Ecthelion rushed into the courtyard as Gildor came to a sliding halt. Gildor carefully handed the advisor to Ecthelion, who immediately headed for the healing wing. Gildor dismounted, handed the reins to a stable hand and followed the dark warrior.
Glorfindel had made it to the healing wing first and already had a room and healers waiting. Now however, as Ecthelion brought the pale advisor in, Glorfindel could only stare. Paralyzed by fear, the great warrior could do nothing. It was not until physically moved by a healer that he came back to his senses.
Moving off to the side, the golden lord took in the battered state of his friend. He barely heard Gildor's explanation.
"…riding along. I guess he was so lost in thought, when his horse spooked, he never had a chance to brace himself. He fell backward and tumbled down a small ravine. I do not know if anything is broken; he has not regained consciousness." Gildor finished his tale as the healers carefully removed Erestor's shirt and leggings. The bruises and abrasions were horrible.
"What spooked his horse so?" Ecthelion asked as the healers set about to clean the injuries.
"My Lords, if you please," the head healer said as he gave them a gentle shove, "take your discussion into the hall so we may work in peace."
Ecthelion and Gildor each grabbed an elbow and ushered the dazed Glorfindel out. Once in the hall, the previously frozen lord took to pacing back and forth like a caged lion.
"To answer your question, a snake." Gildor then glanced at the golden lord pacing the hall. "Will he be all right? I never thought that a few cuts and bruises would upset him so."
"I do not think it is the cuts that have him distressed." Leading Gildor a bit further down that hall, Ecthelion decided to confide in the Vanya.
"I need to ask you something of a personal matter," he began. When Gildor nodded, he continued. "What is between you and Erestor?"
Gildor gave a little laugh. "We are not lovers, if that is what you ask."
With a relieved sigh, Ecthelion blushed but went on. "Does Erestor have a lover?"
"I would tell you to ask him yourself," the blond explained, "however, given the circumstances, I will answer to the best of my knowledge. He has not spoken of a lover."
Glancing down the hall at his friend, Ecthelion plowed forward. "Does he have feelings for anyone?"
"Now…" The head healer interrupted them.
"My Lords, there was one cracked rib and you saw the scrapes. It seems his head struck a very sharp object. I will be honest with you. His lack of consciousness concerns me. Thankfully, Lord Elrond will return in two days and will be able to assess him further."
"What can we do for him?" Gildor asked.
"Stay with him, talk to him, touch him, just let him know you are here. If he is at all aware of the world around him, it will help tremendously."
In a rather abrupt manner, Gildor announced his intensions of bathing, changing, and getting a meal. If looks could kill, Glorfindel would have killed the blond lord several times over.
"I can have cloths and a meal brought to you."
"That will not be necessary, Lord Glorfindel. If you will excuse me?"
"You would leave your unconscious lover?" Glorfindel all but yelled.
With a smirk, intended to ruffle feathers, Gildor replied, "No. But then he is not my lover." That said the Lord of the Wandering Company left the building.
"They are not lovers," the stunned warrior whispered.
Ecthelion could not suppress a grin, "So I heard."
Looking at his friend, a smile slowly crossed Glorfindel's face.
"Go to him, mellon nín," the newly reborn elf said.
Glorfindel entered the dimly light room. Kneeling beside the bed, the warrior gently caressed the raven hair.
"I…I need to say…Oh Mandos, Erestor, I am sorry for being so thickheaded. You are brilliant and beautiful, and although you can make a balrog cower, you are well loved by everyone. You can have anyone of your choosing. I doubt you would settle for a old warhorse like me."
"I believe he would choose you, given the chance." Glorfindel turned at the sound of the voice and promptly landed on his rump. Gildor extended his hand to help the stunned elf to his feet.
"And he has told you this?" Glorfindel asked incredulously.
Gildor pulled himself to his full height; he actually stood a bit taller than Glorfindel. The Vanya crossed his arms and looked accusingly at Glorfindel. "Did Námo forget to put your brains back it that pretty head of yours? Yes, he expressed interest in you. He spends his evenings playing chess with you. Even walked the gardens with you. Does he do that with any one else?"
"Well, I guess…"
Gildor ignored the golden lord's interjection. "Do you know he cornered Ecthelion regarding your 'relationship'?"
Glorfindel stared up at the imposing elf. What could he say to that? Erestor had feelings for him and he never noticed? 'Maybe Námo did forget to return my common sense.'
With a gentle push on his shoulder, Gildor sat the golden warrior down in the bedside chair. "The ball is in your court now. Do you return his feelings?" Leaning down, he whispered one last thing before leaving. "If you hurt him, you will wish the Vala never sent you back. Understood?"
Shortly after sunset, Lindir appeared at the door, harp in hand.
"I thought you might need a little break. Go refresh yourself. I will watch over our dear councilor."
"Thank you, Lindir." Glorfindel did not really want to leave, but he was still covered with dirt and sweat from his earlier sparring match.
The golden lord headed for his chambers. Drawing a hot bath, he sank into its warmth. Closing his eyes, he began to think. What to do now? How should he proceed? Would Erestor still give him a chance to woo him? Woo him…love him…taste him…make him scream…looking down, Glorfindel found the tip of his elfhood sticking out of the water. It seemed that part of him knew what to do. Closing his eyes and taking himself in hand, the warrior let his mind wander wherever it desired. Raven hair, enchanting eyes, tempting lips…his strokes became faster and faster. His orgasm came quick and hard.
Rinsing off in the now cool water, the blond suddenly froze. There was noise coming from his outer chamber. 'Oh Valar,' he moaned. He could only hope that the servant bringing his meal had not heard his outburst.
"Thank you Lindir. Go enjoy the rest of the night with Ecthelion."
"Are you sure, my Lord? It does not look like you have rested at all." Lindir inquired as he slowly made his way to the door.
"I am sure."
Lindir closed the door quietly and left the healing wing with a wonderful grin. Things were going to be all right. He could feel it on the wind.
Alone with the sleeping elf, Glorfindel still did not know how to proceed. Therefore, he scooted the chair right up to the bed, sat down, picked up a delicate hand, and said nothing. The healer came in several times that night to find the golden lord caressing a hand or smoothing tangled locks. He bestowed gentle kisses on obsidian hair and long fingers. What Glorfindel whispered to the dark elf remained a mystery.
Morning found Erestor much the same as before and Glorfindel asleep in the chair.
"Medir, awake. I will watch him. It will do no good for you to exhaust yourself." Glorfindel had to blink a few times to get his eyes focused. Ecthelion stood above him wearing a knowing smirk. How Glorfindel hated that smirk.
"I am fine, Thel. I wish to stay."
"If you need a break, send someone to your office." Giving a chuckle at the confused look, he explained, "Someone needs to cover for you."
"Thel…" The elf stopped at the door and turned. "Thank you."
With that damned knowing smirk, the Lord of the Fountain gave a small bow and left.
"I really hate the smirk," Glorfindel said aloud as he took up his vigil. The hours came and went; noon meal and afternoon tea were served. Glorfindel walked around the healing room. As he gazed out the window at the setting sun, he began to sing quietly. He was so engrossed in his own little world, it took him a moment to hear the soft voice behind him.
"Gildor?" The warrior spun around to find Erestor's eyes half open. Rushing to his side, Glorfindel knelt down and took the advisors hand, unconsciously kissing the knuckles.
"No. It is I, Glorfindel." He really hoped his voice was steady, for the rest of him was shaking like a leaf.
Erestor attempted to turn his head. Glorfindel quickly shifted to sit on the bed so he was in plain view.
"I…" Erestor slurred, "I did not know you could sing so well." He coughed at the exertion.
Glorfindel smiled as he heard his words turned back upon him. Reaching for a glass of water, the golden elf carefully raised the advisor's head. Spilling only a little, because Glorfindel's hands shook so, Erestor cooled his parched throat. Glorfindel carefully rested the dark head back on the pillow.
With what looked like a mischievous twinkle, Erestor spoke again, "…Did not know you could sing."
Glorfindel's eyes lit up and he laughed. Erestor thought it was the sweetest music he had ever heard. A sudden coughing fit put an end to the laughter.
"Oh, my head." The injured elf groaned. "It hurts worse than a council meeting with Mirkwood."
Glorfindel relinquished his hold on the dark elf's hand. He moved to the door and called for the healer. The head healer brushed by the warrior. He looked deeply into Erestor's eyes. Glorfindel moved to lean against the wall so as to be out of the way, but was not about to be chased from the room.
What happened next made it impossible for cognitive thought. The healer had lowered the sheet to check the advisor's broken rib. Never, in this life or past life, had Glorfindel ever seen such a perfect chest. Cream skin stretched over taunt muscles. The flat abdomen rippled down to…oh. Glorfindel just hoped the healer did not notice his staring. Looking at the healer, he was unaware that his appraisal did not go completely unnoticed.
Erestor watched Glorfindel. At first it was to distract him from the poking and the prodding of the healer. Now he wanted to study the feelings flashing across the handsome balrog-slayer's face. It could be his foggy mind, but the advisor swore that he saw desire shoot through the sapphire eyes. His body began to react as he thought about it. Erestor longed to run his fingers through the golden mane. He knew the body that hid beneath the clothes from watching the warrior spare bare-chested. Now he wanted to see what lay hidden under the tight leggings. He wished he could say something, but uncertainty took hold; instead, Erestor drifted to sleep with thoughts of golden silk and firm muscles dancing in his mind's eye.
The healer finished and covered the now sleeping elf. "I will sit with him. I am certain you have matters to attend to, my Lord. Lord Elrond returns tomorrow."
"That is not necessary," came the hasty replay. The healer looked at the warrior, smiled knowingly and left the room. Glorfindel attempted to sit down and found himself as hard as a mallorn. 'Well, now I know what the smile was about.' He groaned.
Ithil was rising and Glorfindel stood looking out the window again. He thought about Erestor. They had been friends for centuries; had Erestor harbored feelings for him from the start? He felt terrible at the thought.
Hearing movement behind him, Glorfindel turned. Erestor had a blanket wrapped around his waist and held onto the nightstand. Taking a hesitant step forward, he began to sway. It took all of Glorfindel's skill to reach the dark elf before he hit the floor. Erestor clung to the blond elf with his head buried in the strong chest.
"What were you thinking? If you need something, just call. That is what I am here for."
Looking up through dark lashes, Erestor could not stop his next words, "Is that the only reason you are here?"
Glorfindel gazed down into lipid pools of ink. Suddenly, his mouth was dry and he trembled. The dark-haired elf waited expectantly, and as the pause grew longer his heart began to sink. Without warning, Erestor found soft warm lips upon his own. The touch was so gentle. It took his breath away.
Glorfindel pulled away slightly and gazed into the hesitant eyes. "No," he answered before claiming the sweet lips again. His kisses were sweet, and soft, and gentle. There was neither force nor battle for control. The golden elf carefully lifted the injured elf, cradling him close to his chest without breaking the kiss. Now that he had tasted the petal-soft lips, Glorfindel knew no other would ever do.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.