Title: Blessed
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type:	FPS
Characters: Glorfindel / Manwë
Rating:	 NC-17 for slashy goodness
Beta: None, all mistakes are mine.
Archive:  Rhovanion, OEAM, Melethryn.  All others please ask.

WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between a male elf and a Vala. 


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: A little vision I had of Manwë and Glorfindel.  Canon
disclaimer is in place, as always.


Feedback: If you care to share, larienelengasse@yahoo.com

Summary: Glorfindel comes home.

How long had it been since he had stood on these peaks, gazing eastward,
listening to the sound of ocean waves below?  Ages, it had been, long,
agonizing, war-filled ages.  His penance had been paid with blood, both
his and that of foul beasts.  Now, at last, he was free.  

Glorfindel had always been special to Manwë from his earliest days.  Even
when he defied the Valar and left Aman with his kindred, his blessed lord
had watched over him.  The Eagles watched over him and his home, but they
had always been with him, even when he crossed the Grinding Ice.

He had climbed as high as he could; he could go no further without
invitation.  His back to the sea and his gaze turned skyward, he
murmured, “Will you accept me?”

Softly it began.  A quiet, cool breeze that toyed with the hem of his
surcoat caused it to flutter slowly.  The soft wind wound around his
legs, causing him to close his eyes as it caressed his body and sent his
golden hair aloft.  His feet left the ground and he was lifted gently,
high into the air, where birds sailed upon the drafts and the world was
but a shadow beneath him.  

He was lowered to the ground and gently placed upon the tall, silky
grass.  A deep voice floated upon the wind.  “I have missed you,” it
said.

A tear traced down his cheek and he answered, “I have missed you, lord of
my heart.  Will you forgive me?”

“I forgave you long ago,” the voice murmured.  “Let me see you.”

He unbuckled his belt and pulled his surcoat over his head.  His tunic
followed, then his undershirt, boots, leggings, and undergarment.  He
stood naked in the grass, smiling as he watched white, billowing clouds
float overhead, dancing across the pale blue sky.  He was home, where he
had always belonged, with the one he had always loved.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I have always loved you.”

He gasped as the wind caressed his bare flesh, causing an aching, ragged
sigh to escape his lips.  It wound around his body, caressing him,
holding him, touching him in ways that no mere First Born could.  The
beautiful, tormenting breeze caused him to moan in desperation.  Nothing
was more torturous than loving someone you could not hold, you could not
touch.  Manwë had never shown himself to him, not in these private
moments.  The only physical form Glorfindel had ever seen was the tall,
imposing Vala, with white hair and piercing blue eyes.  In these gentler,
loving moments, his lord was only a breath of air.

Each soft caress brought him closer to surrender, to the inevitable fall
into ecstasy that would leave him warm and weak, but more content than he
could ever be without his lord’s touch.  It started with a tightening in
his core, then his blood turned to fire, racing through his limbs until
the only way he could communicate his bliss was to cry out wordlessly
into air.  He sank to his knees in the soft grass, his stomach and thighs
damp with his own essence, his body tingling, and his heart racing.  He
slowly lay down on his side, a smile curving his lips.

“My golden warrior,” Manwë whispered.  “You are blessed among the
Noldor.”

Glorfindel smiled.  He was the only one of his kind that his lord loved
so well.  “Aye, I am,” he whispered.  “I am blessed among all First Born
to have your love.”

“’Tis not over, there is yet one battle to be fought at The End.  There
you will face your old enemies, the Witch King and the Balrog, and when
it is done, the world will be remade.  I would have you fight by my side,
with my warriors.”

“I am your servant, my lord,” Glorfindel answered.  “There is nothing I
cannot face when I know you are with me.”  He rolled to his back, his
eyes cast skyward.  “I would ask of you one thing,” he whispered.

“Ask.”

“Let me see you, as you would have me see you.”

“Close your eyes.”

Glorfindel closed his eyes and waited.  A soft touch of fingers upon his
cheek caused him to open them once again, and he gasped.  His lord
hovered above him, the Vala’s pale hair brushing his cheek, his blue
robes fluttering upon the wind.  Liquid blue eyes gazed into his own, and
a gentle smile curved Manwë’s soft lips.

“I love you,” Glorfindel whispered.

“I love you, Glorfindel,” the Vala replied.  “Take your rest in my
garden, and then dress and come to me in my halls.”

Glorfindel closed his eyes, Anor’s rays warming his skin, and he fell
asleep, listening to his lord’s voice whisper in the grass.

~Finis