No Remedy

TITLE: No Remedy

AUTHOR: LittleMouse elf_night@hotmail.com

PAIRINGS: Glorfinel/Erestor

RATING: NC-17

SUMMARY: Erestor loves Glorfindel. Glorfindel loves a
certain Lady... doesn't he? A diplomatic mission to
Lothlorien goes horribly wrong; Glorfindel learns what
it means to be truly loved.

WARNINGS: Violence, torture, angst, N/C but probably
not to the point of rape, explicit sexual situations,
etc. Enjoy! Also, story will be slightly AU as I'm
playing freely with Erestor's background.

DISCLAIMER: They are not mine. They are Tolkien's.
Life is cruel, that way...

NO REMEDY

There is no remedy for love, but to love more.
-Henry David Thoreau


CHAPTER ONE

Broken.

His heart was broken.

Into little pieces, and ground to dust beneath
careless heels.

Of course, no one knew this.

But that didn’t matter, for he knew they would
not care if they did know.

Erestor tapped his fingers nervously against the
balcony railing, watching the dancing figures
in the huge Fire Hall below. A great celebration
was in full sway, a binding ceremony just completed.
The second-in-command of Imladris’ warriors had
finally joined with his beloved, a sweet young
maiden well-liked by the rest of their community.
Everyone except the sentries were present.

Erestor would have much preferred to be the
exception. It would be easier if he were hidden
away in the Library or his rooms, not watching
everyone else be happy. But he had prepared
the celebration, taking seriously the duties Lord
Elrond had given him, and he needed to watch
and make sure nothing went wrong.

But that didn’t mean he had to be down in the
bright, cheerful room. No, he would stay here,
on this little shadowy, disused back-balcony,
and keep his grim presence from spoiling the
festivities for the newly-bound couple. He’d
heard enough remarks over the years - his hearing
was incredibly sharp, even for an Elf - and he’d
had enough ‘black crow’, ‘scarecrow’, and ‘old
death-head’ comments whispered his way. He had
no desire to add to them.

He settled down into a stiff old chair, arranging
his shapeless black robes comfortably around
him. As an Elf, he didn’t feel the cold unless
he was injured, but he had always enjoyed the
comfort of fabric around him. Long, heavy robes,
thick dark cloaks, a bed piled high with
blankets. He sometimes wondered, in an abstract,
amused sort of way, if he was compensating
for the fact that there were no arms around him.
If he subconsciously filled the void with
enveloping, cradling cloth.

Well, if he did, there was no harm in it. It
wasn’t like there would ever *be* arms, after
all. Best to take what he could.

A sudden, loud laugh intruded on his thoughts
and he leaned forward a bit, eyes searching.
There, standing by the fire, a hand clapped to
the shoulder of the new bridegroom, eyes shining
with mirth while his hair shone like liquid
gold in the firelight.

Glorfindel.

Ah, Glorfindel.

The object of his hidden thoughts, the star
performer in his favorite dreams, the name that
lurked at the back of his mind no matter what
he was doing.

The reason for his broken heart.

The *other* reason stood at Glorfindel’s side,
a hand laid possessively on his arm. A tall
She-Elf, with hair like sunlight flowing to the
small of her back, strands twisted up in an
elegant pattern of braids, beads, gems and knots.
Her proud face was fair-skinned and exquisite;
big blue eyes sparkled behind long golden
eyelashes. Her perfect figure was encased in a
clinging robe of some soft blue stuff, revealing
and yet hiding her sweet curves in a most
enticing manner.

The Lady Riel, the perfect partner for Lord
Glorfindel, an excellent match to his height
and coloring, drawing the eye of every single
male in the room, and some who weren’t so single.
She was a being of beauty and light and all the
Elves adored her.

Erestor hated her.

Rather intensely.

But then, he’d hated every male and female who
had ever stood at Glorfindel’s side. Lady Riel
was just the longest-lasting one, a lover
Glorfindel went back to time and again. He’d
stayed with her for a decade this time around,
and whispers of a bonding ceremony of their own
had reached Erestor’s pointed ears.

Well, what did he expect? It wasn’t like
Glorfindel was going to suddenly throw himself
at his feet and declare his undying love! He’d
never even gotten up the courage to speak with
the Elf!

Erestor hunched forward and a long, thick rope
of hair slid over his shoulder. For a moment
he fingered it, studying the flat, deep black of
it. He always kept his hair in a single tight
braid, pulling it harshly back and slicking it
down flat against his head. It was soft as silk
but the color was dull. He refused to use oils
and potions on it like other Elves did. He
didn’t want it to shine, it would attract attention.
He didn’t want to leave it down and loose.
He’d had enough jibing comments in his youth to
want to avoid them ever being heard again. He
sat back in his seat, irritably flicking the braid
back over his shoulder. He forced his dark
eyes to move away from the two golden Elves, to
survey the Hall for any problems that needed
handling.

He never realized that the sudden, sharp motion
had attracted attention.


*


Deep blue eyes, trained warrior eyes, caught the
movement where no movement should be. Glorfindel
stared hard at the far balcony, until he could
make out the pale oval of a face, surrounded
completely by black.

Well, there was only one Elf in Imladris *that*
could be.

He moved away from Riel, who was gushing over the
bride’s lovely robes, and scooped up two full
wineglasses from a nearby table. He made his way
quickly across the room, giving brief nods to
the voices who called out to him and the hands
that grabbed for him, desiring the company of the
famous Balrog-slayer and Imladris’ Captain. He
had a goal in mind, a curiosity he’d held for
centuries but never saw the opportunity to
assuage.

Erestor had always kept himself quite firmly out
of anyone’s reach. Just a silent figure in
black, keeping to the shadows and whispering
advice in Lord Elrond’s ear; always busy or across
the room or vanishing when one wanted to have
normal conversation with him. If it was about
work, or the duty roster, or the schedule of
patrols, then Erestor would speak to him; a mellow
low voice that made his toes curl.

Otherwise, nothing doing.

And he’d never seen the other Elf choose such an
unguarded position before, so he wasn’t going
to let the unexpected opportunity slip past. Well,
he supposed the dark balcony wasn’t *that*
odd a choice - it got him out of and away from the
crowd, and if he hadn’t tossed his braid back,
Glorfindel would never have seen him.

Didn’t matter. He wasn’t getting away this time.

He went quietly up the stairs and out onto the
balcony. Erestor was watching as the servants
brought out new trays of delicacies, and didn’t
notice the other Elf until Glorfindel slid into
the seat beside him.

The warrior hid a brief smile when Erestor jumped.
"Wine?" was all he said, offering one of the
glasses.


*


Erestor took the glass slowly, watching Glorfindel
with suspicion in his dark eyes. What was
the Elda up to?

Apparently, he was up to stretching out his long
legs and sighing.

"Nice spot. Quiet."

"Mm." Erestor knew it wasn’t much of an answer,
but he had no idea what to say.

Glorfindel didn’t seem to mind. "Why do you sit
here, alone, instead of joining in the company?"

Several answers raced through the dark-haired
Elf’s mind. 'I am not wanted. I do not care to
see a close view of Lady Riel draped over you.
I have been the butt of enough jokes for one
lifetime. I would rather sit with Orcs than
some of the Elves down there.'

"I prefer privacy."

"I see."

'Do you? Then why are you still beside me?!
Leave before I start shaking like an Elfling!'
Erestor took a quick sip of the wine, hoping it
would calm his nerves. Glorfindel was watching
him with an odd look in those lovely blue eyes,
and he wondered if the Elf had seen through the
half-truth to the lies that lurked beneath.

"What do you like to do?"

The question caught him off-guard. "What?"

"What do you like to do?" Glorfindel’s voice was
patient, as though he were speaking to an Elf
who wasn’t particularly bright. "When you’re not
lurking behind Elrond or buried under papers
at your desk, what do you do?"

Erestor stared at him, feeling like a deer
suddenly confronted by a pack of snarling wolves.
No one ever asked him questions like this! Lord
Elrond himself had never inquired what he did when
his presence wasn’t required by something official.
"I... read a lot."

Glorfindel grinned. "That’s no surprise.
Anything else?"

'Who are you and where is the Glorfindel who
never speaks to me?' "Er... walk in the gardens?"

"A very calm life, Master Erestor."

He shrugged. Of course it was calm, that was
the way he wanted it. "It suits me."

"Mm." It was Glorfindel’s turn for an ambiguous
reply, and Erestor felt himself tense, wary.
There was something in that innocent noise that
warned him. Glorfindel was up to... to
something.

He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.

This called for retaliation. When in doubt, use
sarcasm. It drove everyone else away.

"And what do *you* do? When you are not riding,
or fighting, or commanding your soldiers? Or
drinking half the wine in Lord Elrond’s cellar?"
He nearly smiled at the last, remembering how
their usually serene Lord had bellowed when he
found his sons and Glorfindel had consumed so
much of his treasured store. Catching himself,
he turned it into a small sneer.

Glorfindel just laughed. "What else should I do?
A very calm life does *not* suit me. Though,
I admit..." he lowered his voice as if he were
about to share a huge secret, "on rare occasions,
I do enjoy reading."

"You astonish me." Erestor was more than willing
to play along. He knew that Glorfindel was
very often in the library, coaxing the assistants
there to find him this book or that, but he
preferred to pretend he knew nothing about the
other Elf.

"You are so surprised that I enjoy reading?"

"Nay, that you know *how* to read." Erestor took
another sip of wine to hide a grin at the look
on Glorfindel’s face. Unlike most Elves, he could
tell the other was not taking his taunts
seriously. The mix of hurt and astonishment was
offset by the laughter in those blue eyes.

"You wound me," Glorfindel cried sadly, laying an
elegant hand on his chest.

"It should come as no surprise. Age slows us all,"
Erestor shot back, enjoying the sudden verbal
battle.

So was Glorfindel, from the look on his face.
"Ah, but that one so feeble as you should be able
to breach my guard! It wrings my heart with
sorrow."

"That is only because..." Erestor trailed off,
dark eyes settling on something in the Hall below.
The amusement on his face vanished, leaving his
old closed-off mask. "The Lady Riel is searching
for you, Lord Glorfindel."


*


Glorfindel very nearly swore. Couldn’t Riel be
alone for ten minutes at a time? Still, he had
escorted her here tonight, by his own invitation.
He owed her the courtesy of his attendance.
But it irked him; he’d been enjoying talking to
the real Erestor - or at least, someone closer
to him. The Elf had a sharp sense of humor and
he enjoyed the barbed tongue. There was a
laughing, smiling, *living* Elf trapped somewhere
beneath that mask, and he was determined to
drag him out into the open.

Kicking and screaming, if he had to.

He got to his feet. "I should return to her.
I thank you, Chief Counsellor, for allowing me to
share your retreat and your company. I would
enjoy speaking with you more on another occasion."

Erestor gaped at him, then nodded sharply and
turned his face away, gulping half of his wine.
Glorfindel hid a smile and left the balcony,
sighing as he saw Riel’s eyes light up at his
reappearance. Really, the Lady was becoming
so... cloying...

He wanted to spend more time with Erestor.
Lady Riel’s company was like drowning in warm
molasses; Erestor’s was like the clean feeling
of a sharp, cool breeze. He smiled at the
She-Elf as she linked her arm through his,
nodding as she began babbling about her conversation
with the bride.

He had to forceably restrain himself from
looking up at the balcony.

There had to be some way he could spend more
time with Erestor, but he had to escort a diplomat
to Lothlorien this week, he wouldn’t be back
for nearly two months. He didn’t know who Elrond
had chosen to send, but it wouldn’t be Erestor.
It was never Erestor. The Elf had too many
duties to keep him in Imladris.

But if anyone deserved a break, it was him...

And Glorfindel had influence with Elrond - influence
he was not above using. Then, there was
the advantage of the simple fact that no one else
in Imladris seemed to realize how important
Erestor was to keeping the place running.

The whole of the Last Homely House would fall
apart if Erestor wasn’t there.

Of course, they deserved to find that out;
Erestor was sadly unappreciated.

An evil smile went unnoticed on Glorfindel’s
lips, and he began moving Riel toward the High
Table.

Where Elrond was sitting.

He wanted to hurry and set his plan in motion.
No time like the present.