Title: Bliss of Another Kind

Author: Talullah 
Author's email: talullahred@gmail.com
Author's website: www.secretstigma.net

Pairing: Sam/Glorfindel; Sam/Rosie (implied)  
Rating: NC-17 
Feedback: Yes, pleeeease! I’d love to get your opinion on this.  
Summary: Sam is great and a good friend but is there more to his 
sacrifices than meets the eye?  
Warning: May/December relationship. Sam has reached majority recently 
and Glorfindel is millennia old. The cradle robber ;-)  
Disclaimer: Not mine (*sniff, sniff*). They’re JRR Tolkien’s heirs' and 
God knows who else.  
Archived at the Library of Moria and the AFF net. Others are welcomed 
but please drop me an email so that I know where it is.  
Author’s Notes: The title is a line from a Tori Amos song.  
Some of the feelings and one happening of this story were inspired by 
Milan Kundera’s “Unbearable Lightness of Being”. Can you see where?  
A huge “thank you” to Hathaldir for being a great beta-reader and for 
writing the wonderful “A Jewel Among Hobbits”. I don’t think I would 
have been able to finish this had I not read it.  
 
~~~~~~~~~~~  
 
On the road to Rivendell, Third Age 3018 
 
“This is it.” he thought, scared to death, but he still managed to exert 
dominion over himself and gather some composure. As soon as he saw the 
look of relief on Strider´s face and heard his dear master say the hoof 
sounds were not from the Black Riders, Sam released the faintest sigh and 
tried to prepare himself for the next surprise. He had little hope it would 
be any better that the many others the last few days had held.  
 
Whatever he felt or thought could not have prepared him for what he saw 
next: the rider was an elf lord, and he had the most harmonious mellowed 
voice he had ever heard.  
 
Long had it been his heart’s desire to meet one of the Firstborn, and 
indeed his wish had come true in the Old Woods; but Lord Gildor and his 
people, although beautiful, kind and graceful, were, in a way he couldn’t 
quite figure, missing something this elf had.  
 
Around him shone a white light, so very bright and yet so soft it looked 
like sun shining through clouds. It felt warm and welcoming, like how he 
expected to feel when he finally returned to the Shire, and delivered 
himself and Mr. Frodo from this mess. The rider was talking with Strider 
and Mr. Frodo now. Sam was so bedazzled that most of what was said 
slipped by him until he heard the glorious rider urging them to continue 
walking through the night.  
 
He spoke quickly and with a harsh note on his words: “My master is sick 
and wounded. He can’t go on ridding after nightfall. He needs rest.”  
 
The moment the words left his mouth he cursed himself for not thinking. 
There were so many other ways to say that without the edge. How could 
he have spoken so harshly, even if it was for the benefit of Mr. Frodo? The 
rider seized Frodo as he was falling and started to examine him while 
Strider acquainted him with the events of their journey.  
 
During this conversation Sam realized the rider’s name was Glorfindel. 
The name sounded like water running in a creek. He chastised himself for 
having such idle thoughts when his friend (if he dared think Mr. Frodo 
gave him more than absent-minded kindness) still had that dreadful, foul, 
thing affecting him. Mr. Frodo was his first priority, he reminded himself, 
and renewed in his heart the promise he had made to Lord Gildor.  
 
Glorfindel’s face darkened as he examined Frodo and declared this injury 
was far beyond his healing powers. It was a relief for Sam when 
Glorfindel decided to take Frodo on his horse, thus sparing him more 
strain when he was already so feeble.  
 
They walked all night until it seemed they would never stop walking 
again. After a while it was increasingly difficult to keep up with 
Glorfindel and Frodo. Even Strider was looking exhausted. Merry and 
Pippin were slumbering and kept stumbling on each other and on him. He 
too just wanted to go asleep on his feet, but the worry for his Mr. Frodo 
kept him alert. That, and the contemplation of Glorfindel’s back. His 
square, broad shoulders, his hair of a rich gold now paler in the darkness, 
lit only by his inner light, which was anyway the only light source on the 
darkest of roads. Everything about the elf was entrancing.  
 
The sheer elegance of his riding was not hindered by the presence of 
another on the horse. Sam felt his stomach clench, but every time he tried 
to think of something else, a simple glance to the rider was enough to 
bring him back to this absurd awe.  
 
“For crying out loud!” he thought to himself. They were in risk of their 
lives, especially Mr. Frodo, and all he could think was on the elf’s 
perfection, and grace, and beauty and nobility.  
 
Thinking these thoughts, he barely noticed the dawn coming, until Strider 
halted them and they lay down under the heath and fell asleep almost 
instantly.  
 
After a few hours Glorfindel woke them up and gave them miruvor. The 
touch of the elf’s hand still burned on Sam’s shoulder when they started 
walking again.  
 
They walked forever that day. Between the sheer exhaustion, the 
agonizing concern for his Mr. Frodo (who kept looking worse), and these 
strange new conflicting feelings, Sam felt like he would burst or just plain 
evaporate, leaving Middle-earth with absolutely no trace of his existence. 
After a few hours he just felt numb. And he wished he could remain numb 
if the alternative was that dark vortex in which he had been swirling.  
 
By the end of the day Frodo looked grey, he noticed worriedly. He 
realized Strider and Glorfindel were also very preoccupied with Frodo’s 
condition, but there was no way they could walk one step further that day.  
 
The next morning they started walking again and after a few hours he was 
so overwhelmed by the strain and the fear that he felt disembodied, 
detached and looking down from above at their tiny bodies forcing 
themselves to march further on, stumbling in every rock.  
 
Not a single thing mattered to him in the rest of Middle-earth but the two 
figures atop the horse. His dear master, fading by the minute, and the 
glowing being that was holding him, holding them all in fact, for it was 
him that gave them what little hope they had.  
 
By the end of the day they entered a dark tunnel made by the canopy of 
pine trees. The glow emanating from Glorfindel was the only source of 
light and Sam came closer, as if drawn to this vision of beauty and peace. 
Even under the fear for their fates Glorfindel seamed a haven into which 
Sam felt like diving and never emerging again.  
 
When they finally saw the light at the end of the road, they heard loud 
hoof sounds and Glorfindel hollered in warning. Asfaloth started to gallop, 
always obeying his master’s voice, carrying Frodo to what Sam hoped was 
safety. The Black Riders followed them, loosing interest in the group, and 
this weighed heavily on Sam’s heart. As they rose from the ground he felt 
a squeeze in his shoulder. He looked up, and a gentle and concerned gaze 
bathed him, and even in this most desperate hour Sam felt like a shroud 
was lifted from his soul. He almost dared to believe it was possible: that 
Asfaloth could indeed carry his Mr. Frodo towards safety.  
 
They ran towards the river and as Strider and Glorfindel defended them, 
he too, although he knew perfectly well he was no hero, nor a match for 
the Dark Riders, did what he could to fight them.  
 
~~~~~~~~~~~  
 
Rivendell, Third Age 3018 
 
After arriving the Last Homely House, deep in the valley, Sam kept to 
Frodo’s bedside for the next few days, forgetting even his own needs. As 
Elrond’s healing powers did their work and Frodo started to regain some 
colour he let Gandalf persuade him to take some rest.  
 
After Sam slept deeply for a couple of hours, Glorfindel woke him gently. 
He felt like he was still in a dream as he heard the deep soft musical voice 
calling his name, urging him to wake. When he finally sat up on the bed 
and looked to Glorfindel’s face through a haze, the elf took his hand and 
said softly:  
 
“I am very sorry to awake you little one, but it was at your own request. I 
fear you would never forgive me if I had not fulfilled my promise and let 
you know as soon as your friend returned from the realm of dreams.”  
 
“Yes, I mean, no, of course I would forgive you, you’re too kind.” Sam 
could hardly articulate a thought or a phrase that could tell the elf what he 
meant and felt as he jumped off his bed and fumbled around for clothes. 
Glorfindel smiled and continued:  
 
“He has been with Mithrandir, Gandalf that is, for some time now, but I 
felt I could not wake you before. You have done much and rested little 
these past few days, and I cannot begin to imagine what toll a journey 
such as yours could have on someone who has known before only peace 
and happiness.”  
 
By this time Sam was almost dressed and more awake, but was so 
overjoyed about the awakening of his master that he only muttered “The 
journey was hard but nothing compared to Mr. Frodo’s torment” as he left 
the room, almost running.  
 
Glorfindel followed him once again, wondering what kind of loyalty such 
a small creature, a perian, could harbour in his heart. So many others, 
greater in body and intellect could not, had not, shown a greater heart or 
nobler feeling. A fleeting thought of Echtelion’s desertion for a wife and 
children pained him as if it had been yesterday, but he dismissed it, not 
without wincing, though.  
 
Then Glorfindel questioned the nature of Sam’s feelings: Frodo was quite 
handsome for a hobbit, even in sickness. Was Sam in love with him? A 
brief glimpse of them kissing crossed his mind, but was quickly dismissed. 
There was something amiss in their eyes for that. And even if he did not 
look so, Frodo was much older that Sam. But even if Sam’s loyalty came 
from sexual love and not friendship, it was still noble and worthy. On the 
other hand, the hobbit kept blushing and stuttering around him after that 
first outburst on the road. No, he was being silly and vain. The poor 
creature was just impressed because he was a Firstborn – Glorfindel had 
seen that before – and their saviour of sorts and besides Sam was 
obviously shy. That was all there was to it. And why was he even thinking 
of such things, he wondered.  
 
At dinner Sam sat at a table with Merry and Pippin, opposite Frodo who 
was at the main table. At Frodo’s side sat Glorfindel and all night long 
Sam couldn’t help himself but looking. Now that the worst was over he 
finally had time to think about all these disturbing new feelings. There was 
of course a huge relief and happiness for Mr. Frodo’s recovery. He had 
always kept Frodo in high esteem and more even in these last years. 
Sometimes he felt almost like Frodo was a father to him, for he always 
had a kind, caring word and showed more than simple concern for an 
employee, but true friendship.  
 
Right. Then there was the elf. It was only natural, he thought, that he 
would feel fascinated by elves. After all, he had grown up listening to Mr. 
Bilbo’s stories and wanting to meet them. “But why then such a 
fascination with this particular elf?” a low, insidious voice kept 
whispering in his mind. “Because he saved us, that’s why!” he kept 
reminding himself. “But Lord Gildor helped us too, and without Lord 
Elrond, Mr. Frodo wouldn’t have lasted” “Shut up!!” Sam realized he was 
gazing at the other table and clenching the tablecloth. Merry and Pippin 
were already snickering and teasing him. It was no great secret in the Shire 
that he fancied Rosie Cotton, and they just went on and on about how 
feelings change and are transferred, meaning to imply that he liked Mr. 
Frodo “that” way, instead of Rosie.  
 
In other circumstances he would have showed them right on the spot how 
they should mind their filthy tongues, despite the fact he was from a lower 
social stratum, but this was Elrond’s house and their remarks hit closer 
than they could suspect. They brought more thoughts to his mind: why did 
he feel his stomach clench and his tongue melt when he was around 
Glorfindel?  
 
After all, he was in love with Rosie and beside that, Glorfindel was a male 
and he had never felt thus inclined. “Until recently, that is” said the little 
voice, reeking malice. “No, it couldn’t be!” Thoughts kept running 
through his head in total disarray. It was ridiculous. Even if he was not in 
love with Rosie, and he was, even if he liked males, and he didn’t, it could 
never be, so he just better forget about it all and start to act normal around 
Glorfindel and everyone else. Why on earth would this wondrous being 
even look at him, let alone even think of him that way? He was the only 
dirty one there.  
 
Burdened by these thoughts, Sam excused himself after dinner and 
escaped to the welcome loneliness of the gardens. He trailed far, and after 
a while sat on a stone bench. In spite of the night chill he just fell asleep 
there, having not fully rested from the ordeal.  
 
Later, in his slumber, he felt enveloped in a warm embrace and carried. He 
did not care if it was a dream or reality, and he certainly did not care 
where he was taken. All he wanted or needed was these warm arms 
holding him and finally some rest and peace. He felt himself being laid 
down on cold sheets and shuddered slightly as he opened his eyes. He was 
back on his room and Glorfindel hovered above him.  
 
“Forgive me master hobbit. I did not intend to disturb your rest a second 
time today as it is most needed.” As Glorfindel spoke Sam clutched his 
hand, and before the elf had finished speaking, Sam had drifted off again 
to a deep repairing sleep.  
 
Sam’s grip was strong and needy even in his sleep so Glorfindel took pity 
on the hobbit and did not wake him again. Instead, he sat on the bed and 
eventually lay down as a welcomed and soothing reverie took hold of him.  
 
The next morning Sam’s hand still had a strong clasp on Glorfindel’s as 
the elf woke, so he just lay there, waiting for a good time to leave. He felt 
the hobbit would be ashamed if he found him there, but he was still fast 
asleep and looked so exposed, but not as helpless as a child did asleep. No, 
that one had the makings of a warrior in him; he was not one for 
staggering, that much he had seen at the Ford of Bruinen.  
 
Slowly Sam started waking and loosened his grip. Glorfindel quickly 
released himself and fled the room before, he hoped, the hobbit was fully 
awake.  
 
All Sam saw was a flash of rich gold hair at the door before it was quietly 
closed. As he stretched in the bed and yawned he realized the bed was 
warm next to him as if someone else had lain there.  
 
A confused recollection of being carried in his sleep by Glorfindel hit him, 
but he couldn’t determine if it was a dream or reality. He hoped it had 
been a dream for otherwise it meant he had in fact held Glorfindel’s hand 
all night long. If that was true, he could never ever look at him again. 
“What kind of fool am I?” he kept chiding himself. And yet, a small voice 
whispered in his mind “You didn’t make him stay. It was of his own free 
will.” Soon these thoughts vanished as he realized this was the morning of 
the Council and although he was not invited he had to make sure someone 
was there to look out for Mr. Frodo. Not that Mr. Bilbo wouldn’t, but the 
he wasn’t as young as he used to be and his long friendship with the elves 
might cloud his judgment. Not that he thought the Elves meant any harm 
to Mr. Frodo, but one could never be too careful, could they?  
 
So he sat in a dark corner behind a statue and listened. The floor was cold 
and he was starting to get really famished and they were nowhere near a 
decision when he heard Frodo saying he would carry the ring to its 
destruction.  
 
His voice was no louder than a whisper and it broke Sam’s heart to think 
he would have to carry that foul, evil burden once again and the perils that 
implied. He sprung up and did what he had to, not thinking of the 
consequences of being caught listening to a private council.  
 
Fortunately Lord Elrond allowed it to go unpunished and even joked about 
it. As he looked to the Lord of Imladris he glimpsed Glorfindel behind 
him, who sported a little smile and a look that mixed respect and approval 
but not surprise, but to Sam it was just enigmatic.  
 
Despite it, Sam felt warm and grateful for that smile, almost as much as he 
felt joyous for being so easily allowed to continue with Mr. Frodo, and 
worried for all the dangers and hardships ahead.  
 
After the initial excitment and discussions with the other hobbits the peace 
of Rivendell entered their souls once again and two months flew quickly 
by. During the first of these months Sam managed to avoid Glorfindel, 
keeping mostly to Frodo’s side and avoiding at any cost thinking about 
that night. Shame burned his ears and cheeks whenever he let his guard 
down, but underneath the embarrassment there was something else Sam 
wasn’t ready to approach just yet.  
 
Glorfindel didn’t made things easier for him, for after the council he had 
shown an overt interest in Sam’s person, trying to engage him in 
conversation; in all the few times Sam wasn’t able to escape, he was met 
with furious blushes and impervious silence.  
 
Sam knew Elrond would chose other companions to protect his master but 
he was torn between the desire of having Glorfindel with them and the 
fear that his close companionship would only bring him more 
opportunities to humiliate himself and show the elf what an incredibly big 
fool he was.  
 
Many times Glorfindel gave him reassuring smiles and nods even after the 
failed attempts to start a conversation, for he understood Sam was over 
conscious. He did want to deepen his acquaintance with Sam. He had 
observed him almost constantly. He felt a bizarre, almost annoying 
curiosity for the hobbit and the more he got to know him the more his 
fierce loyalty to Frodo seduced him.  
 
Glorfindel felt more than curiosity and admiration. He began to feel 
endearment. He wanted to protect the hobbit, even when he realized the 
hobbits fierceness was part of what drew him, but he rationalized this 
sheltering need with the resemblance of the hobbit to a child.  
 
Not often in his long life had Glorfindel felt confused by the behaviour of 
others, but Sam puzzled him. Surely, he mused once more, the perian 
couldn’t be in love with him. Not with his heart thoroughly filled with 
love for Frodo and the Shire.  
 
~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
After a month of this silent dance Glorfindel decided to act. He was 
determined to befriend the hobbit and clear the air between them. Middle-
earth could not afford a deeply disturbed member on the quest, he kept 
saying to justify his actions to himself.  
 
After dinner he watched as the halfling sneak away, and before he reached 
the stairs Glorfindel caught him and asked him for a walk in the gardens.  
 
Sam was appalled but had not the heart or the will to avoid Glorfindel’s 
blunt request. They walked in silence for a long time. Glorfindel led them 
away from the main house and from the other buildings in a deliberate 
effort to guarantee the hobbit would not have a close-by escape, and that 
they had some privacy.  
 
Glorfindel finally came to a halt and asked Sam to sit on a stone bench not 
unlike the one Sam had fallen asleep. Even seated side by side with the elf 
Sam was almost calm after many silent coercions.  
 
Now that he had the hobbit alone, Glorfindel felt quite unsure of how to 
begin or if he should begin at all. The warmth radiating from the hobbit 
was starting to make his side tingle and he found himself feeling like an 
elfling on the verge of his first love. Silly notion.  
 
Unexpectedly Sam broke the silence. “I must apologize. I have been very 
rude.” He lowered his gaze and as the elf kept silent, he felt his guess was 
correct and the elf had called him to correct his behaviour so he made 
another effort. “I mean no harm, I just can’t help myself. You make me 
feel strange. Uh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way, I mean…”  
 
Sam was agonizing at his own ineptitude when a very surprised Glorfindel 
placed his hand on his wrist and said, “You needn’t apologize Sam. May I 
call you Sam?”  
 
Sam nodded, stunned.  
 
Silence returned, but the bodily contact was not broken. Glorfindel 
couldn’t force himself to let go and Sam certainly did not want him to. 
They were both in awe. Slowly Glorfindel turned to face Sam.  
 
He squeezed Sam’s hand and forced himself to ask “Dear Sam, I’ve 
watched you befriend so many of our kind in your shy, quiet way and yet 
not me. Why do I make you uneasy?”  
 
Sam couldn’t bring himself to reply but managed to raise his eyes to 
Glorfindel’s, then quickly averted them. Glorfindel reached for Sam’s chin 
with his other hand. His intention was merely to turn the hobbit’s face to 
him, but he kissed him instead. This night was going to be full of surprises 
if even he, after millennia practicing self-control, was acting like an elfling 
on his first moonlight stroll.  
 
Sam was in awe. The thing he most hoped and least expect had just 
happened. For a moment contradictory thoughts raced wildly through his 
head, but there was only one thing he was sure: he wanted more. He 
reached out and pecked Glorfindel’s lips, hoping madly he hadn’t 
regretted the first kiss.  
 
Glorfindel wasn’t sure what reaction to expect, but his heart leapt with joy 
at Sam’s decision. He cupped Sam’s face and pursued his lips for another 
kiss. This one was not quick and tentative as the first ones. It was slow and 
tender. It was Sam’s first proper kiss. It was Glorfindel’s first kiss after 
millennia of solitude. He had forgotten how good it felt to be this close to 
someone but couldn’t surrender completely to he kiss, for he felt the need 
to talk things through. An elf did not take lovers lightly, and least of all 
him. If this was going to be the case – as fond as he had become of Sam – 
the fact was they were strangers and needed further acquaintance. Besides, 
he could tell the hobbit had no great experience in matters of the heart 
either. These ramblings made him stop the kiss slowly.  
 
Sam looked disappointed. He lowered his gaze once more. Glorfindel still 
held his hand and felt him shudder. The confusion in Sam’s face made him 
lean for another kiss. He meant it to be chaste, but when he did it was all 
but that. It was a kiss deeper than before and seemingly endless. It became 
deeper and deeper. They felt caught in a vortex. Glorfindel embraced Sam 
and straddled him on his lap. He could feel the hobbit’s arousal pressing in 
his stomach as he clung to his shoulders and ran his fingers through his 
hair, still kissing him hungrily.  
 
Things were getting out of hand and quickly but all of Glorfindel’s 
previous thoughts were fading from his mind. All he needed right now 
was to melt into Sam’s arms. He broke the kiss once more and started to 
trail Sam’s jaw with small kisses from the corner of his lip to just below 
his ear. He nuzzled in the hobbit’s neck and hugged him even tighter. He 
smelled so good.  
 
By now is own arousal was pressing beneath his leggings, deliciously 
stimulated by Sam’s moving buttocks. Sam was panting softly and 
rubbing himself slightly on his stomach while he too kept delivering small 
kisses in every inch of skin Glorfindel had uncovered. He couldn’t believe 
what was happening, but though he dared not hope for anything, he 
intended to seize the moment as he had never, ever felt like that before. He 
was also scared because he wanted to please the elf, but had no experience 
in such matters. He gathered up the courage and asked almost soundlessly 
in Glorfindel’s ear. “I know not what to do. Please show me.”  
 
Glorfindel’s heart almost stopped from hearing such vulnerability and 
such generosity in the hobbit’s voice. So unlike that of the one whose 
wretched shadow that had haunted him too long. He was not thinking 
about that now. No, he was going to make sweet love to Sam, that 
fascinating, soft, warm, tender creature the Valar had sent his way.  
 
He lifted them up and carried Sam to a grove opposite the bench in three 
large steps. He knelt and laid Sam on the ground softly. He would take the 
lead and give him all this intense warmness pouring like honey from his 
heart. He started undressing the hobbit and though inexperienced Sam 
picked up the lead and sat up taking off some of his clothes too.  
 
By now Sam was naked and writhing and Glorfindel had only his 
leggings. He didn’t want to scare the hobbit but it was Sam that undid the 
laces and pulled them down. The cool night air on his erection made him 
gasp but Sam closed the distance and pressed against him.  
 
Everything about Sam was perfect. He could feel steel, hardworking 
muscles beneath the skin, and yet he was so soft and warm Glorfindel 
feared he would get lost in him. They lay down on the moss.  
 
Sam’s kisses pierced him through the core of his soul and lit a fire that he 
thought was long and permanently quenched. The hobbit’s hands were 
timidly beginning to explore. He could feel the calluses of the palms 
running up and down his back. The harshness was welcomed, though. It 
sent tingles down his spine. He began trailing down kisses from Sam’s 
collarbone to his firm pectorals.  
 
Sam lifted his head and caressed Glorfindel’s hair and his ear while the elf 
kept lapping his nipples and making him unbearably excited. As he trailed 
further down Sam gasped and let his head fall down once more. 
Glorfindel’s hand on his inner thigh, his mouth on his navel, so close to 
his erection, it was all just too much, a sweet torture. The elf glowed much 
more intensely than Sam had ever seen him before.  
 
When Glorfindel took him into his mouth he came after two touches of 
that skilled tongue. The elf swallowed hard.  
 
“I’m sorry”, they said almost in unison after Sam had quieted. Glorfindel 
smiled but Sam didn’t. He felt he had let the elf down and cursed his body 
for it.  
 
Glorfindel apologized once more. “I am sorry. I should have been less 
eager and let you enjoy this for a while longer.” As he cuddled closer Sam 
whispered almost in tears “No, I’m the one to apologize”.  
 
Glorfindel shushed him with a kiss but Sam couldn’t help being concerned 
with not having retributed the pleasure received. He tried to touch the elf’s 
glistening erection, but Glorfindel held his hand. “No need for that”, he 
whispered as he kissed Sam once more, but couldn’t help himself, and 
kept brushing ever so lightly Sam’s thigh. He didn’t want to pressure the 
hobbit and make this experience unpleasant, frightening or shameful, but 
he was in dire need of release.  
 
Sam kissed him back and as the kiss deepened he felt himself growing 
impossibly hard again.  
 
“I see the periannath are indeed resilient creatures.” Glorfindel’s slight 
mocking embarrassed Sam but this discomfiture was quickly washed away 
with more enthusiastic kisses.  
 
Sam reached his hand down again, but this time Glorfindel didn’t stop 
him. He moved to straddle Glorfindel’s waist and kissed him on the lips 
once more. As he moved down to his nipples, Glorfindel’s eyes sparkled 
with pleasure and amusement. If ever there was a good student it was 
certainly Sam.  
 
Sam was determined to make the elf enjoy himself so he moved down and 
as he did so Glorfindel’s erection brushed his naked buttocks sending a 
shiver through both of them. After the briefest pause Sam pushed down a 
little so that its tip caressed his testicles. As Glorfindel moaned he guessed 
he was on the right track and slid further down making full contact of their 
erections. With a hand on Glorfindel’s taut abdomen for support and the 
other on their erections Sam rode him till they both were sweating tough 
the night was far from hot. Glorfindel had one hand on their erections and 
the other on his hip. At each move his hand slid further cupping Sam’s 
buttock and sending shivers of pleasure up his spine.  
 
Glorfindel needed a closer contact desperately so he pulled Sam to lie on 
top of him, but now movement was difficult so he turned just a bit. Now, 
side by side, he kissed Sam deeply and continued stroking his erection as 
did Sam. Sam draped a leg over Glofindel’s hip. Their moves were 
growing erratic and their breeding a heavy panting.  
 
It wasn’t long before Glorfindel shuddered and found release. Sam 
followed him almost immediately, for the strokes Glorfindel gave him as 
he came were so hard, almost painful.  
 
They both knew there would be some need for talking, much awkwardness 
and insecurity to deal with, but in that moment silence and a bed of moss 
were all they needed. They cuddled in silence and Sam fell asleep, 
exhausted and sated. Glorfindel lay by his side, looking at his peaceful 
sleep and wondering how he had fallen in love so quickly with a hobbit he 
hardly knew. This was not mere lust. What he felt came first from his 
heart and only then from his loins.  
 
As the night grew colder the chill woke Sam. Glorfindel handed him his 
clothes gently and dressed himself. “We should return. Promise me we 
will talk about this in the morning. Do not shy away from me as before.”  
 
Sam nodded, but the mention of the morrow bleached the peaceful feeling 
from his heart.  
 
~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Are you well?” Glorfindel’s voice startled Sam. After some sleep and 
some breakfast he had strolled to the gardens, needing solitude. He had 
come to think that the last night had been a mistake, yet one he couldn’t 
regret. The elf surely was only curious. Now he had seen what a hobbit 
felt like he would surely not bother to approach him anymore, so 
Glorfindel’s sudden appearance was more than he had hoped for.  
 
“What does this mean?” The question slipped his lips without previous 
reasoning.  
 
“If you mean the question, it means that I worry for you, that I care. If you 
mean this whole thing, the truth is I don not know either. I do know that I 
had not felt like this in millennia, though.”  
 
Glorfindel’s answer left Sam speechless. After a while they resumed 
conversation, first tentatively, then soul baring. Sam spoke of the Shire, of 
Frodo, of Rosie and of his Old Gaffer. He discovered someone in himself 
that he did not know before. Glorfindel spoke of things buried deep, 
unspoken for so long and the sorrow left him as the words did.  
 
They spent the following month seeking refuge in gardens and shadows, 
talking, making love, exploring each other in possible every way. When 
the time came to leave Rivendell, Elrond’s choice for the elf representative 
came as no surprise for Sam, for he knew how important Glorfindel’s 
presence was in Rivendell, but it was still disappointing. At the same time 
it was a relief of sorts, knowing he was not away from danger – that would 
be impossible – but at least from Mordor. The very thought of entering 
Mordor chilled him but he would keep the promise to Gildor, out of love 
for his dear Frodo and out of love for Glorfindel. He would make him 
proud.  
 
~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Minas Tirith, Third Age 3019 
 
It was over. It was over. Finally. He had survived the darkness of Moria 
and the loss of Gandalf. He had passed the test of the Lady Galadriel, even 
when he thought he would die of shame for she knew his deeds and inner 
thoughts and the secret love he harboured. He had survived months in the 
company if that filthy Gollum through the worst places he had ever seen. 
He had overcome the temptation of that malignant One Ring. He had 
survived Mount Orodruin. He had done that out of love for Frodo, who 
needed him more each dreadful day that passed on the road. The strength 
to do it, however, had come from his love for Glorfindel. He had stopped 
questioning why. That was not important, not anymore. If he never lived 
to see him once more it still had all been worth it.  
 
Sam felt his eyes sting with tears of joy but he never shed them. Now was 
a time for healing and rejoicing and hopefully forgetting. He could not, 
however. There were memories that would haunt him to the end of his 
days, but he would gather the strength to keep them at bay. Musing on 
these thoughts as he strayed from the other hobbits.  
 
Despite what had happened in Imladris he didn’t expect that Glorfindel 
would seek him and he did not want to impose, so he avoided the elves as 
much as he could. The thought that Glorfindel knew he had not cowered, 
and had helped Frodo as much as he could until the end, was enough to 
keep him warm.  
 
Thus, the night he found Glorfindel waiting him in his room he was 
shocked. Shocked and pleased and then insecure again.  
 
“Would you have avoided me until your departure?” Glorfindel thought he 
understood the hobbit’s motives. He was still a young boy and had gone 
through so much, but he had not intention of letting go. Not now. Not after 
millennia waiting for love.  
 
“No. Yes. You’re right, but I didn’t want to impose” Sam lowered his 
gaze, sheepishly.  
 
“You could never do so. Do I impose?” Glorfindel was now dangerously 
near Sam and could see the crimson spreading through his face.  
 
“Never.” Sam dove into Glorfindel’s embrace.  
 
~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Valinor, Fourth Age 61 
 
There on the shores of Valinor were Frodo, Gandalf, Elrond, the Lady 
Galadriel, and many other elves he did not know, but who had come to 
greet him and welcome him. He could not find one particular shade of 
gold in the crowd, though. He felt his heart clench. He hoped Glorfindel 
would meet him despite the years that had passed.  
 
The ship landed and he leapt to the pier. Frodo buried him in an embrace 
and they could not speak for several minutes. Tears streaked their cheeks 
and when they finally parted Frodo uttered a very emotional “welcome old 
friend”.  
 
Slowly Bilbo came forth and embraced Sam too and then the Lady 
Galadriel and Lord Elrond too came to greet him with kind, welcoming 
smiles. Sam was deeply touched that they had come for him, but he could 
not forsake the disappointment sting of not seeing Glorfindel there.  
 
“Worry not, little friend.” The deep voice of Galadriel in his mind startled 
him, and smiled knowingly as she made way for Glorfindel. Sam almost 
collapsed with joy, but restrained himself and greeted Glorfindel formally. 
Elrond smiled and conducted everybody to Círdan’s home, breaking the 
deeply poignant moment.  
 
~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
After the welcoming dinner that night, Glorfindel asked him for a walk in 
the gardens. Frodo was about to propose to join them, but Elrond silently 
stopped him with a hand on his wrist. Frodo looked puzzled, but then so 
many small episodes started to come together in his mind. The mysterious 
disappearances in Minas Tirith, later in the Shire, the short trips 
supposedly to gather plants that abruptly stopped after the first boats of 
elves left Middle-earth, the sudden maturity that overcame him after 
Rivendell, the silence that took Sam whenever Glorfindel was spoken of.  
 
Frodo sat back and glanced at Elrond. “How long did you know?”  
 
Elrond smiled and said, “As long as you have, really. I just was able to see 
it more clearly.”  
 
“I am truly happy for him, then. For them both.” They smiled.  
 
~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
In the garden Sam walked slowly, slightly behind Glorfindel, 
remembering a distant night in Imladris. He couldn’t help but smile at the 
found memory, one of many he had cherished through the years.  
 
“Sam, will you not speak to me after a lifetime apart? Have I faded from 
your heart?” Glorfindel spoke softly, in an ambiguous tone. Sam was not 
certain he jested or was truly hurt by his silence.  
 
“Lord Glorfindel” he started, but was swiftly interrupted.  
 
“Why such formality? We were once friends. We were more than that I 
should say. I would understand if you relinquished that kind of closeness, 
but not the friendship. Surely that has survived in your heart.” Glorfindel 
was keeping his voice controlled, but for one that had known him so well 
and had thought of him for a lifetime, there were undisguisable notes of 
pain in it.  
 
Glorfindel had stopped and they now faced each other.  
 
“It was never my intention to be cold or push you away”. Sam raised his 
hand to touch Glorfindel’s. “You may have left Middle-earth but not my 
heart.”  
 
“So you still have feelings for me? Do you remember the love we once 
shared?” Glorfindel sounded wildly relieved.  
 
“Your love kept me sane. It made me a better person. It carried me 
through loss and heartbreak. Whenever the downhill race seemed endless 
all I had to do was think of you, of what you gave me, of what we shared. 
For you I was a better friend, a better husband and a better father.”  
 
Glorfindel tried to stop Sam’s rambling but was cut short.  
 
“Shhh, let me say it all. I’ve only waited my whole life to tell you this. 
Your love kept me from quitting, from shattering, from faltering. I do not 
expect us to be lovers like once we were. I do realize mortality bears 
heavy upon me and though I know you are the kindest, most generous 
being I’ll ever find, I do not wish your pity. Just friendship, like once you 
gave a young, scared, dazzled hobbit.” Sam gulped the tears that were 
forming and dared not raise his eyes to Glorfindel, even when he lifted his 
chin with his index finger.  
 
“Do not shy away from me. It is true your body has aged – we both knew 
that would happen. I loved your soul then, as I do now. We both know I 
had no choice but to leave, but I do want to know what time has made of 
you. And the love I felt, still feel, for you as not faded so much that I do 
not remember how good it felt to touch you.”  
 
Sam raised his eyes, half in disbelief, half in hope. Glorfindel continued.  
 
“If you want friendship you shall have it, but remember we do not have 
much time left before we take separate paths forever, so let us not waste 
it.” He lowered his head and kissed the hobbit on the lips. As he caressed 
Sam’s cheek, he felt the long-kept tears rolling down the trails time, joy 
and sorrow had left on his face.  
 
He buried Sam in the tightest embrace he could. “Shh, melethron, our 
lives may be filled with sorrow, but let me show you joy once more.”  
 
Sam slowly stopped sobbing and returned the embrace. Through all the 
years in the Shire he felt happy, blissful even. The hardship and the joy he 
shared with his friends rebuilding the Shire and later with Rosie and his 
children were precious gifts and there was always the warmness of 
Glorfindel’s memory. Yes, he had been happy, but this was different. Now 
he felt whole. This felt right.  
 
Finis, April 2004