Spring has come for us

A/N 1: This story is based on my AU idea that Erestor was born in Aman and he was closely associated with the Fëanorians throughout the events described in the Silmarillion. Also, the story contains the VERY AU idea that Fëanor has been given a second chance and sent to Middle Earth, not only to be reunited with his lover, but also to try and make up for his past transgressions. If you find this intriguing, I hope you enjoy the story.

A/N 2: Fëanaro(Q)=Fëanor(S) and Laurefindel is my (borrowed) version of Glorfindel's Quenya name.


Third Age Imladris

Erestor's POV

I should not be bent above this desk, fighting distraction and a huge pile of papers that need my attention. No, today is not for being trapped indoors. It is so warm and pleasant outside, so sunny and bright that I feel like tossing away my writing instruments, taking off these long, stuffy robes and flying out of the house. But duty is duty and the quicker I finish my tasks for the day, the sooner I can devote my time to you, beloved.

I try to focus on the parchment spread beneath my hands, but the letters seem to dance and float on the creamy surface. I have to read every word twice, and every sentence three times.

"Perhaps I need a break. Just five minutes." I tell myself, quickly jumping to my feet and stretching my arms above my head. I push aside the slight pang of guilt caused by how eager I am to abandon my work, and step onto the wide balcony that curves along the entire eastern wall of this building. The view is magnificent and I let my eyes roam over the beauty before me, inhaling the fresh scent of flowers carried by the morning breeze. On a background of pure blue, snow-caped mountains have been drawn, white mixing with grey and descending into the deep green of the forests covering each slope. I follow the lines of trickling waters and the trails leading in and out of our blessed valley. I can see tiny colored specs moving among the trees, in the gardens and along the alleys, growing into the shapes of happy, laughing Elves, as my eyes roam over the lands of my beautiful home.

Closer, just beneath this wing of the Main House, Lady Celebrian's favorite garden is in full bloom, a colorful display greeting my eyes as I scan the paths, longing to be out there, in the fragrant shade of a blossomed cherry tree, or sprawled on the neatly trimmed grass, soaking up as much warmth as I can.

Strangely, the beautiful garden is almost deserted. The luckier inhabitants of Imladris have all gone to the waterfalls or in the woods just beyond the last line of houses, to eat and enjoy themselves outdoors, on such a wonderful day. One lonely Elf, however, is slowly walking along a broader path, just beneath my windows. His tall frame is clad in grey and blue and his dark mane flows freely to the small of his back, almost glowing as the sun kisses those beloved tresses.

It is you, my love, stopping next to a bush of crimson roses, running your fingers over the soft petals and bending slightly, to retrieve a single rose. I watch you as you turn around and my hearts leaps at the beauty of your smile. You twirl the rose between your fingers and bury your nose between the fragrant petals, closing your eyes. I watch those slender digits moving on the stem and I recall the softness of your skin. Your hands are not calloused anymore, but smooth and soft--like a maiden's, I remember you complaining. The Valar have brought you back in a flawless form, not a hint of a scar on your alabaster skin. You will whine and complain, when you pick up a hammer again, I am certain of it, but I'll will be there to soothe the discomfort and distract you. For now, those skillful hands of yours should do nothing more than caress soft petals and flushed, tingling skin.

With a huge smile on my face, I watch you walking over to a small bench, sitting down and tossing your head back, enjoying the shower of golden rays that makes you glow even brighter. We face each other and, if you opened your eyes and looked up, you would meet my entranced face. But, before you do, a small noise behind me makes me jump and whirl around.

"Forgive me, Erestor. I did not mean to frighten you." Glorfindel says, a small, apologetic smile on his face. He glows as well, golden and brilliant, clad in light green, as he approaches me.

"You did not. I was just... surprised, that's all." I answer, my lips curving into an appreciative smile.

"Good. I was counting on surprising you and getting you out of your study, if only for a hour or two. This is too fine a day to waste on paper work." he says, stopping beside me and giving my shoulder a slight squeeze.

"Oh, I agree. But work won't be done by itself." I tell him, studying his face from the corner of my eye. We are both leaning against the stone-carved railing and looking down, at the artfully arranged garden beneath us. Glorfindel's eyes fall on you and I can see the corners of his mouth dropping, for an instant.

"I saw him strolling around the House about an hour ago. I take it he has not worked up the determination to steal you from your work yet." Glorfindel says, in a low voice, just above a whisper.

"No, not yet, but I will not be here long. I cannot keep my mind on administrative business for less than five seconds." I answer, none-too-guilty about it.

Glorfindel smiles and remains quiet. His face is partly hidden behind a shimmering curtain of golden hair, but I can see his eyes fixed upon you. Whether you feel the attention or not, you are still basking in the sun, head leaning against the wooden bench and arms spread at your sides.

"He is beautiful, Erestor." Glorfindel whispers. His words cause tears to well in my eyes and his voice makes my heart flutter. "So fair, it feels as if I am looking at a vision. And so innocent, Erestor." Glorfindel continues.

My hands shake and I feel the need to take him in my arms. But I cannot, for you would open your eyes and the sight would pain you.

"I can hardly believe that I am looking at the same Fëanaro. There is so little left of the proud, harsh Elf I used to know. The Fëanaro we are both looking at seems so young, Erestor, so gentle and so... easy to love." Glorfindel says, and I am torn between the joy of hearing such praise and the sorrow that underlines his words.

"He has changed very much, it's true. But he is the same Fëanaro. You see him now as I did thousands of years ago, in our previous life. But then he did not have what he told me that he has gained now." I reply, trying not to wince at the look in Glorfindel's sapphire eyes, as he turns to me.

"What, Erestor? He had everything back then."

"No. He did not have peace. He struggled with himself, with his past and his fate. Peace was something he found only in fleeting moments of passion and forgetfulness." I answer.

Glorfindel sighs and closes his eyes.

"You are right. It's easy to forget his struggles when..." he trails off, unwilling to go any further. But I know what his unspoken words mean, and it pains me.

"Laurefindel..." I whisper, reaching out to caress his cheek. He catches my hand in mid air, gently squeezing my fingers.

"Hush, you need not say a word. Fëanaro deserves a second chance and so do you. My dear Erestor, I am happy to see you blossoming, glowing with love and sheer joy. Look." he beckons me. But my eyes linger on his face and I feel myself shaking when Glorfindel presses my fingers against his lips. "Look at him." he tells me again, and I blink away the tears that blur my vision, following Glorfindel's gaze.

We both watch you unlacing your shirt, exposing smooth, flawless skin. The sun's golden rays rush to worship the offering, bathing you in warm light. Your eyes still closed and your head still tossed back complete a scene so beautiful and tempting, it makes me go weak in the knees. A wistful smile curves your lips as you begin tracing lazy lines and circles on your skin, using the rose in your hand, letting the soft petals caress you. It is so sensual that I ache with the need to let my lips replace the flower and kiss your cheeks, the firm line of your jaw, the soft skin of your throat...

"He knows we are watching him." Glorfindel whispers, his breath warm against my fingers. "And he tempts you with this display. Go to him, Erestor. I know you want to. Every fiber of your body speaks of your need."

I hear Glorfindel's words, but my attention is caught by the vision before me. It takes me a few moments to overcome the fear that I am caught in a dream and I will wake filled with hopeless longing and tears streaming down my face, as I have so many times in the thousands of years I have survived without you. But you are real, I have you near me again, not just in fantasies, but in flesh and blood. I can kiss you!

With these words ringing in my ears, I wrap my arms around a startled Glorfindel and hug him tight, before fleeing out of the house, my robes flying behind me like the fluttering wings of a frightened bird. My feet crushing the pebbles on the pathway wake you from your lustful reverie. You stand and welcome me into your arms with a happy sigh and a delighted smile.

"I can kiss you," is all I'm able to utter, trying to catch my breath while being pressed against you. I look up, to meet your bright eyes, for you still stand almost a head taller than I, though your face is youthful and you seem thousands of years my junior. But your eyes are the same as those I have always known and they hold the wisdom of ages in their pewter depths.

"You can do with me as you please, my love," you tell me, your face slowly inching toward mine. I bury my hands in your dark tresses, savoring their liquid warmth, and pull your head down. A small whimper escapes me when our lips meet and I give in to the intensity of our closeness. You press me against your body, you support my weight as I melt into the heat of your proximity and the desire flooding me through our kiss. I taste you, I breathe you, I crave to be one with you so bad that I am quivering in your arms and I am voicing my need on your lips. Time has not dimmed the fire of our passion and it has not lessened our love, though doomed it was. But not forever.


Fëanaro's POV

The time of the mid-day meal has come and gone. Though I am hungry, I do not have the heart to wake you, beloved. So I wait and watch you sleeping, my fair Erestor. You lie at my side, your raven head resting against my chest, your left arm and leg draped over my body. You weight atop me, your warmth and the touch of your skin feel so wonderful...

I let a soft sigh escape my lips, savoring the quiet, peaceful moment, my body sated and my heart filled with joy. I love you, Erestor, and I had no doubt that my feelings for you have remained the same, though you have changed. You are no longer that impertinent wisp of an Elf I used to spoil, who used to slam the doors in my house whenever he got angry and enjoyed making a scene only for the pleasure of being placated. You have lived for thousands of years, beloved, and you have survived peril and grief that surely would have killed me. I cannot even think what it must have been like for you, how you found the strength to endure so much loss and how you lived with all the sorrow. If having me back is a reward that the Valar believe you have earned, then it is only a small measure of comfort and you deserve much more.

There is infinite wisdom and understanding in you. Every day is an opportunity for me to discover all that you have become, how my young lover has grown into an Elf strong enough to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders. I re-discover your mind with the same awe that I felt upon mapping your body with trembling fingers, running them along old scars. Many battles have hardened you, muscles as strong as the finest steel quivering beneath creamy white skin, as I touched and kissed.

Your face has not lost its youthful smoothness, from the aristocratic nose and high cheek-bones that give you a regal air, to the lopsided smile still serving as a warning that you are up to no good. But your eyes tell the tale of your long life, you vast experience and you keen intellect. And I have seen the way everyone in this secluded Heaven looks at you. They love you dearly, the Elves of your... of our home, Erestor. They respect you and look up to you with confidence worthy of a High King.

I love you, my sweet and passionate Erestor. And it takes my breath away to remember how you came upon me today, setting me aflame with one adoring look and one devouring plea. "I can kiss you..." is what you whispered on my lips and we were both awed by the knowledge that we can, indeed, share kisses and love each other without the fear of waking from this blissful dream and finding ourselves forever apart.

We ran through the corridors and hallways as if our lives depended on it, barely making it to your chambers, before tearing the clothes off each other. I crushed you against the massive door to your bedroom and ripped apart your beautiful robe, fumbling with the cursed fabric until I could touch your skin. You writhed and bucked against me, murmuring bits of words and voicing your desire every time my hands teased you and my lips tormented you. I could barely breathe, aching to rid myself of the clothes that seemed to burn my skin, and only your limbs, wrapped around my body, could soothe me.

I crashed back on your bed, pulling you atop me and kissing you until my lungs screamed for breath. And still, my thirst for you was not sated. We could not slow the urgent thrusting and grinding against each other, the desperate digging of fingers into tense muscles. I wanted you inside me so bad that I begged for it, but my incoherent pleading died on my lips when you stroked both of us to a quick, blinding release. We are so desperate and so frantic in our love making, my beautiful one. And I lose myself to the incredible sensations that my mind could only recall with longing and sorrow, through the Ages I have spent without a body to serve as a vessel for your passion. I lust after you and crave for your touch like a restless youth.

We laughed at each other, at the mess of torn clothing and tangled hair, at how rushed and how clumsy our coupling had been. You looked at me, narrowing those bewitching eyes of yours. I knew that you were up to something even before you bit your lip and smirked, moving away from my side and searching through the drawers of your nightstand. Out came a blindfold, a small phial of oil and various unmentionable instruments that are now scattered on the floor. I grinned like fool, intrigued by the collection of implements that you placed on the bed, arranging them with studied care, and telling me exactly what you plan to use each one for. I was hard and panting before your sensual speech had come to an end.

You tied the blindfold over my eyes and made me swear that I would keep my hands still, at my sides. Oh, how I rued giving you my word on it later, when you drove me to the edge of sanity and back again, without mercy and without cease. It felt as though you were everywhere, teasing every bit of me until my body screamed for release, every nerve exploited to the point where I was filled to the brim with raw need. I thought that it would be the end of me, so much blinding, burning pleasure, but I never felt more complete as when you claimed me, burying yourself so deep within me that I no longer knew where I ended and you began. And release came like a tempest, blowing us away, lightening coursing through our bodies and thunder pounding in our ears.

I held on to you then--my only anchor, my only hope--and I rode out the storm of mind-numbing pleasure in the safe heaven of your arms. Oh, Eru, it felt so good to be with you. It feels so good to be alive! Though we both fell asleep soon after that powerful climax, every bit of me felt so alive that tears of unspeakable joy trickled from the corners of my eyes as I slipped into reverie.

I lie awake now, stroking your soft tresses and savoring the exquisite sensation of your skin pressed against mine. Your breath tickles me a little, as do the strands of dark hair that have slipped on the skin of my abdomen, but I would not have it any other way. You whisper something beyond comprehension and stir against me. When I run my right hand over the arm you're resting across my body, you settle yourself closer to me and tighten your embrace. I feel your arousal growing hard and needy, as you rub yourself against my thigh, still caught in the heated dream you must be having. When you groan and move your hips faster, I squirm out of your embrace quickly, spreading you on your back and pinning you beneath me. A small whimper escapes your lips, before I claim them in a long, sensual kiss.