Title:  Resurrection, 2/?
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type:	FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel, Erestor/Celebrimbor (implied)
Rating:	 R to start for some violence, NC-17 eventually for slashy goodness
Beta: Kenaz
Archive:  Rhovanion, OEAM, Melethryn.  All others please ask.

WARNING: Violence, graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, and just a little bit of 
drama, because this is me, after all.
 
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, 
and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this.

Author’s Notes: My Erestor muse insisted that he be given more attention and another shot at 
Glorfindel.  He’s hard to refuse…  As usual, I’m not adhering to the rules of Tolkien canon (big 
surprise, I’m sure), so if that’s your thing, this won’t entertain you.  If not, then I hope you enjoy 
it.  Set in the Second Age. 
 
Feedback: If you care to share, larienelengasse@yahoo.com

Summary: Erestor finds a place in Imladris and the building of the Last Homely House begins.

Glorfindel had seen to it that Erestor had a tent close to his own; more solid structures were in 
process for the cold winter months to come.  Since none of the refugees from Ost-in-Edhil had 
escaped with much more than their lives, the elves that had traveled east with Elrond from 
Lindon had kept busy making clothing and furnishings for the new arrivals.  Erestor’s permanent 
bed had been finished just two days ago; made by Glorfindel and Gildor’s hands.  It turned out 
that in addition to being a brave and skilled warrior, Gildor was a master woodcarver; he said it 
was something he did to bring peace to his spirit.  The bed was lovely, twined posts with 
carvings of vines and leaves wrapping from base to top; the headboard was carved with flowers 
and birds, deer and fox, and all the animals that lived in the valley.  It was dressed with simple, 
white linens that felt cool against his skin during balmy evenings, and the mattress was filled 
with thick and comforting sheep wool and goose down.

The tent was sparsely furnished, but it had everything he needed: a washstand and basin, a rug 
on the floor, a wooden rack upon which to hang his clothes and a small chest to hold his 
undergarments.  A mirror hung on a peg set into one of the support poles, and he had a small 
stand with a drawer next to his bed, where he kept his brush and hair combs.  He was near the 
central fire pit, and at night he fell asleep to the sounds of warriors’ laughter or elven voices 
raised in song. 

Overall, it was a peaceful time, so different from those last days in Ost-in-Edhil.  Those days 
haunted him still, during both sleep and wakefulness.  He missed his master; Celebrimbor had 
been a good elf, a little cold sometimes, but true nonetheless, at least in the beginning.  
Celebrimbor had taken him in when he had no one, when he arrived in the city with nothing but 
a pack slung over his shoulder.  His parents had waited until he was grown to sail West, and he 
had opted to stay behind and explore this world.  He sometimes regretted that decision; being a 
vagabond soul often meant being lonely. 

So, Celebrimbor took him in and he became the Noldo’s assistant.  While he was primarily a 
scribe and bookkeeper, Celebrimbor had taught him something of the art.  Erestor knew how to 
work metal and stone, as well as design structures.  His real love was of all things mechanical – 
wells and water pumps, wheels and bellows; he loved building things that served a practical 
purpose in the world.  Celebrimbor teased him about that, but Erestor could tell that he was 
proud, especially when the Master Smith came to have his own private bath that provided hot 
water at a moment’s notice.  Erestor spent many years in Celebrimbor’s employ, and by the 
fateful day of the cities’ fall, he was well versed in the ways of the Smiths of Eregion.

In addition to being his mentor and employer, Celebrimbor had also been his lover, though few 
knew it.  Many of the smiths pandered to his lord, seeking to entice him to bed so that they may 
learn all he knew.  But Celebrimbor was no fool; he saw through them all - all but one. 

Erestor’s heart ached when he thought of the first day the Giver of Gifts arrived.  He had 
seen that Celebrimbor was immediately taken by him, but it still took years for Annatar to 
wear him down.  Celebrimbor had lain with Annatar on more than one occasion, yet he 
always returned to his own bed, and to Erestor.  Erestor always knew when they had 
been together.  His lover would return to his chamber freshly bathed, not grimy from the 
forge.  He would have a look in his eye that was slightly menacing and predatory, and 
when they lie together, he would always take Erestor from behind. 

Erestor never protested, those nights he would rather not look into his lord’s eyes, not when he 
looked like that.

Erestor leaned heavily on his cane as he traversed the path that led up the side of the cliffs.  He 
heard hammers and sawing ahead, so he knew he was on the correct path.  “Glorfindel!” he 
called, as he spied his best friend up the path. 

Glorfindel turned and smiled, rebalancing a large beam on his shoulder.  “Erestor!  Well met, my 
friend.  You must be feeling spry to walk so far this day.”

Erestor panted a little to catch his breath as he arrived.  “This is the best I have felt in weeks.  
And you, you are looking no worse for wear.  What is that?  Is this some new fashion?  A dirt 
shirt?” he teased as he brushed a smudge of dirt off the warrior’s bare shoulder.

Glorfindel chuckled.  “House building is hard work, one cannot commence if one is frightened of 
a little dirt.”

Erestor grinned and stretched his back.  He watched as Glorfindel shifted the beam from one 
shoulder to the other as if it were no more than a twig, then the warrior held out his arm.  
“Perhaps this will provide more comfort than your cane.”

Erestor smiled and shifted the cane to his left hand, then took the warrior’s arm.  “You can bear 
both me and the beam?  You must truly be strong.”

Glorfindel chuckled.  “If I did not know better, I would swear you were flirting with me, Erestor.  
Come, I want to show you something.”  Erestor laughed and they walked up the hill together.

They arrived at a large clearing, which had a view of the entire valley.  At the northern edge, a 
sheer rock face bounded it in a half-moon shape.  To the west, there was a waterfall and a 
recently built stone bridge that crossed the Bruinen, which ran swiftly below.  On the far side of 
the river, Erestor could see a pathway that wound up the side of a slow rise in the hillside and 
then joined a staircase that traversed the southern edge of the rock face, leading to the Ford 
and the High Moors beyond.  The views to the south, east, and west were breathtaking.

“This is the place where the Last Homely House will be built.” Glorfindel said as he put down the 
beam.  “Here, these are the drawings so far.”

Erestor took a seat on a stump and looked at the drawings spread out on the rough-hewn table.  
They were lovely, no doubt, but Erestor could not help but think that Elrond deserved something 
spectacular, something to rival Celeborn and Galadriel’s abode in Ost-in-Edhil.

“My lord!”

Glorfindel turned to see a young elf jogging toward them.  “Galathil and Gildor need your 
assistance!”

“I will be right there,” Glorfindel answered.  He turned to Erestor.  “Will you pardon me, my 
friend?”

Erestor nodded.  “Of course, I shall wait here.”

Erestor found a blank piece of parchment and he picked up a slender piece of graphite.  As he 
looked at the drawing, then looked at the blank parchment, he felt his mind begin to explode 
with ideas.  He set the piece of kohl to the parchment, and began to draw. 

He did not register Glorfindel’s presence until a shadow was cast upon the table.  He looked up 
and shielded his eyes against the light that poured over the Elda’s shoulder. 

“What on Arda?” Glorfindel exclaimed as he picked up the piece of parchment that Erestor had 
been drawing on.

“Oh, I was just toying with an idea.  Those arches are from the house of the Mírdain, and those 
windows came from Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn’s house.  The arch formation is strong 
and allows for ceilings much higher than what one would normally see.  I could not be sure 
without taking a sample, but I believe these cliffs may be granite, and if they are, it makes 
excellent building material, far superior to wood and far more durable.  Of course, wood 
provides for a warmer appearance, but you could build the outside of stone and the inside of 
wood.”

“What is this?” Glorfindel pointed to what looked like a large tank secured to the side of the cliff, 
near the falls.

Erestor grinned and slowly stood.  “Ah, now that - that is my invention.  It is a water tank that will 
hold enough water for most in the house.  The water travels though these pipes and into these 
distribution tanks placed at each corner of the house, and it is refilled by the river, here.  
Attached to the distribution tanks are valves that send the water in different directions.  Inside…” 
he reached for another drawing, “you have private baths, each with a much smaller version of 
the main tank that is equipped with a steam release valve and a small fire box beneath it.  You 
pull this cord, it activates the valve on the roof, and the water flows in and fills the tank.  You 
light a fire, warm the water, and the steam valve releases when the water is hot, just like a 
kettle.  Then you turn this valve and pump the hot water into the tub.  There is a separate pipe 
for cold water directly from the tanks on the roof. Of course, the tank will provide water for the 
kitchens and laundry as well.  It is also possible to reclaim water for reuse in the gardens.”

“But what causes the water to move from the tanks to the house?”

Erestor grinned.  “Pressure.  As the water runs from beneath the mountain toward the falls, 
some of it is diverted here, to the tank.  That creates pressure, pushing the water in the tank 
outward, down the pipes to the distribution tank.  Water seeks the path of least resistance.  As 
long as the falls flow, there will be enough pressure to cause the water to seek escape from the 
tank.”  

Glorfindel looked at Erestor with an amazed expression.  “And you know how to build this?”

“You have over seventy-five Mírdain smiths in the Hidden Valley, Glorfindel, and they are all 
skilled in working metal and stone, most taught by Celebrimbor himself.  With their help, we 
could make the Last Homely House rival the king’s palace in Lindon.”

A broad grin curved Glorfindel’s lips.

Erestor flushed.  “Of course, this original drawing is fine, lovely, quite welcoming…”

“Erestor…”

“I did not mean to imply that it was inadequate or…”

“Erestor…”

“I only want Lord Elrond to have the finest things available – he has done so much for me and 
my kinsmen...”

“Erestor.”

“Yes?”

“Stop apologizing.  He is going to be quite impressed by it; come, we must show it to him.”

“We?”

“Yes, we.  It is your creation.”

“Yes, but . . .  I  . . . I have never…”

“You will now.”  He turned.  “Gildor!  Stop all work, there has been a substantial change in 
design!”  He looked back at Erestor as Gildor whistled to signal the others.  “Come, my friend.  It 
is time Lord Elrond met you personally.”

*    *    *    *

Erestor stood nervously by, chewing his lip as Elrond poured over the drawings.  The elf lord 
first looked at Glorfindel, then shifted his gaze to Erestor.  “And you know how to make this, all 
these . . . valves, you called them?”

“Aye, my lord.  I have made them before.”

“And the stone?”

“I must take a sample to confirm, but at first glance it appears to be granite.  It is the hardest 
stone available, my lord.  It makes superb building material.”

A smile slowly curved Elrond’s lips.  “Well, Glorfindel, I suggest you assist Erestor with taking a 
sample, as soon as possible.  The structure will not be finished before winter, if we must 
excavate enough rock to build so large a home.”  He turned his attention to Erestor.  “Well done, 
Erestor, it is a beautiful plan.  You are now in charge of the building of the Last Homely House.  
I give you authority to supervise the workers and manage the process from start to finish.”

“But, my lord, I have never supervised…”

“There is a first time for everything, Erestor.  This is your design, who else could possibly see it 
through to fruition?  Not to worry, Glorfindel will aid you with the workers, all will be well.”

Glorfindel bowed.  “Thank you, my lord.”  He took Erestor by the hand and motioned toward the 
door.

“Thank you, my lord,” Erestor answered, as he bowed low and departed with Glorfindel.

To be continued…