Title:  The Dawning, 26/?
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type:	FPS
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir, Thranduil
Rating:	 NC-17
Beta: Alex
Archive:  Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Melethryn, Library of Moria.  All others please
ask.

WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between males, incest, PWP, and some angst
and romance.


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… 


Feedback: Yes please, larienelengasse@yahoo.com

Author's Notes: This is a continuation of what has become a string of fics starting with
"The Wager"; the Glorfindel/Erestor bug bit me again after a long respite.  Since the
string has been written out of sequence, this one follows "The Wager" chronologically. 

Summary:  The identity of Glorfindel's visitor is discovered; Glorfindel and Erestor
come to an impasse.


When morning came, Glorfindel entered the dining hall for the customary morning meal
with his lord.  Upon entering the large, noisy room, he saw that the hall was filled to
capacity and that they had many unexpected visitors, among them, members of the Grey
Company.  'Of course,' he thought to himself, 'they came in with Aragorn.'  The winter
was turning unusually harsh, temperatures were dropping to unforeseen lows, and even the
livestock had to be brought in from the fields.  Those that normally camped in their
woods were seeking shelter in the Last Homely House, and as always, Master Elrond was
glad to give it.

As he approached the heavily laden buffet table, he caught a glimpse of an old friend he
had not seen in over a year.  "Gildor," he said to himself with a smile.  That smile
faded when he took note of the similarities between his old friend and Erestor, amazed
it was something that he had never noticed before.  The fading smile turned into a
furrowed brow when he saw the leather gloves neatly tucked in Gildor's pocket.  "Of
course!" he exclaimed to himself in a hushed whisper, and then strode rapidly toward his
friend.

Gildor saw Glorfindel approaching and smiled.  "Well me...Ah!" he barked, as Glorfindel
seized him by the arm and dragged him out of the dining hall, down the corridor, and
into an empty sitting room.  Neither saw Erestor enter the dining hall behind
Glorfindel, nor did they see the look of realization upon the advisor's face.

"You!" Glorfindel growled.

Gildor furrowed his brow as Glorfindel released him.  "What?  Are you not glad to see
me?  This is a fine greeting for an old friend..."

"You came to my office yesterday morn!"

A smile curved Gildor's lips.  "Aye, and you were most happy to see me.  Though I
wondered why you thought I was Erestor..."

"You!"

They turned to see Erestor standing in the doorway, clearly unhappy.

Glorfindel turned, stepping between Gildor and his lover.  "Erestor, wait..."

"How dare you!" Erestor growled, as he struggled to get to a confused Gildor.
Glorfindel grasped him by the arms and held him tight.

"What in Eru's name is going on here?" Gildor asked in utter confusion.  A look of
understanding lit his features and he fought not to smile.  "Oh, for Elbereth's sake...
Erestor, I had no idea that you two were involved..." He backed away with his hands up.

"Erestor," Glorfindel said in his most calming voice.  "Gildor has not been in Imladris
for over a year.  Last he was here you and I were not involved.  He had no way of
knowing that he was doing anything wrong."

"So this is something that commonly happens between the two of you?  Gildor always ties
you up and...does...that?"

"Well, something like that, yes..." Gildor answered.

"You are not helping, Gildor," Glorfindel growled over his shoulder. 

"My apologies..." Gildor muttered as he walked toward the window.

"He has never done exactly that...I mean, he has not done that particular thing before,
or I might have suspected him earlier."

Erestor took a deep breath and regained his composure.  "You may release me now," he
said in a low voice, and Glorfindel released his arms.  "I understand that you were not
aware of how circumstances have changed, Gildor.  I can see you meant no harm.  Forgive
me for such an uncivilized outburst.  Now that I understand the situation, I can see
that no harm is done."  He smoothed his robes.  "Please excuse me."  He turned on his
heel and left the library, ignoring Glorfindel's quiet pleas to stay.

Glorfindel stood in the middle of the room, his hands hanging by his side and his eyes
cast toward the ceiling.  He sighed as Gildor approached him.

"I am sorry, my friend.  Truly, I did not know you were so involved.  In all the long
years I have known you, you have never been with just one lover, and you have never been
with Erestor."

"I know, Gildor.  'Tis not your fault.  I thought Erestor was playing a game with me...I
should have known it was not him; I should have somehow..." He shook his head.  "I
suspect he is more upset with me than you, for just that reason."

"I will make myself scarce, at least until the two of you can work this out."  Gildor
patted his friend on the back.  "Do not lose hope, Glorfindel.  Even you can learn how
to do this properly..." He winked at the Elda before leaving him alone in the library.

"How to mend this?" Glorfindel murmured to himself.

*    *    *    *

Erestor decided to forgo breakfast and go straight to his office.  For a second day, he
could not concentrate, though the reasons that day were less than pleasing.  He knew
that Glorfindel had truly believed that his mystery lover had indeed been him, and that
was what was most upsetting of all.  Since the beginning of their relationship, they had
a very fulfilling and active physical partnership.  They had made love countless times
in multitudes of ways.  Granted, he had never been so bold as to tie his lover to a
chair and pleasure him in his office, but he had been fairly imaginative.

He recalled the look in Glorfindel's eye upon entering his bedchamber the night before,
how wickedly satisfied and intrigued he had been, and how apparently grateful he was for
what had transpired in his office, though he was not aware of that at the time.  He
looked at the package sitting upon his desk, still wrapped in dyed paper and tied with a
bow.  A sick, empty feeling nagged at him from the pit of his stomach when he thought of
what had been happening behind Glorfindel's locked office door.  Now that he knew the
cause of Glorfindel's impish mood the night before, he wondered if he had not been
mistaken in acquiescing to the Elda's assertiveness in the physical aspects of their
relationship.  

He had been worried since the beginning that his feelings would not be returned with
equal fervor.  Glorfindel had spent nearly two lifetimes avoiding entanglements of the
heart, choosing his bed partners from the long list of those who practically waited in
line, but that he had no emotional attachment to.  Since they had become lovers, he had
noted Glorfindel's sense of discomfort, which, he had assumed, stemmed from fear.
Certainly, they were well matched in bed, each seeming to know instinctively what the
other wanted.  The incident in Mirkwood had brought them even closer; Glorfindel had
exhibited a protective nature that Erestor had never seen directed his way before.  At
the same time, the Elda took charge of their relationship, placing more emphasis on the
unquenchable desire they both felt, than on long nights holding one another and talking
of their hearts.

"I should have known," he whispered to himself.  "I thought I was safe, I thought I
knew..."

A tear fell from his eye and he wiped at it, frustrated.  "Do not be foolish, Erestor,"
he chided himself.  "Glorfindel has never lied to you.  He said he thought it was you;
believe him."  He closed his eyes and sighed.  "But he has never said that he loves me,
he is afraid to.  Does he love me as I love him?  Why did he not know it wasn't me?
Does he not know my touch?  I am sure I would know his; no one feels like him, tastes
like him, no one has ever touched me the way he does..."  

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his chair.  Long moments passed, and
he heard the door to his office creak open.  Soft footsteps crossed the floor; the back
of a hand caressed his cheek, wiping at the tears.  His heart ached in his breast, yet
he forced a smile to his lips.  "Lindir," he said, without opening his eyes.

"What pains you so, my friend?" Lindir said softly, as he knelt beside Erestor's chair.  

Erestor took a deep breath and lifted his head, opening his eyes and looking at his old
friend.  "Nothing, just a bout of melancholy."

"The dining hall was abuzz about a confrontation between Gildor and Glorfindel... some
said you were involved.  Is this true?"

As if the confrontation were not humiliating enough, now the entire population of
Imladris was going to be talking about it.  He wondered how much worse it was going to
get.  "It was but a small misunderstanding.  You know how some like to talk..."

Lindir nodded.  "I was worried about you.  You were not at the table at the appointed
hour, so I sought you out."  He laid his head upon Erestor's knee.  "I want you to know
that you can call upon me, should you have need..."

Erestor stroked Lindir's silver hair and answered, "I know..."  He sighed and bent down,
kissing the back of Lindir's head.  "Come, we have work to do..."  

Lindir looked up and smiled sadly, before rising and moving to his desk to start the
appointed duties for the day.

*    *    *    *

Glorfindel had sought Erestor at midday, but had been unable to locate him.  The
afternoon was misery as he trudged through troop and armament rosters.  He left his
office early, retiring to his chamber to bathe and change for the evening.  Gazing at
himself in the mirror, he checked his appearance.  Turning, he looked over his shoulder,
then faced forward again and smoothed the front of his robe.  It was Erestor's favorite,
a thin, silk fabric of an alabaster hue that was embroidered with gold.  His lover had
it made for him; it fit him perfectly, accentuating the parts of his body that Erestor
loved best, his torso and buttocks, and it had long flowing sleeves.  He wore sparkling
gems in his ears and rings upon his fingers.  He seldom wore jewelry, but he knew how
Erestor appreciated it.  The handmaidens had given him a manicure and pedicure and
scented his hair with the essence of orchids.  If one did not know better, one would
think he was going to his bonding bed.  That thought caused a moment of panic, which was
followed by confusion and anger with himself, as it always was.  

"Why does this frighten me so?" he asked his reflection.  "Erestor has everything I have
ever wanted in a companion.  He is my best and dearest friend and the best lover I have
ever had.  Why does the thought of spending the rest of time with him in this way
frighten me so?"  

Deep inside, a small, quiet, nagging voice answered, "Because you do not deserve him.
Because you know you will hurt him and he does not deserve that..."

He shook his head, forcing away the voice, pushing it back down deep inside himself.  He
closed his eyes and murmured, "Anything for you, Erestor..."  He grasped a small velvet
pouch that laid upon his dressing table and made his way toward Erestor's bedchamber.

*    *    *    *

Erestor sat in his customary chair, swirling brandy in his glass as he watched the snow
fall deep outside.  Glorfindel's gift sat upon his dresser, still wrapped.  He had spent
the afternoon with Lindir in both the office and outside, taking a walk in the snow.
Lindir's presence and quiet council had been like a balm to his wounded soul; and he
felt like he had a better perspective on things now. He would not succumb to petty
jealousy; he would not doubt his lover's word.

A soft knock fell upon his door and he called for his visitor to enter.  A soft sigh
escaped his lips as Glorfindel entered; the sight of his beloved caused his heart to
swell in his breast.  Placing his brandy upon the table, he rose and crossed the room,
stopping short of his beloved.  "I am sorry," he said softly.

"So am I," Glorfindel answered.

"I owe Gildor an apology," he muttered.

"No.  Gildor understands."

Erestor's fingers caressed his lover's face.  "You are beautiful," he whispered.

Glorfindel smiled.  The intensity of the love he felt for Erestor was more frightening
than anything he had experienced in two lifetimes.  As frightening as it was, it was
something he could not imagine living without; he could never go back to the way things
were before Erestor entered this part of his life.

"I have been selfish," he murmured.  "I have taken freely and not given in return; this
is not how one treats one that one cares for.  This night is for you, Erestor,"
Glorfindel answered softly.  "It is my greatest wish to give you all that you desire,
and to never again cause you pain."

Erestor embraced his lover tightly.  "You did not cause me pain and you have not been
selfish.  I was foolish, scared..."

"We have both been," Glorfindel murmured into his raven's hair.  "You said to me, long
ago, that you did not know what you wanted anymore.  I think I know what you want, but
you have been afraid to ask me for it."  He placed Erestor's hands upon his chest.  "In
all the long years we have known one another, it has always been I that has directed our
relationship.  You have always been there when I needed you, never been afraid to tell
me when I was being a horse's ass, or when I was being stubborn..."

"Or when you were right..." Erestor interjected as he reached up, his fingers caressing
his lover's neck. 

Glorfindel smiled.  "I am a stubborn old goat, Erestor, rash and thoughtless at times.
I have always taken such pride in being in control of my choices, of my destiny...It is
time that I yield to you, Erestor; it is time for me to bend to your will.  I submit to
whatever you desire..."

Erestor's heart beat frantically in his chest.  Since Mirkwood, they had fallen into a
routine of sorts.  Glorfindel dominated him in bed and he willingly submitted; though,
he yearned to take back control of their relationship.  Now, Glorfindel was giving
himself to him in a way he had not in many, many months, perhaps in a way he had never
done before.  He watched as his lover gracefully knelt before him, their eyes never
leaving one another.  Glorfindel pressed his face to Erestor's groin, softly nuzzling
his stirring arousal as his hands caressed his hips.  He tangled his fingers in
Glorfindel's loose hair as a plaintive moan escaped him.  

What did he want?  What he truly wanted, he was afraid to ask for, for fear of driving
the Elda from his bed and his life.  In its stead, what would he accept?  He wanted
Glorfindel to feel the way he had the morning before; he wanted to be the one that made
Glorfindel weak and wanton.  It was selfish, he knew, and inconsequential compared to
the truest desire of his heart.  Nevertheless, it would soothe the jealousy that burned
inside him, despite his calm contemplation earlier.  To know that he ruled Glorfindel's
desires, that he was the master of his body, if not his heart, would have to be enough,
at least until Glorfindel was able to admit his own feelings to himself.  Or would it?

"Stop," he whispered, and Glorfindel obeyed, sitting back upon his heels and gazing up
at his lover.  "I want to know who between you was the dominant one..." he murmured.  He
knew this sort of questioning was petty and beneath him, but as long as this question
remained, the doubt would remain also.

Glorfindel furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to ask what Erestor meant, when the
matter of the question dawned upon him.  "It was not as simple as that," Glorfindel
answered softly.  "But between us, it was more often Gildor who was the dominant
partner."

"Why?" Erestor asked again.

"Because," Glorfindel began.  "Because in every other facet of our lives, it was I who
took the lead.  I was his commander; I was the one who ordered him into battle, the one
who sent him before the spears and swords of the yrch.  He never failed to serve me
faithfully.  He never questioned my command nor hesitated to perform even the most
seemingly menial duty that I asked of him.  I felt..." he faltered for a moment then
took a deep breath and continued, "I felt that I owed him the same, and if I could not
be commanded by him in battle, I would be in other ways."

It was extraordinarily uncomfortable to be discussing this with Erestor.  However, he
understood the counselor's need to know these things, for if their places were reversed,
he would want to know the same.

"And why are things so different between you and me?" Erestor asked quietly.

"I do not know," Glorfindel answered, his head bowed.  

"Yes, you do," Erestor replied.

Glorfindel swallowed.  "You frighten me, Erestor; you always have.  Understanding Gildor
is simple for me, we are cut of the same cloth; we are both warriors.  You...you are a
mystery to me, you have been since we were elflings.  I cannot see what hides behind
your eyes; I do not know what is in your heart. I do not know what you will say or do
next.  I care so deeply for you, Erestor.  You have always been my dearest friend.  You
have said to me what I have not wanted to hear.  You have always been honest, even when
it angered me beyond reason.  But, I do not know how to proceed, I do not know..."

"Stop," Erestor said, as he turned away and walked toward the balcony.  He took a deep
breath and asked his lover, "Do you feel you owe me something?"

"I owe you everything..." Glorfindel answered, still kneeling on the rug where Erestor
left him.

"You owe me nothing," Erestor answered quietly.  "I followed you of my own accord.  You
have not commanded me in battle; you have not sent me into danger.  I have what I
want..." He closed his eyes and thought to himself, 'at least most of what I want...'
"I do not want to be another Gildor for you, Glorfindel.  You and I have known one
another for far too long for that."

"You are not..." Glorfindel protested, reaching out for his lover.

"I think," Erestor continued quietly, "that you and I have been trying to make something
out of this that it is not.  Perhaps we are not ready to proceed.  As you said, we have
always been friends and we have always loved one a

"Erestor, please..." Glorfindel began, pleadingly.

"We need time to regain our foothold, time for both of us to discover what we want in
our lives.  We seem to have lost part of ourselves in each other, and neither of us can
be who we are not."  

Glorfindel shook his head, a mixture of anger and pain welling in his chest.  Why could
he not just say the words?  He had said them before... why could he not say them now, in
this new way?  It was what his lover needed.  But then, it sounded as if it were too
late.  "You are dismissing me..." he said quietly, his gaze fixed upon the floor.

"I am not dismissing you..." Erestor answered, too afraid to turn around and face his
lover.  "I am just suggesting that..."

"We take time, yes, I heard you."  Glorfindel rose to his feet.  "If that is truly what
you want, then that is what I will give you."  He turned and walked to the door.  He
paused as his hand came to rest upon the handle, briefly contemplating turning and
taking Erestor in his arms and proving to him that he would indeed do anything.  But
before his heart could rule him, his pride interfered, and he left his lover's chambers
without another word.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Erestor was seized with panic.  What had he just done?
How had he let his pride get out of control?  After so many months, so many fights, so
many misunderstandings, so much time waiting for words he feared he would never
hear...had he finally just had enough?  Had Glorfindel just approached him as he
normally did...it was the offer to do for him what he had done for Gildor that had
sealed the bargain.  He meant what he said; he would not take Gildor's place, not when
he deserved his own.  No, in time, with contemplation, Glorfindel would see that they
were meant to be together.  As long as he made it easy for the warrior, things would
never change.

With a sigh, he realized Lindir would be cross with him.  This was not the advice he had
received.  But then again, he rarely took advice from others.  He picked up his glass of
brandy and drank it down quickly, then retired for the night.


To be continued...




Title:  The Dawning, 27/?
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type:	FPS
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir, Thranduil
Rating:	 NC-17
Beta: Alex
Archive:  Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Melethryn, Library of Moria.  All others please
ask.

WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between males, incest, PWP, and some angst
and romance.


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… 


Feedback: Yes please, larienelengasse@yahoo.com

Author's Notes: This is a continuation of what has become a string of fics starting with
"The Wager"; the Glorfindel/Erestor bug bit me again after a long respite.  Since the
string has been written out of sequence, this one follows "The Wager" chronologically. 

Summary:  Erestor comes to a realization; Glorfindel and Elrond depart for Lórien and a
meeting of the White Council.


It had been months.  Months of politely nodding to one another in the corridors of the
Last Homely House, months of distanced, yet polite conversation over Elrond's dinner
table, months of tactfully avoiding being alone with one another.  Spring had finally
arrived, and Glorfindel was relieved to be leaving Imladris to escort his lord to
Lórien, where the White Council would meet.  Erestor's displeasure at being tasked with
running the Last Homely House in Elrond's absence had been obvious; however, as senior
advisor and assistant to Elrond, he could hardly refuse.  The twins had returned from a
long journey into the wilds of the north, and they would serve in their capacity as the
Lords of Imladris while their father was away.  All that aside, Glorfindel found that he
could not remain in that house one minute longer with things they way they were, and
were it not for the trip to Lothlórien, he would have found another excuse to leave.  

In the beginning, he tried to seek the staid advisor out, but Erestor was ever polite,
which was just as bad as if he were sticking daggers in his heart instead of uttering
polite but casual niceties. He found it easier to blame their break up on the mishap
with Gildor than to see it for what it really was: one last ditch attempt on Erestor's
part to push their relationship past the wall that had been built by him.  He convinced
himself that Erestor was right, and since he felt he could never give the counselor what
he wanted, then perhaps this was for the best.  He only hoped that in time, their
friendship would return to what it once was.

He had entertained the idea of returning to his old ways, but the thought of taking
comfort in others was not appealing.  He knew that in their adoring caresses and
sensuous kisses, he would only see Erestor, and that was too painful still.  So, he
busied himself working long hours, personally training new recruits, and putting his
more senior warriors through their paces; he had even taken up training horses after a
long respite.  He worked from Anor's rising to her setting, not leaving his office or
the lower compound until he was all but exhausted.  There were no more congenial midday
meals with his best friend, and he skipped the uncomfortable morning and evening meals
as much as protocol would allow.

All of Imladris knew something was amiss.  The strained silence and overly polite words
between the two lifelong friends did not resemble their previous relationship in the
least.  There was no more friendly banter, no more bickering, no more jabs and good-
natured teasing.  In the place of those things were polite, civil words and it made all
that came near them uncomfortable.  

The twins had spent more and more time in the wilds, riding with the Grey Company,
hunting orcs and tracking the movements of Sauron's hoards.  Aragorn had grown immensely
as a man, the weight of his heritage causing him to transform from a thoughtful young
man into a guarded, wily Ranger of the North.  He bided his time, waiting for the day
when he would reclaim his birthright and challenge the Dark Lord to war.

Erestor did much the same as Glorfindel, burying himself in work, maintaining the
library, overseeing council meetings, and attending to the various and sundry tasks that
were part of being Elrond's chief administrator.  Everyday, he fought the urge to tell
Glorfindel he had made a mistake, to beg the Elda to come back to him, and each day, he
feared that their friendship would not survive a hurt like this strained separation.
His nightmares had returned, dreams of that fateful night in Alqualondë, dreams of the
brutal and frightening battles against Morgoth, and worst of all, the nightmarish
memories of the fall of Gondolin.  Each time the Elda left to patrol the wilds, he
feared that Glorfindel would not return, and he would be faced with living with all the
things he never said, until the end of time.

He stood upon the veranda, watching the preparations for Elrond's departure in the
courtyard below.  Anor was rising in the east, her long, golden glow reaching over the
tips of the mountains and touching the valley floor.  Springtime in Imladris was a
glorious sight: flowers of every variety growing wild and splashing the meadows and
hillsides with color.  Magnolia, dogwood, and fruit trees bloomed with promise of more
beauty to come.  Normally, it was a time of year that brought great joy to Erestor, who
loved the songs of the birds and the fresh scent of snow that gently blew down from the
mountaintops.  However, this day, Erestor was anything but joyful.

He unconsciously wadded and released the velvet of his robe in his fingers.   His arms
were crossed tightly over his chest and he chewed the inside of his lip in distress.
Lindir stood in the library doorway, looking at the silhouette that his lord cast
against the rising sun.  He recognized Erestor's posture, the tenseness in his
shoulders, the rigidly erect height of his frame.  The cause of his lord's distress was
no secret; he had seen it building in the months since Erestor's separation from
Glorfindel.  A small part of him had hoped that Erestor would forget his love for the
warrior, and that he himself might have a chance at regaining Erestor's favor.  However,
he knew this hope was for naught, for one did not love as Erestor loved Glorfindel in
passing fancy.

He sighed quietly, then took a deep breath, bearing himself up and striding into the
office.  Stepping up behind Erestor, he gently rested his chin upon the advisor's
shoulder.

"Why do you not send for him, to say goodbye?"

"I do not like saying goodbye," Erestor answered.  "It feels too...permanent."

"Then wish him a safe journey.  Is that not what friends do for one another?"

"He is too busy preparing to leave.  I would only be interrupting him."

"Do you not think that perhaps he is afraid to come of his own accord?  It was you who
sent him away in the first place, after all."

"I do not need to be reminded of that, Lindir..."

"Oh, but I think you do.  With all due respect, my friend, you are behaving like a
stubborn old goat."

Lindir stepped backward as Erestor turned to glare at him.

"I beg your pardon?"

Lindir placed his hands upon his hips.  "Can you not see he is afraid?  For some reason,
one that is unknown to me, he is afraid he will somehow disappoint you, or hurt you.  He
has done everything you wanted – within reason – except say three, inconsequential
little words.  You end a relationship, cause yourself, and him, pain, all over three
little words?  Words that so many bandy about with no thought of their meaning nor proof
of their import, while he has proven his love to you time and again, yet not said the
words.  If I had to choose between the two, I think I would choose the latter." Lindir
exhaled, having said the words quickly for fear of being interrupted or banished from
his friend's presence.  "Forgive me, Erestor, but I am beginning to wonder about your
judgement."

Erestor stood in dumbfounded shock.  Lindir had never, in the long years he served him,
ever been so frank.  "He does not know how to love me, Lindir, and I am unwilling to
settle for less than I need..."

Lindir threw his hands up in exasperation.  "For Eru's sake, Erestor!  The incident with
Gildor was something that neither of you could have foreseen..."

"He tried to replace Gildor with me, Lindir!  I thought you of all would understand how
that would make me feel..."

"If that is what you truly believe, Erestor, then you are saying that you never have
really known him at all.  You are saying that the elf you grew up beside, fought beside,
watched die and saw returned is not who you thought he was."

Erestor opened his mouth, then closed it.  Was that the truth?  Did he think he did not
really know Glorfindel?  In all the long years of their lives, the Elda had never told
another that he loved them, not romantically.  Erestor remembered a conversation they
had in Gondolin.  He had asked Glorfindel why he did not tell his lovers that he loved
them, and Glorfindel had answered that he did not, at least not in that way.  Glorfindel
had seen Ecthelion die facing Gothmog as they fled the city gates.  His friend had not
paused nor faltered in his duty, but the pain of that loss was clearly written upon his
face.  Erestor had no doubt in that moment that Ecthelion and Glorfindel had loved one
another, yet, Glorfindel had never said so.  Why was that?  The answer, now, was as
clear as the nose upon his face.  Lindir was right.  Glorfindel was afraid; he always
had been.  

He turned his wide eyes toward the courtyard, then back to Lindir.

"Fetch him..."

"Yes, my lord!" Lindir cried enthusiastically, as he turned and bolted for the
courtyard.

*    *    *    *

Glorfindel could feel Erestor's gaze upon his back like daggers piercing his flesh.  He
secured his pack and closed his eyes, resting his hands upon Asfaloth's flanks.  The
young stallion, sensing his master's tension turned his head and nickered to Glorfindel.
Glorfindel looked at his faithful young friend, whom he had raised and trained himself,
and gave a reassuring rub to his soft muzzle.  He gathered the courage to face Erestor
and turned, gazing up at the balcony of the library.  He saw the sweep of dark velvet
just as the counselor turned and reentered the library.  A sigh escaped him, and then he
turned and continued the preparations to leave.

Some moments later, he heard an elf running down the stairs and he turned, hoping to see
Erestor running to him.  Instead, he saw Lindir, who was rushing toward him and short of
breath.

"My Lord Glorfindel," Lindir breathed.  "My Lord Erestor wishes to see you before you
depart..."

Glorfindel nodded, trying to contain the urge to run to the library himself, and
followed Lindir's quick steps back up to the Last Homely House.

*    *    *    *

Erestor paced nervously, wadding his robe in his fists as he searched for what he would
say.  Should he just come out and say it?  Should he just say, "Glorfindel, I love you.
I am in love with you, and I will love no other for the rest of my days"?

He detected movement at the door and he turned to see Lindir standing in the doorway.
For a moment, his heart froze, fearing that Glorfindel had refused to come see him.  But
then, he saw his beloved's form appear behind Lindir and he sighed in relief.  His
assistant opened the door and stepped aside, granting Glorfindel permission to enter,
then closed the door behind him as he exited the library.

"You sent for me?" Glorfindel asked quietly.

"I...I did," Erestor answered.  "Come inside..."

Glorfindel approached him and stopped, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Have you some instruction for me in regards to the Council or the trip?"

"No," Erestor answered quietly, as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"I...I asked you here because I have something to say to you."

Glorfindel swallowed and nodded.

"I am sorry, Glorfindel, for the pain I have caused both of us..."

"Do not be sorry for speaking what is in your heart, Erestor.  As your friend, that is
what I expect you to do."

"Is that what we are? Friends?"

"Is that not what we have always been?"

"Yes, but...I thought we have also been more."

"We have, but we are that no more...that is what you wanted, is it not?"

Erestor turned his back to Glorfindel and shook his head.  "No, that is not what I
wanted," he answered quietly.

Glorfindel saw him wipe at his face with his sleeve and he felt his strength crumble.
He quickly approached Erestor and placed his hands upon his friend's shoulders.  "What
is it, Erestor?"

Erestor turned and looked up into Glorfindel's eyes.  The Elda's azure gaze shimmered
with unshed tears.  "I have been a fool..." he whispered.  He nearly sobbed as
Glorfindel took him in his arms.

"No, you have not been a fool, Erestor.  This has not been easy for either one of us.  I
am not good at this, I know not how to say what I feel."

"Try, please, I need to hear it..."

Glorfindel buried his face in Erestor's raven locks and breathed deeply.  "I have missed
you, Erestor," he murmured.  "I have missed the sound of your voice, the scent of you,
the feel of you, your warmth next to me in bed.  I have missed holding you, watching you
sleep, watching you smile when you have a good dream.  I have missed our lunches, our
walks in the forest, our arguments...  and I have missed the feel of your lips upon my
own, the feel of your hands upon my flesh.  I fear that I will go to Mandos' Halls while
missing those things..."

Erestor clasped him tight, squeezing the Elda's neck as he buried his face beneath the
fall of golden hair.  He was near sobbing as he clung to his beloved.  Lindir was right,
Glorfindel had been afraid, and he did love him, for no one said what the Elda had just
said unless they were in love.  While the urge to shout his love to the rafters nearly
overtook him, Erestor knew that for Glorfindel's sake he needed to proceed carefully.
He would not drive the Elda away on the verge of his departure.  Instead of shouting, "I
love you!" he softly murmured, "I miss you too..."

He felt Glorfindel pull away and take his face in his hands.  He opened his eyes, gazing
into Glorfindel's own as the Elda caressed his cheeks with his thumbs.  "I feared I had
lost you," Glorfindel said softly.  Then Erestor watched as his lover's lips descended
upon his own.

What Glorfindel could not say with words, he said with that kiss.  That kiss was one
that reached inside, wrapping him in warmth and love and surety.  It was a kiss that
promised many more like it, for all the days of their lives to come.  Glorfindel's lips
moved softly against his own, caressing gently, sweetly.  It was not a kiss fueled by
passion, though that was something that undeniably existed between them, now and for
always; it was a kiss that was born of love and admiration and gratitude.

Their lips parted as Lindir knocked softly upon the door.  They turned, still wrapped in
one another's arms to see Lindir's apologetic expression.  "I am sorry," the minstrel
said quietly, "but Lord Elrond's entourage is departing the main residence."

Erestor looked up at Glorfindel and smiled.  "You must go..."

Glorfindel nodded.  "Aye," he answered.  "But be assured that I will return, as quickly
as I can."

Erestor smiled and caressed the warrior's face.  "Be careful..."

Glorfindel smiled.  "I will.  Do not fear..."  He reached down and kissed Erestor once
more, then rushed out of the library to reach the courtyard before his lord.  He paused
in the corridor and turned to look at Lindir.  "Thank you," he said, before turning and
running down the hall.

Lindir smiled sadly and raised his hand in farewell, then pulled himself together and
turned to face Erestor.  He held out his hand.  "Come, it is time to bid our friends
safe passage..."

Erestor exited the library and took Lindir's hand, drawing him into an embrace.  "You
are, and have been a very dear and wise friend to me, Lindir."

Lindir smiled as he embraced his lord, then they walked down the corridor, hand in hand.

*    *    *    *

Arwen and her brothers embraced their father before he mounted his horse.  Glorfindel
and two of his captains were already mounted and ready to depart.  Elrond's standard was
furled and wrapped in dark blue cloth; Glorfindel did not think it wise to announce
their passage to all between Imladris and Lórien.

"South to the Gap of Rohan, then through the Wold back north to Lórien," Elladan said,
confirming the route his father and his companions would take.

Elrond nodded and placed his hand upon his son's shoulder.  "Aye.  The two of you must
watch after your sister and protect our home until I return."

"We will, father," Elrohir answered from his place beside Arwen.  

"It is I who should be watching after them," Arwen teased with a smile.  Elrond smiled
at his only daughter who laughed when Elrohir gave her a squeeze around the waist.  "We
will miss you, father," she continued.  "May the Valar grant you safe passage."

"I will miss all of you," Elrond answered.  He looked to Erestor.  "I trust you to act
upon your own good judgement, Erestor.  You have never failed me in the past."

Erestor bowed his head then answered, "Nor shall I fail you now.  Valar's speed, my
lord."

The group turned to gallop out of the gate, Glorfindel's captains leading the way.  

"Give our love to grandmother and grandfather!" Arwen shouted.  Elrond raised his hand
in acknowledgement as he passed through the gate.

Asfaloth pranced and whinnied, eager to be on their way as Glorfindel cast one last
loving gaze upon Erestor.  He smiled, then winked, then raised his hand and galloped
after Elrond.

Erestor raised his hand in farewell and watched until they cleared the gate.  He then
turned and began climbing the steps back to the Last Homely House, where he would await
the return of his lover.


To be continued...


Title:  The Dawning, 28/?
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type:	FPS
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir, Thranduil
Rating:	 NC-17
Beta: Alex
Archive:  Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Melethryn, Library of Moria.  All others please
ask.

WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between males, incest, PWP, and some angst
and romance.


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… 


Feedback: Yes please, larienelengasse@yahoo.com

Author's Notes: This is a continuation of what has become a string of fics starting with
"The Wager"; the Glorfindel/Erestor bug bit me again after a long respite.  Since the
string has been written out of sequence, this one follows "The Wager" chronologically. 

Summary:  Members of the White Council arrive in Lórien. 

Thranduil and his entourage, which included his son and four of his warriors, arrived at
the northern fences and dismounted their horses.  A young elf of slender build
hesitantly approached the foreboding king with a slip of silk in his hand.  He heard his
son grumble as the blindfold was placed over Legolas' eyes and he smiled.  He then
looked down at the younger elf and said quietly, "I would know the name of the elf I
entrust my safety and that of my son to."

"Rúmil," the young guardian answered quietly, bowing his head in respect to the Sindar
King.

"Very well, Rúmil," Thranduil said quietly.  "I trust you to lead us safely to Caras
Galadhon."

"Do not fear, my lord," Rúmil replied.  "No harm will come to you or your friends."

"I rarely do," Thranduil returned with a smile, bending down a bit so that the slighter
elf could tie the blindfold around his eyes without too much difficulty.

"We will take your weapons now," the captain of the marchwardens said with deference.

"Wait," Legolas complained from behind the blindfold.  "You said naught about disarming
us.  We are your kindred; we are not here with hostile intentions... We were invited by
the Lord and Lady of the Wood..."

"It is protocol, Legolas," Thranduil answered.  "Would you not disarm them before
allowing them audience to me?"

"Yes, of course, father," Legolas replied.  "But I would not disarm them upon arrival to
the borders of our realm."

"Lórien has survived unscathed in part due to secrecy.  I would not begrudge the captain
of his duty.  Turn over your bow and quiver, my son."

Legolas grumbled again as two of the guardians removed his quiver and took his bow.
Thranduil held out his hands and allowed the guardians to remove his sword and sheath,
and take his spear from him.  Their companions followed suit, then the group was led
into the Golden Wood.

They followed without difficulty, sensing the terrain as they walked single file.
Legolas insisted on walking in front of his father, in order to protect him, and his
second followed closely behind the king.  Each elf held onto a rope that acted as a
guide, and followed the sounds of the footsteps of the one in front of them.  They
walked for almost a day then finally arrived at the gates to the city.  As they stepped
inside, the blindfolds were removed and Legolas gasped at the sight that greeted his
eyes.  Never had he seen trees so tall or large, or a wood so beautiful.  Even the
beauty of Imladris paled in comparison to Lothlórien.  The trees seemed to glow as if
they were lit from within, and as night was beginning to fall, lanterns were being
sparked all over the tree city.  Elves quietly milled here and there, speaking softly as
they cast shy glances upon the Sindar King and his party.  Thranduil smiled and nodded
deferentially, and Legolas wondered at the gentle approach his father took with this
secretive society.  His father was not prideful, per se; however, Thranduil rarely
conceded ground to others.  His father was strong and confident, and his manner with the
Elves of Caras Galadhon was something he had not seen before.  

As they were shown to the talans that had been prepared for their visit, Legolas clasped
his father's elbow and leaned forward to speak softly in his ear.  "Are they afraid or
suspicious?" he asked softly.

"Perhaps a little of both," Thranduil answered.  "We are Sindar, amongst Silvan folk,
and though they are our kindred, we have been long estranged."

"But our own people are Silvan, and Lord Celeborn is Sindar, why should they be
suspicious of us?"

"Remember your history, Greenleaf.  Long ago, many years before you were born, our
people withdrew to the north and were estranged from our kindred in Lórien.  They no
longer know us as their kin; there are few who remember us, and few of us who remember
them.  They wish us no ill, Legolas, they merely wish to maintain the peace that has
come from secrecy.  They are not so different from us, my son."

Legolas nodded and followed his father, smiling when he met the eyes of one of the folk
of Lórien.  They climbed a long, winding staircase, reaching a large platform more than
half way up the trunk of the tall mallorn.  Walls, woven of both the branches of the
mallorn and branches of birch formed the walls around the perimeter.  They lifted a
light, silken curtain and stepped inside to find the talan lavishly furnished.  All the
furniture and the items inside the talan were made of rustic materials with the
exception of a crystal pitcher containing wine, and two matching glasses.  Earthen
pitchers and cups, smooth wooden bowls, an earthen washbasin with a pitcher to fill it,
and candles and flowers were placed about the main chamber.  Two doorways, side by side,
each covered with a curtain, led to their separate sleeping chambers.  Each bedchamber
was furnished with an elegant bed made of birch and willow, and covered in silk and
velvet bedding.  There was no roof to their talan, as it was the only one upon the tree,
and they could see the stars through the branches above.  Legolas looked about him in
wonder, knowing this was how his own folk had once lived before they were forced to
retreat underground. 

Their escort, the young guardian that had led them into the city, stood by while they
perused their lodgings.  Thranduil turned and smiled at the young guardian and covered
his heart with his hand while bowing his head.  "My thanks to you for your safe
guidance, Rúmil," he said softly.

"It was an honor, my lord.  I hope your lodgings are to your satisfaction."

"Absolutely," the king answered.  "I assume someone will summon us when the Lord and
Lady of the Wood are ready to receive us?"

"Yes, my lord," Rúmil answered.  "For now, enjoy a respite from your long journey.  A
welcoming celebration has been planned in your honor for this evening.  Should you care
to bathe, there is a private bathhouse nearby for you and the prince to use.  At the
base of the stairs, follow the path to the right, you will see a private garden. Inside
is a small bathhouse fed from the river that runs through the city.  Your horses have
been stabled and will be well cared for."

"And our weapons?" Legolas asked as politely as he could manage.

"They will be stored safely until your departure from our wood."

Legolas forced a smile and answered, "Thank you."

"I understand your reluctance to part with them, my lord," Rúmil answered.  "I am a
marchwarden of the northern fences, I understand a warrior's attachment to the tools of
his trade."

"It is of no consequence, Rúmil," Thranduil answered.  "We are happy to abide by the
laws of your realm."

"Thank you, my lord," Rúmil answered.  "There is wine in the cupboard, fresh fruit in
the bowl upon the table, and fresh water in the pitcher.  Should you require anything
else, pull this cord, it rings a bell that will summon the chambermaid assigned to you
for the duration of your stay; she is just at the base of the tree."

Thranduil nodded, remembering the small dwelling they passed at the base of the large
mallorn.  He bowed his head again as the young elf did the same, then he watched as
Rúmil exited their quarters.  He turned to look at Legolas, meaning to admonish him, but
he was unable to prevent the smile that curved his lips.

"Legolas, must you be so petulant?" he asked, mirth clear in his voice.

Legolas smiled then laughed softly.  "I am sorry, father.  I am not accustomed to being
disarmed and blindfolded upon entering another elven realm.  I received no such welcome
in Imladris..."

"Which would be the only other elven realm you have ever visited, I might add..."
Thranduil answered with a smile as Legolas laughed again.  "Elrond's realm is not as
close to danger as the Golden Wood.  Galadriel and Celeborn are being prudent leaders,
as is their duty."

"Agreed," Legolas answered with a smile.  "I will endeavor to atone for my petulant
behavior by charming every elf at the celebration tonight so that I may regain your
favor, my lord."  He bowed low with a sweep of his arm as his father chuckled in
response.

"Come," Thranduil replied.  "Let us rest awhile and enjoy a glass of wine.  You can
regale me with further tales of your adventures abroad..."

Legolas chuckled and took a seat upon a low divan, kicking off his boots as his father
poured a glass of wine for each of them.  He enjoyed the easy banter and friendly
rapport he had with his father; he had not noticed that any of his friends had the same.
He accepted the glass of wine with a smile, and watched as his father took a seat across
from him on a matching chaise.  He sighed as the smooth and slightly sweet wine slid
down his throat, and he leaned his head back upon the arm.

"It feels good to be off my feet," he said quietly.

"Aye," Thranduil concurred.  "Though I have greatly enjoyed the trip, despite the
danger.  It is rare that I have the opportunity to ride afield."

"One day, father," Legolas answered softly, "you will be able to ride anywhere that you
wish without need of vigilance.  One day, this world will be purged of evil; I will see
this done 'ere I die."

"Do not speak of death, Legolas," Thranduil chided.  "You will not die, not if I have a
word to say about it."

"Of course I will not," Legolas answered.  "I am the son of Thranduil Oropherion, there
is nary an orch, warg, ungol, man, or beast that can slay me."  His lips curved into a
smile as he spoke.

Thranduil shook his head and chuckled.  "I have raised a prideful and boastful son..."

Legolas laughed.  "Aye, that you have, my father... that you have."  

He raised his glass in a toast to his father, and Thranduil returned the gesture.
Father and son chatted amiably as they waited for their summons to the Lord and Lady of
the Wood.

*    *    *    *

Elrond and his entourage arrived at the southern fences late in the day.  They were
greeted and granted entrance, proceeding on their own toward the tree city.  Given his
relation to the Lord and Lady of the Wood, Elrond and all the senior members of his
house that ventured there were allowed to roam free and without escort.

Glorfindel looked forward to seeing Thranduil again, if for no other reason than to
express his gratitude for the king's hospitality upon their last unplanned visit.  He
also looked forward to seeing the prince; he had grown quite fond of Legolas during the
prince's stay in Imladris.  After seeing the horses to the stables and their gear
stowed, he retired to the talan that he and Erestor had shared upon their last visit.
Apparently, the Lady of the Wood had thought Elrond's advisor would be with him this
trip as well.  He pulled off his boots and tossed his cloak upon a rack by the massive
trunk of the mallorn.  Twisting with his arms over his head, he stretched the stiffness
caused by two weeks of riding and sleeping upon the ground out of his body.  

His heart was lighter than it had been in many months, despite Erestor's absence.
Though his raven-haired lover was not with him in body, he was in spirit, and Glorfindel
was most happy they had resolved their differences before he left Imladris.  He resolved
to be a better and more giving lover, and to try to justify Erestor's faith in him.  No
doubt, the thought of acknowledging what was already in his heart frightened him, but
that fear was something he would have to come to grips with or he would risk hurting or
losing Erestor again.  He unpacked his belongings and opened the large armoire; the
robes he and Erestor had been given on their last visit were freshly cleaned and hanging
inside.  He ran his fingers over the soft, dark velvet of Erestor's robe and closed his
eyes, conjuring the vision of his dark beauty in his mind.  A smile curved his lips as
he thought about Erestor and the homecoming they would share.  Then he hung his clothing
inside the armoire and left the talan to bathe before the evening's festivities.


To be continued...


Title:  The Dawning, 29/?
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type:	FPS
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir, Thranduil
Rating:	 NC-17
Beta: Alex
Archive:  Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Melethryn, Library of Moria.  All others please
ask.

WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between males, incest, PWP, and some angst
and romance.


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… 


Feedback: Yes please, larienelengasse@yahoo.com

Author's Notes: This is a continuation of what has become a string of fics starting with
"The Wager"; the Glorfindel/Erestor bug bit me again after a long respite.  Since the
string has been written out of sequence, this one follows "The Wager" chronologically. 

Summary:  A celebration in Lórien; two marchwardens become smitten.


Glorfindel mounted the steps to the dais, kneeling before Galadriel and kissing the back
of her hand.  The Lady of the Wood bent down, taking Glorfindel's head in her hands and
kissing its golden crown.  'I am disappointed to see that Lord Erestor has not traveled
here with you,' her voice echoed in his mind.  

"He was tasked with running the Last Homely House," he answered in kind.

Galadriel smiled as Glorfindel stood, returning her smile in a knowing fashion.  He then
moved to Lord Celeborn, who clasped his shoulder and took his hand.  Elrond was already
in attendance, as were several others, including Círdan (who rarely traveled from the
Havens) and Galdor, and several senior members of Celeborn and Galadriel's house.
Thranduil and Legolas arrived shortly after Glorfindel, and after greeting the Lord and
Lady of the Wood, they crossed the floor to Glorfindel and Elrond.

"Well met," Thranduil said as he extended his hand to Elrond.

"It has been too long," Elrond answered, as he took Thranduil's hand between his own.
He then turned to Legolas.  "Prince Legolas."  He took Legolas' hand in between his own
as the prince bowed his head.

"Well met, my lord," Legolas answered softly.  "It is good to see you again."  His eyes
quickly scanned the crowd for any hint of Elladan or Elrohir.

"I am afraid my sons are not with me, Legolas," Elrond said softly, a smile gracing his
handsome features.

"That is a pity," Legolas returned.  "I had hoped to see them."

"They are in charge of Imladris' defenses in my absence," Elrond answered.  He smiled,
then continued.  "I am glad that the three of you have become such fast friends."

"As am I," Legolas answered with a shy smile.  "I hold their friendship near to my
heart."

Elrond patted him on the back as he followed his father to greet Glorfindel.

"Well met, Lord Glorfindel," Thranduil said with a smile.

Glorfindel smiled broadly as he clasped Thranduil's hand.  "Well met indeed, my lord.
You look well..."

"As do you," Thranduil answered.  "Love agrees with you, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel smiled broadly.  "Aye... I only hope I can agree with it."

Thranduil chuckled.  "Oh, you will, fear not.  Love is a stubborn and patient animal.
Always creeping up on you when you least expect it."

"And you, my lord?  Have you been caught in its snare?"

"Not yet," Thranduil answered, "though I fear it tracks me."  He winked as he turned to
welcome Legolas.

"Greetings, Lord Glorfindel," Legolas said smoothly as he approached.  "Where might your
better half be?"

Thranduil's eyes widened as his son teased the Elda.  Glorfindel chuckled and answered,
"I fear I had to leave him behind to watch over our home, my lord."  He smiled as
Legolas embraced him.  "'Tis good to see you again, my prince."

"'Tis good to see you as well, my friend," Legolas answered.  Legolas and his father
then moved on, and Thranduil introduced his son to Círdan and Galdor.

*    *    *    *

Orophin nudged Rúmil as his younger brother fidgeted with his collar.  Haldir cast a
sideways glance at his younger siblings and shook his head.  It was a momentary
distraction from that which occupied his thoughts: the resplendent and golden princely
glory of Legolas Thranduilion.  He was immediately taken with the beautiful prince as
the king's party had arrived at the northern fences.  Not only was Legolas beautiful,
but he was proud and defiant, two traits he could easily admire in a potential lover.  

He knew his Lord and Lady would not approve of such a wolfish thought, but unlike many,
he did not assume that Legolas' youth, feline grace and gentle beauty spoke of a weak
prince.  The fire in Legolas' eyes told him differently: that the prince could indeed be
a force to be reckoned with.  Legolas had rattled Rúmil's cage in their initial
encounter.  His youngest brother was no weakling; however, Legolas was quite an
impressive figure when roused to defend his father.  Not to mention, Thranduil was a
foreboding enough figure on his own; the pairing of father and son could be quite
unnerving.

As he watched Legolas, he wondered how he might chance an introduction.  They had met
briefly at the northern fences, but he desired a more informal and less adversarial
introduction.  He could see that Glorfindel harbored affection for the prince.  However,
since it was well known who the guardian of Glorfindel's heart was, there was no need to
worry about competition from the Elda for Legolas' favor.  Perhaps Glorfindel would see
his way clear to making an introduction.  He smiled and nodded slightly to himself.
Yes, Glorfindel... the Elda owed him a favor after his last visit...

Orophin leaned over to whisper in his younger brother's ear.  "Go on, Rúmil.  Go talk to
his majesty..."

"I cannot!" Rúmil answered with dismay.  "This is a state function... he is a king, I
cannot just approach him as if he were another guardian."

"But he was very kind and polite to you earlier, surely that would not change now.  What
are you afraid of?"

"Stop it, Orophin...  What would the Lord and Lady think of such an impertinent act?"

"Do not hide behind the Lord and Lady, Rúmil.  Neither would begrudge you some time with
his majesty if you should desire it."

Rúmil shook his head and tugged at the hem of his tunic.  Orophin sighed and shrugged;
eventually his little brother was going to have to find the courage or lose his chance.

The evening began with friendly banter between the honored members of the Eldar.  The
wizards would arrive in the morning, and the White Council would then begin.  How long
the Council would meet was anyone's guess, and no one was really sure of what they would
speak of.  As the dinner guests took their places at the long table, Rúmil cast shy
glances in Thranduil's direction, while his elder brother, Haldir, cast more blatant
ones at the prince.  Orophin worried that Haldir might offend King Thranduil, however
the king merely smiled when he took note of the captain's interest in his son.

Dinner was followed by wine and dancing, though the celebration was subdued.  No one
forgot their reason for being in Lórien.  As Ithil continued her journey across the sky,
the celebration ended.  Haldir caught Glorfindel's elbow as the guests retired and left
the gardens for their respective talans.

"Might I have a word, Lord Glorfindel?" Haldir asked smoothly.

"Certainly," Glorfindel answered as he followed Haldir toward a more private location.

"I hope you enjoyed your last visit here," Haldir began.

"You are calling in your marker, are you not?" Glorfindel interrupted with a wolfish
grin.  

"I was making an attempt at subtlety, my lord..."

"Never mind the subtlety, Haldir.  It does not suit you.  Now, what is it you wish from
me?"

"An introduction..."

"To Prince Legolas..."

"Aye.  How did you know?"

"Everyone at the table knows, Haldir.  As I said, subtlety does not suit you.  Everyone
saw the admiring glances you were casting the prince's way, including the prince
himself..."

"He did not return them.  Do you think he is not interested?"

"I would not profess to know what is in the prince's heart.  But I doubt he would rebuff
you.  You are, after all, a handsome elf, and a soldier.  The two of you have those two
things in common.  I imagine that he is trying to make a good impression on the elders
that are in attendance, after all this is an official delegation and he is with his
father..."

Haldir nodded.  "True.  I hope he did not find me impertinent."

Glorfindel chuckled and shook his head.  "What happened to the legendary confidence of
Haldir of Lothlórien?"

"Never have I seen an elf more proud or more...alluring; and his position as prince
dictates that I must proceed carefully."

"Not to mention his father..."

Haldir nodded in agreement.  "Aye.  Having an angry Thranduil Oropherion hunting me down
is not something I want to experience," he said, with a wry grin.

Glorfindel laughed and clapped Haldir upon the shoulder.  "I trust you will treat the
prince with honor?"

"Most definitely," Haldir agreed.

"Fine.  I will introduce you formally to Legolas after the Council meeting tomorrow."

Haldir shook Glorfindel's hand vigorously.  "Thank you, my friend."

Glorfindel smiled and shook his head, patting Haldir on the shoulder before retiring for
the evening.

*    *    *    *

The house was quiet, the residents having retired for the evening.  Elladan had spent
the afternoon sequestered with Erestor, going over trade negotiations that were in
progress, and the various other mundane duties of running Imladris.  He was now fully
informed of the status of the realm, and ready to attend the council meetings beginning
in a few days.  Elrohir had spent the day with the soldiers, reviewing staff rosters and
planned patrols; he would serve in Glorfindel's stead during the Elda's absence.  

They had their evening meal in the customary manner, with the senior members of Elrond's
staff in attendance and Arwen serving as hostess.  After the dinner guests retired, they
did as well, bidding Arwen a good night at her door.  They retired to their separate
chambers, only to wait until all the lights had dimmed in the Last Homely House, then
Elladan stealthily crept into his twin's bedchamber.  Stealing moments together was
easier when their father was not present; they did not feel his ever-present and
watchful gaze upon them.  While Elrond was not prone to spying on his sons, and neither
of the twins had a reason to suspect he knew of the nature of their relationship, he did
seem to see all and know all when it came to the goings on in his house.

Elladan closed the bedchamber door and latched it.  He had left his own door locked,
exiting his chamber from the balcony, scaling the thick vines that grew on the wall, and
reentering the house through a door that led to his father's private garden.  A fire
burned in the hearth, chasing away the chill of the spring night.  The door to Elrohir's
bathing chamber was open; candlelight flickered through the open doorway.  He crossed
the floor, making no sound in his bare feet, and paused just outside threshold to the
bathing chamber.  

His twin reclined in a steaming tub of warm water, Elrohir's hair spilling over the edge
of the tub in a luxurious sable fall, the ends just barely touching the floor.  Elladan
gazed at the elf that held his heart, content to stand in the doorway and admire his
beloved brother's beauty.  Elrohir's eyes were closed, his lips slightly curved into a
relaxed and satisfied smile.  His strong hands rested upon the edges of the tub, the
fingers curled around the rounded edge, and one leg was draped over the edge, revealing
the shapely curves of his muscular calf and thigh.  Drops of water ran in small rivulets
down his neck, shoulders and chest, causing his alabaster skin to glisten in the soft,
warm candlelight.

If ever there had been one more beautiful, Elladan had not seen nor heard of them.
Elrohir was the epitome of both elfkind and mankind; in him was the beauty and gentle
wisdom of the Elves and the power and majesty of the Dúnedain.  When Elladan gazed upon
his brother, he did not see a reflection of himself.  Elrohir was all that he was not,
at least in his own eyes.  As soon as he had been old enough to understand, he had known
that Elrohir was his other half in more than just their physical appearance.  Elrohir
was bound to him, both heart and soul, and no law or judgement could ever change that.

He slowly removed his robe, hanging it upon a peg before moving to kneel on the floor
next to his beloved.  He gently rested his cheek against Elrohir's arm and watched his
twin's lips curve into a loving smile. 

"I love you, Elrohir," he whispered softly.

Elrohir shifted so that he could caress Elladan's head.  "As I love you," he answered,
"and always will."  Elrohir sighed, then slowly drew his leg back down into the bath.
"Come," he murmured as he slowly sat up.  "Take me to bed and hold me until Anor
rises..."

Elladan nodded, taking his brother's hand and helping him rise from the bath.  He
wrapped Elrohir in a thick towel, gently drying his brother's torso as he placed soft
kisses upon his face.  Then he walked with him, hand in hand, to the bed, where they
kissed, touched, made love, and slept in each other's arms until dawn.


To be continued...

Title:  The Dawning, 30/?
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type:	FPS
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir, Thranduil, Haldir and Rúmil
Rating:	 NC-17
Beta: Alex
Archive:  Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Melethryn, Library of Moria.  All others please
ask.

WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between males, incest, PWP, and some angst
and romance.


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… 


Feedback: Yes please, larienelengasse@yahoo.com

Author's Notes: This is a continuation of what has become a string of fics starting with
"The Wager"; the Glorfindel/Erestor bug bit me again after a long respite.  Since the
string has been written out of sequence, this one follows "The Wager" chronologically. 

Summary:  Three wizards arrive, the White Council meets, a discussion ensues, and a wish
is granted.

Saruman, Gandalf and Radagast arrived in Lórien in the predawn hours of the following
day.  Upon their arrival in Caras Galadhon, the White Council convened.  Saruman was
chief among the Istari; therefore, he spoke on their behalf.  Galadriel, Celeborn,
Círdan and Elrond were the most powerful of the elves in attendance, and they spoke on
behalf of Elven-kind.  Saruman reported that he had discovered that the One Ring had
passed into the Sea, and therefore was beyond the reach of Sauron, or anyone else.
After many debates on how the wizard would have known this and other possible
explanations for the reappearance of the Nazgûl in Dol Guldur, the Council adjourned for
the night.  The Eldar were joined by Gandalf as they retired to the residence of
Galadriel and Celeborn to discuss the events of that meeting...

"I do not trust him," Thranduil grumbled as he paced the talan floor.  "There is more to
what has occurred here than is readily discernable."

Legolas sat quietly by in a chair next to the wall, listening to his father's counsel.
Glorfindel sat next to him, and he knew the Elda was in agreement with his father.  

"Curunír has great wisdom, perhaps he has seen something we have not?" Círdan replied.

Thranduil turned and faced the great mariner.  "I respect what you say, Lord Círdan.
But my heart, my instincts and every fiber of my being tells me what he says is not so.
In the past two years, Uruk-hai have prowled the Vales of the Anduin – not attacking the
enclaves of elves and men as is their want, but searching for something as if they were
driven.  Now, Dol Guldur is occupied again and Úlairi ride winged beasts over the
treetops of Mirkwood."  He turned to Galadriel.  "Tell me, my lady, do you not know or
sense what I speak of?"

Galadriel closed her eyes and answered quietly, "I do know of what you speak.  The world
is changing, I feel it."

Elrond added, "Sauron is growing more bold; attacks on Gondor have intensified both in
frequency and in intensity.  The Gondorian army will not long last if this continues
unchecked.  The Dark Lord would not declare himself openly if he had not found some
reason to hope that what was taken from him would be returned."

Gandalf, the only wizard in attendance, spoke up, "Perhaps Saruman has been deceived, or
perhaps he is only thinking wishfully.  It is difficult for me to believe that he would
purposefully deceive you or me.  It will be of no harm to take him at his word, yet
maintain a watchful eye."

Legolas stood and spoke up.  "And what of the Úlairi?  What of my woodland home?  We
cannot fight them on our own..."

Gandalf sighed and looked at the floor before answering.  "I have no answer for you this
night, Legolas.  I will do what I can to convince Saruman and Radagast to gather our
forces once more, but I can make no promises."

Thranduil sighed quietly and shook his head as Legolas sat back down next to Glorfindel.
The Elda offered a comforting hand upon the prince's knee.

"It will be lost to us," Legolas whispered to Glorfindel.  "We will die defending our
home and lose it anyway."

*    *    *    *

Legolas walked solemnly ahead of his father as they returned to their talan.  Upon
exiting the Lord and Lady's dwelling, Glorfindel saw Haldir standing at the base of the
stairs.  The captain had been on guard duty for the duration of the meeting.  He shook
his head gently, indicating to Haldir that it was not a good time for an introduction.
Haldir looked at the prince with concern; he had not seen him look so defeated.  He
nodded in agreement to Glorfindel, then bowed his head as the procession of Eldar passed
him.  

Rúmil was also waiting at the base of the stairs.  His duty was to escort Thranduil and
Legolas back to their talan as Orophin was tasked with escorting Círdan and Galdor.
Their duty was more one of honor than necessity; no one in the Golden Wood feared
anything from their visiting kindred.  Rúmil walked quietly behind Thranduil and Legolas
as they returned to their talan and he paused at the base of the stairs in case either
of the Sindar nobles needed anything.  Thranduil turned and smiled at him and he felt
his face begin to grow warm.  Bowing his head and covering his heart with his hand, he
began to back away.

"My thanks to you for your service," Thranduil said softly.

"It is my honor, my lord," Rúmil answered quietly.

Sensing the young guardian was not quite ready to be parted from his company, and
feeling a bit restless himself, Thranduil stepped closer and replied, "I hear the lady's
gardens are a sight to behold, particularly when Ithil shines at her fullest.  Would you
be so kind as to escort me to them?"

Rúmil felt his face grow hot again and answered, "Of course, my lord.  To fulfill your
wish would be my great honor."

Thranduil smiled and replied, "Lead the way then, my friend."

Rúmil turned and escorted Thranduil toward the gardens at the edge of the city, as
Legolas ascended the stairs to their talan.

*    *    *    *

Glorfindel sat in a wide rocker with his feet propped upon a table, staring at the night
sky.  As he sipped his wine, he let his thoughts wander freely over the events of the
past weeks as well as what had been said in the Council.  Something nagged at him that
he could not quite put his finger on.  He agreed with Thranduil that there was more to
Saruman's counsel than met the eye, though what reason the White Wizard would have to
lie was beyond his reckoning.

He felt for Legolas; the prince was so dedicated to his duty as guardian of the great
forest.  It was difficult for Legolas to accept compromise, let alone defeat.  With a
tired sigh, Glorfindel thought the prince would need to learn to accept both before all
was said and done.  When he thought about it, Legolas reminded him of Estel, except that
the elf had lived longer and was more prudent when it came to making decisions in
battle.  'One day,' he thought, 'those two will make a formidable pair – both as
stubborn as oxen and brave as lions.  I would not want to be between them and their
goal.'

He stretched and took another sip of wine, allowing his thoughts to drift to what
occupied him most often: his lover and best friend.  He wasn't sure what to do about
Erestor.  He knew he cared deeply for him, that he wanted him to be happy, and he wanted
to be the one that gave Erestor that happiness.  He wondered why his normally
unsentimental friend needed validation of their feelings for one another.  He wondered
why his actions did not speak louder than words he had not said.  Of course, was it fair
of him to expect Erestor to think as he did and act as he did?  And why was just giving
Erestor what he wanted so difficult?  On the one hand, being with Erestor was incredibly
easy, despite the disagreements and periodic bickering.  Erestor knew him, and his
friend did not require explanations of his behavior.

They were well suited as lovers, each giving and taking fairly equally.  Each seemed to
know what the other wanted without being told, and each seemed to find immense
satisfaction in the physical aspects of their relationship.  However, Erestor needed
more than that, and when it came down to the heart of the matter, that is what
frightened Glorfindel.  When he looked deep inside himself, he knew why he was afraid.  

He had so much to atone for.  It was not only his own life that had fallen under
hardship; it was Erestor's too.  He should have told Erestor to stay home.  He should
have begged him to do so, if necessary.  Instead, he allowed himself to be selfish and
he readily accepted Erestor's offer of companionship.  Now they were both cursed for
their deeds and both needed to atone for what could not easily be forgotten or forgiven.
It was not fair that Erestor suffer such a burden for acts that he would never have
committed on his own.  It was not fair that he be cursed when all he did was defend
himself.

When the attack on the Teleri occurred, Glorfindel knew what was happening; he had been
standing there when Fëanor, in his madness, gave the order to seize the ships by any
means necessary, and in his own blind loyalty he had willingly obeyed that command.
Erestor had not been privy to this order and was roused from sleep by the sounds of his
friends dying.  Erestor spilled Telerin blood only because he was defending himself,
having arrived after the battle was engaged in full.  Glorfindel knew, with every fiber
of his being, that Erestor never would have raised his sword against his kindred had he
not been forced to in order to stay alive.

This, above all else, weighed upon his spirit and his heart.  So much to atone for...
yet, his relationship with Erestor could not be based on atonement, and indeed, he knew
it was not.  His yearning for the dark counselor was real; the ache in his heart when he
missed him was real.  His love was real.  He could afford no more mistakes.  He could
not hurt Erestor again.  Somehow, he had to overcome his fear that he would be
inadequate, that he would fail to love Erestor enough.  Somehow, he had to find the
courage to open his heart, to withhold nothing and to love Erestor as Erestor needed and
deserved to be loved.

It was with these thoughts that Glorfindel laid down to sleep, his thoughts and dreams
centered on Erestor as he drifted deep into reverie.

*    *    *    *

Thranduil sat upon a low stone bench in Galadriel's garden.  He leaned back upon his
hands and let his eyes roam over the lush foliage and starlit sky.  Out of the corner of
his eye, he could see the young guardian standing silently by, the Silvan's pale eyes
fixed upon him as he avoided Rúmil's gaze.  This was quite a conundrum he was faced
with.  Were they in his realm, he would take the youngling by the hand and discretely
lead him to his bedchamber.  However, this was not his realm, not some aspiring young
courtesan, and he had the untimely misfortune of sharing chambers with his son.  While
he and Legolas did not have the typical father and son relationship, he was quite sure
that Legolas had no interest in listening to his father make love to a young guardian.
Then, there was the added problem of appearances.  What would Celeborn and Galadriel
think of his dalliance with the young guardian?  He guessed they would not approve.
Still, Rúmil was of an extraordinary beauty: lithe and graceful, every movement was
executed with elegant, sedated efficiency.  Rúmil's silence was also enticing; the king
wondered what thoughts swam around inside the mind of the guardian.  

He continued his meditation in silence, keeping the young soldier in the periphery of
his field of vision.  The cool night air was pregnant with unspoken desire, with words
left dangling on the tip of a tongue that promised so much.  He knew what the young
guardian wanted; he had been the object of such a desire many times before, most
recently with the eldest son of Elrond.  He did not always indulge himself thusly;
however, there were some opportunities that were just too good to pass up.  

He struggled to smite the smile that began to curve his lips as he watched the
guardian's subtle attempts to move closer without being noticed.  Purposefully turning
his head and gazing up into a tall mallorn, he opened the door of opportunity for young
Rúmil.

"Tell me, Rúmil," he said without looking at his young admirer.  "If you could have
anything that you want in the wide world at this moment, what would it be?"

Rúmil cleared his throat softly and answered in a quiet voice, "I suppose I would have
peace from the Dark Lord's tyranny, for all peoples of Middle-earth."

Thranduil nodded, still fighting to control the grin that threatened to bloom upon his
lips.  "Such a selfless desire for one so young."  With instinct and effortless elegance
that he seemed to be born with, Thranduil turned and tilted his head slightly, leveling
his dangerous sapphire gaze upon Rúmil.  "Are all your wishes so selfless?  Or do you
sometimes wish for things that would seem to be an indulgence?"

Rúmil felt his face grow hot for what must have been the tenth time that evening, and he
lowered his gaze to the ground.  "I suppose I sometimes wish for selfish things, things
I have no right to ask for."

"Tell me of one of those wishes, Rúmil.  It may be within my power to grant it."

"I cannot," Rúmil whispered.

"Why?" Thranduil asked, his gaze pinning Rúmil to the spot.

"I am afraid..."

"Of what?"

"Of the answer..."

"But you will never know the answer if you do not ask the question.  Knowing is better
than not knowing, would you not agree?  What could be worse than an unanswered question
that haunts you all of your days?"  Thranduil finally allowed himself to smile, but it
was not a pleased or mocking smile, it was one that communicated genuine affection.  "Be
brave in this as you are in all things, my friend.  That bravery will be rewarded in
kind."

"I would like..." Rúmil swallowed and felt his palms begin to sweat.  "I would
like...to...kiss you, my lord," he answered with barely more than a whisper.

"How interesting," Thranduil replied.  "For I was wishing just now that you would kiss
me..."

Rúmil's eyes widened.  "Truly?"

Thranduil smiled.  "Aye."

The speed with which Rúmil moved was a bit surprising to Thranduil, and he had to catch
himself to keep from falling backward off the bench and into the bushes as Rúmil
gracefully landed in his lap.  The young guardian gently seized the king's face in his
hands and pressed their lips together with such wanton ferocity that Thranduil could not
suppress the gasp of surprise that escaped him.

His young admirer was no wilting flower, no gentle and delicate rose that needed to be
handled with care.  Despite his lithe body and elegant movement, Rúmil was as ferocious
as a lion when roused by desire.  Thranduil opened his mouth, yielding to Rúmil's heated
assault as his hands traveled to the small of the archer's back.  The young guardian
slowly arched into his hands, moving with a slight and gentle rocking motion that was
utterly intoxicating.  He felt his body responding to the sensual rolling of the
guardian's hips, to the warm, sweet tongue that invaded his mouth, to the strong
archer's fingers tangling in his hair and the soft, deep moans of one lost in pleasure.
It was with an amused sense of surprise that Thranduil found himself moaning in kind as
their mouths moved against each other and they slowly found their shared rhythm.  

Lovemaking was like dancing, not meant to be choreographed and planned, but meant to be
performed freely and without restraint.  Two bodies coming together, exploring, melding,
until they move as one, each seeking self-abandonment and immersion in the other.
Thranduil lost himself in the music of Rúmil's moans and sighs, allowed his hands and
mouth to explore without pretense or restraint; and Rúmil responded beautifully, giving
so freely, softly whispering pleas for more.  

"Take me to my bed," the young guardian purred into Thranduil's ear.

"Gladly, my beauty," Thranduil answered as he allowed Rúmil to rise from his lap and
take his hand, guiding him to his private talan.


To be continued...