TITLE: No Remedy AUTHOR: LittleMouse elf_night@hotmail.com PAIRINGS: Glorfinel/Erestor, also Haldir/Legolas, Elladan/Orophir, Elrohir/Rumil, Glorfinel/OFC RATING: NC-17 SUMMARY: Erestor loves Glorfindel. Glorfindel loves a certain Lady... doesn't he? A diplomatic mission to Lothlorien goes horribly wrong; Glorfindel learns what it means to be truly loved. WARNINGS: Violence, torture, angst, N/C but probably not to the point of rape, explicit sexual situations, etc. Enjoy! Also, story may be slightly AU as I'm playing freely with Erestor's background. DISCLAIMER: They are not mine. They are Tolkien's. Life is cruel, that way... CHAPTER TEN Normally, Glorfindel paid little attention to the passing of time. When you were immortal, a few days or weeks gone by didn’t mean a lot. For that matter, he’d let *years* go by before without noticing. He was fairly certain that he’d never counted minutes before. He was counting them, now. It had been six thousand, one hundred and forty-three minutes since he’d bonded with Erestor. Four days, six hours, and twenty-three minutes. He’d started counting them when he realized he’d never been so happy in all his long life. Or so frustrated. After their first bonding kiss - and a few more that followed - Erestor had fallen into a true sleep, not that half-awake daze that had been so unsettling. Glorfindel had settled onto the bed and pulled him into his arms, just holding him as he slept. Elrond had unlocked the door about an hour later, grinned at him, then gently woke Erestor to make sure that he *would* wake. His Chief Counselor had grumbled at him, which pleased the Elf Lord no end, and gone right back to sleep. Then Elrond proceeded to lecture Glorfindel. “I know you’re going to be anxious,” he said, “and I know that your bond won’t be fully complete until you make love...” he’d managed to say that with only the slightest blush “...but I also know you care deeply about Erestor, and you’ll want what’s best for him.” “And that is?” “That you should take things slowly. He’ll be very weak for a few days, and I’ll bet my best robe that he was untouched before this journey - and then, he’ll have some severe memories to deal with, bonded or not.” “I’ll give him all the time he needs,” Glorfindel promised, his eyes flashing, “but I still swear I will hunt that Man down and gut him.” Elrond gave him a reproving look, that didn’t quite match the grin on his face. “Now, is that any way for the Captain of Imladris to speak?” “Sorry...” Glorfindel said, not looking a bit regretful. “You should be. After all, Erestor might like a chance to do some gutting of his own. As would I, and the twins. Do not be so selfish.” Glorfindel snickered. “Yes, my Lord.” And that, of course, had been over four days ago. Erestor was awake now; getting about fairly well, though he remained his quiet self. He even braided his hair in the usual tight braid - when Glorfindel wasn’t quick enough to do it for him. *He* made sure that lovely long hair was loosely braided, so the curls would escape as the day went by. He liked watching the other Elves stare wistfully at his Counselor. They knew better than to do anything more than stare. Glorfindel just found himself a bit frustrated that *he* couldn’t do much more than stare. Yet. * Erestor yawned. Maybe it had been a *little* too soon to come back to his duties, but Figwit - laughing like an Elfling - had told him about the chaos his absence had caused. Though he found it more than a little amusing, he knew he needed to get Imladris back under control. It would be easier if he wasn’t *quite* so tired... He glanced at the next item on the list of problems one of his rather useless Assistants had surprised him with. “They couldn’t remember the amounts to pay the traders?! But that is listed in the payment books - they are sitting right there on that shelf! Exactly where they’ve always been!” “True,” Figwit replied, smiling, “but they would have needed their brains to remember that; I’m quite certain they misplaced those centuries ago.” Erestor hid a smile behind his hand. “Perhaps you’re right... we should move the payment books closer to the desks, though - it could help them to remember, next time.” “What next time?” asked a voice from the doorway. They looked up to see Elrond standing there, frowning at Erestor. “My Lord?” “There will be no ‘next time’; I fully intend to chain you to that desk if you ever try to leave again.” his smiled belied the intensity of his words. “And what, pray tell, are you doing out of bed?” “I cannot lie about for the rest of my life. There is too much to do - also, I would go insane.” Elrond smiled again. “And isn’t there *anything* that might keep you content in your bed?” Erestor’s eyes went huge, and he blushed. “Elrond!” “What?” the Elf Lord asked innocently. “I just thought you might take some of the trade treaties, or work on a few reports there. That’s all.” “Uh huh,” Erestor didn’t believe a word of it. “I promise,”Elrond teased gently, “I was not thinking of locking you in your bedchambers with Glorfindel.” He kept smiling, but he watched Erestor’s reaction carefully, looking for a shadow in his eyes. He saw none - the smaller Elf only blushed more hotly, and looked as if he were contemplating throwing his inkwell at him. Good - that was the Erestor he knew. ...oh, yes, and the Erestor he needed to have a little talk with! He took a thick scroll from inside his sleeve and lay it on the Counselor’s desk. “I would like you to explain this to me, Erestor.” “What is it?” his friend replied, reaching out to open the scroll. The long, neat list revealed only seemed to confuse him farther. “Elrond?” “Would you mind telling me, Counselor, why I was informed that you handle *all* of those duties? I am utterly shocked that you never started fading before.” Erestor blinked. “But - these are just regular duties...” He blinked harder as he allowed the scroll to open further... ...and it rolled off his desk and halfway across the room, leaving a long ribbon of paper behind it. “Um...” “‘Um’, indeed. How many Assistants do you have, Erestor?” “Six, counting Figwit. Why?” “How many of them actually work?” “...Figwit,” was the slow reply, and then Erestor smiled at the other small Elf. Figwit grinned back. He had a pretty good idea of what was coming. “Tell the others I want them to divide that list between them. I expect you to do only the most important tasks, yourself, the ones I marked. You are only to supervise the rest. I will be watching them to make sure they do their work properly, or they will be speedily replaced with Elves that *will* work.” Erestor stared at him. “Oh, and name Figwit your Chief Assistant, and put him in charge of the rest, as well.” Now Figwit was staring, too. Elrond just smiled serenely. “Good. I’m glad we have that settled. Now - Figwit, you take over this office today, hmm? and Erestor - you take *one* task, and go back to bed.” “One?” Erestor protested, finally finding his voice. “One!” Elrond repeated firmly, and walked out the door. Erestor stoutly resisted making a rude gesture after him; he instead picked up the huge stack of prospective trade agreements that had been sent from various villages. “That’s not one task,” Figwit objected. “Sorting through them for the best ones is.” Erestor gave him a brief smile and turned toward the door. Figwit just sighed and shook his head. He should have known Erestor would get the last word. * Glorfindel strolled down the hall toward the new chambers he’d been assigned, nodding pleasantly at the Elves he met along the way. He was in quite a good mood - he’d just seen Lady Riel, sobbing every step of the way, climb into a cart piled high with her belongings, heading for Lothlorien. Galadriel had agreed to give her shelter, on a sort of probation. If she caused no trouble, she could stay. Glorfindel had a feeling she would be sailing for Valinor, anyway, after the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood had to deal with her for a few weeks. Because the Valar knew Riel couldn’t resist causing trouble. Cautious, underhanded trouble that was rarely traced back to her, but with Galadriel’s sharp eyes watching, she wouldn’t be able to get away with her usual tricks. He would have liked to share his good mood over her departure with his Bonded, but they hadn’t told Erestor of her little attempt. Elrond had decided there was no point in it; is was more likely to upset the Counselor than amuse him. Glorfindel had thought it over and agreed. He certainly hadn’t found it amusing at the time, though he snickered a bit, now, at the memory of some of Riel’s expressions. It wasn’t as if it needed to be told to anyone else, either. Kalian had been easily sworn to secrecy, and Araden was doing his best to get his Cousin to like him. Telling about Erestor’s sacrifice to anyone else would gather a great deal more respect for Erestor, but also cause him to receive looks of pity or disquiet. Glorfindel didn’t want that to happen. Anyway, Erestor didn’t *need* more respect. As soon as he was back to full awareness - although weak, and forced by Elrond to stay in bed - he’d put an abrupt end to the chaos that had plagued Imladris. All the Elves had learned a new appreciation for the Counselor they’d poked fun at; he hadn’t heard one single whispered joke since their return. Erestor’s newly bright eyes and the curls Glorfindel was constantly tugging loose from his braid helped, too. He didn’t think anyone would ever call Erestor ‘Old Death’s-Head’ again. Not even when he’d managed two or three hours with the old, tight braid still intact. Last night, he’d been able to help his love into the Great Hall, for dinner, the first time since Erestor had woken. Elrond had finally permitted it; though he insisted his Counselor sat in his old chair near him, he’d allowed Glorfindel to switch his permanent seat with another Elf, and take over the chair beside Erestor. Glorfindel had seen to it, when Erestor’s possessions joined his in their new chambers, that all his formal black evening robes had mysteriously vanished. They were all badly cut, far too thick and bulky and loose for his pretty Counselor. He’d brought him a garment the same deep, rich blue as the evening sky, and called it a Bonding gift so Erestor *had* to put it on. It had promptly turned his skin from sallow-pale to the luminous moonlight ivory he had remembered. He’d dressed himself in his best blue tunic, a few shades lighter, with the silver trim, and chose black leggings. He’d styled his hair a bit more elaborately than usual, so that Erestor had no real reason to object when he did the same to his. He’d left it down, brushed it until it was soft, smooth waves, with two small braids that wound prettily from his Counselor’s temples, behind his perfect ears, to join into a single braid and fall down the back. Then he’d dragged his blushing, protesting mate to dinner, and enjoyed the dropped jaws and wide eyes. The few Elves who had questioned why Lord Glorfindel could possibly, *ever*, want Lord Erestor would never ask the stupid question again. And they were only looking at his newly-lovely outside. They knew nothing of the strong, brave Elf within, who loved him so much he was willing to sacrifice his life, his body, and his sanity to keep Glorfindel safe. The Captain was torn between anger and joy whenever he thought of it. Anger that Erestor had been forced to do so. Joy - oh, joy! - that Erestor loved him so much. He had another gift for Erestor - a clip for his hair, shaped like a tiny outline of a horse, done in fragile strands of silver. He opened the door to their rooms, hoping to leave it as a surprise on his pillow, and instead found his love sitting in the middle of the bed, piles of paper around him, frowning down at some boring office work. “Erestor? What are you doing?” he asked, closing the door behind him and tucking the little package back in his tunic. “Mm?” Erestor didn’t look up. “Trade agreements.” “Does Elrond know you’re up to that?” “Mm-hmm. Wouldn’t let me stay in my office.” “You felt good enough to go to your office?” Glorfindel asked, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief. “Yes...” Erestor replied distractedly, turning over another paper and blinking at it. Really, why would *any* Elf be interested in mining boots? Dwarves did mining, not Elves... what twit sent this here? The bed dipped suddenly, and he gave a surprised yelp as he tumbled sideways, landing against a broad chest. A big hand lifted the agreement from his, and gathered up the others, setting them on a nearby table. “Glorfindel... I need to get that finished!” “Ah, yes, but *we* have things to finish, too, don’t we? Since you’re feeling better?” Erestor looked up, his velvet dark eyes going wide when he saw the decided leer on Glorfindel’s face. “Oh? Oh! Y-yes, we do...” To his surprise, Glorfindel didn’t pounce him immediately. Instead, the blond ran gentle hands over his hair, freeing it from its braid, stroking his fingers delicately over the pointed ears. “Erestor... this isn’t going to remind you of... of anything... is it?” Erestor blinked. Remind him of... oh. That. “No.” “Are you sure? I would not cause you grief, my love.” “I am sure. There is a vast difference between being in your arms and being in that ...Man’s ...chambers.” He nearly spat the word ‘Man’. He didn’t know if he’d ever trust one of those creatures again. Glorfindel pulled him closer, settling him against his chest. “Love - will you tell me, now, what he did?” “Why?” Erestor asked blankly. “I thought we were going to...” His Warrior shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t... I do not wish to do anything that may be similar to...” “Oh.” Erestor realized what he was driving at. “Glorfindel - I don’t think there is much that would. I was drugged before he truly started anything; I only remember it in the vaguest sort of way.” Both were silent for a moment. “Then tell me what you vaguely remember?” Glorfindel finally asked. “It will be good for you.” “Did Elrond put you up to this?” Erestor demanded, not looking up. “Not exactly. He did mention that I should know before... well, before. But, love, I would have asked anyway. I will *never* do anything that might cause you grief, not if I can help it. I don’t want to risk reminding you of him while you are with me.” Erestor thought that over. So, Glorfindel thought he should tell him for his own sake - yet, whether the Elda realized it or not, Erestor needed to tell him for Glorfindel’s peace of mind. His Warrior might be worried about hurting him, but Erestor was just as worried about leaving his love tense and nervous. He sighed. “I remember him telling me to take off my tunic,” he whispered, snuggling closer to Glorfindel so he wouldn’t have to look at his face. “And he ran his hands over me, but I was already starting to get dizzy. He said some things, told me about the potion and said it would make me ‘compliant’... he kept talking, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying anymore.” Glorfindel’s arms had tightened slightly, but he didn’t reply. “I... remember that he touched me outside my leggings, but he didn’t tell me to take them off. I think... Glorfindel... you know I do not have much experience? Or... well... any experience?” Glorfindel nodded, making a rumbling sound of agreement. Erestor felt him nuzzling into his hair. “I - I remember kneeling on the floor, because it was rough stone and hurt my knees a little... I have vague flashes of something hot in my mouth, and then choking... so, I think that he... that he...” He trailed off uncertainly. “Is that something he would have wanted to do?” “Yes,” Glorfindel’s voice was hoarse. “It was. You don’t remember it? Nothing more than those images about it, I mean?” Erestor shook his head. “I remember the choking, and my jaw felt tired, then I remember sitting half on his lap on the couch, and someone pounding on the door and he was so surprised he shoved me off to the floor. Then I remember Araden helping me put my tunic on, and we talked for a bit... and then I was on a horse, and Elrohir was holding me, and you were there... and then I woke up here, with this strange blond Elf offering me a bloody heart.” Glorfindel managed a chuckle. “I’d still give it to you, if you wanted it.” Erestor decided they had been serious enough. He poked Glorfindel’s chest, sitting back. “No, leave it where it is. I don’t think this will be very enjoyable if you have a gaping hole in your chest, getting the blankets all messy.” Glorfindel laughed and leaned forward, pressing his nose against Erestor’s and gazing into his eyes. “You know, this is not exactly the romantic conversation I was expecting, for the first time we would make love.” “Well, it isn’t, though, is it?” “Isn’t what?” the blond was confused. “Isn’t our first time,” Erestor clarified. “Or did I dream what happened in that tent?” “No,” Glorfindel replied, easing his smaller lover down on the bed, “no, it was no dream. Though, I will admit to fantasizing over it several times, since.” The dark Elf blushed. “You wouldn’t be alone in that...” He allowed his mate to start unfastening the burgundy robe he was wearing - really, he was going to have to start hiding his black clothes. They were steadily disappearing from the wardrobe. And *this* robe was steadily disappearing from his body. Glorfindel had finished unfastening it; now he pushed it open and gave an interested hum at discovering that while Erestor had put on leggings, he’d neglected to wear an under-tunic. “It was warm this morning,” the Counselor said defensively. “Oh, I’m not complaining,” Glorfindel murmured, his hands beginning to roam slowly over the ivory skin. “I’m not complaining *at all*.” Erestor was nervous, but he couldn’t hold back a smile. Glorfindel looked too much like an Elfling who’d just been handed a new toy. Then Glorfindel bent his head and rediscovered that sensitive spot on his throat, and Erestor promptly forgot what he’d been thinking about. Glorfindel wasn’t thinking at all. He couldn’t spare the attention for anything beyond soft skin, delicate bones, lean muscles, and the low, quiet sounds Erestor was making in the back of his throat. He was already so aroused he was aching; he didn’t want this to end quickly, so he backed off a bit. “What?” Erestor gazed up at him, those sharp black eyes gone hazy and soft with his own arousal, which very nearly defeated Glorfindel’s plan to take it slow. “I don’t want this to end too soon,” he said softly, “and you’re too beautiful for me to have much self-control.” Erestor blushed, a rather charming shade of red that started on his cheeks and spread to his face, down his neck, and across his chest. If it went further than that, Glorfindel didn’t know - it broke his hard-won control and he nearly attacked his smaller mate, devouring Erestor’s mouth with his own, his hands groping for every bit of skin he could reach. His love certainly wasn’t objecting. Seemed to like it, actually, if the moans were anything to go by. He kept kissing him, but it was all too new and too exciting for their lips to stay together. They pulled apart, caught fleeting breaths of air, kissed again and then were apart again, tasting of each other’s throats, licking at skin and exploring the new textures and sensations they were finding. Erestor slowly became brave enough to begin exploring Glorfindel, running his hands over broad shoulders and the elegant sweep of muscled back, enjoying the satin skin and the firmness under his hands. He had never had a lover, and his own hands shook with nervousness, but he never dreamed of stopping. Glorfindel had centuries of experience, millennia of sexual playmates who had taught him all there was to know of love-making; yet he had never had a partner that he truly *loved* before. His hands were shaking just as badly, as he explored silky skin and the incredible softness of Erestor’s inner thighs - but he never dreamed of stopping, either. Erestor never knew where his leggings disappeared to - one moment, Glorfindel was kissing his throat and playing with the drawstring at his waist; the next, his back was arching as Glorfindel licked a nipple and his leggings were gone. The sensation of Glorfindel’s sword- roughened hands on the sensitive skin of his thighs nearly made him come right then. The blond Elf moved from worshiping his lover’s chest to lower areas, moving his tongue in broad swipes over delicate ribs and fluttering stomach muscles, investigating a lovely small navel until Erestor’s laughing gasps made him stop. He paused, eyeing a lovely erection thoughtfully. Erestor’s cock was dark red, leaking, and seemed to strain toward him in a very gratifying way - yet he hesitated to taste him. He *wanted* to, yet he feared it would make his love think of what had happened to him before... and that was the last thing he wished to happen. So he wrapped a large hand around it instead, stroking gently, and decided that the way Erestor cried out and arched beneath him was every bit as good as having a taste. They could always save that for later, anyway, when he felt himself able to take things slow and carefully. Right now, he was going to explode if he couldn’t get inside his love soon. He sat up slightly, still stroking the smaller Elf, who was writhing now in a most enticing way. Glazed blue eyes surveyed the room, landing on the small beside table. Hadn’t he put something in there, just in the vague hope that this would happen soon? His free hand shot out and yanked the drawer open, groping in its depths, and returned victoriously, carrying a small vial of oil. Rose-scented, if he remembered correctly. Perfect. Erestor was startled out of mind-numbing bliss when the cool glass vial landed on his thigh. “Sorry,” Glorfindel murmured, sounding anything but, and he felt the blond part his legs further, felt a strangely oily hand stroke over his balls and then further back, over the sensitive skin behind them, touching him in places no one had *ever* touched him before, circling the entrance to his body with careful precision. He forgot how to breathe. “Erestor? Love, let me?” Glorfindel’s voice was the only thing that was grounding him in reality - he nodded rapidly, caught between fear and excitement, and nearly shrieked aloud when the first careful finger pushed inside him. “Easy,” Glorfindel crooned, soothing him with soft kisses on his throat and collarbones. “Easy, easy, it’s all right, it will only hurt a little and you’ll forget it soon.” Erestor forced himself to relax. He trusted his Warrior; Glorfindel *wouldn’t* hurt him. It only felt a little strange, and even that was passing - then it all exploded into light and pretty colors and a racing heartbeat as the blond touched something inside him that Erestor had never dreamed existed. “Oh,” he gasped, staring at the grinning blond. “Found it,” Glorfindel said smugly, but before Erestor could ask exactly what ‘it’ was, that searching finger touched him there again, and he lost his train of thought. Glorfindel kept stroking him, and he struggled to keep himself conscious, vaguely aware that the bigger Elf was doing something with his other hand, holding him somehow that was keeping him from coming, but he couldn’t sort out the sensations enough to know exactly how - there was another finger inside him, yes, and another... three, then, or more - yes, another, and he didn’t care what Glorfindel did, he was going to come right *now* - - except the fingers retreated, and the pressure on his shaft vanished, leaving him empty and feeling oddly cold. He whimpered. Valar, where had his pride gone? Probably wherever those fingers went... “Glor...fin...” “Shh,” was the response he got, “shh, love, just a moment. I don’t want you to come yet, just wait for me.” Wait for him? What did that mean, wait for him? Erestor opened his mouth to ask the question, just as Glorfindel shifted and moved against him and abruptly answered it. Hot, and hard, and throbbing, and it *did* hurt, and he hoped those words from earlier were true, and that he would soon forget it. Right now, it felt worse than any pain he could remember. “Valar...” Glorfindel whispered, stopping his slow forward movement only when he was pressed tight against his love. “Oh, Erestor... you’re so... warm...” He held perfectly still, and his lover could feel him trembling, against him and inside him. Erestor fought back tears. It hurt, yes, but it was amazing - he’d never known it was possibly for two beings to feel so closely connected - he could feel Glorfindel’s heart beating, and the blond’s chest rose and fell in perfect harmony with his own. He felt their rather tenuous bond growing stronger, felt the connection between them grow and spread until he was almost sure he could speak the blond’s thoughts. If, of course, Glorfindel was thinking right now. Erestor had a feeling he was only concentrating on not coming, if the expression on his face was anything to judge by. The pain he felt had settled to a dull, uncomfortable ache, and he shifted slightly, trying to ease it. The motion made those lights explode behind his eyes again; made Glorfindel give a funny, yelping cry, and then they were both moving together, minds on automatic, ancient instinct taking over their bodies, seeking for the culmination of their pleasure. Glorfindel retained just enough brains to wrap his hand back around Erestor’s shaft - which made his Counselor make a few very interesting sounds that he would have to try for again later - and then he was back to mindless thrusting, his thoughts fading into pure bliss. Erestor was certain he was dying. No one could possibly feel this good and continue to live! Lightning was dancing up and down his bones, little sparks twining around his hips and his balls and he knew he was going to explode any second now. He tried to whisper this fact to his lover, and received an encouraging sound and harder stroking as his reply. Like he needed any further stimulation - power seemed to gather together and then shoot down his spine - his back was arching and he opened his mouth to scream but he didn’t hear any sound and then there was warmth spreading over his chest and stomach and he felt his muscles clamp down tight and Glorfindel let out a hoarse cry... ...and there was more warmth, inside him this time, and then then then his world went dark. * “Did you know Haldir is courting Prince Legolas?” A voice rumbled in a quiet room. There was a yawn, then soft words spoken in reply, “No, but it doesn’t surprise me. I saw the way he looked at him at dinner last night.” “Mmm.” The taller Elf shifted in the dark room, and pulled the smaller one closer. “So, did you like it?” “Of course I did,” was the snapped reply, belied by the gentle touch of fingers stroking a broad chest. Glorfindel laughed softly. “A stupid question, I suppose.” Erestor gave a sleepy hum in reply - they’d only just woken from their rather exhausted sleep. “Did you know that the twins are in love with Haldir’s brothers?” “Yes, they told me.” “Oh? How long have you known?” “A century or so.” Erestor stretched a bit, then snuggled closer to his mate. “They think Elrond doesn’t know, but he figured it out long before they told me. He’s just waiting for them to scrape together the nerve to tell *him*.” “Our Lord is very underhanded, you know this?” “Yes.” “I guess Imladris wouldn’t be the same if he wasn’t.” “Probably not.” There was silence for a moment. “Erestor?” “Yes?” “Can I call you ‘Tor?” Dark eyes blinked sleepily, long lashes tickling against Glorfindel’s skin. “I suppose.” “You can call me ‘Fin, if you want.” “What, I can’t call you Glory?” “*No*!” Erestor was nearly dislodged from his Warrior’s side with the strength of his reaction, but he just snickered slightly and cuddled even closer. “All right, no Glory. What does she think about all this, by the way?” “She - she has taken herself to Lothlorien.” “Oh.” Erestor wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. He hadn’t thought Riel would be *that* heartbroken. Perhaps it was just a ploy to try and win sympathy. Well, he’d save his worries about that in case the blond harridan showed up here again. “How do you know Haldir is courting Legolas?” “I figured it out when I caught them kissing in the wine cellar.” “Well, that would be a clue,” Erestor snickered again. He hadn’t laughed this much in millennia. Not exactly what he would have imagined for his first post-lovemaking conversation, but he could think of worse scenarios. Perhaps Glorfindel could think of better ones, for those strong arms closed more firmly around him, and that rumbling voice whispered, “I love you.” “And I, you,” softly spoken, with a tightening of paler, thinner arms. “Forever,” the deeper voice vowed. “Forever,” the softer one echoed. Another moment of silence, then, “Do you think there is a cure for loving so much?” “Do you want one?” “No. I hope never to find a remedy.” “Nor I.” “Erestor?” “Yes?” “Do you want to...? Again?” “Yes.” “Good!” The voices stopped talking, but this time there was no silence. Only soft moans and louder cries, and the sounds of renewed passion. And the softer, more distant sounds of a heart shedding ancient bonds of loneliness, free to beat safely again, secure in the love of the heart he thought would never be his... ~finis~