Title: Dance With Me
Author: Hare (hareatic@yahoo.com)
Parts 13/13
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, never will be. 
Timeline: This is a flashback story from Lindon-Second Age to 
Gondolin-First Age, and back again – many, many times. 
Warnings: Very explicit sexual scenes, angst, rape.
Beta: Ophelialaughs
Summary: Follow the journey of one elf as he searches for love and 
hope throughout his uncommonly common long life.

Lindon - Second Age
It was as though a fog lifted from his life. Lord Elrond, it seemed, 
always knew he was a refugee from Gondolin. An elf, which Elrond 
refused to name, had recognized Erestor and quietly passed on the 
information to his lord. At the end of their conversation Elrond 
released him from his promise, but it was the last words Elrond spoke 
which echoed in his mind.

*Sometimes there are no answers to the circumstances of our life. 
Not all is Valar guided and not all is luck. Sometimes what is is, and 
we must be content. That you came to me out of a need to fulfill a 
duty establishes that I am blessed. It is my sincere hope that you will 
agree to stay here not out of duty but out of desire to continue our 
friendship. We are ever that, Erestor, and I would be loath to lose it. 
Now tell me about Glorfindel and the nature of your relationship with 
him during your time in Gondolin.*

So desperate was he to speak of his life in Gondolin, Erestor rambled 
into the wee hours of the morning, confessing all to Elrond and 
voicing, for the first time in an age, words to describe his love for 
Glorfindel. 

This morn he felt that his fëa shone as brightly as Anor, which was 
currently blinding him as he lazed in bed reveling in a rare but 
welcomed three days free from work duties. Three days to rectify his 
life such a short time to make amends and work towards a brighter 
future with the three elves who meant so much to him. 

Slowly but methodically he planned out his first day. He pulled his 
long hair back into a severe braid and put on his black robe with a 
subdued brushed gold tunic and leggings hidden beneath. Erestor 
stared long at himself in the mirror. His skin no longer pale. His eyes 
no longer puffy. His face no longer drawn and gaunt. And then, 
hesitantly, he allowed the corners of his mouth to turn upward until a 
full tooth-filled smile reflected back at him. He stood there for a long 
while admiring the sight and only reluctantly relinquished his smile as 
the muscles of his face sang their displeasure. It was a position they 
had long forgotten.   

After gathering the contents of his closet, he strode the short distance 
to the rooms his sons occupied. It was early yet, so he was sure they 
had not left for school. His stomach fluttered its nervousness and his 
limbs shook as he maneuvered his load to free one hand to knock. 
Hearing movement within, Erestor stepped back a pace. His heart 
pounded and his throat constricted, but he managed a smile when 
Faelon, disheveled and harassed-looking, threw open the door. 

Faelon stopped dead and Erestor saw panic seize him as his eyes 
rolled revealing their white. Nervously he addressed his father. 

“Adar. I..I..um, have we forgotten an appointment with you?”

Erestor’s smile faltered a bit. “What idiot Adar would require an 
appointment to see his sons?” He smiled wider.

When Erestor realized his son was struck dumb he tried a simpler 
question to draw Faelon out. “Is Figwit here also?”

“Yes Adar.”

“Good! May I please come in?” 

Faelon hesitantly nodded and moved to allow entrance. Figwit stood 
just inside the door, still and rigid, as he warily watched Erestor enter 
their rooms. 

Erestor glanced around curiously. Just as Glorfindel said, books and 
bottles cluttered the shelves and tables. This room was a disaster. 
His grin expanded. He knew that his sons took after him in their 
slovenliness.

He turned to face his children and his mood darkened a bit. They 
stood as far from him as possible in this confined space, and their 
faces expressed mistrust. It would take years to change this, but they 
were elves and for once time was his ally. His children deserved 
more than he gave them. Glorfindel was right to bring attention to his 
negligence, for his children still lived while Glorfindel’s daughters had 
been ripped violently from his life. 

Shifting his burden once more, he forged on with his plan. He 
dropped his smile as it seemed to truly upset his sons, and decided 
upon a more mild approach. Jolly was not how he should appear, but 
repentant or sorrowful, for he was filled with both. His beautiful sons 
so close to their sixty-year majority, and for that entire time he was 
merely a ghostly presence barely available to them, and when he 
was, his attendance frightened them. 

“I know, my sons, that my visit is unexpected. I will not force you to 
follow me, but I would be most pleased if you spend this day with me. 
We have much to discuss. Will you follow me?”

Erestor tried to convey his sincerity in this offer by facing them fully 
and hoping his love would shine through. But his words echoed 
hollow in the room, and the silence stretched and tightened the 
tension flowing between the three of them. 

Sighing, Erestor set down his bundle and walked toward Figwit and 
Faelon. Both cringed slightly and took a tentative step backwards 
until their backs were pressed against the wall. They appeared as 
young colts facing a deadly predator.  

Not allowing their fear to detract him from his purpose, he reached 
out and took hold of Figwit’s hand then fumbled awkwardly for 
Faelon’s who had bunched both hands behind his back. Erestor 
commanded their attention and was touching his children for the first 
time in many years. He ran a thumb softly around each hand 
attempting to sooth their fright, marveling in the soft skin. He looked 
down at these hands, strong yet nervous Figwit’s stained blue with 
writing ink and Faelon’s also stained but with a rainbow of shades, an 
obvious result of coloring his candles.   

“My sons,” he whispered. These beautiful terrified creatures were his. 
He had created them. Rare were the gifts in his life, and it was time 
to treat these precious elflings as the gifts they had always been. 

“Come.” Not a command but a plea. He gently tugged until they each 
took a tentative step forward, and then another, and then another. 
When he was confident they would continue their march, he 
reluctantly dropped their hands and gathered his clothing. 

Out into the cold brisk day they walked, until they came upon a patch 
of land barren yet striking for its view of the vast sea. A high bluff 
where the wind whipped and battered them until Erestor led them to 
a natural rocky outcropping, which provided some protection. He 
dropped his burden and sat hard upon the ground gesturing to his 
sons to join him. They did, and actually sat closer to him than he 
would have dared hope. Curiosity, he could see, now outweighed 
their fear.  

He gathered an ample supply of dried plants from around him then 
reached into his pocket and withdrew a tinder box. Erestor quickly 
formed the kindling into a small pile and placed the charred linen on 
top. The fire-steel and flint quickly created a spark which was 
captured by the linen, and a small fire soon burned. He reached for 
his first black robe and began to methodically tear it into small strips 
which he fed into the fire. 

“I never did care for these robes, especially the color, and today 
seemed a perfect day for disposing of them.” He smiled again at his 
sons whose eyes were as wide and round as the full moon which 
would shine this night. 

Soon a large fire raged as black robe after black robe caught and 
burned. Erestor was careful to keep several back as he needed the 
fire to warm them for as long as their conversation would last. 

He swallowed nervously and began. “Today is for you, my sons. 
Every one of my days from this moment forward shall be for you, if 
you so desire.” He hesitated. There was so much to say, so much to 
make up, and he was at a loss where to start. He looked at them 
both, helpless, unable to go on. 

Figwit took the next step.

“Speak Adar. Speak of whatever you shall and we will listen. Already 
this last hour has been a boon to me, and I need more. Please 
continue.”

Faelon nodded his agreement never taking his eyes off Erestor.  

“I am so very sorry ---.”

“Nay, Adar! Nay! No apologies. Not yet, not now. Please there are so 
many things we need to hear, but not that,” Faelon interrupted.

“As you wish, but first I beg you to listen to my warning, for it involves 
our kin and the curse we carry.”

Erestor’s voice dripped with discomfiture and he wrung his hands.

“We are afflicted with a madness my sons, and you must be on guard 
for it! You must be diligent in looking for the signs. This madness 
brings death and destruction and untold heartache, and I was only 
able to end mine by facing my past. If I had not, then my range of 
subversion would have known no boundaries. If not for the 
reappearance of Glorfindel I would have destroyed all of us!”

“Adar, you are not deranged! What is this confusing madness you 
speak of?”

A faraway look blanked Erestor’s eyes and he was lost in his 
thoughts but continued. 

“When the Eldar left Middle Earth for Valinor, our kin decided to stay. 
We are dark elves. Our connection with this land was too strong and 
the pull of Valinor weak. My Adar was especially tied to Middle Earth, 
and he confided in me once that the very thought of leaving made 
him infinitely sad. I remember this confidence for the very reason that 
it was so rare. He was a hard and sullen elf, prone to fits of 
depression and introspection. From my earliest recollections I 
remember spying on him as he walked the woods speaking to only 
himself, and yet for all his strangeness he was able to attract as 
mates two ellith. The first felt the call of Valinor and departed with her 
kin leaving my Adar and her only child, my brother, behind. Years 
later he met and married my Naneth, who was much younger than 
my brother, and I was born.”

“From the start, I adored and idolized my older brother. Like you, we 
were extremely close to one another. He nurtured my love of the 
woods and all the wonders of nature. I would sit for hours and listen 
to him speak on a rich assortment of topics. He was learned in ways 
other elves were not, for he was a friend of dwarves and spent many 
years with them learning their ways. He filled my mind with awe and 
instilled in me a desire for learning. I loved him with all my heart and 
fëa and would have died for him that is how precious our love was. 
Our Adar, with no warning, disappeared one day and my brother’s 
importance in my life increased exponentially.”  
 
“We were never apart, and he could do no wrong in my eyes. If ever 
anyone dared to speak harshly of him in my presence, I would 
rebuke them immediately, demanding of them evidence or a swift 
apology for their words.”   
 
“It was not until years later that I realized it might be I who was 
blinded to some evil nature which guided my brother. I fought that 
notion however, and continued to defend him with all my might until 
one day I saw my Naneth in a discussion with him. The fear on her 
face haunts me to this day. Though I could not hear their words it 
was obvious that my brother was threatening her. His face was 
intense, and the hatred written upon it powerfully communicated his 
intent. From that day forward I covertly watched him when he was 
unaware of my presence and a very different picture of my brother 
emerged. Where he was kind and gentle with me he was harsh and 
cruel to all others.”  
 
“The day came when we heard of the return of a large group of elves. 
They had come back to Middle Earth from Valinor. My Naneth was 
anxious to leave the woods and though she did not speak it, I knew 
she wanted to be well away from my brother.”  
 
 
Figwit, unable to contain his curiosity interrupted, “Who is your 
brother, Adar, and where is he?”   
 
Erestor licked his lips nervously and swallowed noticeably.

“Eöl.” 
 
His sons inhaled sharply and immediately paled at the mention of the 
accursed name.  

“Beyond the history you both know of Eöl, I fear, he murdered both 
my Adar and Naneth, and though I have no evidence for such a 
statement it seems clear. Mere coincidence cannot explain the 
mysterious disappearance of both parents.” 
 
“As poorly as you have thought of me before this day my behavior 
now pales when compared to the truth of the matter. You see, it was 
within my power to stop your cousin Maeglin. When my brother was 
dragged through the streets of Gondolin he warned us all of the evil 
within Maeglin’s heart, and we did not listen. Everyone believed 
those warnings to be the ravings of a lunatic, but I alone knew better. 
I knew that whatever madness plagued Eöl had not rendered him a 
dolt, for he clearly was quite mad throughout the entire time I knew 
him, and at the same time quite brilliant. He spoke the truth, but I 
failed to act because of my embarrassment. It was my demented 
brother who had murdered the high king’s sister, and my pride would 
not allow me to step forward and admit my relation for I had secured 
a prominent place, one with some authority and that mattered more 
to me than the safety of our city. Self-glorification clouded my 
judgment, and I did nothing to prevent the destruction from continuing 
and thousands died! Thousands! I contributed to the shame that 
continues to follow our family. “ 
 
Erestor crawled to his sons, grabbing their hands once more.  
 
“You must guard against this madness. Promise me now! Promise 
me! At the first sign you will come to me and we will seek help from 
Lord Elrond.”  
 
Both Figwit and Faelon nodded their heads in the affirmative. Faelon 
bravely squeezed Erestor hand as he replied.    
 
“You must not fret so. We promise.” 
 
Erestor, released his sons, sat back, shredded a bit more from 
another robe and fed the fire.  
 
“I ask one more promise from you my sons. Speak of our relatives to 
no one. I know that when you have secured love you will be tempted. 
You will want to trust but you must both fight this temptation as you 
would fight the madness. It is my opinion that honesty in this matter 
would bring hard times to you both, and I would not have you suffer 
any more than you already have.” 
 
“This is a grave promise you ask of us. Would you have us lie to 
those we love?”  
 
“Nay, not lie, but omit. I know this is a difficult thing to ask.”

“How do you know this is difficult Adar?”

“I have loved only one in this long lifetime, though sadly I must 
confess it was not your Naneth, and I never spoke of this with my 
love. Your Naneth,” Erestor smiled, “with her, I could have been 
honest about our relatives because she would not have heard of any 
of them. She was human. You are peredhel my sons, blessed with 
the tendencies of both races. I will tell you all I know of her even 
though we spent only a short time together.”

This revelation seemed not to shock his sons as neither reacted to 
his proclamation of their heritage, but merely continued with their 
questioning. 

“Does she still live?”

“Nay my loves, she passed from this existence many years ago.”

“How did she die?”

Erestor sidled up close to his sons. 

“Giving birth to twins is very difficult even when a healer is present. 
She fell into labor so quickly there was no time to fetch the midwife.”

Horror filled Figwit’s face as he heard Erestor’s words. “She died 
birthing us?” 

Desperation laced his voice as Faelon shouted. “Nay! I do not want 
to hear about her death. Please, Adar. Tell us about her life. How did 
she live?” 

Erestor reached for his son’s hands once more, soothing them as 
best he could. 

“We met on a road leading to Gondor. At odds with my life, I was set 
adrift and heading towards no particular destination when I rounded a 
curve and came upon a short plump woman hauling a load of turnips 
upon her back. I offered her a ride and she accepted. She was 
headed to the market to trade for food, and I had nowhere better to 
go. Later that day I accompanied her to her place of work. As she 
told me, her work as a tavern wench did not provide her with 
adequate income, so she sold food from her garden as a 
supplement. For weeks I observed her. I spent the days drinking ale 
and the nights in her bed. We did not speak to each other much until 
the day she revealed she was with child. It was not a shock as I knew 
well that humans do not plan these things. The news made me happy 
in a way I had not felt before. After a life of disappointment and pain, I 
was finally responsible for something good and pure.”

Erestor smiled, lost in thought. “She and I were very similar. We had 
no great expectations of our relationship. It was simple purely for 
companionship and then to raise our child. It was enough.”

He looked up at Figwit and Faelon. “It was not until your mother 
labored that we realized there were two of you and our excitement 
grew.”

Erestor looked off into the distance. “She has relatives. An old aunt 
and uncle with several children. I suspect we could find their offspring 
should you be interested. There may be some alive who might tell 
you more about Lehda, your Naneth, as our time together was less 
than one year.”

“Quite by accident, during my time with your Naneth, I learned of the 
settlement here in Lindon. I brought you here when you were but one 
week old as I knew I was unable to raise you both alone. My mind, 
already muddled, was turned again to dementia, so I abandoned you 
to a wet nurse and vowed I would have as little to do with you both as 
possible. I rationalized you would be better off with little contact from 
me. I even toyed with the notion of allowing you to be raised by 
another family, but having abandoned one young elf long ago I could 
not find it in my selfish heart to suffer again and abandon two more. 
You were mine and I intended to keep you no matter the cost.”

“Another elfling?”

Erestor waved off the question with a sad smile playing across his 
face. “That tale is for another day my sons, but know that some day I 
intend for you to meet this other elf I speak of.”

Figwit and Faelon exchanged a glance before scooting over to 
Erestor, concern etched their faces. 

“Will you tell us of Glorfindel?”

Erestor’s mouth dropped open and his sons smiled brightly their first 
of this day. 

“You knew?”

“Everyone knows. You and Glorfindel have been the talk of Lindon 
for the last two years, but the question has always been is it love or 
hate? Faelon and I decided it was love.”

“Nay!”

“Aye, Adar!”

“But no one has said one word to me.”

“Excuse me for being so bold, but you are not the most approachable 
elf. Figwit and I have longed to discuss him with you. Are you in 
love?”

“Aye.”

“And is he in love with you?”

“Aye.”

“Then it is all settled, Adar. You shall live happily ever after!”

Erestor shook his head. “It is not that simple. Glorfindel and I have 
not spoken of this. Our love has always been…complicated and wild 
ever since we met. We have thrown insults and injured each other to 
such a degree that I fear his heart may be closed to a renewal of our 
relationship.”

“You must face him as you have us. He will be amenable.”

“Time will tell, my sons.”

Erestor stood and removed his black robe effectively dismissing the 
topic at hand. He fed the robe into the lagging fire, turned, reached 
down and embraced both sons fiercely. Sitting before them, he ran 
his hands over his sons reveling in their beauty. Having never 
allowed himself this luxury he reluctantly released them and settled in 
for a long night of discussion.

Two days had passed since his reconciliation with Figwit and Faelon. 
He learned much about his children during that time, and even 
watched them dance at the opening of the Winter Festival. At some 
point in their education they had learned all the current dances, and 
he was startled to see they chose both ellyn and ellith for dance 
partners. Much had changed since the First Age, so it seemed, and 
he had somehow failed to notice. Their exuberance for dancing 
warmed his heart as he watched them sway and dip and laugh the 
night away. Both attempted to persuade him out onto the floor, but he 
stood firm. As much as he loved his sons, there was someone else to 
whom he owed a first dance. Figwit and Faelon seemed to 
understand his reluctance and did not push.

Most amazing to him was the resilience of his children. They were 
both exceedingly normal and well adjusted considering how they had 
been abused, and seeing them enjoy life fueled his guilt. He ached 
as he thought of the years of neglect he bestowed upon them. For 
the last two days he had dreamed of ways he would encourage them 
and help them through their journey of life. His desire was to stand 
atop a mountain and shout for all of Middle Earth to take notice of his 
beautiful sons. Instead he would help them with their studies and find 
every reason to plan celebrations for their benefit. 

Erestor smirked as he recalled yesterday, both Figwit and Faelon 
were hardly able to pull back the string of a bow as they attempted to 
show him their mastery of archery. His amusement was barely 
concealed before their frustration reached a boiling point. It seemed 
his temper had been inherited by both, as well as his untidy ways. 

With the sword they were little better. They had no reach or natural 
ability, having inherited their mother’s short stature and his 
clumsiness. Still, to his, eyes they were magnificent.

Their minds, however, were quick and cunning and he watched them 
maneuver around each other in a game of verbal dominance. Figwit 
would make a fine counselor and Faelon certainly had the acuity for 
business. As for physical attractions, he sensed that they had yet to 
decide upon a preference. It would be most interesting to observe 
their choice. 

His preference was decided long ago, and that preference was just 
yesterday returned from the borders. From the shadows of his small 
balcony he saw Glorfindel’s approach and graceful dismount. He 
watched him in easy banter with the other Captains, watched him 
shoo away the stable hand and tend to his own mount tenderly 
wiping and brushing his horse fully, and then watched him as he 
walked into the palace. Desire and fear burned through him, and his 
sleep had been disturbed last night as he tossed and turned, trying to 
decide how to approach Glorfindel. What would he say?

In the early hours of the morning, while he lovingly sharpened and 
cleaned the sword and knife he took from Glorfindel’s room so many 
years prior, his decision was made. Tonight he would speak to 
Glorfindel.

All he had to do was wait out the day…

Erestor paused outside the door to Glorfindel’s room. He had been 
here before a different door and a different time but the same 
circumstance. A chance once taken with a devastating outcome. 
Their short period of joy could be appreciated now, and he was 
convinced that all the pain was worth the risk. Here he stood again, 
however, stalling. It was up to him this time. Glorfindel made it clear 
he would pursue no longer. Erestor could only hope it was not too 
late to salvage their happiness. His heart beat loud and impatient as 
he screwed up his courage, knowing he could not turn from the door. 
He entered without knocking.

Erestor was unexpectedly greeted by a jolly scene. Glorfindel 
leisurely seated, along with three of his officers, around a table laden 
with cheeses, breads, and roasted pheasant. The smell of spiced 
wine filled the air as it filled their goblets, and loosened tongues and 
wits seemed to prevail as they were laughing uproariously at some 
unheard jest. A warm inviting fire crackled and spit in the hearth, 
while the wind sneaking through the panes created an eerie concert 
with the distant music from the festival. 

Erestor took in the scene with the terrifying clarity of one who feels he 
is facing his doom. He stepped forward and all eyes turned to him as 
he strode into the light of the room decision made, action required. 

With eyes completely focused on his target he announced, "I still 
have hope for us Glorfindel."  

The room was completely still as time seemed to grind to a halt for 
the five elves; two of whom were locked in a visual embrace and 
three an unwitting audience. Erestor took in Glorfindel’s appearance 
and the stark hollowness of his eyes. Glorfindel’s large hands 
squeezed white with tension as he held onto his wine glass. Those 
hands, rough and violently capable of killing, and yet he knew the 
gentleness of their caress. He needed that caress again. 

In one perfectly fluid and poignant action he slid his last black robe 
off to reveal his nude form. Impossibly, the room stilled further, 
followed by the gasps, broad smiles, and smirks of Glorfindel’s 
companions. They knew well of the confrontations between Erestor 
and Glorfindel and now in one short moment understood the truth of 
those clashes. Erestor and Glorfindel, eyes still locked on the other, 
did not notice the reactions of the other captains or when they 
removed themselves from the room, practically knocking each other 
over to be the first to reach to door to freedom and begin gossiping. 

Glorfindel continued to eat pheasant, never removing his eyes from 
Erestor's.  
Erestor continued to stand silently and saw Glorfindel’s eyes shift 
from reflecting shock to shining with predatory glee. He waited, 
growing apprehensive and doubtful as to the wisdom of his actions, 
these feelings intensifying due to Glorfindel’s lack of verbal response 
or movement toward him. His stomach wildly churned as he 
anticipated Glorfindel’s actions, vulnerable and openly nude, and his 
mind and body experienced the age-old flight or fight battle. 

Unable to contain his agitated impatience, he was forced to speak, 
“Glor-“, he hesitated, as Glorfindel placed a finger over his lips, then 
fell silent once more continuing his vigil and nervously awaiting 
response.

Glorfindel’s lazy rise from his chair and relaxed posture were in direct 
contrast to Erestor’s emotions. Excited fear and trepidation coursed 
through his veins as Glorfindel strode toward him. His eyes widened 
and he stepped backward but Glorfindel automatically responded, 
honed by years of military training, by increasing his approach to 
thwart any chance of escape for the now hesitant Erestor.  

He stopped directly in front of him, and Erestor fixated on the minute 
details; flawless skin, eyes dilated from too much wine, and the small 
hairs framing Glorfindel’s face rising and falling in beat with his 
nervous panting breaths. Glorfindel’s gaze traversed his form and his 
head nodded its approval. He went rigid as Glorfindel circled around 
behind and trembled when Glorfindel’s light teasing touches moved 
slowly down and around to his backside. His body inflamed with 
every caress.

Erestor jerked as he felt the firm embrace of an arm about his waist 
while greasy fingers brutally plunged into his depth. He cried out at 
the stinging pain while Glorfindel’s fingers forcefully worked him, 
stretching his orifice with their girth.

Glorfindel’s voice angry and unrelenting hissed near his ear, “We 
both know this is not the position you prefer,” he rotated his fingers 
roughly accentuating his comment, “so why are you here Erestor? 
Have you come as a sacrifice? To pay penance on your back!? Are 
you to be martyred upon my shaft?”

“Nay! Please, not this Glorfindel. No more pain.” Erestor ‘s body 
writhed with agony as he tried to stifle another cry while trying to find 
some leverage to escape Glorfindel’s grasp, but the forceful digits 
continued their brutal attack. 

Glorfindel questioned him again as he continued his preparations of 
Erestor’s body. “I will ask you again, why have you come?”

“You said you still loved me,” Erestor gasped forcing each word 
through teeth gritted against the pain, “You SPOKE the words! Was it 
an untruth?”

Erestor felt Glorfindel’s whole body stiffen, his breathing slowed, his 
fingers stilled and easily retreated from his body. Relief crowded his 
thoughts as he was considerately helped into a sitting position on the 
bed. Glorfindel gently nudged his legs apart and knelt between. 

“Nay, I will never again lie about my love for you Erestor. My lie once 
caused us immeasurable pain, and if we agree on anything this 
evening let it be that our love remains intact.”

Erestor, still shaking, gripped Glorfindel’s hand tightly, “Aye, it is 
agreed that our love is still present.” 

Gazing up into Erestor’s eyes he went on. “You are a most welcome 
sight. However, no matter your original intentions Erestor, this night I 
will take only one sacrifice from you.” 

Standing suddenly, Glorfindel swooped up Erestor’s last remaining 
black robe, wiped his soiled hands upon it, and dashed it into the 
fiery hearth. He continued to his wardrobe and removed a blue over 
robe.

Turning to Erestor, he smiled, “Black does not suit you Erestor, and 
ever since my return I have desired to rid you of those robes. My 
favorite color for you has always been ocean blue as it reflects who 
you are, on the surface alternating between calm and turbulent, with 
faithful steady currents beneath and mysteries in your depths.”

A grateful Erestor donned the robe and his mood soared when he 
heard Glorfindel’s words and a change in music heralded a change of 
atmosphere inside the room. A soft gentle beat accompanied by a 
low sensual voice wafted through the night and Erestor once again 
found Glorfindel kneeling at his feet. 

“Dance with me Erestor.” Glorfindel reverently kissed the back of 
Erestor’s hand, then stood, and held out his hand beckoning Erestor 
to follow. 

Erestor did not hesitate in accepting the invitation and threw himself 
into Glorfindel’s outstretched arms. He was home as the arms 
wrapped around him, pulled him close, and he relaxed in the 
embrace. They danced in silence as their past sloughed off and 
became meaningless, at least to Erestor, and his mind turned to their 
future. 

He began to speak but Glorfindel shushed him with a kiss. “Nay, 
Erestor. Say nothing. We shall have no promises between us as we 
have been through too much, my love. I know not whether we can 
stand the test of time, and I know you agree. We are both, if nothing 
else, usually practical.”

Erestor felt his heart breaking into pieces, and as he numbly nodded 
his head in agreement Glorfindel continued.

“Let us have this night together. We shall dance and love and if it is 
only for this evening it will be enough, for we are in disagreement no 
longer.”

At a loss for words, Erestor sobbed against Glorfindel’s shoulder. 
Sorrow at Glorfindel’s bleak outlook of their future threatened his 
resolve.

Gripping Glorfindel tight he pressed closer, merging them until he felt 
as if they were one. As they continued to move together, Erestor 
wiped his tears away and silently vowed that his resolve would never 
crumble. Sometime soon in the bright light of day their love would be 
publicly declared.

And then, he would ask Glorfindel to dance - a dance that would last 
for eternity. 


The End.