Auguries of Innocence ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author: AC (enkidu@astrochick.com) Series: Folly of Starlight; sequel to "Metamorphosis of the Heart." Website: http://www.ithilas.com/fos.html Synopsis: Glorfindel finds he must finally succumb to the charms and insistence of youth. Pairing: Glorfindel/Elrohir first-time Other characters: Celeborn, Haldir Rating: NC 17 Archive: Only on official list archives Not mine, no harm intended, the sheep are lying through their teeth! Thanks to Emma for the beta job. Dedicated to Evil Marilyn . Pass the straws!!!!!! Comments are always cherished. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour." - William Blake, "Auguries of Innocence" Prologue: [Lairė 1, the year 179 of the Third Age, Lothlorien] The full strength of Anor's midday rays beat down upon the golden wood, a portion sneaking through the dense canopy of mallorn leaves to create shifting crescents of shimmering illumination. A solitary figure forlornly surveyed the tree-defined horizon, a weighty sigh escaping from his pouting lips. Elrohir, son of Elrond, stared out from the airy talan he reluctantly shared with his brother, peering northwest, toward the home he so desperately missed. It had been two passages of Ithil's fullness since his letter should have been received in his homeland, and still naught was heard in reply. The messenger had been charged at his departure to continue westward from Imladris, bringing other words to Lord Cirdan on the shore, and had not yet returned to the land of Amroth's reign. Yet the absence of any party from his home led Elrohir to the sorrowful conclusion that his pleas to cut short his lessons and return to his father's kingdom had fallen upon deaf ears and hard hearts. It grieved him to the quick that one of those very same unsympathetic souls might belong to his secret beloved, the true reason he wished to return to the valley of his birth with the speed of eagles. His sullen wallow in the depths of self-pity was interrupted by the arrival of a familiar face - a most definitely disapproving familiar face - heralded by loud throat clearing. The blond elder elf paused for a moment at the top step of the ladder which led into the center of the talan floor and stared at the younger twin with daggered eyes. Knowing he was most deserving of whatever lecture was to come, Elrohir turned back to his study of the landscape and awaited the inevitable. He had come to like and respect Haldir above all his tutors in Lothlorien, although the elder elf was most certainly cocky and self-assured. Perhaps it was because of these traits that the insecure young elfling sought to bask in the reassuring comfort of another's steadfastness. Haldir was fiercely loyal to his homeland, and respected Elrohir's grandparents with a reverence usually reserved for the true rulers of one's land. More than once they had debated the beauty of Imladris versus that of the Golden Wood. These debates had usually made the twin even more homesick for what - whom - he had left behind against his will. "You were absent from your lessons with Rumil this morn." Elrohir took the chiding in stride. "I saw no purpose in attending," he morosely answered, avoiding the other's gaze. "Is not the lesson itself purpose enough?" The younger elf had no answer, and merely continued his pouting perusal of the horizon. "Your face is as long as the Anduin today," Haldir noted, sauntering over to the railing to stand beside his family's less dutiful pupil. "Need I guess the reason?" Elrohir shrugged. "If it amuses you." Lines of insult crossed the other's face. "Why would the sorrows of another bring me merriment, especially one I call friend?" Haldir tried his best to cajole the youth into a response, yet anyone with eyes could see it would be less difficult to change the temperament of the wind itself. "Where is the fire which once drove you to best your brother and all other students of this realm?" "It was only fueled by my desire to reach the end of the lessons. Now that seems an impossible dream." Exhaling loudly, Elrohir lowered his gaze to the plain wooden floor, the sight of even a patch of sky shared by his home too painful to view for a moment longer. "In what way?" Haldir softly inquired. "Either my father no longer deems my opinions important, or my tutor feels my tutelage is no longer worth his time or effort." "Because you have not heard word from Imladris in reply to your letter as you had hoped." Elrohir chuckled in palpable self-reproach. "My brother's ridicule was painful enough. He deemed me a child for 'begging' father to return us all home. Now I chastise myself for my own foolish hopes." "Your mother understands, does she not?" The younger elf was nearly panicked by the insinuation. "Not in truth! I have never told her of my feelings for my teacher!" "But she sees your unhappiness here. Surely she put in her own word with your father." "Mother would never deign to interfere with my father's wishes where my studies are concerned. She has ever left those choices to my father and Glorfindel." Haldir shook his head, apparently exasperated by the inconsistencies of his young charge's feelings and follies. "I still do not understand why you did not tell Lord Glorfindel of your feelings before you left, or refuse to do so now, in a letter?" The rosy color of the dawn brought heat to the twin's cheeks. "I... cannot. It would be... wrong." "Is Glorfindel bound to another?" Elrohir shook his head, still firmly fixing his gaze toward the floor. "No." "Then why do you deem it wrong?" "He is - was - my teacher." Haldir smirked knowingly. "We are all each other's teachers, Elrohir. Have you not learned from all you have met here in Lothlorien?" Elrohir contemplated that uneasily for a moment. "Yes," he sheepishly admitted. "Have you not learned from everyone in your father's land as well?" "I have." "Then by your own admission you could not dare feel affection for anyone, in any land that you travel." The twin resisted the logic of his friend and tutor. "My father would not approve," he forcefully insisted. Sighing, Haldir nodded slightly to himself. "Your father knows more of the yoke of duty than the wings of love in this age." Elrohir instinctively perked up, sensing some hint of insult in that statement. "You dare to question the love between my parents?" "I mean no offense," the elder elf quickly volleyed. "I merely suggest that your father is old, even compared with many in this land, and he has seen much unhappiness in his long years. I believe he has allowed those sorrows to color his vision of hope for the happiness of others." Haldir smiled secretively, slyly, studying the other's intense storm-hued gaze. "Perhaps I should confide in you as you have in me." "About what?" "The first stirrings of my own heart, centuries ago." Elrohir was intrigued. "You were in love? Who was she - where is she? Why have you not been bound?" A throaty chuckle echoed in ridicule. "Why do you assume I would give my heart to an elf-maiden when you, yourself, have not done so?" Elrohir was astounded. Although he knew Haldir did not hold him in scorn for his love of his own sex, Elrohir had never assumed Haldir would follow in that same path. "I beg your pardon. Who was he? Does he still live?" "That he does indeed," the elder elf acknowledged. He paused, a smirk plying his features. "He is your grandsire." "My grandfather?!" the twin babbled in astonishment. "Lord Celeborn?" "The very same. When I was no older than you are now, he took a great interest in my schooling, as I was the eldest son of his most trusted counselor. I found myself looking forward to our lessons, not only for the stretching of my mind his lessons brought to me, but the fluttering of my heart I felt in his presence and the stirring of my flesh I had to relieve in the secrecy of my room once each lesson was over." Elrohir was utterly dumbfounded by this most unexpected admission. "Did you ever tell him of your feelings?" "Never did I dream of such a thing! As greatly as I fear invoking the wrath of the Valar, I fear the ire of the Lady of Wood far more! You are the first to whom I have admitted the folly of my youth." "You believe my feelings for Glorfindel to be the same?" the younger elf uneasily asked. "That decision is not mine to make. Only you can say whether your feelings be true or no." "My banishment here has left me uncertain of a great deal many things." It was Haldir's turn to find insult. "Banishment? Is that how you see you time among us - as a sentence to be served?" "No offense is meant to my grandsire or the land he now calls home, but if truth be told, yes." "Why would your father 'banish' you, as you call it?" "I do not believe the idea for my brother and I to remain here beyond that first summer was my father's but my tutor's." "Why would Lord Glorfindel suggest such a thing, if he knew it to be against your will?" "I fear he knows of my feelings and wishes the distance between us to quell the foolish fires of my heart." Haldir smirked once more. "Or perhaps it is he who fears." "I do not understand," the younger elf quizzically replied. "Perhaps he fears his own actions, the feelings of his own heart, should you remain long in his presence." A spark of optimism grew brilliant as his grand sire's heavenly ship in the twin's eyes. "Dare I even hope that be true?" "There is only one way to discover the truth, and that must wait until you meet him again, face to face." Elrohir grew morose once more. "That may not be for the passing of many years." With a warm smile of earnest encouragement upon his lips, Haldir warmly clasped the other's shoulder. "Then patience should be your ally. Allow the 'sentence' as you call it to pass, tend to your lessons as your father wishes. When you return to your land, you shall be in the full measure of your years and it shall be your right to proclaim the will of your heart without worry of your father's disapproval." "He will never give up the right to disapprove." Elrohir sighed weightily, peering more forlornly toward the valley which seemed a lifetime away. "If patience will bring me my heart's sole desire, then I will rival the Lady's stars themselves in my steadfastness." His keen elvish vision strained, his hope momentarily wavering, he whispered, "May it not be in vain." Part 1: [Laire 30, called by some Midsummer's Day] The Lord of the Golden Flower and his handful of bowmen rode in silence through the winding, mallorn-lined pathways of Lothlorien. After making the obligatory stop of respect at the legendary tree-top house of Amroth, King of these beauteous lands, the emissaries from Imladris continued onward. Glorfindel rode with mixed emotions, soaring excitement and gloom-filled dread. It had been seven years since he had last seen his favorite pupil, and the memories of their last private moments together seemed as vivid as the very moment of their creation. It was only on the trip from his home that he had finally admitted privately that he had been deluding himself in thinking he could resist his own illicit desires, and those he suspected the young son of his lord still harbored in return. Yet with each day's journey closer to Lothlorien he felt less confident still. His departure from Imladris had been delayed for the passage of Ithil's phases. On the eve of his party's planned leave-taking an unexpected spring storm had caused significant damage to tree and stone. Glorfindel had offered to delay his departure to aid in the repairs. He had assured Elrond that this was a more pressing issue than his review of the twins' lessons. It was a convenient excuse, to be sure, but such things had become the most faithful of friends, of late. The closer the time to his true departure drew, the more uneasy he became. Long gone was the cocksure attitude of unflappable control. Celeborn welcomed the party with sweet miruvor and sweeter words, eager to hear of the happenings in Elrond's home. It had been many years since Glorfindel had been a visitor in this realm and he wondered at the home Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel had made in these magnificent woods. A particular item of decoration caught his eye, a stunning likeness of Lady Celebrian, lovingly painted upon a stretched canvas, covered one wall of the Lord's private chamber. "You admire the handiwork of my daughter's younger son," Celeborn proudly noted. Glorfindel was visibly stunned. "Elrohir rendered this work of art?" Celeborn nodded. "He has found a talent with paints which none knew he possessed." He sighed deeply. "These days it is the only thing which seems to bring joy to his heart. He pours his passion into his art and abandons his lessons." Glorfindel privately wondered what passions motivated him. He grew thrilled with the prospect that it was the tension of their mutual, unresolved desire which fueled the strokes of his brush. A flutter of anticipation trilled through his stomach at the thought of other strokes he suspected would be equally as masterful. "The twins neglect their lessons? Lord Elrond will be less than pleased." "'Tis only Elrohir who fails to meet his tutors' expectations," Celeborn explained, "and I have given them both the very best of our younger teachers as their own." A tall, blond elf, obviously of Woodland blood, entered the room at a brisk pace, then stopped guiltily in his tracks as he realized Celeborn was not alone. "I beg your pardon, my Lord, for this unexpected interruption." "'Tis no interruption," Celeborn assured him. "Your timing is perfection itself, Halmir. This is Glorfindel, emissary from Lord Elrond, who has arrived to inquire on the progress of the twins' education in our land." Halmir bowed deeply in the direction of the ancient elf. "You honor us with your presence, Lord Glorfindel. Your deeds of bravery are legendary and legion." "I well appreciate your flattery, but 'tis not the past which concerns us now," Glorfindel suggested. "You appeared to have business with Lord Celeborn when you arrived. Do not allow me to keep you from that task." Halmir looked uneasy for a moment, hesitating before he spoke. "In fact it is the twins who concern me at this moment." "The twins, or one half of their number?" Glorfindel probed. "You may speak freely and honestly," Celeborn suggested, sensing his aid's understandable discomfort. "Lord Glorfindel has already learned that the boys are not alike in their enthusiasm for their lessons, as of late." "Lord Elrond has sent me here to see if his sons are ready to return home - if their lessons are well-learned and completed," Glorfindel explained. "How can I do my duty if you hold back information from me in the name of good manners? Halmir appeared to relax instantly. "My heart finds no joy in the fact that you seek the truth, because that I must now reluctantly give to you. The twins have been tutored by my own sons, and they are united in their opinion that Elrohir is - distracted. It is clear his heart lies elsewhere than his studies." A deep scowl drew storm clouds across the blond lord's face. "That troubles me indeed - he has ever been the more apt pupil in my experience." "'Tis not a matter of talent, but intention." "Tell us of Elladan," Glorfindel interjected, desperately hoping to find some explanation for Elrohir's distraction besides the all too obvious, and equally uncomfortable, explanation. Halmir smiled slightly. "His heart lies whenever he can prove his prowess with a bow, although his brother is clearly his better, when Elrohir's mind is in his lessons." He sighed again. "No, the only lesson Elrohir has learned here is loneliness, I fear." "He has no friends? None to whom he confides?" "Haldir, my eldest, seems to have caught his ear, as much as anyone can, it seems." Glorfindel nodded slowly in thought. "Then I would speak to Haldir myself, to hear details of Elrohir's lack of focus, before I speak to the twins themselves." "As you wish, my lord. I will send for him immediately." The woodland elf bowed once more, then turned and left on swift feet. Glorfindel scrunched his brow and stared at the painting once more. "I am gravely concerned. Perhaps it was a mistake to leave the boys here for so long." "No harm has been done to them," Celeborn assured Glorfindel. "But valuable time has been wasted." "Who is to say if the time has been wasted or not? Elrohir's prowess with a bow is as finely honed as his brother's, when his focus is sharp." Glorfindel was not placated in the least. "We both know that a lack of focus can send one to Mandos' care with the swiftness of Manwe's eagles." A slight hint of a smile softened Celeborn's expression. He understood Glorfindel's concerns better than most. Refugee of Doriath, refugee of Gondolin - they were not very different, despite the relative distance of their bloodlines. "We are not on the field of battle, my friend," Celeborn comforted, placing a gently hand on the other's shoulder from behind. "Elrohir knows the difference between a woodland sanctuary and an open mountain pass. He will not make a mistake which will end his life, or that of another, because he is homesick. His time among us has allowed him to grow into his own true self - that is a lesson of great value in itself, is it not?" Glorfindel wondered what manner of "self" that might be. Unexpectedly, he began to doubt his former student's feelings for himself. Perhaps he had misread Elrohir's written plea to return home. Perhaps when they met face to face after all this time Elrohir would be a stranger to him, or worse, admit that the feelings which they had not allowed to be expressed, but could not completely hide, had been a mistake, an illusion. <> This was surely no longer the coltish boy who had shyly gifted upon him the river-polished stone he surreptitiously wore around his neck every day since its reception. Although he had certainly not yet reached his majority in the numbering of the passage of summers, Glorfindel wondered if Elrohir had reached the maturation of his heart. Another citizen of this realm, one who bore an obvious resemblance to Halmir, entered the room and bowed respectfully. "My lord, I was told a visitor from Imladris wishes to speak to me of the twins' lessons?" His eyes surveyed Glorfindel with noticeable suspicion. Celeborn gestured for the new arrival to freely enter into the chamber. "Haldir, this is Lord Glorfindel of Imladris. His name is of course known to you. I will leave you both to speak in private." With that he silently slid from the room. Haldir lowered his eyes to the floor and deeply bowed with great flourish to the visitor. "Indeed. 'Tis an honor to stand in your presence, my lord." "The honor 'tis mine, son of Halmir," Glorfindel replied with a slight bow in return. "I hear you have taken my place, in a manner of speaking, as lead tutor of Lord Elrond's sons." "I am but a poor substitution, my lord," the younger elf deferentially remarked. The briefest twitch of a smirk ghosted his lips, but was caught before it blossomed into obviousness. "At least in the mind of one of my charges," he purposefully suggested. As Haldir hoped, Glorfindel was instantly hooked by his verbal bait. "You speak of Elrohir, I presume?" "I mean no offense to him, not to suggest he is somehow lacking in ability. But he is - well, if truth be told, he has missed more lessons of late than he has attended." The earlier scowl of the ancient elf's face returned in force, even deeper and more severe. "Do you know how he passes his time, when he is supposed to be in training with you and your kin?" "That I know full well, 'though I believe I am the only one who does." "So your father was correct to say that you have caught the twins' ears." "In some manner of speaking. Elrohir desires privacy to a degree which he has found difficult to find within Caras Galadon. Thus shortly after arriving he followed the custom of Amroth and created a talan for himself beyond the Great Gates, just across from the fountain stream." Glorfindel's interest was obviously piqued. "I would see this hideaway of my student's. I must learn more of his state of mind before I speak with him." Haldir nodded. "I can direct you to it without difficulty." Hesitation was obvious in the other's demeanor. "I would see it without my student's presence, of course. He is not there now?" The woodland elf turned his back on the elf lord and started toward the door, unable to contain his smug expression. "I know for a fact he is not there at this time, my lord." <> "He practices sword work with my brother Rumil." "Then let us make haste," Glorfindel eagerly exclaimed, following the retreating elf with a fluttering heart. Part 2: Glorfindel and Haldir stopped their trek at the near side of the fountain stream, in a clearing amid those magnificent golden mallorn trees which Galadriel had introduced to this land many centuries before. "There, just beyond the far side of the stream, straight through that clump of trees you will find the talan," Haldir directed with raised hand. "He has hidden it well, atop a tree which you will know by a secret symbol carved on the trunk, just above a small knot. The ladder may be released by pulling a slender rope hidden among the branches." Haldir stepped aside and smiled. "I hope you find the answers you seek, my lord," he earnestly offered, delighting in the double meaning he alone secretive knew. While Haldir silently left Glorfindel to his self-appointed task, the elf lord stood motionless on the stream shore, the thought that he might find answers he did not wish to find momentarily freezing his feet to the ground below. It took a few moments of steeling breaths to bolster his resolve, and finally the elf carefully bounded across the narrow stream, dancing from flat rock to flat rock with the wild rush of his blood furiously pumping through his ears. As Haldir had directed, the proper tree could be easily enough identified by knowing eyes, Glorfindel's fingers slowly tracing out the small tengwar runes carefully carved in the bark. Not the owner's name, but a simple declaration - "mine". Glancing upward, keen elvish eyes soon enough spied the slender, silver rope which blended seamlessly with the tree branches just above his head. With hesitant fingers he grasped the slim cord and tugged gently. His action was rewarded with the downward cascade of a willowy ladder made of the strongest elvish rope. Sucking in a deep breath, he ascended the braided steps, climbing several dozen feet into the thick canopy of the tree. Just above a wide "v" in the branches he reached the bottom of the platform and slid effortlessly through the narrow doorway, emerging in to a darkened chamber. It took his eyes a moment to adapt to the unnatural nighttime, his lips parting in silent wonder as he realized just how correct his initial comparison truly was. Unlike many of the talans Glorfindel had seen in this land, this was far from the airy dwelling meant to make the most of the light of both Anor and Ithil and the gentle wafting breezes of the forest. No, this was a retreat, a representation of another place and time, meant to transport the occupant as far from Lothlorien as possible. Tiny stars painted in glittering silver faithfully represented the Lady's handiwork across the cloth ceiling of the talan. As his eyes adapted further to the minimal illumination, Glorfindel could make out murals on the four tapestry-like walls which surrounded him. <> he wondered in his amazement. During his seven years "exile", the youth had not only taken up painting as a pastime, he had honed it to a craft surely worthy of display in grand halls. His heart swelled with pride as he studied each careful rendition in turn. Springtime in the valley of Imladris, the twin's much-missed home, appeared complete with budding leaves and nesting birds. Next appeared the first flight of Earendil above the world, Vingelot's jeweled wings sprinkled with real gold dust. Glorfindel smiled to himself. His exalted grandsire's triumphant journey West to the Blessed Lands had been one of the youth's favorite stories while still in the nursery. Following the flow of the walls, Glorfindel found his eyes greeting another of his pupil's most beloved tales rendered in lifelike images - Beren at the gates of Angband with Luthien at his side, silmaril in hand, facing down the mighty wolf Carcharoth. But it was the third carefully crafted panel which sucked the very breath from his breast. Glorfindel stared into his own face, sword raised defiantly over his head, placing himself between the terrible flame beast of Morgoth who openly threatened the fleeing refugees from Gondolin. Every detail was exquisite, perfect, drawn from the artist's memory of countless retellings of Glorfindel's fall as spoken by the elf lord himself. So lost was he in his stunned survey of his own image that he did not catch the soft, stealthy rise of another up the ladder behind him. A gasp of surprise caught him unawares, and Glorfindel spun around to face a most astonished, well beloved, and long- missed face. "Glorfindel," Elrohir managed to whisper, standing but a few steps from his teacher with widened eyes. The elf lord found his tongue stilled in silent wonder at the veritable vision of elven perfection which now confronted him. Gone was the gangly, awkward shyness he had once found so endearing, now replaced with the more confident, smoldering sensuality of an elf youth approaching his prime. His shoulders had widened, toned by the many hours of archery and swordplay his tutors had obviously demanded of him. Whereas before Glorfindel once had to look downward to meet the youth's gaze, now they stood head to head, eye to eye, equals in height. <> the elf lord silently thought. Yes, Elrohir had most definitely blossomed into the full springtime of his years during his time away from home. Despite the fact that by the measure of his years Elrohir was not truly into his majority, Glorfindel had no doubts that what faced him now was not the child he had once known. The ancient elf lord smiled warmly, gesturing at the paintings which surrounded them. "I never knew you had such talent with a brush," he softly offered. Elrohir dared a step closer, shrugging slightly. "'Tis nothing special." "No, you are wrong, pen-neth. They are magnificent. <> Glorfindel sucked in a quick breath as a sliver of errant sunlight strayed through the seams of the talan, striking the twin's angular face. The beauty of both his parents could be found residing there, darkness and light, sorrow and hope, intermingled yet turned into something greater than merely the sum of its parts. Glorfindel curled his fingers into his palm, aching to reach out and stroke the high cheekbones, caress the bow-shaped lips, tangle through the rich, dark mane of silk-textured hair. "You flatter me, pen-iaur," the younger elf easily volleyed in return, also slipping back into the usage of pet names without hesitation. He took one more step closer to Glorfindel, smiling slightly to himself at the expression of obvious and unbridled longing on the other's face. He realized that Haldir's advice had keenly hit its mark - Glorfindel did indeed fear the feelings of his own heart. Knowing well the magic of this moment would pass away forever unless he grasped it firmly within his hands, Elrohir did that which he had only dreamed of, nearly every night of these seven long years. Stretching out a hand, he hesitantly stroked the back of his fingers along the side of the other's cheek, marveling at how his former teacher trembled under his touch. Encouraged, he grew more bold still, rotating his hand to trace his fingertips down along the edge of the other's face, stopping to cup the noble chin between thumb and forefinger. "Now 'tis I who must flatter you," he huskily whispered, and with that he leaned forward and claimed those lips he had so desperately longed to taste. A shiver of incredulous thanks rippled through the entirety of Glorfindel's flesh, all his guilt-filled dreams now melted into a blameless reality more delicious than he had ever dared to hope. This was not his pupil, his ward, a child he had known from the moment of birth, as he had his grandsire before him. No, this was a prince of noble blood, the noblest of Middle-earth that yet remained, ripe in the richness of his skills and hope for the future, unjaded by the evils and injuries of the past. He was beautiful beyond the ability of mere song to express or paint to preserve, both of face and of heart. <> With a sigh of relief washing away years of self-reproach, the lord of the golden flower melted into the fullness of the other's deepening embrace, his desire now reaching its fullest bloom. Part 3: Without warning, Glorfindel froze for a moment, all his thoughts of guilt -- of shame -- flooding back through him with the ferocity of the Bruinen's falls. Elrohir instantly felt the sudden change in his beloved's demeanor and reluctantly released him from his grasp. Unwilling to succumb to the bitterness of defeat without waging the battle of his young life, Elrohir took a step backward and began slowly untying the fastenings of his tunic. As he had hoped, Glorfindel watched with rapt attention. "If you wish, you may leave now," the younger elf huskily spoke, sliding his tunic from his chest and allowing it to slide from his fingers onto the floor. His thin shirt soon followed suit, leaving Elrohir unveiled above his waist. "All you need do is turn and walk away and we shall never speak of this again." With his eyes aflame with the passion so long denied them both, the twin locked gazes with his greatest desire and carefully unlaced the top of his uncomfortably bulged leggings. "All I ask is that you carefully consider what you deny yourself - us both - for no good reason." With one fluid motion he dropped his leggings to the floor, standing naked to the world save for his boots and the puddle of cloth at his feet. "Look at me and tell me that you do not desire me this moment as much as I do you." Glorfindel stood speechless, lost in the vision of splendor laid bare before him. It was what he most desperately desired above all else, pleasures more splendid than the Blessed Lands themselves, literally within his grasp. He knew that whatever lies and travesties his mouth might manage to utter, his eyes would betray him in the end. He had been captured at last, and he had no desire to be set free. If he was to be damned for the pure love he knew to be true between them, so be it. He would gladly accept his punishment, no matter if it be a swift return to Mandos' Halls themselves, for a single taste of the sweet flesh exposed to his eager eyes at this moment. "I desire you as I have nothing in all the ages of this world, not even release from the Timeless Halls." With a tremulous hand, he reached out and stroked the other's smooth chest, lingering in a light brushing against the sensitive twin pebbles of flesh displayed prominently there. "Am I as you imagined?" Elrohir whispered within a groan of pleasure, his fingertips lightly dancing upon the other's still clothed upper arms. "Nay, you are more beautiful still," Glorfindel whispered in a trembling voice. "By the Valar, I must taste you now, or I will certainly go mad." He gradually lowered himself with bent knees, lowering his mouth to tease one of those rosy morsels, then the other, delighting in the joyous squirming which became his instant reward. Further his mouth trailed down along the flat, slightly muscled plane of the youth's stomach, his hands slithering down to cup the youth's fleshy globes from behind. He stroked the slightly ticklish, downy skin, then halted in an unwelcome flash of conscious thought. With the greatest reluctance, he slid his hands away from that sweetest temptation, knowing he must not dare even think of touching the youth in that way. <> he sadly thought. Instead lowering his hands to the backs of the other's thighs, he sank completely to his knees, his face now poised to worship the other's magnificence. He tenderly kissed the tip of the turgid flesh, rewarded by a throaty moan which reverberated through him, settling just below his own waist. With thumb and forefinger he carefully pushed back the skin cloak, unveiling the glistening flesh for his delight. Orbiting his tongue along the circumference of the ridged crown, he finally consumed the entirety of the other in one tortuously languid oral stroke. Strong hands supported the younger elf from below, wrapping around his waist to keep him from swaying too much in the mindlessness of his ecstasy. His hips bucked naturally in time with Glorfindel's masterful oral ministrations, and before the passing of many minutes the twin emptied himself with a sharp cry and spasmed-wracked thrust. Once he was sure the other was mindful of his surroundings and had found his legs again, Glorfindel removed the twin's boots and freed his legs from the puddle of leggings at his ankles. Standing in silence, he slid his tunic from his own body and arranged the growing pile of clothing upon the floor as best he could, then bade the younger elf to lie upon them. Elrohir did as he was instructed, catching his breath as best he could, watching in rapt fascination and anticipation as the other removed the remainder of his clothing. His eyes grew wide, his smile reacting in kind, upon seeing a familiar stone resting snuggly against the other's chest. "You kept my gift," he whispered in utter surprise. "Not only kept it, it has never left my flesh since the moment you placed it there," Glorfindel huskily answered. Shedding his boots with all haste, he stripped off his leggings and stood before his beloved in all his natural glory. "Am *I* as *you* have imagined?" Glorfindel teased affectionately. Elrohir stared at his former teacher, making visual memorization of every well-honed sinew, each ghost of a scar and slight imperfection in that most precious and long-desired figure. He surreptitiously glanced at the rendition of Gondolin's fall he had carefully painted upon the wall of his private retreat and was reminded of all his lover had endured in the passing of the ages. "I would kiss away every pain you have ever suffered," he lyrically purred, "lick away every hint of injury from your skin." Glorfindel smiled slightly. "That would take the passage of some time, pen-neth," "And I shall enjoy each moment more than the last." With outstretched hand he dragged Glorfindel to the floor, then rolled the other beneath him and set to work on his self- appointed sensual task. He began with his lover's string hand, his lips painting kisses across the palm with fleeting brushstrokes. Next his tongue laved spiral paths along each finger in turn, paying special mind to any calluses found there. He planted pert, pecked kisses along the strong sinews of the wrist, then trailed his tongue up the slightly ticklish interior of the other's bow-strengthened forearm. He briefly supped at the welcoming lips, then moved his mouth along the throbbing trail of his lover's jugular down toward the crook of his shoulder. He was like a hummingbird, taking a taste of each morsel of flesh, then darting off to delight in the taste and texture of the next bit of honey from this, his own personal golden flower. Determined to prove he was, as ever, Glorfindel's most dutiful pupil, Elrohir paid mindful homage to the tiny pert swells in the muscle-waved sea of his beloved's chest. Kisses, nibbles, and languid laps of his tongue soon covered the entirety of Glorfindel's entire torso, the elder elf moaning his enthusiastic approval. Hesitation overtook him for the briefest of moments when faced for the first time with the weeping steel of his lover's need, dreading above all else the possibility that he might disappoint in the clumsiness of his inexperience. As if in psychic understanding, Glorfindel wrapped a hand through the other's hair and tenderly caressed the back of his neck in encouragement. "Any touch by you is far greater bliss than a single glimpse of the Blessed Lands, meleth-nin. Touch me as you would yourself, or shower me with a rain of your most tender kisses. You bring me flames of pleasure unquenchable whatever route you take." Feeling the serpentine coil of sensual urgency constrict within himself, Elrohir bathed the other's most private regions in a flurry of circuitous oral explorations, his lack of experience more than counterweighted by his love-driven enthusiasm. Before long Glorfindel was breathlessly begging for mercy, then shuddered his sobbing release into the warm, wanton welcome of his lover's mouth. Part 4: They lay entwined upon their makeshift bed of discarded clothing and superfluous guilt, Elrohir's head resting upon the elder elf's chest. Glorfindel tenderly stroked his hair, utterly lost in the bliss of the moment. He winged a prayer of thanks to the Lady of the Night, expressing his boundless appreciation for allowing him this happiness, no matter how brief. Day leisurely turned into dusk as they lay there, basking in the warmth and comfort of this long-anticipated reunion. Elrohir's breathing grew slow, shallow, settling into the rhythm of one lost in the serenity of dreams. Glorfindel smiled to himself, pressed his lips into the unruly dark tangle of the other's hair and released a weighty sigh. "Meleth-nin," he whispered, opening his heart in a way he had never believed he would be able to do. "Hir-i-gur-nin, min thenid meleth-nin" He did not sense the hint of a smile curling up on the other's face in secret, only the stretch and slight purr of a sigh which seemed to herald what he presumed was the other's return to the wakeful world. Elrohir raised his head from its flesh pillow and caught his lover's heavy-lidded stare. "So, 'twas not a dream," he lyrically whispered. Glorfindel brushed an errant wisp of hair from the other's face, tucking it safely behind one delicately pointed ear. "Only if Irmo allows dreams such as these to be shared," he whispered in return, pressing a tender kiss upon the high, lineless forehead. With the greatest of sorrows, he shifted under his lover's prone form, rousing the other to sit up beside him. "We must leave, pen-neth," he sadly spoke, his eyes gesturing upward to where a hint of Ithil's hue pierced through the talan's walls. "Why?" Elrohir morosely asked, tracing a single finger along the other's bottom lip. An intimation of a sad smile creased the elf lord's mouth. "Because no one must ever know of this, least of all your brother. We both know his tongue is not to be trusted to keep still, especially with your father." With reluctant understanding Elrohir rose to his feet and scooped his shirt off the floor. He watched with a lamenting expression while Glorfindel collected his own garb from the floor and began to dress. "Will we share moments such as these ever again?" Sensing the disappointment and insecurity in his lover's voice, Glorfindel halted his dressing for a moment and collected the other's face gently in his hands. He pressed reverent kisses upon his lover's forehead and nose, then lingered in a sweet, slightly tongued kiss to his lips. Releasing that most delicious of mouths, he forced a comforting smile to his own lips. "So long as we keep this between us. My defenses have proven your inferior. I can no more deny myself a taste of your charms than I can refuse an order from my lord." They completed their dressing in comfortable silence, sharing a final, promissory kiss. "I shall leave first," Glorfindel explained. "Wait a short while, then return to your quarters. None shall be the wiser." Flashing his lover one last kiss, he turned away and started down the rope ladder toward the ground. "Did you speak the truth?" Glorfindel halted and looked up through the doorway at the other's questioning face. "What do you mean?" "Have you spoken the truth to me this night?" "Yes, of course," Glorfindel quickly affirmed, still confused. "You would believe me to lie to you, especially in moments as sacred as these?" Elrohir smiled confidently at him. "No, I would not. Forgive my foolish questions. I shall see you in my grandfather's chambers when I am properly summoned." He watched Glorfindel descend out of sight, all the while smiling to himself. <