Author: Asha Dreamweaver Beta: None Email:[email protected] Rating: R Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel Warnings: none Request: fluff, moonlit stroll through Imladris gardens, spider hunt in Mirkwood, hunt in Lothl�rien Written For: Aprilmoon
*~*The year 3341 of the Second Age, the slopes of Orodruin. *~*
As he cried out in anguish and horror at the scene that was happening in front of him, he made to leap forward, to prevent this horrible atrocity but even as he struggled to push through the ranks of the Elves in front of him, he felt strong arms looping around his waist and pulling him back against the hard body of a warrior.
"Erestor!" Glorfindel cried, trying to talk some sense into the frantic Noldo, "No! �Tis too late, meleth!"
But Erestor paid no heed to the pleading voice, so intent was he on getting to his destination, "He is my father!" he cried, struggling to get loose from Glorfindel's too tight grip.
He thrashed and tossed in Glorfindel's grasp, but his armour hampered him in that venture and the golden Elda was able to keep a tight hold on him. Furious with his lover, Erestor cursed him to the depths of Ud�n, unleashing a scathing tirade on his failings.
Glorfindel was not intimidated; he had been Erestor's lover for the past two centuries, and his promised mate for the last three years. He could not allow Erestor to go to his death; both heart and duty would not allow it.
"Be still!" he hissed, dragging the struggling Elf backwards, away from the danger area, "He is gone, Erestor! Do not throw your life away! Think of your duty!"
But Erestor would not listen, could not listen, "Let me go, you overgrown orc!" he growled, "That is my father out there! I must go to him! Or avenge him if I may!"
"You have no heir Erestor, he had. You cannot go, you are not ready. We cannot lose another King. And I cannot lose my heart."
Something in his soft words seemed to get through to the Elf, half crazed through grief and fury, and his struggles ceased; his knees seeming to go weak and he sagged against the older Elf.
"I am no king." Erestor uttered hoarsely, his usual velvety voice rendered rough from pain and weariness.
Glorfindel shifted his grip to support his beloved, and turned that dirt-smudged but still beautiful face to look at him, "Gil-galad is dead. He will not return on this side of the Sea. You are his only heir. You must do what is right for your people. You must hold back. We cannot afford to lose you, melethen."
Erestor did not reply, and before Glorfindel could press for any assurance that he would not do something foolish, a roar came from the ranks of the men of Gondor and Arnor. Elendil had fallen beside Gil-galad.
Glorfindel dragged Erestor back through the ranks of Elves, even as Elrond and C�rdan roared for them to step back, as Sauron's huge mace was flinging the front ranks through the air.
But even as Erestor grabbed his sword and broke out of Glorfindel's grasp, a deafening boom lanced out across the plain. As the sound faded, a great wisp of cloud and smoke, dark with malice, spread out across the sky and then disappeared.
Sauron had fallen.
And finally able to push aside his anger to acknowledge his grief and pain, Erestor collapsed into his betrothed's arms.
<<<<< nightmare >>>>>
The shadows closed about him menacingly as they ran through the forest. Blackened, twisted trees flashed by them, and the dense canopy above them let in no light, turning day into night under the shadow of the woods.
Erestor dragged Elladan behind him, the younger Elf easily keeping pace with the more experienced Elda.
They had been split from their hunting party on its way to Lothl�rien by a force of orcs, and had been chased into the dangerous southern part of Mirkwood, too close to Dol Guldur upon Amon Lanc for comfort.
Heavily pursued, they had had no choice but to seek to lose the orcs in the forest, and hope that they would find their way back out again.
That had been two days ago, and the pursuit still had not slowed.
The orcs knew this part of the forest better than they, barred from Thranduil's realm for many a year and subject only to the frostiest of welcomes. Only the twin sons of Elrond's deep friendship with the Prince of the Wood, Legolas Greenleaf, had stopped Thranduil ordering for them to be shot on sight.
They could do nothing but run deeper into the darkness, where the trees with their black hearts used their branches to snag at them as they moved past them, herding them ever nearer to Dol Guldur.
But Erestor had fought in front of the Black Gate, had dwelt in Mordor for seven years during the siege of the Last Alliance; he would not let his friend's son die.
But as memory was besieged by dreaming fantasies; the events that had really taken place were replaced in his mind with the stuff of nightmares.
In short fashion they were cornered by orcs, and trapped by spiders above.
And then the spiders dropped on Elladan. And he watched as the younger Elf went down.
"No!!" he screamed.
<<<<<< end >>>>>>
Erestor awakened from his torment to find himself shaking, tightly wrapped in his lover's arms; the golden Elf whispering comforting words into his ear. Immediately, he felt embarrassed and ashamed. Too often had he been weak in front of his husband, too many times had he lost control over his tightly reined emotions. It was not something that Erestor had condoned for the last two and a half thousand years.
The subject too raw, the familiar terror too near, he instinctively flinched at his own perceived failings, missing Glorfindel's wounded expression at his mate's behaviour.
"Hush, Erestor," he whispered soothingly into the dark Elf's delicately pointed ear, trying to calm him down.
After a moment, the Noldo relaxed into Glorfindel's hold, eyes tightly shut, and laid his head on the Elda's chest. "I am sorry to bother you, melethron," he said wearily.
Glorfindel just rubbed his back; he knew well what caused Erestor's preoccupation every year around this time, "'Tis not a bother, melme," he replied, "You could never be a bother to me. Was it the dream again?"
The dark head shifted, "Nay, �twas of Mirkwood."
Inwardly, Glorfindel let out a sigh of relief at the words; the dream of his father's death haunted Erestor still after all these centuries, and there were none on this side of the Sea who could persuade Erestor to let go of his guilt.
And so, knowing that nothing he could say could appease his mate's pain, he sat with him and cradled him gently, until the erratic breathing settled into the deep breathes of sleep.
*~* The year 2904 of the Third Age, Imladris. *~*
Glorfindel did not begrudge his mate his temper at this time. It was always the same every year. While the other races and Elves celebrated the downfall of Sauron, Erestor always retreated into himself.
Glorfindel understood it better than most; while other Elves celebrated the festival day that he had died on, and Gondolin, his city sank into ruin, he too felt like shutting out the world, to mourn the lost in private.
But Erestor was different, however much he pretended not to be these days.
He had never gotten over his father's death, convinced that there must have been something he could have done to prevent Gil-galad's death. And his guilt had been flaying him alive since the end of the Second Age.
Erestor, as Gil-galad's only son and heir, should have taken up his father's mantle. Even as Glorfindel had comforted his grieving betrothed, Elrond had brought Aeglos, the High King's spear, and the only item found on the battlefield belonging to him, to its new keeper.
Erestor had barely been able to look at it, and when pressed by C�rdan and Elrond to take up his new role, his new station; the volatile prince had erupted in about unreleased rage. He refused the Kingship, refused his title, refused everything that was due to him, and Glorfindel had more than once thought that it was only his own persistence that had persuaded Erestor to stay in Imladris at all.
For most of the year, Glorfindel had his wonderful, witty, vibrant, beautiful mate as his charming companion, sparring partner and the owner of his soul, but every year on this anniversary of the victory of the Last Alliance, Erestor shut everyone out.
His very spirit seemed to dull as he spent the time denouncing himself for perceived crimes, and Erestor hid himself behind his walls.
Usually, Glorfindel respected Erestor's need to mourn, but this year, he had something else in mind�.
Glorfindel's plan was simple. He would simply have to� distract Erestor from his melancholy and for once, make him see that he should not be berating himself because he had lived, but to be grateful that he had.
He knew well that Elrond sometimes despaired of Erestor. While the Elvenlord loved the dark-haired Elda dearly; he could not forgot what had happened because Erestor had refused his crown, and even more incomprehensible to the Half-Elven Lord, had deigned to be his Chief Counsellor.
Once Erestor had refused his own crown, Elrond had been the next in line, and heartily surprised when C�rdan told him so; Elrond had refused as well, unwilling to take something that he felt was not his, but Vilya had been passed onto him by Gil-galad, Erestor refusing to take up that burden as well.
But Elrond had also been a sly conspirator with Glorfindel against Erestor's stubborn wiles no few times, and the Balrog Slayer was confident that he could convince Elrond and his lovely wife, Celebr�an - whose mischievous streak ran nearly as wide as her husband's - to help him in his new endeavour.
And if all else failed, then he was sure that the twins and Arwen would be more than eager to help him with their former tutor.
For once, Glorfindel was determined to make Erestor enjoy the festivities as he once used to, and even as a slow smirk lit up his golden features, and a feral glint came into his bright eyes, his thoughts strayed to his all too sharp witted mate. It would be interesting indeed to spring this one on him.
And by his estimations, very enjoyable also�
The crisp sound of pages being turned and the faint scratch of quill on parchment were the only sounds pervading the office of Imladris's Chief Advisor, and as the renowned Balrog slayer leaned against the doorjamb, unmarked by its occupant, he took the opportunity to peruse the one inside.
Long dark hair spilled down the advisor's back like ebony silk, only tamed at the front by braids that held the dark locks out of his face; brown eyes were thoughtfully perusing some parchment, probably an inventory or another of the countless diplomatic letters that Imladris sent and received, Glorfindel thought; pale, creamy skin peeked out from the folds of a heavy velvet robe, and as Erestor stretched slightly, arching his back, he represented an absolutely delectable sight to his smitten mate.
With a wolfish grin, Glorfindel crept silently into the room; using his millennia of experience against his now deskbound mate, intending to perform some much longed for ravishment.
A head bent down to nuzzle at the bared neck as a pair of familiar strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close to a familiar body. As that gifted mouth suckled at his neck, causing heat to flare up inside him, he leaned into the embrace. "Glorfindel�" Erestor said reprovingly, holding back a soft moan at his mate's activities, "I have work to do."
Glorfindel did not cease his ministrations, "Indeed," he said with a large grin, "I would say that we have much �work' to do. You have been neglecting me dreadfully, melethron." he finished mock pouting.
Erestor rolled his dark eyes, "Neglected, you say Glorfindel?" he said in disbelief, "'Tis the second time that you have disrupted me this morning! Have you nothing else to occupy you?"
"Oh, I have plenty to occupy me," Glorfindel replied, "But strangely, my thoughts keep straying to a dark haired beauty who wounds me so with his words."
"Glorfindel!" Erestor cried in exasperation, "You know that Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn are coming. I must make sure all the feasts and arrangements are pre----" His words were abruptly cut off as Glorfindel's mouth descended on his in a fiery kiss, making his knees weaken until he was clutching at the golden Elda.
"Glorfindel!" he hissed, even as the Elf in question swept all of Erestor's carefully ordered papers onto the floor, but he was silenced rapidly by the return of Glorfindel's mouth to his.
Losing himself to his mate's skilled and passionate seduction, Erestor tuned out all else in the world, - including the problem of whether the door was locked - and gave in happily to his husband's ardour.
Glorfindel lifted Erestor onto the desk, so as to be better balanced to ravish his darling counsellor, and proceeded to suck, lick and nip his way down the pale column of his neck. Erestor's head fell back under the onslaught, "We really should not be doing this, meleth," the advisor protested breathily, "If Elrond wa--"
Glorfindel silenced him by fondling his erection through the thick velvet robes, and Erestor's eyes nearly rolled back with pleasure as pleasantly warm sparks were ignited into roaring heat.
"I care not if Elrond walks in, n�n ind," Glorfindel said huskily, "I daresay he would only seek out Celebr�an to assuage him after our display, but I do not intend to let you go until I have you underneath me, limp from completion."
Erestor could only stare wide-eyed at the Elf's audacity; it was seldom that Glorfindel felt the need to be so blatantly desiring in public; knowing that as Elrond's chief advisors and close friends, decorum was expected of them.
Glorfindel's grin widened further at his shocked expression, and he wasted little time in divesting Erestor of his too concealing robes.
Erestor could feel that hard body pressed against him, and it took all his willpower not to just abandon himself to his desire, but the knowledge that anyone could walk on them was too much a deterrent.
Pushing against the Elf's broad shoulders, he forcibly broke their embrace, "Enough!" he said shakily, "Anyone could walk in on us Glorfindel! Have some sense!"
Glorfindel jus sidled up to him and reaching, grabbed a thick lock of midnight hued hair, "But I locked the door, n�n hervenn, and though I think this reluctance of yours charming, *this* tells me otherwise," he said seductively as he fondled Erestor.
The advisor was hard-pressed not to hit Glorfindel for that cursed smirk of his, but his mate knew him all too well, and knew exactly how to make him come undone.
With a resigned sigh, he forced all thoughts of discovery and incipient embarrassment out of his mind, and gave himself over to Glorfindel's ministrations.
As he felt Erestor yield, the tension draining out of the lithe form, Glorfindel smiled into dark locks, he gently lay the advisor supine on the desk. As Erestor gave him an encouraging smile, fully resigned to the interruption of his work, he began to divest his own tunic and breeches.
Moving over the darker Elf, he set to work undoing his husband, kissing and nipping his way down the lissom form.
There was little in the world that Glorfindel loved more than reducing his delightful mate to a pile of mush. And so he seldom rushed the time he spent pleasuring Erestor, however many growled threats it produced from his overwhelmed mate.
And so it was now.
Even as Erestor writhed underneath him most delightfully, and started pleading with him to finish it, Glorfindel did not let up.
His mouth firmly fused over Erestor's to silence his mate, his hand steadily worked the Elf's member, careful to keep him just on the edge, until Erestor cried out that he could not take any more of this delicious madness.
Only then did Glorfindel's hand slip to the rosy pucker that guarded Erestor's most secret entrance and slid a finger in, seeking out the spot that would drive the advisor wild. A sharp buck from Erestor told him that he had found it, and using the fluid from their leaking members, he coated his own and his fingers, sliding two, then three, into Erestor.
At the almost unbearably delicious sensation, Erestor was unsure of being able to hold back his voice, and he had Glorfindel place a firm hand over his mouth to muffle his cries of pleasure.
Unable to deny his own need any longer, the golden Elda stopped his pleasurable torment, and placed himself at the smaller Elf's entrance. With a shaky breath, he slid in deep in one swift movement.
Erestor almost sobbed at the sensation of being filled after so much torment, relishing the feeling of being stretched by his husband's impressive sword.
Grasping onto him for dear life, and clutching at the golden locks that rivalled Anor herself, Erestor sat up, unwittingly sliding Glorfindel's length deeper within him. Moaning at the bolts of desire that ravaged his slender frame, he tucked his head against his mate's shoulder, even as Glorfindel started to move.
The sensations that the steady movements of Glorfindel within him had Erestor on the cusp of desire, and as his mouth returned to his, he concentrated solely on the sense of being pierced by Glorfindel's formidable length, and his eyes fell closed as he rode out the sensations of bliss that were coursing through him.
It was too much. It had to be too much, he thought desperately, as Glorfindel's skilled motions kept him just on the brink of completion; bringing him up to the very edge and taking him back down again until he was sobbing with need, even as Glorfindel continued his too leisurely pace.
Sensing his mate's plight, Glorfindel's features curved into a devilish smile and with no warning, he stepped up the pace until he was all but pounding into the oh so willing form beneath him.
At the sudden change, Erestor's vision dissolved into stars as he came hard; pearly white fluid gushing out from his leaking member, even as he clutched tightly to Glorfindel. As he collapsed against his mate, limp and satiated from his powerful undoing, he felt Glorfindel shudder and then the warmth inside him as his husband came inside him, causing Erestor to hiss at the pleasurable sensation on his already sensitised body.
As Erestor lay limply against Glorfindel, too drained to do much else; the Elda with a reluctant groan let his softened member slip out of Erestor and with infinite gentleness, he held Erestor to him tightly and lowered them to the floor, the soft velvet of the advisor's discarded robe providing an adequate blanket for them to lie in.
Held tightly in the circle of his love's arms, Erestor snuggled in closer, his intense dark eyes out of focus, and Glorfindel tightened his arms around his precious handful as Erestor succumbed to his weariness and fell asleep in Glorfindel's protective arms.
With a sigh, after a long moment of staring at the undiminished comeliness of his mate of so many years, Glorfindel too settled in, and joined him in the world of dreams.
But by nightfall, the glow that Glorfindel had put in Erestor's cheeks had waned, and the stubborn advisor had reverted back to his self-blaming state once more. It was almost enough to make Glorfindel reach for his sword.
Sometimes Erestor's legendary stubbornness was just too much for him, especially when it was levelled against the counsellor himself. It was Glorfindel's opinion that Erestor had no worse enemy than the Erestor himself when the advisor was convinced that something had been his fault.
But it always hurt to see him like this.
At the grand celebration feast, Erestor sat, dressed in his most severe set of robes, with an expression so foreboding and solemn that few of the revellers could abide to be near him for long.
He sat stony-faced through all the celebrations, dances, songs, and performances that filled the great hall, and even Glorfindel was only able to coax a few words out of him.
But Glorfindel was patient, because his plan had long been in motion now. Erestor was going to enjoy himself whether he wished to or not.
And so when he saw his intractable mate quietly disappear into the gardens, the renowned Balrog Slayer grinned wolfishly, and after speaking to an amused Elrond and Celebr�an for a moment, who handed him a cup of wine, he slipped out after Erestor; ready and more than willing to teach his oh too stubborn mate the error of his ways.
Glorfindel found him in a secluded part of the gardens, face turned up to the starlit sky. His ebony hair shone in the moonlight, and Glorfindel felt the familiar clutch of desire as he looked upon the only owner of his heart.
Putting down the cup of wine, he approached the silent figure.
Stepping up behind him, he wrapped his arms around the slender waist, and rested his golden head on his shoulder. "Why are you here, meleth?" he asked softly, nuzzling the pale neck slightly, "When the feast will continue until the dawn? Why must you punish yourself so? You have done nothing wrong."
Erestor stiffened in his embrace, and breaking it, walked away; seeking out his personal space once more. "Glorfindel, you died a hero's death, protecting your people," Erestor said softly, as if this was something that Glorfindel should have known, "I let my father die. My decisions led to death and carnage. I am not half the Elf I once was. Do you think I do not know this? That I do not know how they look at me?"
Glorfindel wanted so much to step forward and enfold Erestor in his arms, but he knew at once that the proud Noldo would reject it. He would not accept comfort he felt that he did not deserve. Sighing, he picked up the wine and passed it to Erestor, "Drink this, n�n ind," he said quietly, "It seems that you need to be merry far more than I."
Erestor took the cup, sipping it slowly, dark eyes locked on his golden mate.
For a while they walked under the moonlight, a heavy silence between them, and Glorfindel felt Erestor's own demons weighing on him as well.
At last Glorfindel could take it no more, and as Erestor seemed disinclined to say anything at all, he spoke, "How do they look at you meleth?" he said with infinite patience, "They only see a Prince who refused the crown and now serves another. They see the Lord they should have had and they wonder at your refusal. Is that not enough for them to look?"
Erestor's hand trembled as he sipped the wine, almost unconsciously, "They know I killed him�" he said shakily, unnerved by Glorfindel's words and his strange mood.
"Sauron killed him, Erestor. You cannot live your life in constant remembrance of what was. That is not the way to heal."
"I can do nothing else!" Erestor said, swaying slightly as he cried out, "If anything, it should prevent my own folly from costing another their life."
Glorfindel's heart cried out at the pain in his husband's tone, but he resisted the urge to go to him, and waited for Elrond's herbs, stealthily slipped into the wine by the Elvenlord himself, to come into effect.
It did not take long.
Accelerated by Erestor's anguish, the counsellor's eyes grew fuzzier by the minute and he started to sway on his feet. When the seneschal saw his mate start to crumple, he moved rapidly forward and caught the woozy Elf in his arms. He could see the questions in Erestor's eyes but then the herbs took him under, and he slumped into Glorfindel's waiting arms, sleeping peacefully.
Slipping his hands under the smaller Elf's knees, Glorfindel lifted the sleeping form, and cradled him to his chest, and then headed for their rooms.
When Erestor awoke, it was to puzzlement.
At first when he blinked, he could not understand why he still could see only darkness but then as his fuzzy brain came to life again, he recognised that there was a soft blindfold over his eyes for some reason.
Blinking again, he shook his head, irritated when it would not come off, and growing ever more anxious as he realised that he had not the slightest idea where he was or what he was doing there.
Another few surreptitious checks, he realised that his hands had been bound with a soft material also, and that he was bare, only covered by the slightest of what seemed to be a sheet. He pulled at the bonds on his hands, seeking to dislodge them, and so free himself but a silky voice stopped his attempts to escape.
"I would not do that, lirimaer," the familiar voice of Glorfindel said, and Erestor relaxed only marginally before his husband's unusual behaviour caused him to be on his guard. "You are not going anywhere for the rest of the night, and probably most of the day."
"Glorfindel!" Erestor protested, his voice slightly raspy, "What are you doing? And what in Arda did you do to me in the gardens?" he demanded, memory returning.
"I think that it is time for you to realise that not all is in your control, Erestor," Glorfindel said seriously, "And if by forcing you to submit in such a way shall help you to heal your wounds, then it is my duty as your husband to service you in whatever way possible." Erestor could almost hear the smirk.
He opened his mouth to launch into a scathing tirade but the feel of Glorfindel sitting on the bed, and of the sheet being pulled off him stopped him before he could say anything.
Glorfindel's hand trailed possessively along his body, as if mapping out his ownership of it, and Erestor was shocked at the audacity after his stunt in the gardens. But however annoyed he was with his too confident lover, and however much he felt like shooting him, his body could not deny its pleasure at Glorfindel's touch.
He heard the rustling of clothing as he lay there, waiting for whatever his soon to be severely bruised husband had planned to come to fruition.
He was therefore surprised when Glorfindel took his member in hand, and fitted.. something cold around the base. When Erestor squirmed in shock and dismay, Glorfindel petted his side, "Do not fret, melethron," he said reassuringly, "This is just to assure that you do not come without I allowing you to. Too long have you blamed yourself for things not in your control. �Tis time to learn what it is to be helpless, my dear Erestor."
Erestor shuddered at his words, "There is no need for this Glorfindel, --- ooh!" He was swiftly cut off by Glorfindel's mouth descending on this. And the kiss was ravenous, desiring, it almost felt like he was being devoured by blistering heat.
And when Glorfindel pulled back, Erestor lay there, chest heaving, gasping for air as his brain tried to process the all too sensual assault.
But Glorfindel did not allow him time to recover and nipping his way down his chest to play with his bellybutton, the Elda suddenly took his hard shaft in his mouth, cocooning Erestor in warm, moist heat.
Even as he unconsciously pushed down into Glorfindel, his eyes rolled back as the pleasure mounted, and he writhed involuntarily on the soft sheets. But just as suddenly, his husband pulled away, and he could not hold back a keening cry.
Almost at once, he tried to stifle it, tried to dampen the heat racing through his system, but Glorfindel gently caressed his face, "That is it, darling Erestor," he coaxed, "Let go� Just feel�"
And thanks to Glorfindel's skilled ministrations, Erestor could do nothing but feel as his powerful mind deserted him and left him a creature of molten need.
He soon deduced that Glorfindel had put whatever it was at the base of his raging member just to drive him mad. Thanks to his mates sexual play, he was constantly balanced on the cusp of completion, but was never allowed to reach it.
Frustrated, he urged Glorfindel to finish it, but the Elf refused to grant him any reprieve, and descended him like an incubus. And it was then that Erestor knew that he was going to die from this.
But the heat flared up into an inferno when Glorfindel slipped an oiled finger into his entrance; surprising and exciting him at the same time. And as Glorfindel deliberately pushed down on his pleasure spot, he could not stifle his cry, and his lover pounced on his weakness, pushing into him and stretching him, until his head was thrashing on the pillows, and he was all but begging for him to stop the torture.
Eventually he did. But only to initiate a new kind of torment. Slickening his own turgid shaft, he slid into Erestor and drove into him at a hard pace, allowing him no time to adjust.
Erestor cried out in renewed ecstasy and absolute torment and frustration as his husband reduced him to a blubbering pile of Elf, mindless to anything but his own need, and infuriated by his own inability to alleviate his ache.
When Glorfindel had his proud Erestor begging and sobbing, tears of frustration dampening the cloth blocking his eyes, he decided that enough was enough.
"Do you see how it is to be helpless, meleth?" he cooed, stroking the sweat-dampened hair, "Do you see that you cannot control it? Do you surrender your guilt to me Erestor?"
The dark Elf, feeling totally vulnerable and dependent on Glorfindel, could not discard his husband's plea and burst into noisy sobs. Glorfindel comforted him as tenderly as he could ever have imagined and then when Erestor least expected it, he drove back into him, stretching his passage to accommodate his girth and once more inciting the riot of pleasure in Erestor's senses, and replacing grief with pleasure.
Erestor was seeing stars the minute Glorfindel granted him release, and he blacked out for a moment at the force of his long delayed and arduous completion.
Coming to, he found the blindfold and bonds gone, and that he was tightly encased in his husband's arms, his dark head resting against Glorfindel's broad chest.
Sneaking an arm up to cover the Elda's heart, he looked into the tender azure eyes, and said, "Do not leave me?"
"Never, meleth," Glorfindel swore, crushing him to him as he saw that the cloud of guilt and self-recrimination that had covered Erestor for so long was gone. "Never," he repeated, "Merry solstice, my dear, darling Erestor."
And his beautiful mate looked back at him and for the first time ever at this time of year replied in kind, "Merry solstice, n�n hervenn, n�n ind," he said, and laid his dark head back down on Glorfindel's chest, relishing in the steady beat of his heart.
And glad, Glorfindel smiled, lighting up the room, and held his heart to him, thinking of the future, and the loving that awaited them for eternity.
The End
*Elvish:*
Aduial - twilight
Orodruin - Mount Doom
Meleth - love
Melethen - my love
Melme - love
melethron - lover
n�n ind - my heart
n�n hervenn - my husband
Lirimaer - lovely one
Aeglos - �Snowthorn'. the spear of Gil-galad.
Amon Lanc - �the Naked Hill' in Sindarin. The site of the tower of Dol Guldur in Southern Mirkwood.
Celebr�an - Galadriel and Celeborn's daughter. Wife of Elrond. Mother to Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen.
C�rdan - also called �the Shipwright'. Lord of the Grey Havens. The only Elf with a beard.
Dol Guldur - �Hill of Sorcery'. A treeless height in the south-west of Mirkwood, a stronghold of the Necromancer before he was revealed as Sauron returned. Houses three Nazg�l, led by Kham�l.
Gil-galad - Last High King of the Noldor. King of Lindon. Died during the final battle of the Last Alliance.
Gondolin - called the Hidden City or the Hidden Realm. Founded and ruled by Turgon, son of Fingolfin, in the First Age. Eventually destroyed by Morgoth.
Vilya - the Ring of Air. Strongest of the three Elven Rings made by Celebrimbor. Borne by Elrond.
