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... NO REMEDY - CHAPTER THREE Erestor sighed. He’d forgotten how much he hated traveling. Hated the idea of tents, and bugs, and eating half-raw, half-burnt food cooked over an open fire, or dry lembas with plain water. Sharing the same conversations with the same people... The company he was with just made it worse. Well... except for one thing. His eyes went to the front of the column, where Glorfindel rode beside his temporary Second-in-Command. The Elf who had just wed had been left in Imladris; to spend time with his new bride while handling Glorfindel’s regular duties. He sighed softly again, reaching up to pull the hood of his new cloak further over his face. It was very early morning still; the mist was clinging to everything and he knew it would make his hair try to escape the tight braid and form into tiny ringlets around his face. He didn’t feel like being teased over them - especially with Araden riding only a few horses away. His cousin would be the first to cry out a laughing remark. Erestor felt too sleepy to try to come up with a sarcastic remark in return. He was rather surprised to find himself more confident than he had expected - as soon as Araden’s pale blue eyes had settled on him this morning, he’d been certain he would start shaking again - but he hadn’t. Maybe he was just too sleepy after being up for two nights in a row, or maybe his millennia away from the Mirkwood Elves had helped him build up an immunity to their taunting. Whatever the reason, he had decided to just rely on the sharp tongue he’d developed at Imladris and let the rest take care of itself. As long as Glorfindel didn’t get involved. He couldn’t bear the thought of being teased by his secret love. But then, he’d never seen the blond do or say anything deliberately cruel to another Elf. It was one of the many things that made him love Glorfindel; he had such a kind heart. He yawned, and shifted slightly in his saddle. Another thing he wasn’t used to was riding a horse; though he loved the animals, he had avoided the stables after his favorite mare had died of advanced age. He had enough past experience to realize he was going to have a very tender backside for a few days. The prospect didn’t exactly fill him with glee. And there was one other thing that was going to make this trip miserable. His dark eyes slanted past the Mirkwood Elves to the beautiful white mare that pranced delicately along in front of them, her mane and tail braided with silver ribbons and her bridle and saddle decorated with flowers. Lady Riel’s mare. And Lady Riel, riding her. Wearing a white cloak with a design of flowers etched in tiny silver threads, her hair coaxed into curls that were rapidly losing their shape in the heavy mist. She wore a crown of flowers that some maiden Elflings had presented to her and she was breathtaking. And she knew it. Erestor wondered again what she was doing with the party - Elrond had murmured something about Lothlorien fashions, looking puzzled, and his Chief Counselor gathered that the She-Elves of Imladris had petitioned him for a representative, to bring back sketches of the latest robes, cloaks and dresses. Lady Riel had been chosen. Erestor had to admit she always seemed to be dressed to perfection. She was probably the best choice. That didn’t mean he had to like it. And perfection or not, she looked rather silly dressed like that, on a mare like that, in the middle of the plain, sturdy cloaks and plain, sturdy horses of the rest of the party. Even Glorfindel had given her an odd look and moved away to his place at the head of the line. Riel seemed to be sulking, her pretty mouth turned down in a pout. Erestor knew he should feel ashamed of the wicked satisfaction that strummed in his heart over that little event. But he didn’t. * Glorfindel glanced back over the group of Elves that were his responsibility for the next two weeks, checking to make sure everything was in order. He saw Riel’s pout and ignored it; if she was going to be silly over not riding beside him, that was her own fault. This wasn’t a pleasure trip, riding out for a day of picnics and fun. She had no idea what she was getting into, but she hadn’t asked. When he’d stared at her appearance among the travelers, she’d simpered and told him she had planned it to be a surprise. ‘A romantic little trip together,’ that was what she’d called it. Well, she’d certainly find out differently. He had no time to spare her while they rode, and would have even less when they made camp. Bad enough that he had to take care of a bunch of soft diplomats - he had a feeling Riel was going to be a nightmare. His eyes passed over the Mirkwood Elves and settled on the slim figure in the grey cloak that rode among the Imladris diplomats. There were only two others, both assistant Counselors that had seemed immeasurably relived when told Erestor was going along. Glorfindel had found it difficult to hide his own glee at the success of his manipulations. It hadn’t taken more than a hint or two to Elrond to get the Chief Counselor numbered among his charges. Erestor looked sleepy, he thought, admiring the way the thick eyelashes drifted over those dark eyes. He wasn’t that far away, he could see him fairly well from here. He’d given up wondering why Erestor had become so fascinating; he wasn’t one to worry about the deeper meanings behind his thoughts. Erestor was intriguing - therefore Erestor was watched. Simple as that. He liked the grey cloak. It was much better than the black one he’d expected. The rich material was soft and sturdy at the same time, much different than Riel’s flimsy white thing. *That* cloak wouldn’t last out two days. Erestor’s must have cost a nice bit of coins - he’d have to compliment the twins on their taste. They had told him how they wanted to get Erestor a gift; they had thought of a horse of his own or perhaps a tent he would not have to share. Glorfindel had suggested the cloak himself. He’d told them the idea of a horse might not please Erestor, the Counselor seemed much too busy for casual riding and a horse would need to be exercised after they returned home. The idea of Erestor having to share a tent had given Glorfindel ideas of his own. So he’d suggested the cloak, the twins had enthusiastically agreed - the result was the grey garment with darker grey embroidered edging and elegantly plain grey fastenings. It made Erestor look as though his skin were made of moonlight; instead of looking like he was recovering from some traumatic disease. Glorfindel really liked the change. He wondered how Erestor would react if he told him so? The Captain frowned a bit as he also wondered what the twins had meant by their parting words - why would he want to steal Erestor’s hair ties? The other Elf would *not* be happy; he wanted to stay on his good side, not make him angry. Ah, well, he’d figure it out. Perhaps he really did look nice with his hair down, instead of in the tight braid that looked as if it could pull his scalp off. Perhaps he should take their advice - such a hairstyle was sure to give Erestor a headache if he wore it long enough, and Glorfindel was sure the Counselor would be unlikely to loosen it at night. Erestor wasn’t the type to relax around others just because it was evening and time for rest. Yes, he was definitely going to have to look after his obsession. And he’d enjoy every minute of it. * Erestor had been sure that he’d wake up more as the day continued, but instead he found that the swaying of the horse just made him sleepier. He would have liked to just relax on her back and nap, like he had when he was an Elfling and his mare Hylidae was still alive. He’d spent hours on the big, sturdy horse, sprawled over her like she was a couch, sleeping or reading while she grazed, unconcerned. It had been one of the things Araden and the others mocked him for, but he hadn’t cared for once. Hylidae had been his dearest - and only - friend, and he’d wanted to spend all his time with her. It wasn’t like the others had given him options or offered to let him play with them. No, they’d just laughed at him. Erestor found himself gritting his teeth at the memory and forced himself to relax. The little mare he was riding seemed to sense his sudden emotional turmoil; she turned her head and looked at him out of a big liquid eye, then attempted to nuzzle his knee. He smiled down at her and patted her neck. She was a nice little thing, though she wasn’t Hylidae - a pretty little dapple grey like moonlight on creekstones, where Hylidae had been big for a mare and black as midnight. Still, he found himself wondering what her name was, and determined to ask one of the escort later. Maybe even Glorfindel... No, he’d be wise to avoid Glorfindel. He’d be too nervous around him, with Araden and the other Mirkwood Elves watching his every move. He’d make an idiot of himself before he realized it. Ah, he shouldn’t have thought about Araden so much. His cousin was looking at him again. And that odd expression was back in his eyes. Erestor kept his own face blank and eyes facing the front of the column; he pretended not to notice how Araden was staring. It wasn’t like he could move back to speak to him; the company had been carefully arranged and the part of the path they had reached had become rather narrow. Araden couldn’t move his flashy stallion without upsetting the whole group. Thankfully, he had enough brains to realize that. But Erestor was sure there was going to be a nice little sarcastic discussion around the campfire tonight. For some reason he almost smiled; he’d been barely past his majority when he’d left Mirkwood, still shy and quiet and wore his feelings ‘on his sleeve’ as his mother had said. Over the centuries he’d learned to bury them deep under his skin and had sharpened his tongue to a razor’s edge. Araden had a shock in store for him. He patted the little mare’s neck again and let his thoughts drift away from his cousin and toward the meetings they had scheduled in Lothlorien... * The evening turned out better than Erestor had expected. The Mirkwood Elves seemed to have picked up on the respect - bordering on fear, for some of them - that the Imladris Elves held for Erestor and stayed silent around him. Araden just watched him, his pale eyes thoughtful and measuring; even when Erestor scraped up his courage and met those eyes with a questioning look, he didn’t speak. Maybe it was just because they were tired - the first day of traveling was usually the hardest. Sore limbs and sore backsides didn’t equal good chances for comfortable evening conversation. Erestor pulled his cloak a little closer. He’d never taken it off, though most of the other Elves had shed theirs once the fire was lit. He was just so used to his robes that he knew he’d feel naked if he sat there in just his leggings and a tunic, no matter how loose the tunic was. He yawned and watched the flames dancing. So pretty... He never noticed when the other Elves started drifting away to their tents or to guard posts - not until two voices registered in his ears. Two familiar voices. “Glorfindel - you cannot be serious! After all the trouble I took to make sure I would be on this trip with you?!” “Riel - we cannot share a tent! We are not bonded; no matter what is overlooked at Imladris, we are on a diplomatic mission and morals must be observed! Besides, I will have little time - I will be up and down all night checking on the guards.” “But, Glorfindel...” “This is not a pleasure trip, Riel. I have serious responsibilities and I will not neglect them!” “What about your responsibilities to your Intended?” Erestor felt an almost audible crack in his chest when he heard that word. “Intended? You’re a bit ahead of yourself, Riel, I have never asked...” “Oh, come, Glorfindel! All of Imladris knows you intend to ask me to bond with you; there’s not an Elf there or in this group that will blink twice if we share a tent. I cannot believe you expect me to share with that Mirkwood She-Elf!” “You are the only females on this trip, Riel, you will have to make due! She is probably not over pleased at the idea of sharing, either.” “Then let me come to your tent!” “You cannot, Riel, I have a tent-mate of my own. A She-Elf sharing with one Elf to whom she is not bonded will set tongues wagging; do you want them speaking of how you share with two?” Erestor could almost see Riel pouting, even though the Elves were behind him somewhere. They were speaking low, so their voices wouldn’t carry to the tents. He wondered if they didn’t realize he was still sitting by the fire. “Can’t your tent-mate share with the Mirkwood Elf?” “No, my *male* tent-mate cannot share with the Mirkwood She-Elf. It just puts them in the position you are trying to put *us* in!” Riel’s voice took on a purr. “Oh, Glorfindel, you have no *idea* of the positions I want you in!” “Riel! Enough, go to your tent. You shouldn’t speak like that where we could be overheard!” Glorfindel’s blush was nearly audible; Erestor had to fight a grin off his face even though he felt sick at the thought of the two beautiful blond Elves lying together. “Well! See if I offer myself to you again on this trip! Good night!” And he heard Riel’s footsteps as she flounced away. Glorfindel approached the fire and sat down beside of Erestor, who was once again gazing into the flames, his eyes beginning to take on the lovely glaze of sleep. “Counselor, you will fall into the flames if you are not careful; let me escort you to our tent?” Well, *that* certainly woke him up! He stared at Glorfindel in wide-eyed amazement. “O- our tent?!” The blue eyes gazing at him took on a wicked gleam. “Yes, our tent. Come, the night grows late and we have an early start in the morning.” He took Erestor’s arm and lifted him to his feet, practically manhandling the stunned Elf toward a small tent. A very small tent, with one large bed made of blankets inside. Erestor gaped at it, then Glorfindel. The blond Elf ignored him and began undressing. Erestor ripped his eyes away, staring at the tent wall as his cheeks flushed hotly. “You cannot sleep in your cloak, Erestor.” Glorfindel’s voice was gentle; Erestor risked a glance and found that the Elda had only taken off his outer tunic and armor. He still wore a pair of soft grey leggings and a sky blue under-tunic. Erestor still blushed again. He pushed back his hood and lowered his gaze to his buttons, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he unfastened them. He missed the surprised gaze that slid over his hair, small strands of which had indeed escaped in adorable little ringlets around his face, or the way those eyes turned hungry when he shrugged out of the cloak and was left in his own black leggings and a dark green tunic. The tunic might be baggy, but they simply did not make leggings that didn’t cling; Glorfindel could easily admire the shape and tone of his slender legs and leanly muscled thighs. And admire he did. Quite breathlessly. He had to restrain himself from reaching out to stroke those thighs... Erestor lay his folded cloak on top of his bag and turned to find Glorfindel staring at him with a very odd look in his eyes. “Are you all right?” “Do you sleep with your hair braided?” “What?” “You should take your hair down, or you’ll have a headache tomorrow.” Erestor’s chin went up a little, hiding dismay behind arrogance. “I can take care of myself, Captain.” “I know you can, Counselor.” Glorfindel gave him a teasing smirk and dropped the subject of hairstyles for now. Instead he lay down on the blankets and stretched out, smirking harder when he saw Erestor’s big black eyes go impossibly wider at his actions. And was it just him, or was he doing his best not to let them drift over his body? Glorfindel had forgotten any surprise or trepidation over the way his thoughts were turning. He’d always wondered about Erestor; why he was so quiet and contained, why he wore such unflattering robes and scraped his hair back tightly. The fact that his thoughts had turned to wanting the Counselor had ceased to bother him when he saw the grey-cloaked figure climbing on to Alethea, the little grey mare, at dawn that morning. He’d felt a rush of pride and protectiveness, knowing he was responsible for Erestor’s safety on this journey. “Come and rest, Counselor. I don’t bite.” He paused, then his smirk turned wicked. “Not unless you wish me to do so.” Yes, that was definitely a blush. * Glorfindel pretended sleep until long after Erestor’s breathing had finally evened out. It hadn’t taken the dark Elf very long to fall asleep, despite his obvious nervousness at sharing a bed. He knew it was because Erestor was not used to traveling. Perhaps, tomorrow night, he would try to have a bit of a conversation with him. As for tonight... As soon as he was certain Erestor was asleep, Glorfindel got up and threw back the tent flap, letting the light from the fire chase the shadows away. Erestor lay with his back to him, his braid like a black snake on the blankets. Glorfindel oh-so-carefully eased the leather fastener off the end and began to undo the raven tresses, one cautious inch at a time. Finished, he ran his fingers through the silky stuff, spreading it like a midnight shadow over the pale green blankets. He watched, fascinated, as it instantly began to form into curls and waves. “Beautiful...” he whispered, stroking it gently, letting one small curl wrap around his finger. *Why* did Erestor hide this? He’d never seen anything so lovely. And now he understood what the twins had meant. Good advice. He’d definitely be taking it. At night, anyway. He wasn’t sure he wanted the other Elves to see Erestor with his hair loose - not until he had openly staked his claim on the Counselor. Erestor was *his*. Even if the dark Elf didn’t know it, yet. Glorfindel closed the tent flap and lay back down, smoothing Erestor’s hair out of the way so he wouldn’t pull on it. The other Elf murmured softly, too low to make out any words, and rolled toward him. Glorfindel, nothing loathe, opened his arms and pulled the Counselor to him, settling the dark head against his shoulder and wrapping both arms around Erestor’s waist. Ah, yes, perfect. Erestor fit against him like he was *made* to lay there. Glorfindel couldn’t help but wonder how well the fit would be if he had those pretty thighs wrapped around his waist and was thrusting... ...um. Getting aroused probably wasn’t the best idea, right now. After all, he didn’t want to frighten Erestor. As silent and lonely as the Elf had always been, it wouldn’t surprise him if he was completely untouched. *That* thought didn’t help his arousal any; he had to clench his hands into fists to keep them from wandering down past Erestor’s waist, to explore what was sure to be a lovely backside and to touch those thighs like he had longed to, earlier. To be the very first to touch him... But he wouldn’t do that without Erestor’s permission. That would be a betrayal of the fragile friendship and trust between them; the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt the delicate-looking Elf in his arms. He knew Erestor was strong, capable of taking care of himself, but that wouldn’t excuse molesting him while he slept. No matter how much he wanted to. It was going to be a long night. * It was morning. Lady Riel woke up with a rock poking her in the back. And her Mirkwood tent-mate had rolled over on her favorite mirror during the night - it had a lovely crack right through the middle. The Mirkwood She-Elf was wishing she could give Riel a lovely crack right down the middle of her face. What kind of an idiot slept with a mirror in the bed?! Erestor woke up sprawled over Glorfindel, with the blond’s arms locked firmly around him. No amount of wriggling could get him free. Then he realized the froth of black around them both was his hair. Loose. Glorfindel woke up when panicked fingers started trying to pry the leather hair-tie out of his hand. He pretended he was still asleep, wrapped both hands in Erestor’s glorious hair, and rolled over until the smaller Elf was pinned beneath him. And in Imladris, Lord Elrond stretched and yawned and sat up and then got up and then started cleaning up - and never realized that outside his door, the usual peace of the Last Homely House was about to descend into utter chaos.