Title:  Resurrection, 9/?
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type:	FPS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel, Lindir/Glorfindel, Galdor/Erestor, Elrond, Gil-galad, 
Erestor/Celebrimbor (implied) Gildor
Rating:	 NC-17
Beta: Kenaz
Archive:  Rhovanion, OEAM, Melethryn.  All others please ask.

WARNING: 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 and Galdor come to an understanding of sorts; Glorfindel guides Lindir in the 
first steps of adulthood.


Erestor stood in the shadows, watching as Glorfindel led Lindir by the hand up the staircase.  
He wanted to believe it was innocent, that it was only two friends walking hand in hand together, 
yet he knew it was more than that – he could tell by the way they looked at one another; he had 
once been on the receiving end of one of those looks himself.  In addition, Lindir’s desire for 
Glorfindel was thinly veiled – it was not the minstrel’s fault, he was young and had yet to learn 
how to affect a mask of indifference. 

“He promised you naught, Erestor,” he murmured to himself.  “You and he are only friends, no 
more.”

Galdor stood some distance behind Erestor, watching him from the shadows.  When he had met 
the Noldo, he had felt the weight that bore down on his spirit; he felt the pain, the shame, the 
belief that he was unworthy of all the good that had happened to him.  It hurt him to see one so 
emotionally battered, so fragile, yet possessing strength he did not know he had.  

Erestor had been bursting to unburden himself, yet he feared that in doing so, he would lose the 
love and respect of those he held so dear.  So it had been easy to ply Erestor, for he had only 
needed the opportunity and the ear of one from whom he did not fear judgment.  When Galdor 
opened the book and began to ask him about Celebrimbor, it had only taken a nudge to topple 
the wall around Erestor’s feelings.  Once he did that, the pain and shame poured through the 
breach.  Erestor needed reassurance, at least until he began to believe what Galdor knew 
already, that he was far stronger than anyone gave him credit for, including Erestor himself. 

He stepped forward and placed a hand upon the Noldo’s back.  “It is his way to be generous, 
almost to a fault,” he murmured quietly into Erestor’s ear.  “Glorfindel never uses his beauty to 
his advantage, though sometimes it works that way unintentionally.”

Erestor nodded.  “He and I are friends, nothing more.  It is not my place to judge or…”

Galdor turned the Noldo to face him.  “You love him.”

“I do, and he loves me; we are the dearest of friends.”

“Do not be afraid to say it, Erestor.”

“My foolish, weak heart will no longer lead me astray, into the arms of those who are incapable 
or unwilling to return my feelings.  Do not mistake me, Galdor.  I do not speak ill of Glorfindel; he 
has been nothing but kind and generous with me.  But he and I are merely friends and that is 
how we shall remain.” 

“You have known his bed,” Galdor said softly.

“Aye, and so have you, if my intuition is right.”

“It was a long time ago, almost a lifetime ago,” Galdor answered quietly.

“Yet it left its mark, yes?”

Galdor smiled and nodded.  “Aye, just as it did with you.”

Erestor sighed.  “So here we are, two elves left in the wake of his beauty and his touch.  I do not 
wish to be that elf I was in Ost-in-Edhil; I want to be stronger.” 

Galdor placed his hands upon Erestor’s shoulders and pressed their forehead’s together.  “You 
are stronger, Erestor, and I shall prove it to you.”

“How?”

“By being your friend and by always being honest with you.  By showing you that you have 
value beyond your own imagining.”  He sighed.  “This is not what I intended.”

Erestor cocked his head.  “What did you intend?”

“I intended to seduce you to my bed.”  He chuckled.  “Can I help it if I find you very beautiful?”  
He smiled as Erestor blushed and closed his eyes, a most alluring smile curving his lips.  
“However, bed play is not what my friend Erestor needs most now.”

Erestor opened his eyes and stared deep into Galdor’s own.  “How can you be sure?  Perhaps it 
is what I need.  I have known the touch of only two in my life Galdor; one who misused my trust 
and the other I cannot and will never have.” 

“How do you know that, Erestor?  Perhaps you just need time…”

“Glorfindel and I are friends, Galdor, nothing more, and nothing more will ever be.”

“Coming to hasty decisions is never wise, my friend.”

“So you deny me the opportunity to know you in this new way?”

“You are sorely tempting me, Erestor,” Galdor answered softly.  “You know I desire you.”  He 
gasped quietly as he felt the Noldo’s hand brush his lower belly. 

“And I am offering myself to you, however you shall have me.”

“This is a dangerous game,” Galdor whispered as he canted his head and brought his lips closer 
to Erestor’s. 

“And it is the danger that makes it so appealing,” Erestor replied softly, and he slid his hand 
around the back of Galdor’s neck, drawing the Sinda’s lips to his own.

*    *    *    *

Lindir approached Glorfindel slowly.  He had played this moment over in his mind thousands of 
times, yet now that it was here, he did not know what to do.  The Elda stood next to his wide 
bed, his collar unbuttoned, his feet bare, a gentle smile curving his beautiful mouth as his large, 
azure eyes beckoned Lindir.  With trembling hands, Lindir reached up and touched Glorfindel’s 
chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his tunic.  The soft, rustling sound his hands made as 
they slid over the fabric seemed amplified in his mind, as were all his senses; everything 
seemed more acute and time seemed to slow down.  His heart pounded hard in his chest, his 
limbs trembled, and he felt more alive in that moment than he ever had before.

“What shall I do?” he asked once he found his voice.

“What do you wish to do?” Glorfindel queried.

“Touch you, kiss you, see all of you,” Lindir whispered.

Glorfindel leaned forward, nuzzling the Noldo’s ear and smiling at the soft gasp that issued from 
Lindir’s lips.  “Then do as you wish, sparrow; undress me.”

Lindir slowly worked the clasps on Glorfindel’s tunic, peeling it away from his body as though he 
were unwrapping a special gift.  He had seen Glorfindel shirtless many times since he came to 
Imladris – on the training field, when they were building the house, at the river on days when 
they would all go swimming – yet this time was different; this time he could touch, this time he 
could kiss, and this time, he had the Elda all to himself.

He ran his hands over Glorfindel’s chest, his fingers lightly grazing dusky, pebbled nipples, 
causing the warrior to sigh seductively and smile.  He traced the rounded ridges of muscles with 
his fingers and watched them dance slightly beneath alabaster skin.  He counted them, bending 
down and kissing each one as he felt Glorfindel’s hands move gently into his hair.  “So 
beautiful,” Lindir murmured between kisses.

Glorfindel began breathing deeply, his head hanging back and his eyes closed as he allowed 
Lindir this leisurely exploration.  “Are you sure I am your first?” he murmured.  “This feels as if 
you know what you are doing.”

Lindir smiled at the compliment.  “It is something I have practiced many times in my dreams,” he 
whispered.  “But this is so much better than my dreams.”

“Your practice was not wasted, my songbird,” Glorfindel answered, and a hiss of pleasure 
escaped him as Lindir’s lips closed around his navel, the minstrel’s tongue delving inside it.

Lindir worked the laces on Glorfindel’s breeches, and then slid them over the warrior’s hips, 
leaving him in nothing but a loincloth.  He swallowed as he gazed at the rise in the silk fabric, 
knowing at what lay beneath.  He felt Glorfindel’s fingers under his chin and he looked into his 
friend’s eyes.  They were a deep shade of blue, like the sky at twilight, just before Ithil revealed 
herself in full.  It was as though those eyes called him, whispering a siren’s song of pleasure 
and gentle caresses, and he stood and leaned in, pressing his lips against Glorfindel’s soft 
mouth. 

Glorfindel opened his mouth, allowing Lindir to control the kiss, yielding to the slighter Noldo and 
wrapping his tongue around Lindir’s own as it entered his mouth.  It was strange to know Lindir 
in this way, yet he had always held a special place in his heart for the young minstrel he had 
helped to rescue.  As Lindir pulled away, Glorfindel looked at Lindir’s face; his eyes were closed 
and the loveliest smile curved his lips. 

“You taste good,” Lindir murmured.  “Sweet, and I can taste just a little of the wine you had 
earlier on your tongue.”

Glorfindel nuzzled Lindir’s neck.  “I am so glad you approve.”  Lindir laughed softly, causing him 
to purr in response.  “How much have you experienced?”

“Nothing, other than what we just did,” Lindir answered, unashamed.  He felt Glorfindel’s fingers 
slowly working the clasps on his robe, as if the warrior were trying to give him time to change his 
mind.  “I am nervous, but not afraid,” he whispered.  “I trust you completely.”

“To be honest, I am a little nervous myself,” Glorfindel replied.  “I have initiated others, but never 
one whom I care so much about.”

Lindir took Glorfindel’s face in his hands.  “You care about me?”

Glorfindel smiled.  “Of course I do, sparrow.”  He caressed Lindir’s cheek.

“I remember the first time you held me in your arms,” Lindir said softly.  “I was so frightened, yet 
I felt so safe there, despite all that was happening around us.”  He leaned forward and pressed 
his forehead to Glorfindel’s.  “It was as though in your arms, nothing could touch me, no matter 
how terrible it was.”

“Let us not think on that bleak day now.  These are far better times we live in; nothing will ever 
hurt you like that again.” 

“No it will not,” Lindir murmured, “not as long as I have you watching over me.”  He brushed his 
lips against Glorfindel’s.  “Kiss me again,” he answered, “touch me, I need to feel your skin 
against my own.” 
“Ah, sparrow, there is nothing in this world that I would not give you, not when you ask me like 
that.”  Glorfindel cradled Lindir’s head in his hand and kissed him soundly, as his free hand 
opened the last of the clasps on the minstrel’s robe.  

Releasing Lindir’s mouth, he slid the silken robe from the minstrel’s shoulders, then ran his 
hands over Lindir’s shoulders, arms, and chest as the Noldo shuddered with desire.  “I shall love 
you well this eve, my songbird,” he murmured, and then he lifted Lindir in his arms and carried 
him to the bed.


To be continued…