Title: Wooing an Elf
Part: 19
Author: Inwë Sáralondë
Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: PG
Summary: Glorfindel begins his attack.
Genre: Romance
Warning: None
Word count: 485
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit or such is made from 
this.
Authors Note: The prompts used were 27 Nov 2006 – ‘succumb’ and ‘tempt/temptation’
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Erestor shrank back slightly as the seneschal approached.

“I will not allow this ‘guilt’ of yours ruin what we could have together, Erestor. You are *my* soul-mate as 
I am yours. You know this, despite your attempts to deny it. I love you, and I dare you to sit there and tell 
me that you do not love me. You may have loved Gil-galad, but he was never meant for you, and he was 
right in telling you this. I loved Ecthelion, but I knew even then that he was not the other half of my fëa.” 
By now Glorfindel was standing in front of Erestor, cupping the advisor’s chin in his hand so that he could 
not look away. But it did not stop Erestor from trying, nevertheless.

“I am sorry,” he finally said, a little unsteadily.

“Sorry?” Glorfindel snorted. “I find sorry is too easy a word to say, but very difficult to mean. Are you 
truly sorry, Erestor? Sorry for the frustration you have put me through? Sorry for being the fool you claim 
to be and allowing this ridiculousness to continue?” Glorfindel stepped away, allowing his hand to drop, 
but Erestor kept his resolve and continued to look at the golden-haired warrior.

“I am tired of words, Erestor,” Glorfindel said firmly. “I find they are no longer good enough. If you are 
sorry, then I want you to show me.”

“Show you?” Erestor’s eyes widened. “I do not understand…”

“Yes, you do, melethen.”

“Do not call me that!”

“Why not?” Glorfindel asked softly. “You are my love, my heart.”

“I do not feel worthy.”

“Enough!” Glorfindel shook his head. “Where has the real Erestor gone?”

The advisor looked at the golden-haired warrior with a puzzled expression on his face. “What do you 
mean?”

“Where is the sharp-tongued, quick-witted advisor who, with a mere word, could make an elf feel like an 
idiot? The mischievous elf who had helped the twins when they were elflings to play tricks on their 
unsuspecting father? The besotted – aye, definitely besotted,” Glorfindel said as he espied the almost 
comically horrified expression on Erestor’s face, “who had allowed a little elfling by the name of Arwen to 
get away with more than she should have? Where has he gone, Erestor?”

“The elf you speak of had not found himself in the position of having found his soul-mate and, when he had 
found him, only to be assailed by guilt and doubts.”

“Then you finally admit we belong together.”

“Aye. I can no longer deny it. I love you Glorfindel.” Erestor took a step forward, then another, till he was 
standing before the seneschal, and Glorfindel could see the other elf was trembling slightly.

Then Erestor did what he had wanted to do for a long time, and that was to succumb to the temptation of 
finally kissing the elf who had become the keeper of his heart.
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Elvish translations:	melethen – my love
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