Spring, 3440, Second Age. Imladris
Gildor could not drag is eyes from Gil-Galad and Elrond as they made their way through hall. Light streamed through the open windows and illuminated the couple as they paused here and there among the guests. As they made their rounds, ever closing in on the long dining tables and Gildor’s position, Erestor joined them. He, too, looked particularly handsome with his hair pulled back from his face and dressed in russet robes.
“You look thunderstruck, my young friend.”
Gildor turned as the voice spoke in his ear. He was equally relieved and embarrassed when he realized it was Glorfindel.
Glorfindel had chosen colors reminiscent of forest treetops seen from a great height. His blond hair gleamed silver in the dying light of the afternoon. Next to him, Gildor felt rather plain.
“They are noble looking. You, too,” Gildor added shyly. “I know that a king and his advisors are supposed to be regal but they are breathtaking.”
“Thank you, young one.”
Gildor turned and faced Gil-Galad head on. His face flushed as he realized his conversation with Glorfindel had been overheard. “My apologies, your highness, I meant no disrespect.” He bowed, using his long hair to hide his face and his growing shame. He could not believe he’d allowed his tongue to be so careless. What was he thinking?
“I took no offense.” Gil-Galad started to say more, but the look on Elrond’s face stopped him.
“I believe you are new to Imladris,” Elrond said quietly, studying the young elf rather intently.
“Forgive me, Lord Elrond, I should have made introductions,” Glorfindel quickly stepped in. “This is a young warrior recently come to help us in the war with Sauron. He is Gildor of Lindon.”
“Welcome, Gildor Inglorion.” Elrond watched as the young elf’s head jerked up in surprise.
“You know me, Lord Elrond?”
“I know your father.”
Gildor tried not to allow his chagrin to show. He was afraid that, knowing his father’s political views, they would send him back to Lindon. He remained silent, not knowing quite what to say.
Gil-Galad realized why Elrond had given Gildor such a strange look and frowned. What was Inglor’s son doing in Imladris? “Does your father know you have come to join my army?”
Straightening his shoulders, Gildor squarely met Gil-Galad’s gaze. “Nay, he does not. But I am of age and have come despite what my father believes. I would welcome the chance to serve you and prove my loyalty.”
“There is no need to prove anything, Gildor. I am glad you have come and I hope your father will forgive me for welcoming you and making you a part of my army. We need you.” Gil-Galad placed his hand on Gildor’ shoulder. “You will ride with Lord Elrond when we depart for the Dagorlad Plains.”
Gildor barely heard Gil-Galad. His heart raced, thundering in his ears as the warm palm squeezed his shoulder. The High King himself welcomed him to his armies while his most trusted friend welcomed him, Gildor, to his home. Gildor was overwhelmed.
“Thank you for showing so much confidence in me,” Gildor managed to say. “I will not fail you.”
“Of course you will not, Gildor. Come you will sit with Lord Elrond and me tonight for it is not every day we have such an honored guest among us.” Gil-Galad gently guided Gildor towards their end of the table while Erestor moved towards servants and issued quiet orders.
As they approached, servants quickly rearranged chairs and table setting to accommodate the new comer. Erestor supervised all with a slightly closed expression, as if he did not quite approve of either Gildor or his King.
Gildor found himself seated beside Glorfindel, just one place down from the king. Elrond sat on the right with Erestor immediately following. The younger elf turned his head and stared for a moment down the length of the table and realized that many there were of high rank and status among elf kin. His dark eyes constantly shifted from elf to elf, seeing not only legends, such as Lord Elrond, but also those who had stood beside his own family in their flight from their kingdom. He felt over awed. Nor could he take his eyes from Gil-Galad.
He felt his face flush every time the dark eyes met his and he knew the High King must be laughing at him. Certainly his emotions were plain on his face for anyone with eyes to read and interpret. Without a doubt, Gil-Galad was the most handsome creature Gildor had ever seen. As Lord Elrond spoke to him, attracting his attention, Gildor was able to focus his attention on the Noldor and found himself making comparisons between the two. And he realized they were both amazing looking, singly or taken together.
Through the first course, dinner revolved around
events in Lindon and Gildor gave them what news he had. Though he’d
not been in the city for nearly a full year, he did still have friends there
with whom he maintained contact and he shared their gossip willingly.
As desert was brought accompanied by a variety of cheeses and sweet wines,
conversation turned to the war and war strategies. Gildor settled in his chair,
prepared to listen, for he had nothing he could add to the conversation. But
he had much he could learn.
“Oropher’s troops shall meet us just along the edges of the plain. I hope that he will bring enough elves for us to place them along the east and west flank,” Gil-Galad said. “If we take half his troops and use them to augment what you will hold, Elrond, then we should be able to help the men hold the center, where Sauron’s armies will undoubtedly hit the hardest.”
Gil-Galad used fruits and salt mills to demonstrate his point. “Elendil has his main forces here, before the gates. Sauron will have no choice, of course, but to come through those forces if he intends to put an end to our siege. There is no other exit for his army. I intend that Elendil shall fall back, luring the dark army further into our ranks and then using the elven army to close them off. Mirkwood’s archers should be able to help pick off stragglers with their arrows.”
Gildor leaned forward, utterly fascinated by Gil-Galad’s plan. His eye were nearly round as he listened to the way the high king plotted his strategy.
“Amdir of Lorien and his elves will be pulled forward to replace those who die in the first wave and also to begin pushing through the black gates. We will not give Sauron a chance to recover or regroup his forces once we have them surrounded.” Elrond added, moving the peppermill and several utensils towards Gil-Galad.
“Oropher’s archers would do well to provide them cover,” Glorfindel added.
“Quite right,” Elrond added, and he plucked a grape from Gildor’s plate with an apologetic smile. Using the globe of fruit he positioned it high and right of the assorted ‘army’. “Here is where Oropher should be positioned.”
Gil-Galad studied the arrangement for a second
with a scowl marring his handsome
features. “You may be right, Elrond. Oropher’s forces would be
better held here rather than split.”
“I doubt much Oropher would allow anyone to lead his elves besides himself, anyway,” Erestor added.
“His son will be with him, I believe, and perhaps he can talk sense in to the crafty Sindarin.” Glorfindel observed. “Thranduil is his father’s pride and joy and he takes his counsel seriously, despite Thranduil’s age.”
“Let us hope so.” Elrond remarked as he popped the grape in to his mouth.
“Indeed, Elrond, for I have had enough problems with Isildur’s forces without having to constantly lock horns with Oropher as well. Aniron holds part of his father’s army here.” Gil-Galad placed a spoon on the table. “Isildur holds his men here and Elendil holds the center with our elves arranged behind.”
“When I was last there Isildur was barely able to contain his forces. They are as high strung as their leader. He chafes, too, I think under the command of elves and does believe his father should be the grand marshal.” Glorfindel added his own observations to the mix.
“But he will follow his father and brother to Mandos and back.” Elrond defended the human warrior. “He will follow his father’s orders regardless what is in his heart.”
Gil-Galad’s fingers lightly touched the back of Elrond’s hand. “Indeed, he has been most loyal and we have all come to value his thoughts.”
After a while, the talk again drifted and the subject of war was left behind. Down at the furthest end of the table, an older elf had risen and begun a song about Fingwe. Conversation around him slowly halted as his clear voice rose. Gildor, enchanted beyond measure turned and watched the singer, momentarily forgetting about high king and Elrond.
The elf was tall and blond with large blue eyes
that sparkled in the light of the candles. He was dressed richly and elegantly
in bright colors. Gildor smiled as the elf, who appeared younger than even
him, unabashedly stood among the elda and recited a song of
their time. He was so engrossed that he never realized when his lord and king
left the table.
Elrond and Gil-Galad, seeing that the guests were now occupied with the singing of the young elf, decided to take the opportunity to retire. They were not tired, but rather needed time alone together. Even for elves, being separated from one’s lover for a year was difficult.
On their way back to their suite, Elrond teased Gil-Galad just a bit. “You have an admirer.”
“I do?” Gil-Galad looked around in surprise, as if expecting his admirer to leap from the walls.
“Young Master Inglorion.” Elrond said as he pushed open the chamber door. “You know, tall, gangly, long blond hair, all eyes.”
“Oh, a youthful infatuation with an older male. That’s common enough. He’ll outgrow it as soon as he meets a young, handsome elf. Speaking of younger, handsome elves,” he drew Elrond close. “Let me demonstrate my infatuation with a younger elf.”
Elrond pressed his body close and with shaking
fingers began fumbling with the toggles on Gil-Galad’s robes even as
hungry lips descended towards his. His mouth opened willingly beneath Gil-Galad’s
and he sucked his lovers tongue deep in to his mouth.
He slipped his hands beneath the robes, clawing frantically at the under tunic,
Elrond sought the warmth of his lover’s skin.
Gil-Galad swirled his tongue in Elrond’s mouth but a moment before pulling his head back. He lifted his hands and slowly pulled loose Elrond’s braids, freeing the thick locks so that he could run his hands through them.
“I love the way your hair feels as it slides through my fingers,” he licked his dry lips and dipped his head to smell the fragrant locks. Nuzzling the thick hair aside, he found Elrond’s sensitive ear and ran his tongue along the outer edge.
Elrond’s head slipped sideways and he bit back a groan of pleasure. He could feel Gil-Galad’s hunger burning through his clothes. His own hunger rose in response. Elrond pushed aside the robe and began working on the white undershirt.
“Gil-Galad, mellon-nin, I need to feel you.”
The high king lifted his head and stepped back. He gently pushed aside Elrond’s shaking hands and undid his shirt. His erection tented the tight lacings of his leggings and he eased open the drawstring.
“Come, my beautiful one, touch and taste until you have drunk your fill.” He offered.
Elrond pushed Gil-Galad backwards on to the bed and climbed up on his lap. He leaned over and began kissing Gil-Galad. At first his kisses were light and playful, covering his face and throat, but as Gil-Galad began to squirm beneath him, Elrond grew fiercer in his ministrations. He eased down, pressing against his lover and rubbing their bodies together. His hands kneaded and stroked the bronze skin and followed his tongue in an endless exploration.
Grabbing his hips, Gil-Galad pulled Elrond up higher, grinding their arousals together. He liked the feel of Elrond against him and he pushed hard on the elf lord’s hips. Lifting his hands, Gil-Galad pulled open Elrond’s shirt and pushed the material from the strong shoulders. He pulled Elrond down on top of him and latched his mouth around a puckered nipple.
Elrond lowered his body until he was flat atop Gil-Galad. He clutched the sides of his lover’s head and held him steady, pinning him against his chest. Inside his leggings, he could feel moisture as his cock leaked drops of semen. Elrond had dreamed of those lips upon his body. How much he’d missed Gil-Galad was evident in his passionate embrace.
The high king twisted and flipped Elrond on to his back and pinned the elf lord beneath his powerful body. “I believe ‘tis my turn.” He breathed against Elrond’s throat.
Elrond sighed and arched upwards. “Please,” he begged.
Gil-Galad’s hands moved down, tugging at Elrond’s leggings and he captured the elf’s cock with his lips. He tasted the salty sweetness and hummed lightly, sending vibrations through Elrond’s body. He ran his tongue along the underside, pressing firmly against the throbbing vein. When Elrond’s hands wrapped in his dark hair, he knew he had Elrond right where he wanted him.
The rest of their clothes landed in a heap and he climbed atop Elrond. He gave his lover a deep kiss as he pulled open the long legs. He reached over the bed and retrieved a bottle of oil. Pulling out the stop he liberally coated his fingers and replaced the bottle on the table. He then knelt back and lightly placed a finger against Elrond’s opening. He felt a moment of tension as the elf lord’s body momentarily resisted the invasion and then the tight passage eased open.
Elrond’s head lolled back as his hips pressed down and back against the fingers invading his body. The tight nerves buried deep in side him thrummed as Gil-Galad brushed them with his fingertips.
“Oh, my love, now, please, now.” Moaned Elrond.
Gil-Galad removed his fingers and pushed Elrond’s legs up and back. Elrond’s long fingers reached down and pulled open the white mounds hiding his entrance, exposing the small opening for Gil-Galad.
Positioning himself, the high king slowly pushed forward, groaning softly as his hard flesh breached the tight ring. Gil-Galad and Elrond moaned in unison. The tight tunnel seemed to pull Gil-Galad deeper and hold him. The friction as he withdrew left him shaking. He pushed back in, more roughly than before, and hit Elrond’s prostate. The elf lord’s body went rigid as a blinding white heat shot through his body. Gil-Galad found a pace that set the bed rocking from side to side.
Gildor finally noticed that he was alone with Erestor and Glorfindel. He’d been so enraptured by the young elf’s song that he did not notice when servants cleared the table or when his wine glass was refilled.
“The High King and Lord Elrond have gone?” He looked around in bewilderment.
“Aye, some time back. They still have plans to make and we will depart at first light. The remaining army must be on the Dagorlad Plain in two weeks.” Glorfindel drained the last of his wine.
Erestor rose and motioned to the other end of the room. “I have made arrangements for you, Gildor, to share quarters with an elf similar in age to you. He’s a bit younger, but not so much that you shouldn’t find anything in common.”
The tall elf that had been singing paused beside Erestor. Up close he was a beautiful creature and Gildor was struck by the golden highlights in his hair.
“Greetings,” said the elf. “You
must be Gildor, then? My name is Lindir.”
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