Glorfindel woke up with the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched. And it was not for nothing that he was the finest warrior in Imladris, for lo and behold, as soon as his eyes came into focus the presentiment was verified by Erestor's calm and unwavering stare. "Good morning, sweetheart," he offered, hoping to defuse the situation. Of course, he wasn't quite sure what the situation was. His memory never kicked in until a few minutes after his brain had supposedly awakened. Why is Erestor glaring at me? What did I do this time? He quickly reviewed the previous night's events and nearly winced. Ah, right, interrupted a study session, carted him off in a most undignified manner, and dumped him into bed. This could take a while.

"Good morning, Glorfindel," Erestor replied at last, in a very flat tone. Glorfindel cringed. Then the dark-haired elf dissolved into a fit of most un-Erestor-like giggles. "Aiya, have I transformed into a Balrog, to extract such an expression of terror with a single look?"

Relaxing, Glorfindel exhaled slowly in relief. Erestor wasn't angry with him. Thank you, Elbereth. "Love, a mere Balrog is nothing in comparison to your wrath."

"Is that so," he purred, shifting until his nose was a mere inch away from Glorfindel's. "Shouldn't you be attempting to placate me then?"

Deeming mere words inadequate and unnecessary for a proper reply, Glorfindel chose to answer his lover's question by closing the gap between their mouths. Soft... No matter how many times they kissed, Erestor's softness never failed to surprise his lover. It seemed so strange that such a sharp-tongued individual would have such plush, velvety lips.

Erestor sighed in contentment and slid back against the pillows. Parting his lips, he allowed his tongue to flicker out and swipe Glorfindel's lower lip before retreating in a silent invitation.

Unable to resist, Glorfindel followed him, pressing him gently into the cushions. "I love you."

Erestor smiled. "I know." Glorfindel sent him a sulky pout, and he chuckled softly, petting the long blond hair indulgently. "Yes, sweet, I love you too."

"You had better," Glorfindel muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" Erestor quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Granted freely."

Erestor frowned for a moment, then slapped Glorfindel lightly and rolled him over, peering down at the blond with a predatory expression. Glorfindel stared up at him in surprise-Erestor rarely assumed the dominant position without prompting-and then contentedly lay back, willing to submit for the moment.

A malevolent smirk crossed Erestor's face briefly, but vanished before Glorfindel could be certain that it was even there. The dark-haired elf sat back, intent on the task of unbuttoning the robes in which Glorfindel had slept. He helped his lover wriggle out of the crumpled garment, then placed it aside carefully and turned his attention to the stubborn laces of Glorfindel's leggings.

Removing the leggings required a certain amount of ingenuity, and eventual application of a pocket knife, but eventually Glorfindel lay naked as the day he had been born (or days, as the case happened to be) while Erestor sat on his legs, pinning him to the bed. "Having fun?" Erestor purred, bending down to kiss the slow, steady pulse that beat in the side of his throat.

"Can you doubt it?" Glorfindel returned, reaching out to tangle his hands in Erestor's long, silky black hair.

"It's always best... to make sure," he stated, punctuating his remark with a sharp nip to the tender skin behind Glorfindel's ear. The blond made a small startled noise, and Erestor licked the injury soothingly before moving on.

He left a trail of bruises down Glorfindel's throat, lingered on his collarbone, then continued his travels down his torso, ending the journey at the navel, to Glorfindel's mild frustration. "Patience, sweetling," Erestor murmured, flicking his fingers over Glorfindel's sides. The blond's body jerked and he made a tiny shriek.

Erestor grinned. Glorfindel, as he had discovered not so long ago, was very ticklish.

"No fair," Glorfindel gasped when he recovered from the surprise.

"Who said anthing about fair?" Erestor tickled him again, and then jumped off the bed, snatching the pile of Glorfindel's clothing. "Come catch me if you can!" he added tauntingly, and bolted.

"ERESTOR!" Glorfindel bellowed, and chased after him in hot pursuit. Glorfindel was by far the faster runner, and would have caught Erestor within moments if he had not been distracted at a crucial moment. As it was, he was halfway to the library before he realized he was stark naked.

Nothing for it. Catch Erestor and you'll have your clothes, he rationalized, and raced down the remaining corridors as quickly as he could, on the vague principle that perhaps if he ran fast enough, he would become an unrecognizable blur to those he passed.

He burst into the hallowed haven of ink and parchment, and came to a sudden halt. Erestor was sitting at his customary table, wearing Glorfindel's stolen robe and looking ridiculously adorable. Even as Glorfindel watched, the comically outsized robe slid off one shoulder, revealing skin darkened from the bluish shade of skim milk to a warm cream in the years of Erestor's association with Glorfindel and, consequentially, the sun. Glorfindel stepped forward, and Erestor turned his head. He was sucking on the end of his quill, which he knew drove Glorfindel positively insane, and when he removed the pen from his mouth he smiled innocently. "Hello, Glorfindel."

"Hello, Erestor. I seem to have lost my robes; I don't suppose you might know where they could be hiding." Before Erestor could reply, the doorknob rattled. The scholar's eyes widened in panic, and he hurriedly shoved Glorfindel under the table.

"Good morning, Erestor."

"Ah, good morning, Lord Elrond."

Elrond frowned thoughtfully at his advisor, who was blushing furiously. "Erestor, you look flushed; are you feverish?"

"No, no, never better," Erestor babbled, waving his hands for emphasis. Elrond peered nearsightedly at him (it was one of the best-kept secrets of Imladris that Elrond was as shortsighted as a wrinkled, squinting human crone).

"Erestor, isn't that Glorfindel's robe?"

Erestor looked blankly down at the garment in question as though he had never seen it before in his life. "Yes, I do believe it is." Glorfindel choked back a laugh.

Elrond blinked. "I... see." He frowned again, then patted Erestor absently on the shoulder. "I came to let you know that I won't need your research for another week or so. Oh, and Arwen and I will be eating together this morning, so your presence will not be required at breakfast. Do pass the message on to Glorfindel." He meandered out of the library and ambled down the hall, gazing myopically at the passing servants.

Those same servants noted that when Erestor and Glorfindel staggered out of the library a few minutes, both supporting each other and giggling maniacally, Erestor wore a positively enormous robe that dwarfed his slender build and dragged behind him on the floor, while the black robes that hung like sacking-cloth on the advisor's slight frame strained almost to the tearing point across Glorfindel's much broader shoulders, and the hemline which normally brushed the toes of Erestor's boots barely reached the middle of taller elf's calves.

The lovers were too absorbed in each other to notice the servants staring, and the servants were too well-trained in etiquette to comment-either on the mismatched garments, or the noises which could be heard all the way to the end of the hall.