Title: Healing a heart (1/2)
Author:	Liv
e-mail:	bobel32000@yahoo.com
Rating:	NC-17
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel (mention of other)
Warning: angst, mention of rape
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns them, I just borrowed them.
Feedback: Would be most welcome. This is my first attempt at 
FPS

Summary: Typical: Balrog-slayer meets advisor, declares his 
undying love, gets rejected, wants to find out why. (stinky summary, oh 
well…)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Glorfindel slowly opened his door and peeked out in a most 
unlordly fashion. /Perfect/ he thought, the coast was clear. He crept out of 
his rooms and slithered down the hallway like a ghost. Once satisfied that 
it was indeed safe, he resumed walking in a more dignified fashion.

	Everyone else had gone to bed, but Glorfindel knew his quarry was 
working late in the study as usual. Good old reliable Erestor. Probably the 
most hardworking elf in Imladris and also the most essential.  There 
wasn’t one bit of parchment that didn’t go through Erestor’s desk before it 
was filed. It made having assistants redundant. He was the do it yourself 
kind of elf.

	All that work hardly ever left any time for himself. And Glorfindel 
had noticed that Erestor liked it that way. That he always found something 
to keep him busy, even when there was nothing to do. No parties, no 
vacations, no trips to the wine cellar for some of Thranduil’s second-ager 
like any decent elf. No laughing, hardly ever a smile, and that only 
happened when the children were involved or when he negotiated some 
profitable trading agreement.

	Glorfindel had known the surly advisor since his rebirth, a couple 
of centuries after Imladris had been founded, and yet he had never gotten 
past the protective shield Erestor kept between himself and the rest of the 
world. Glorfindel was intrigued and perhaps a bit smitten with the 
reclusive Advisor. The dark silk that reached the small of his back, the 
depthless eyes, that shifted colour in the varying light like a chameleon, 
the creamy-white skin and the willowy body usually covered in midnight 
robes. Erestor roamed the corridors of Imladris like a spirit from another 
age and Glorfindel yearned to unravel his mysteries. He had a feeling that 
once past the barrier, Eresor would prove passionate and warm. But how 
to breach the defenses? And why were there defenses in the first place? 
Elrond probably knew more that he was letting on, but all of Glorfindel’s 
prodding hadn’t led anywhere. Elrond wasn’t telling. All he had gotten 
was a piece of advice, to try his luck and take it from there. 

	Glorfindel stopped for a moment in the study doorway and 
watched the dark haired elf fill a fresh parchment with elegant Tengwar 
script. He absently wondered what it could be to keep the advisor up at 
that hour. Knowing Erestor, Glorfindel concluded that it probably wasn’t 
his diary, nor a secret love letter. Nope, it was more likely the reply to the 
weekly stack of Mirkwood correspondence, bemoaning the increasing 
number of spiders and the decreasing supply of second-ager. 

	Glorfindel took a deep breath and silently made his way to the 
figure seated at the desk. /Here goes nothing/.

	Erestor was absorbed in his writing and didn’t notice the 
approaching shadow until he felt a strong arm around his slender waist, 
while a hand pushed away strands of hair from his neck and caressed the 
milky white flesh up to the shell of his ear. He tensed as hot breath 
ghosted over the pointed tip making him shiver.

	“You couldn’t sleep either?”

	Hearing the voice quickly made Erestor realize it was Glorfindel 
holding him in such an intimate manner. Glorfindel, whom he had known 
for millennia. He shouldn’t be afraid. There was no logical reason. And he 
was always a logical elf, except when it came to personal relations. 
Glorfindel was too close, invading his personal space, awaking memories 
he had long forced to the back of his mind.

	When his “captive” gave no other answer than a slight shudder, 
Glorfindel let his tongue tease the delicate shell of Erestor’s ear, and then 
his lips fastened on the tip, suckling lightly.

	Erestor felt the wet warmth slide over his groin rather than his ear 
and began to struggle against the unwanted pleasure. He pushed 
Glorfindel’s hands away and rose from his seat, turning to glare at the 
other elf.

	“Just what do you think you are doing?” he hissed, carefully 
schooling his features to show anger instead of the lustful anxiety that 
swept through him.

	Glorfindel was taken aback by the unexpected reaction and looked 
down, momentarily ashamed of his forwardness. 

	“Look,” he said softly, “I’ve been dancing around this for far too 
long. You do your best to keep everyone away but that doesn’t change the 
way I feel.” He dared to look Erestor in the eyes. “I like you, Erestor. I 
have for a long time now. And I suppose I was hoping I had a chance at 
you, since there does not seem to be another in your life. Perhaps there 
were better ways of approaching you. I simply couldn’t find the courage to 
face you with this in the light of day, in front of everybody. I thought that 
if I took you by surprise I might get a reaction from you, instead of the 
cold shoulder you treat everyone to.”

	Now he looked sad, seeing Erestor’s gaze turn as cold and hard as 
stone.

	“I wasn’t expecting you to push me away so violently, as if I 
disgusted you. Perhaps I am indeed not good enough for you. Forgive me 
for disturbing you, Lord Councillor.”

	That said, Glorfindel walked out of the study as regally as could 
command himself, though inside he felt like crying the way he had not 
since he had been an elfling.

	Left alone, Erestor crumbled in his seat, not knowing if he should 
feel relieved or disappointed that the elf-lord had gone.

	~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Breakfast was not a happy affair. Elrond stood at the head of the 
table as usual, and watched his two friends doing their best to ignore each 
other. He had to initiate conversation himself, when the silence became 
overwhelming.

	“So, Erestor, how goes the Mirkwood correspondence?” he asked.

	“All done, milord. I sent it at dawn with the currier.” Erestor 
replied, eyes glued to his plate.

	Elrond arched an eyebrow in surprise: “You’ve sent it already? Did 
you not sleep this night, my friend?” he asked worriedly. Elrond only now 
noticed his advisor’s pale face and tired eyes.

	“I could not find rest, milord, so I decided to do something useful 
instead.” Erestor managed to take a bite out of the food he had until then 
only shuffled around on his plate.

	Elrond sneaked a peak at Glorfindel, who seemed oblivious, and 
then asked Erestor softly: “Are you having nightmares again, my friend? 
Perhaps I should prepare you a stronger remedy.”

	Erestor looked up reproachfully: “Nay, do not concern yourself. I 
am fine,” he said in a voice that contradicted his words. Erestor rose and 
headed for the doorway: “Excuse me, Elrond. I have to meet with some 
traders.” 

	Elrond was still looking at the closed door when Glorfindel’s voice 
roused him from his reverie. 

	“Nightmares? What would that cold-hearted elf have to worry 
about to give him bad dreams? The thought of losing a negotiation 
perhaps?” Glorfindel spat bitterly.

	Elrond frowned at him: ”Do not be hasty in judging another, 
Glorfindel. You do not truly know him.”

	“Because he won’t let me. I poured my heart out to him last night, 
Elrond. And he looked at me like I was dirt.”

	“You finally admitted your feelings to him?” Elrond asked, 
surprised.

	“Yes. And although I was hardly expecting him to jump right into 
my arms, I certainly didn’t think he would push me away like that, like my 
touch burned him.” Glorfindel seemed on the verge of tears.

	“Hold on a moment,” Elrond interrupted, watching him intently, 
“you touched him?”

	Glorfindel looked up, puzzled, “I came up behind him at his desk 
and held him in my arms, why?” he watched a somber look settle on 
Elrond’s face. “What is wrong?”

	Elrond seemed to be choosing his words carefully. He finally 
spoke: “In all the years that you’ve known him, Glorfindel, have you ever 
seen him touch anyone, except for my children?”

	“I have not exactly paid attention to such a detail, but now that you 
mention it, I suppose not.”

	“He avoids being touched and you startling him like that was not a 
good idea.” Elrond tried to explain.

	“But he did not seem scared, he looked angry, disgusted, as if I 
made him sick,” Glorfindel was now nervously pacing the room.

	Elrond felt torn. How much could he reveal? He had promised 
Erestor to never mention it again. “I know what it is you saw. What 
concerns me is what you didn’t see, what he hid from you. You might not 
believe it, but he was frightened.”

	Glorfindel began watching him suspiciously, “What aren’t you 
telling me, Elrond? What am I missing?”

	“I promised never to reveal it. Not even to you, my long time 
friend. But I’m afraid he never will and I suspect that your revelation to 
him was not as unwelcome as you might think.”

	“You think I actually stand a chance?” Glorfindel’s eyes were 
almost begging for reassurance.

	“You were the first to have the courage to approach him. It startled 
him and undoubtedly made a mess of his organized universe. You know 
there are few who are immune to your charms.” Elrond winked at him.

	Glorfindel pressed a hand to his heart and replied in a mock-tragic 
tone: “You make me out to be a slut, milord. But I am as dedicated to the 
good of Arda as the next elf. Just ask the Balrog.”

	Elrond allowed himself a small smile, “Seriously now, my friend. I 
do think Erestor likes you. But he will be very tough to convince to give it 
a chance.”

	Glorfindel watched him thoughtfully: “I need to know what I am 
fighting against, Elrond. Is he pining over a lost love? Is he normally not 
attracted to males? Is he frigid?” he asked half-jokingly.

	“I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that, Glorfindel. And I have not 
leave to tell you. Give me a few days to see how he feels and we will see.”

	Elrond squeezed his friend’s shoulder in a companionable fashion 
and left the dining room. 

	~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	As the week passed Elrond became aware that Erestor was in fact 
not well at all. In fact, he seemed more and more tired, always working, 
keeping busy, avoiding conversation and keeping as far away from 
Glorfindel as possible. Elrond did notice the lingering stares when 
Glorfindel’s eyes were turned. Ah, so the formidable balrog slayer’s 
charms had gotten to him. It would be so good if Erestor let himself fall 
for once, give in to his feelings, instead of hiding behind his walls, holding 
on to his fears and memories.

	So, what to do now? He had promised Erestor never to reveal his 
past but he was miserable and Elrond really believed Glorfindel would 
make all the difference, finally allow him to heal, to find peace.

	As evening drew near, Elrond made his choice. Erestor might hate 
him for it, but he was going to get his two friends together, even if it killed 
him. Sitting down in a comfortable chair in his study, Elrond waited for 
Glorfindel, occasionally sipping from a glass of wine. When the expected 
knock came, Elrond called to Glorfindel to enter and invited him to take a 
seat, offering him a glass of the same wine. He had a feeling they would 
both need it by the end of the evening.

	“You wanted to see me, Elrond?” the blond asked him after a few 
moments of silence.

	“How much do you know of Erestor’s life before you met him?” 
Elrond asked him, as he watched he changing colour of the wine in the 
firelight.

	Glorfindel’s breath hitched as he realized Elrond had finally 
decided to reveal Erestor’s past to him. 
		
	“Well, I know that he had been working as your advisor ever since 
you founded Imladris but nothing before that.”

	“I met him when I was the High-King’s Herald during the Last 
Alliance.”

	“He fought in the war?” Glorfindel was surprised. He couldn’t 
remember ever seeing Erestor wield a sword, the advisor was deadly with 
quill and parchment.

	Elrond smiled bitterly, “No, I wouldn’t say he fought in the war, 
but he was there. His father was an Elf-lord from Lindon and Erestor had 
three much older brothers, all of them respected warriors. Erestor himself 
hadn’t even reached his majority yet.”

	“Surely no father would bring an elfling on a battlefield, especially 
with an enemy like Sauron. That is madness.”

	“He did not think like that. You see, he felt his son was a 
disappointment to him, because he was more attracted to books and lore 
than weapons. So he brought him along to see some real fighting, to 
toughen him up. The war proved far worse than he had originally thought 
so he quickly lost interest in “educating” his son and concentrated on 
keeping his troops alive.”

	“What happened then?” Glorfindel was beginning to dread the 
story.

	“I remember seeing him roam through the camp. He had 
befriended some of the soldiers and often sang to them or recited poetry, 
around the campfires at night. He was a little sad, I suspect his stern father 
had rarely if ever shown him any affection at home and he probably 
missed his mother and friends. All in all, it was an unsuitable place for 
such a sensitive youngster.”

	Elrond was painting an image of Erestor that Glorfindel had 
trouble imagining. Erestor as a child, singing no less.

	“I talked to him briefly a couple of times, but I was the King’s 
Herald and the war was going anything but good. I had little time to spare 
but I hoped he would be safe in the camp, especially as his father had 
apparently forgotten all about him. I remember often seeing him in the 
healers’ tents, helping with the wounded, trying to ease their suffering.”

	So Erestor had once been a compassionate elf. Glorfindel had 
trouble reconciling that image with that of the aloof, icy advisor he knew.

	“But then his father had this horrible argument with the High-King 
concerning battle strategies. The Elf-lord was more on the side of Oropher 
and you know Gil-Galad never liked his decisions questioned. So 
Erestor’s father fell out of the king’s favour and there followed a few very 
tense days when it seemed that we would be overcome by the enemy. 
After Oropher’s reckless attack that resulted in his untimely death, 
Erestor’s father returned to the King’s tent and, in front of all the military 
advisors and Elf-lords, presented a rather stiff apology. That would have 
been it, however it seemed he had decided to kill two birds with one stone, 
and he pledged his youngest in the service of the High-King, as a sort of 
proof of his allegiance.”

	Glorfindel began to frown as he pondered the unusual gesture and 
its possible implications.

	“The High-King was, if anything, amused by such a “gift” and 
accepted, though I am sure that at first he was at a loss what to do with the 
child. I suppose it crossed his mind that the whole thing had been 
engineered to plant a spy by his side, but a closer look at Erestor showed 
him there was no deception in the youth. Erestor was bewildered and 
probably in awe of the honour of serving the High-King himself. I was 
surprised myself and a little worried and what happened next showed I had 
just cause for concern.”

	Glorfindel was glued to his chair, as he waited wide-eyed for 
Elrond to continue.

	“You must understand something. Gil-Galad was a great king for 
the masses. He fought off the darkness and died heroically to protect them. 
But from certain points of view, he wasn’t such a great king for 
individuals. He did not enjoy being crossed and considered that he had the 
right to take anything he wanted.”

	Glorfindel was beginning to understand where it was all going.

	“I’m not sure what Erestor expected when he saw his father turn 
away without a single look and he was left alone with the High-King. Gil-
Galad called him by his throne, caressed his cheek and told him to stay by 
his side until all official matters were attended. When the meeting 
adjourned, the courtiers withdrew and the High-King retired to his 
quarters taking Erestor with him.”

	“Elrond…”

	“I know. He was underage and knew, well, probably nothing about 
bedplay.”

	“What happened?”

	“I was a healer as well as a warrior and discretion was wanted. I 
remember being woken in the middle of the night by a rather panicked 
guard who told me the High-King wanted me. Dazed as I was, I almost 
thought there was a surprise attack. I half-ran to Gil-Galad’s tent. He was 
pacing outside, looking decidedly put-off. I asked him what was wrong 
and received a grunted response that he wasn’t used to treating his lovers 
like they were made of glass. He wouldn’t say anything else so I went in. 
At first I couldn’t see anything, there were only a few candles burning and 
the tent was spacious. But when I got closer to the bed, I could see 
something moving under the covers. I pulled them away and I found 
Erestor crying almost hysterically and shaking. His hands were tied to the 
headboard and his bonds had cut into the skin from all the thrashing.”

	Glorfindel was looking at him horrified. Elrond took a healthy 
swallow from his wine and spoke again.

	“When he felt the bed dip under my weight, he thought the High-
King had come back and started crying even harder. Between chocked 
sobs, he begged me not to hurt him anymore, not to touch him. He kept 
asking me, “Haven’t you had enough?” The sheets were soaked in blood 
and though my heart was breaking and I wanted more than anything to 
heed his pleas, I knew I had to act fast. I cut his bonds and tried to reassure 
him, while in the same time trying to staunch the bleeding. He screamed 
and fought me like a wild animal and I had to call in his very tormentor to 
help me restrain him while I poured a sleeping draught down his throat. 
His struggling became weaker and as he was losing consciousness he 
uttered a single sentence, “Saes, no more, my lord, saes.”

	“Only when he went still, could I examine him and see the true 
extent of his injuries. He was torn terribly and looked like he’d been 
ravaged by an orc. Apart from his torn and bleeding opening, there were 
bruises on his hips, like he’d been held in an iron grip, bite marks on his 
throat and nipples and his mouth was bruised, as if something too large 
had been forced inside. I was horrified and I must have looked at the 
High-King with such disgust that he had the dignity to look ashamed and 
offer an excuse.”

	---Flashback---

	“How was I supposed to know the child was untried?”

	“Because he is just that, a child almost.”

	“I just thought he was putting on a good show, struggling against 
me, like all my bed partners do. I did not know no one had instructed him 
of my tastes. Will he be alright?”
	
	“His body I can heal. His mind however, is another story.”
	
	“He was delightful though. I’ve never had anyone so hot and tight 
before, squirming beneath me so deliciously, gripping my length in a 
silken vise. When he heals, I mean to enjoy him again.”

	“No! This ends here. I shall take him with me. He can help me 
with my work as a healer. I could use an assistant. “

	“You can have a hundred better assistants. This one makes a 
perfect sheath for my cock.”

	“I have never asked you for anything, my king. Please grant me 
this one request. This is not right and I shall otherwise renounce my title 
as Herald and retire from your Council.”

	“Very well, if it means that much to you. I have no wish to lose 
your council or your friendship.”

	---End flashback---

	“I took him back to my tent and put him in my own bed. I watched 
him sleep and I could understand what Gil-Galad had seen in him: beauty, 
purity, vulnerability, struggle. Knowing him, I could understand his need 
to possess this dark beauty. Gil-Galad had so much to deal with, such 
responsibilities that, as a healer, I was surprised he wasn’t any madder.”

	“In the next few days, Erestor came in and out of consciousness, 
thrashing on the bed, feverish and delirious. I cared for him whenever I 
had a reprieve from my other responsibilities. I was worried about his 
reaction when he’d wake up. I expected anything from terror to violent 
madness. But I wasn’t prepared for what happened. It was on the fourth 
day, I think, that I was gone from my tent longer than usual and I came 
back at sunset to find him awake. He had retreated to the farthest end of 
the bed and made himself almost invisible. I retrieved the healing salve I 
usually used on him and sat down on the edge of the bed. He said nothing 
to me but obeyed when I told him to take a few steps around the room. He 
was dizzy and limping and I knew that he hadn’t yet healed, even though 
as an elf he should have. It was then that I realized it was his spirit that 
was severely wounded and that influenced the healing of the body.”

	“I asked him to lie down on the bed and he did so, again without a 
word, and not meeting my eyes. He started to tremble when I lifted his 
light sleeping robe up his thighs and parted his legs but did not fight me 
and he closed his eyes when I started to rub the salve in and around his 
opening. I could feel it was getting better but I was sure it was still very 
painful.“

	“I had finished and was wiping my hands when I felt his hand on 
my thigh. I must have looked at him with a frown, because he immediately 
snatched his hand back and looked guiltily away. I covered him and asked 
him to look at me. He did and the look of utter misery in his eyes was 
heart wrenching. He apologized for taking liberties and I asked him why 
he had touched me. He said he was grateful for my care of him and my 
patience with his slow healing. He told me the High-King must have very 
been unsatisfied with him to have given him to another and that he wanted 
to repay my kindness by not making me wait any further to take my 
pleasure of him. Needless to say, I was stunned.”

	“But Elrond,” Glorfindel interjected, “you would never do that.”

	“But he could not know. All he knew was that he woke up in the 
bed of another master, who had just finished oiling his opening. He 
probably assumed it would be less painful if he cooperated. He thought 
that if I was not satisfied with him, there were worse places where he 
could be sent. It took a long time to reassure him that I wanted no such 
thing from him and that I would protect him against anyone who would try 
to hurt him. He hugged me then and cried his pain out and as far as I know 
that was the last time he let anyone touch him.”

	“As time passed, we would not speak of it. He had horrible 
nightmares, woke screaming and drenched in sweat, I would try to sooth 
him but he still would not talk. He worked by my side and I realized what 
a treasure I had uncovered. He was intelligent, hard-working, and discreet 
and he quickly worked his way up from assistant to advisor. The war had 
ended and I brought him with me to Imladris as Chief Councillor.”

	Glorfindel was silent for a moment, nursing his wine and trying to 
assimilate everything he had learned. 

	“He has been terribly hurt, Elrond. It’s been a long time but he has 
not healed, as the nightmares still occur. Do you truly think I could help 
him? Would he let me near?”

	“My friend, you are the only one who can help him, because I have 
never seen him take an interest in anyone as he does in you.”

	“But I saw nothing of that.”

	“You see what he lets you. But I know you, Glorfindel, if there is 
anyone stubborn enough to make it through, you are the one.”

	“I hope I live up to your expectations.” 

	Glorfindel rose to leave. “Thank you, Elrond, for giving me a 
chance. I know it was hard of you to betray his trust.”

	“I did it only because it is in his best interest. But remember, he 
must not know of this conversation.”

	Glorfindel nodded and slowly slipped from the room. Tomorrow 
was going to be a long day.

TBC…


Title: 		Healing a heart (2/2) 
Author: 	Liv 
e-mail: 	bobel32000@y... 
Rating: 	NC-17 
Pairing: 	Erestor/Glorfindel (mention of other) 
Warning: 	angst, mention of rape 
Disclaimer: 	Tolkien owns them, I just borrowed them. 
Feedback: 	Would be most welcome. This is my first attempt at FPS 
 
Summary: Typical: Balrog-slayer meets advisor, declares his undying 
love, gets rejected, wants to find out why. (stinky summary, oh well…) 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
	Glorfindel spent a restless night tossing a turning in his bed, the 
soft sheets unable to soothe his troubled spirit. Elrond's detailed account of 
Erestor's personal hell had filled his mind with distressful images and he 
could barely restrain himself from running down the corridor and 
knocking on Erestor's door. Once there, he did not know what he would 
say or do, but he just knew he had to do something to take away the pain 
and memories. All of his previous anger at the seemingly cold and 
heartless advisor had vanished. 
 
	The first beams of Anor streaming through the pulled curtains 
brought new resolve to a weary Glorfindel. He would do everything in his 
power to show Erestor that he cared and that it was safe to let go and to 
trust. 
 
	It was a whole week before Glorfindel was able to remain alone 
with Erestor once again. It was late one evening, in the Hall of Fire, after 
the minstrels and their audience had retired to the comfort of their beds. 
 
	Glorfindel had stayed behind, sprawled in a large armchair, in a 
shadowy corner of the Hall, far from the dying fire that made the only 
light in the room. He was lost in thought and nearly missed the soft sound 
of steps. Glorfindel was surprised to see it was very object of his affection 
and focus of his current thoughts that 
quietly made his way into the Hall. 
 
	Glorfindel realized that it was the first time he had ever seen 
Erestor without the formal dark robes that he always seemed to hide 
behind. Instead, he was wearing a light silk sleeping robe that clung to his 
every curve and rustled softly in the quiet Hall. 
 
	Erestor stopped for a moment before the fire almost as if gathering 
courage to continue his trek into the darkness. As he watched, Glorfindel 
felt that the Hall had suddenly become very hot.The light of the fire 
highlighted Erestor's body through the light fabric, making it seem as if he 
wore nothing at all. 
 
	The lithe figure shifted and stepped away from the fire, but 
Glorfindel could easily follow its progress through the Hall as the white 
robe seemed to shimmer in the darkness. 
 
	When the figure was still once again, Glorfindel rose quietly from 
his hiding place and approached Erestor, who had stopped at the row of 
portraits that hung on the far wall of the Hall. As Glorfindel came closer, a 
lone beam of Ithil illuminated 
the portrait that Erestor seemed to devour with his eyes. 
 
	Glorfindel gasped as the High-King was revealed, wearing his 
battle armor and holding his sword. It was an intimidating sight even to 
Glorfindel and he imagined that Erestor had to be terrified. So why did he 
keep doing this to himself? Why didn't he try to 
forget? 
 
	As Glorfindel watched, Erestor fell to his knees and silent sobs 
shook his slender frame. Glorfindel felt his heart breaking at the sight. He 
longed to enfold the weeping elf in his strong arms and hold him tightly, 
but who knew how such a gesture would be met. He settled for kneeling 
beside his dark haired love and folding his hands in his lap, fearing that he 
would otherwise reach out behind 
the curtain of hair. 
 
	"What are you doing here?" Erestor asked in a hitched voice. 
 
	"Well, you don't have sole use of the Hall of Fire," Glorfindel 
replied lightly, trying to keep a steady voice. 
 
	"That's not what I meant." 
 
	Glorfindel shrugged, "I know. I had just sought out a quiet place to 
think and you happened to come along. I couldn't deceive you and let you 
think you were alone." 
 
	Erestor wiped his eyes with his sleeve, in a gesture that made him 
look much like a child and stirred Glorfindel's protective feelings further. 
 
	"Aren't you going to ask me what I am doing here so rumpled in 
the middle of the night?" 
 
	Glorfindel looked the other elf up and down, realizing the Erestor 
must have had one of those nightmares that Elrond had mentioned, and 
answered: "You've made it quite clear that the things you do are no 
business of mine," he said softly. 
 
	"I'm sorry to have been so harsh. It's just… I have… issues," he 
managed. 
 
	"Yeah, don't we all?" Glorfindel answered, remembering his own 
trials and how long it had taken him to come to terms with the manner of 
his death and his rebirth. 
 
	"It's just that, well, I've always done my best to keep away from 
people, to concentrate on my work and your confessing your feelings was 
shocking rather than unwelcome." Erestor said, looking away. "What can 
you possibly see in me?" he asked in a strangled voice. 
 
	"Where do I begin?" Glorfindel sighed, "You're frighteningly 
intelligent, quick witted, sharp tongued, breathtakingly beautiful…" He 
paused. "Do you even know how beautiful you are?" Glorfindel asked 
smiling softly, raising a hand to caress a perfect smooth cheek. 
 
	As they had spoken, a cloud had passed over the moon, obscuring 
it, but as Glorfindel uttered the last words and reached out to Erestor, the 
cloud dissipated and Ithil's rays again shone unhindered on the dusty 
painting of the High-King, making the eyes seem alive. 
 
	Erestor shuddered as the questing fingers touched his skin and the 
hated voice once again whispered mockingly in his ear: "Don't you know 
how beautiful you are, child?" 
 
	Erestor suddenly lost all awareness of where he was and was thrust 
back to that fateful night that had changed everything. He felt the 
merciless grip on his wrists and the sting of the leather restrains biting into 
his skin. His struggles were useless and his pleas went unheeded. He heard 
the tearing sound of fabric as his clothes were ripped open and rough, 
uncaring hands roamed the length to his body. Erestor screamed feeling 
the ghost pain as something thick and unyielding tore its way inside of 
him. 
 
	But no. Not this time. If it had to happen again, it would be on his 
own terms. 
 
	Glorfindel was startled when his wrist was gripped and his hand 
drawn down over Erestor's throat and chest, then lower still, over a flat 
abdomen and then, to Glorfindel's embarrassment and growing unease, 
Erestor pressed the Elda's splayed fingers against his crotch, the gossamer 
fabric hiding nothing from his trembling 
touch. 
 
	"Is this what you want?" Erestor purred silkily, seductively, though 
his eyes betrayed the growing madness. "It's what they all want," he 
continued in that deceptively smooth voice as he rubbed himself against 
Glorfindel's hand, sighing softly. As the member beneath his hand began 
to stir, Glorfindel was horrified to feel himself harden in his leggings. 
 
	This was wrong, but he couldn't pull his hand away. Erector 
pressed the fingers of his free hand to his lips, pushing one inside and 
suckling it softly. He than trailed the moist finger down his chest to one 
stiff nipple, rubbing it through the thin cloth of the night shirt. The fabric 
moistened and became transparent and Glorfindel gasped, feeling a wave 
of heat pass over him. He craved to push the teasing finger away and latch 
his own mouth to the stiff flesh but it seemed as if his will was under 
Erestor's control. 
 
	Erestor was unhinged, rubbing desperately against Glorfindel's 
hand, drawing shuddering breaths through his moist, parted lips. Erestor 
abruptly released the captive limb and roughly pushed Glorfindel to lie on 
his back. Stunned, Glorfindel couldn't react when he felt hands tearing at 
the lacings of his leggings. He felt them pushed down his thighs and gave 
a sharp cry when he felt his now rock hard erection engulfed in searing 
wet heat. Glorfindel forced himself to open his eyes and once he did, his 
eyes were glued to the mind-numbing sight of Elrond's cold and prim Lord 
Councilor sucking furiously on his cock. 
 
	So, Glorfindel thought to himself, that tongue had more skills than 
he had previously thought, and then he lost all semblance of coherent 
thought as said tongue pressed against the sensitive vein on the underside 
of his member. Glorfindel moaned and bucked into the hot hungry mouth 
that seemed bent on sucking the very life from his body. 
 
	Glorfindel nearly whimpered when he felt cool air on his now wet 
cock but his gaze was riveted on the wild-eyed advisor straddling his hips. 
Erestor roughly yanked up his robe, bunching it around his waist and 
caught Glorfindel's eyes as he impaled himself on the other's cock. They 
both screamed, one in pure pleasure, the 
other in exquisite pain. 
 
	They stood still for a long moment until Erestor began to move, 
riding Glorfindel's cock furiously. He bent over Glorfindel, pinning his 
hands at each side of his head, lacing their fingers together. In this 
position, Erestor's own aching hardness rubbed against Glorfindel's belly 
at every stroke and the thick cock inside him kept stabbing at his pleasure 
spot. The pleasure-pain combination was too much and Erestor screamed 
his release, covering Glorfindel's chest in his hot essence. 
 
	Feeling the vise-like passage convulse around his member 
triggered Glorfindel's orgasm and he howled in pleasure, pumping his seed 
into the quivering channel. Erestor collapsed in his arms, panting 
raggedly, near unconsciousness, and Glorfindel reversed their positions, 
slipping out of the raven haired elf as gently as he could. Erestor moaned 
in pain and shifted beneath him. 
 
	"Get off me," he whispered. 
 
	"Erestor, I…" 
 
	"I said get off me," he screamed this time, his voice breaking as he 
began to cry. "You have what you wanted. Just let me go," he sobbed 
brokenly. 
 
	Though he was exhausted, Glorfindel made a last effort and rolled 
off the smaller elf. For a moment, he absently watched Erestor lying on his 
back, his chest heaving, legs spread, his thighs still trembling in the 
aftermath of their violent coupling. 
 
	While Glorfindel tried to piece himself together, Erestor jerked his 
nightshirt back down to cover himself and painfully crawled to his feet. 
He had to grip the back of a chair to steady himself. Erestor had 
disappeared through the doorway before Glorfindel realized he had been 
left alone and got up to follow. 
 
	Glorfindel cringed when he looked down at himself and saw 
Erestor's blood on him. Resolving to clean up after he had made sure 
Erestor was safe, Glorfindel pulled his leggings back up and tied them, 
then raced out of the Hall of Fire. 
 
	"Erestor!" he called. But the halls were silent. In the flickering 
light of the torches, Glorfindel could make out a faint trail of blood and 
cursed, following it. How could he allow for that to happen? Erestor 
needed his help and his love, not to once again think he was being used to 
slake someone's lust. While thinking all this, Glorfindel couldn't help 
feeling a little hurt himself, being used as an outlet for the pain and 
humiliation that Erestor had kept bottled up for millennia. He pushed those 
thoughts away for now. He loved a broken elf and he was bound to get 
hurt himself in the healing process. Deep down, Glorfindel knew that 
Erestor considered himself soiled and unworthy of love but that had to 
change. 
 
	"Erestor!" he called again. 
 
	As Glorfindel raced around a corner, he ran straight into a 
disheveled Elrond, who had apparently been awakened by the commotion. 
 
	"What is going on around here?" The Half-Elf thundered, both 
impressive eye-brows raised menacingly. Then his voice softened and his 
eyes revealed worry as he saw the blood soaking through Glorfindel's 
leggings. 
 
	"Glorfindel, are you hurt?" Elrond said and gripped Glorfindel's 
upper arms to steady him when he swayed. 
 
	"It's not my blood," the blond elf answered breathlessly. 
 
	"Not your…? Then who…?" Elrond paused, realization dawning 
on him. "Erestor!" his grip became almost painful. "What have you done?" 
he frowned. 
 
	"A lot less than you would think. We have to find him. He's hurt 
and confused and who knows what he might do?" 
 
	Elrond searched Glorfindel's eyes and found worry, sadness and 
guilt and a strong, encompassing love. "Go find him. Talk some sense into 
him. I'll be waiting for you both at the Healing Wing," Elrond said, then 
hurried to his quarters to dress. 
 
	Glorfindel followed his quarry up a set of rarely used stairs that 
went all the way up to the roof of the Last Homely House. Though dawn 
was near, it was still quite dark, as Ithil had already set. In the faint light of 
the stars, Glorfindel could not at first see anything. He cautiously made his 
way to the very edge of the roof, where Erestor lay curled up in a ball, 
crying softly. He was dangerously close to the edge, Glorfindel noted with 
concern. He stepped closer, making sure that he made enough noise so that 
he would not seem to appear out of nowhere beside the sobbing elf. 
 
	This time, he gave into the impulse and enveloped the lithe body in 
his own strong arms, drawing Erestor to his chest. The dark haired elf 
struggled weakly, trying to pull away, but Glofindel held him tight. 
 
	"What more do you want from me? You've had me. You've 
satisfied your lust. Now leave me alone," he cried. 
 
	Glorfindel just held him tighter. 
 
	"I beg to differ. It is you who has had me," Glorfindel replied 
calmly, slowly wiping Erestor's tears. Erestor looked up confused, his eyes 
red from all the tears he head held back for an age. 
 
	"Oh, I could have pushed you away and I didn't. But the truth of 
the matter is that you were in control. You had me," Glorfindel continued. 
 
	"I thought this was what you wanted," Erestor answered softly, 
looking away. "And I thought that if I gave it myself, it wouldn't be taken 
against my will." 
 
	Glorfindel gently lifted Erestor's chin to look into the still wet 
eyes. 
 
	"It was what I wanted, make no mistake about it. I simply didn't 
want it right away. No relationship should start out in bed. Or rather on the 
floor of the Hall of Fire," he added with a chuckle. 
 
	"You must have thought me shameless," Erestor said in a soft, sad 
voice. 
 
	"I did not," Glorfindel replied, soothingly rubbing Erestor's back. 
 
	Erestor looked up, confusion clear in his eyes, "A relationship? Is 
that what you want?" 
 
	"I'm not one that looks for a new bed partner every eve. I thought 
you knew me well enough by now." 
 
	"But you don't know me. You don't know how broken I am inside, 
how damaged… how dirty." 
 
	"Erestor, look at me. You have done nothing wrong. Did you ask 
to be hurt, to be used? No one can dirty you. Only yourself."

	"But you don't know…" 
 
	"So tell me. I love you and that's not going to change. I trust you to 
make the right choice. You have kept it hidden inside for too long and is 
has begun to fester. You have to let it go before it consumes you. There is 
no shame in admitting that someone was stronger than you and was able to 
hurt you. That doesn't make it right to shut the pieces of your broken heart 
away. That way no one will be able to put it back together." 
 
	In that moment, locked in that comforting embrace, Erestor 
realized that Glorfindel already knew everything. It didn't matter though 
because he had to say it himself. To expose the shadow and cast it away, 
before the occasional slips into insanity became more than just 
remembered pieces of a nightmare. 
 
	So in those last moments before dawn, Erestor finally told his 
story. 
 
	If Glorfindel thought that hearing Elrond's version had prepared 
him for anything Erestor might say, he had been wrong. The first person 
account thrust fresh spikes of horror into his already bruised heart. Erestor 
remembered every painful detail with that shocking clarity that mad 
people often demonstrate. What should have been dusty memories long 
buried under the cobwebs of the ages unfolded before him as if he himself 
had been there to witness it. Glorfindel forced himself to let Erestor expel 
every bit of the foul mire he had been drowning in, even if every word was 
like a dagger stabbing him in the guts. 
 
	At last Erestor was silent and rested his head on Glorfindel's chest, 
almost as if awaiting judgment. Glorfindel caressed Erestor's cheek, 
threading his fingers through the silky strands of midnight hair, as he 
looked at the rosy hue blooming in the East. 
 
	He smiled, "I've known you intimately and yet we've never 
kissed." Glorfindel slowly leaned down and pressed their lips together. 
Erestor's mouth was soft beneath his and Glorfindel could taste the salt of 
tears. He lapped it away and stroked the other's tongue, even as he swore 
that Erestor would never cry again. It wouldn't be easy. It would be a long 
and winding road. But they would walk it together. 
 
	As he broke the kiss, Glorfindel whispered softly, "I love you," and 
Erestor smiled at him for the very first time as he slowly let exhaustion 
claim him to sleep. As he walked towards the Healing Wing, the pleasant 
weight of his beloved nestled in his arms, Glorfindel knew that some day 
he would hear those same words spoken 
back to him. 
 
 
	THE END. 
 
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