed to think him most of the time was something of a surprise. But Erestor didn't think that now.

"I'm...fine," he managed, through clenched teeth. "Less than it will if you stop saying those things, though. You love me?"

"Yes, I love you," Erestor whispered. He knew there were tears streaming down his cheeks, but he couldn't help it anymore. "I loved you since the first day I saw you, brilliant and your hair streaming behind you golden like the sun, eyes blue like the sky, as you rode into Imladris on your white charger. But you were out of my reach, and I could not allow myself..." Erestor wiped his cheeks and choked out, "I'm not worthy of you. I don't deserve you."

"You're an idiot." Glorfindel lifted his hand and brushed Erestor's tears away himself. "Don't deserve me? Don't deserve my oafishness, as you've said yourself. But you cannot think yourself unworthy!"

Erestor pulled away and looked down. "But the Orcs..."

"Which orcs? There's lots of orcs..." Glorfindel pointed out.

"There were lots of Orcs, yes," Erestor continued quietly. "I was tortured... years ago..."

Glorfindel's mouth fell open, then he realised..."Celebrian...You were with her?"

Erestor nodded, his eyes closed. He couldn't bear to look at Glorfindel and see the disgust in those beautiful sapphire orbs.

Glorfindel pressed his palm against Erestor's cheek. He wasn't quite up to sitting up and hugging the other elf yet. Sword through the chest, he figured it was reason enough.

"Celebrian was a brave, beautiful woman when she left here to ride to Lothlorien. She was still a brave, beautiful woman when she returned. And, overseas, she is that still. Elrond thinks no less of her than he ever did and he loves her as much as ever. He too is brave for staying after losing another lover to the creations of Mordor. You...to bear her trials with her and to stay...well,"

Glorfindel pulled a slight face. "What's slaying one little balrog to that?"

"You are incredible, my friend," he went on, adding cautiously, "My love."

Erestor couldn't believe what he was hearing. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked solemnly at the injured warrior he loved so much.

"I..." He didn't have chance to finish what he was saying, because at that point Glorfindel's lips were on his own and he was caught up in the most incredible kiss he'd ever known.

Well, it looked like he'd managed to sit up after all. Or dragged Erestor down. Whichever, Glorfindel forgot his injuries, his exhaustion, everything besides the taste of Erestor's kiss. He tasted like diamond ought, cold, vibrant, beautiful, and above all, precious. And strong. So strong it seemed to pass to Glorfindel himself, returning some of his strength to him.

When, finally, reluctantly, the kiss broke, Glorfindel was almost sitting upright in the bed. That wouldn't quite have been in the plan if this was a normal seduction, but it was far from that. This was real, this was something he had feared he would only find one-sided, unrequited: the true elven love. Slightly breathless, he chuckled, "Not worthy indeed."

Erestor found himself gazing down at Glorfindel for several long moments after they parted. His golden warrior was beautiful still, but his skin was pale and he looked exhausted.

"You need to sleep, my love," he murmured.

"Mmm," Glorfindel let himself slide back against the pillows. "I've been asleep too long. Time to wake up." Catching one of Erestor's braids, he drew the other advisor's mouth back to his own for a briefer, but no less sweet kiss. "Getting up might take a day or two, though. Stay with me?"

Smiling, Erestor snuggled down against Glorfindel's side. "Always," he sighed happily, resting his head on the blond's shoulder. "I'll stay with you always."

"Forever?" Glorfindel asked, dark strands of hair teasing at his lips and making other parts of him wish it wasn't going to take a day or two to heal enough to move. Elbereth being a goddess and all, she could have made him better rather than just alive. Still, if he'd been a corpse he'd have missed this. He chuckled softly, "Forever, like in the love stories they tell little elflings?"

"Forever," Erestor vowed, then frowned. "I don't know about the little elflings, though..."

Glorfindel laughed hard enough to make his chest throb warningly. "No, I think we've had our miracle. And I've had more than enough things going in and out of me that shouldn't. Maybe we could have kittens instead - buy them," he added hastily, "or some trade-related means of acquisition."

Erestor couldn't help but laugh himself, and felt the recent tensions drain away to leave the warmth of relief in their stead. "A kitten would be lovely," he agreed, "Provided nobody has to give birth to them!"

"Think of the kitten," Glorfindel murmured into his hair. "I doubt it would enjoy one of us doing that much either. Might kill it. We'll just...get one. Or some. Or lots. Asfaloth will like them." He chuckled. "Elrond might not; he's got all those lovely decorative drapes of Celebrian's." He tightened his grasp on Erestor's shoulders and pressed a kiss to his hair. Elrond's curtains were doomed.

He had Erestor now, as he'd always wanted him. And they were going to get kittens.

The End