Title: Haunted 
Word Count: 1,157 
Author: Orchyd Constyne 
Contact: orchydconstyne@hithanaur.net 
Website: http://www.hithanaur.net/ 
Update List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nairn_orchyd/ 
Fandom: LOTR 
Archive: LoM, OEAM, AFF.net, Melethryn 
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or 
items from the Tolkien world. They belong to their 
respective copyright holders. 
Rating: NC-17 
Beta: Fimbrethiel 
Cast: Elrond/Glorfindel 
Summary: Sometimes the price of love is our soul. 
AN: Due to personal circumstances, I am unable to send my 
friends Christmas gifts, but Denise suggested I write 
something for those friends. I asked those friends what 
pairing they wanted, and a plot point, and have set out 
writing small pieces for them. This one is for Ilye, who 
has been after me for some Elrond/Glorfindel angst for some 
time now. This isn't exactly what she has been asking for, 
but it is what the muses offered.  Merry Christmas, Naneth! 
 
---

"I know who it is you see, Elrond," Glorfindel whispered as 
his robe fell from his shoulders and revealed pale 
perfection.  The Peredhel knelt on the bed, nude and hard, 
with glazed pewter eyes, but there was a sadness in that 
distant gaze.  "I will do this for you, but you must know 
what it will cost me," he warned Elrond as he mounted the 
bed.

Elrond nodded.  "'Tis only fair," he agreed, though his 
eyes shimmered with tears as they focused on the Elda.  He 
did not want to hear his dear friend's words, did not want 
to know what this night would take from Glorfindel.

Petal soft lips pressed to the pulse in Elrond's throat and 
warm hands touched his chilled flesh.  "I have loved you 
since I first walked into that audience chamber.  My heart 
has burned for you for centuries.  To now have your body 
scars my soul; to know it is neither my body nor my face 
your heart mourns wounds me deeply.  If I do this, Elrond, 
I will die inside, but I am willing to suffer that death 
night after night if you pain is eased.  Do you accept such 
a trade?"

His need and sorrow eased in exchange for the loss of 
Glorfindel's light, the loss of his soul.  Glorfindel 
continued to caress Elrond's thighs and buttocks with his 
hands, his lips and tongue teasing Elrond's throat.  Lust 
clouded his better judgment and he took what the Elda 
offered.  "Aye, I accept," the Half-Elf panted needily, his 
fingers digging into Glorfindel's mane to press those wet, 
hot lips firmly to his skin.  "I accept," he repeated 
before lifting Glorfindel's face and covering the moist 
mouth with his own.

Glorfindel took control of this kiss, plunging his tongue 
deep into Elrond's mouth.  It was not slow, loving play 
Elrond wanted.  It was not what the Elf whom he pretended 
Glorfindel was would do.  Elrond whimpered into the kiss; 
his eyes closed as he wove a fantasy in his head.  
Glorfindel broke the kiss, leaving Elrond gasping, and 
pushed the Peredhel onto his back so he could tease the 
dusky peaks of Elrond's chest.  His tongue lapped at his 
nipples and he nipped at them with his teeth until they 
were dark red and sore.  "You are so beautiful in your 
wantonness," he recited to Elrond, speaking words of a 
lover long gone from Elrond's side.  "When I kiss you, you 
writhe in anticipation; when I bite you, you writhe in 
pained need; when I take you, you will scream my name."

"Yes," Elrond moaned, lost in memory and sensation.  His 
back bowed when Glorfindel's slick lips passed over his 
sex, sucking him in impossibly deep and swallowing him 
several times before sitting up.  He had just taken a 
breath when that mouth fell upon him again and rough 
fingers fondled his tight sac.  He screamed as his muscles 
went tight, his hands gripping the locks of gold that 
tickled his flushed flesh.

There was a darkness closing in over Glorfindel's heart, a 
sparkle to his eyes he knew was fading as he impaled Elrond 
with two oiled fingers.  Elrond rested on hands and knees, 
and his length bobbed heavily between his legs.  He had 
waited so many years to find release in the velvet heat of 
Elrond's body, and tonight he would finally be granted his 
wish.  But the price was high... so very high...

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and smeared the 
viscous fluid over his shaft.  Elrond rocked his body 
slightly, softly begging to be taken, to be made to scream.  
He whispered and sobbed words of worship, of devotion, of 
everlasting love, and each soft word tore another piece of 
Glorfindel's heart from him.  When tonight was over, 
Glorfindel knew there would be nothing left of himself -- 
Elrond would have stripped him of all he hoped, all he 
loved.  All for a fading memory.

But he loved Elrond, and for Elrond he would challenge all, 
change all, rework the past into the present, and offer the 
future.

Twin cries echoed in the room as Glorfindel slid to the 
hilt inside Elrond's tight passage.  He did not wait, did 
not savor the moment of connection he had dreamed of, 
because there was no connection.  Not for Elrond.  He 
withdrew and thrust again, clasping Elrond's hips in a 
painful grip of nails, and continued to recite his lines.  
"You are hot and so tight, melethen," he said, the words 
falling from his lips like white-hot metal.  "Your body 
fits mine perfectly, welcomes me as if we were made for one 
another."

"We are," Elrond replied, slamming himself back onto 
Glorfindel's thickness.  "You are mine as I am yours."

His fingers spasmed with Elrond's words.  They were not to 
*him*; no, they were to a ghost.  "I love you," he grunted 
as he thrust more forcefully into Elrond's body.  And he 
meant the words -- not as the ghostly Elf he played for his 
Lord, but as the Elf-lord of long ago who stared wistfully 
at stormy eyes and raven hair, wishing he could, for one 
night, possess the Half-Elf.

Glorfindel reached under Elrond's body and gripped the 
sticky shaft, stroking it with powerful, sure movements.  
Elrond threw his head back, keening his pleasure to any and 
all who would hear him.  The passage around his sex 
clenched, quivered, and Glorfindel could no longer hold 
himself in check.  He cried his anguish, his loss, in long, 
salty spurts inside his lover, and tears soon fell down his 
cheeks as Elrond's own seed flowed over his hand and the 
name crushed his spirit.

*****

"He will never love you," Erestor warned Lindir.  "He is 
Elrond's bedmate."

Lindir lifted his chin defiantly and glared at Erestor.  
"Just because he is Elrond's bedmate does not mean he 
cannot love me," he said, turning his gaze back to the 
famed Balrog-slayer.  Glorfindel was on the training field 
in a deadly dance with one of his pupils, swords flying and 
instructions called out with each blow landed.

Erestor leaned against the balustrade that Lindir sat upon.  
"No, but there is something, Lindir, something between 
them.  Elrond does not look at him, but I know they share a 
bed.  And there is no light in Glorfindel, no life.  It is 
as if he has died once more."

"I love him, Erestor," Lindir said softly.  "I think I have 
since the moment I came to Elrond's audience chamber and 
saw him there with his gold hair and sapphire eyes -- he is 
almost like the sky and sun."

"Aye," Erestor admitted.  "But, the sun and sky smile down 
upon us.  Glorfindel, though, has never smiled.  Not since 
the night Oropher died."

Lindir looked at Erestor.  "Was he the King's lover?"

"No," Erestor said softly, his eyes still intent on the 
shining figure on the training field.  "Elrond was."

The End