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Author: Ennorwen
Type: FPS
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit Sex
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Tolkien and alas to his heirs who don’t like to share. I have borrowed them anyway but unlike them don’t make cent off of it.
Timeframe: TA 1975
Beta: Rozzan
Summary: PWP, Oneshot. Surrounded by the planning for and battle of Fornost, Erestor admits to Glorfindel that his feelings are reciprocated and they seal it with a night of impassioned love. Promises are made and promises are kept. Canon-friendly, except for the erm, parts that are not.
A/N: Inspired by, but not a formal submission to Livejournal’s Fanfic 100 Challenge, Category #4, “Insides”

Time was running short and Erestor’s insides churned as he thought of the rapidly diminishing hours that were left to him. Within days, Glorfindel would lead a contingent of elves out of Imladris bound for Fornost, there to meet the Witch-King and his minions in a great battle. Already, Cirdan had mustered the warriors of Lindon and Eärnur, heir to Gondor’s King Eärnil had taken ship with a large force to join the great host. The last of the North Kingdom had been dispersed the previous year, but the remaining and scattered Dúnedain would gather once again and take up their swords. There were also rumors that a company of perian bowman would enjoin the fight. It was to be a massive and deadly battle.

Elrond and Glorfindel had spent many hours planning strategy and tactics, pouring over maps and with Cirdan’s envoy, assuring all was in readiness. Erestor had also been engaged, both as advisor and quartermaster, making sure that all were provisioned and that the running of the household had continued unabated while Elrond devoted his attention to the upcoming battle.

So occupied with his duties had been the seneschal that he had curtailed his ever ardent wooing of the Chief Counselor and Erestor, who up until then had repelled Glorfindel’s advances, found that he missed it and was increasingly fearful for the great golden warrior. He did not doubt Glorfindel’s prowess in battle, so many were the times that he had come home unscathed from the small skirmishes that he had led, and this was indeed Glorfindel, balrog-slayer and returned elf, mighty and terrible in his power, but still Erestor’s insides roiled with the uncertainty of what was to come.

For these past 500 years Glorfindel had concentrated his attentions on the elusive and alluring chief counselor and for the same 500 years Erestor had rebuffed him. Not that the two were not friendly. They worked together well, if not with opposite approaches and the pair could be seen together of an evening, talking or playing the ever contentious game of chess. But whenever Glorfindel tried to deepen their relationship, Erestor evaded him.

Now, after all this time, Erestor was near panic with the thought that Glorfindel would not return and had for the past fortnight meant to tell the magnificent elf that his feelings were in truth, returned. But one thing had led to another and so engaged were they in their duties that they were as the plates beneath the earth, ever sliding past one another.

There was just one day left to him. One day before Glorfindel rode out, perhaps never to return. And Erestor had not acted. Soon there would be no time to act at all. Erestor’s insides twisted with each passing hour, both from dread for Glorfindel’s safety and from the fear of unmasking himself to the great golden elf.

Within these afflicted thoughts though, Erestor spied a dangling rope and the more that he pulled the looser the threads came and then he saw with increasing clarity. A revelation came to him and his eyes lit up, and he began to laugh. What began as a low heave in that tormented belly rose up through his chest and came out through his pursed lips in a flubbering sound. It burst from his mouth and soon he was doubled over, holding his stomach. Why he must be a knave, or else a fool not to have seen it!

His courage. Pitted against that of the great and golden warrior! He nearly wept for his own stupidity and cowardice. Who was he to be afraid? He leaned against the wall and pondered this thought for a moment, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly as a new determination came over him.

To seat this resolution more firmly in his mind, he raised his hand to pound once at the wall, but before the blow struck, he felt his wrist held back between large calloused fingers. Looking up, he saw a swatch of long golden hair and the steadying gaze of deep azure eyes.

“What is this, Erestor? First you would laugh and then you would pound on the walls?

A dazzling smile came over the advisor’s face, one that Glorfindel had rarely seen and it traveled to the advisor’s dark and shining eyes and for once Erestor did not look away first. Holding the warrior’s gaze, Erestor slipped his wrist from Glorfindel’s fingers and took the seneschal’s face between two pale hands, enfurling his fingers tightly in long wheaten locks. Rising up on his toes, Erestor kissed him. It was an intentional kiss, a kiss that reverberated down through Glorfindel’s body and shook him to the very core.

Before he could respond Erestor had fled, nothing left but a whisp of dark cloth disappearing around the corner and into his study.

Glorfindel stood awestruck, mouth open with breath coming fast. He covered his lips with splayed fingers, there to seal that kiss, so full of promise. Not one to leave words unspoken he turned to follow the darkling advisor, to ask what had happened. Why now?

As he came into the study he found Erestor pacing, fists balled at his sides and so shaken that he quivered as he walked. He watched silently for a while until Erestor turned toward him. The tears that had misted the advisor’s eyes began to fall freely and Glorfindel moved to take Erestor into his arms.

The advisor took a step back and reached out with trembling hands to stop him. Head lowered, all he could manage to choke out were a long series of apologies.

“I am so sorry Glorfindel. So sorry. So sorry…”

Glorfindel wrapped Erestor in his strong arms and held him, letting the advisor speak through his tears, until the long trail of words wound down into muffled sobs. He stroked the lush raven hair and tenderly kissed at its crown until Erestor had calmed. So luxurious was the feel of his long sought love in his arms that Glorfindel tightened them and savored the moment, fixing it in his mind, not wanting to let go.

They stood entwined for a while, neither wanting to break this embrace, so long had it been in its coming, until Glorfindel loosened his grip and took a step back. He held fast to Erestor’s shoulder with one hand while the other moved to the advisor’s face.
He removed a new fallen tear with his thumb and then took Erestor’s chin in his fingers, raising the counselor’s eyes to meet his. All thoughts of war had fled from his mind and he dove into the deep abyss that were Erestor’s eyes and what he saw overwhelmed him.

So much. So much sorrow and pain and fearfulness. Such shame and embarrassment.
But he saw age also, and wisdom and hope. And when Erestor’s eyes softened, he saw such love and compassion that his heart nearly broke for it. He saw all that Erestor’s eyes pleaded with him to see, and then he understood.

“Ah, my kind, sweet Erestor. How hard has it been all these long years to hold yourself apart from me? You thought perhaps that I did not know you? That I would not understand your need for solitude, for introspection? That I would not understand both the stoic and the poet? You should be ashamed. I am Glorfindel, who does know you and loves you even so after all these many years.”

“Nay Glorfindel, I think you do not, for it is not your misunderstanding that kept me from you. It is mine. I was not sure that I knew how to love, to be unselfish, to give you all that you deserve. But at last I have come to it, and my fear begat courage and that is what you came upon in the hallway. The laughter was at myself for cowering in the face of all that could be good. Is good. To think you will ride out to war. Ai, Glorfindel. I could not even muster the courage to look into your eyes.”

“But you look now.” answered Glorfindel


“You are stronger than you know, my Erestor. You are mine now, are you not? You have decided?”


They moved together again and Erestor held fast to the great golden warrior, taking all of the strength and love that Glorfindel could give him. And this time, he returned it. All of it.

Glorfindel felt Erestor smile into his shoulder and felt his own lips curve upward. And then with a kiss they sealed their covenant, a kiss rife with hope and with promise.

“But still I am afraid Glorfindel, of what is to come. Tomorrow, you leave…”

“Still yourself Erestor. Am I not Glorfindel? And mighty in my power?”

He stepped away and pulled himself into a full warrior stance, legs slightly splayed, shoulders drawn up and back, stomach pulled tightly in. Laughing, he preened before Erestor, shaking the golden halo of his hair and jutted his chin forward.

“It is not we who should be afraid. It is the black King who should tremble!”

Erestor’s eyes smiled up at him and they kissed once again, this time in joy and laughter, enveloped in the clean and pure light that now shone around them.

But Erestor grew serious then and took Glorfindel’s face in his delicate fingers, gently forcing the great warrior to look into his own shining eyes.

“Glorfindel. Let me love you tonight.”

Never in Glorfindel’s most farsighted dreams had he pictured their coming together in such a way. It was always he who seduced, who plied the moonstruck flesh, made Erestor moan for the want of him. Not this. He was temporarily silenced by the suggestion until his thoughts overturned, and a vision of obsidian hair rippling over his skin took form in his mind. Yes. He would let Erestor love him, let Erestor wring the moans from his mouth, cause his body to arch. He wanted this. Needed it. Craved it.


In answer, the Elf-lord took Erestor into his arms and molded his body to that of his beloved. He inched his pelvis forward until he was sure that the advisor felt his inflamed column pressing hard against his flesh.

“Aye, Erestor, I want this. I want you to love me.”

This time the kiss was impassioned, and so greedy were they for one another and so pressing was the kiss that teeth ground into teeth and neither felt the pain of it. Glorfindel opened his mouth to Erestor’s questing tongue, and together they reveled in this first taste. So moist and so smooth. So long in coming.

Erestor was the first to draw back, and fixed the golden warrior in his sight. With a look of almost heartbreaking sincerity he spoke.

“Thank you Glorfindel. Thank you for waiting for me.”

Glorfindel laid a long finger to Erestor’s cheek, letting it linger for a moment there. He regarded the advisor solemnly and then with eyes sparkling made his reply.

“I trust you will make this long wait worthwhile.”

His eyebrow cocked upward and Erestor began to laugh. Soon they were laughing together, the tension broken and released and so relaxed had they become that they leaned into each other for support.

It was ever thus, thought Erestor. The wonderful, golden, gregarious elf now before him, so generous in his affection, so light. So forgiving. A great wave of warmth enveloped him and he hugged himself closely. Narrowing his eyes and reclaiming his mien as stern advisor, he replied,

“Do you doubt it?”

“Nay, I think not.” answered Glorfindel. He suddenly remembered his purpose for coming into the house before finding Erestor’s fist near the wall and shook his head to clear it.

“I am sorry Erestor, but I must…”

“I know.” replied the counsellor, sobering at the reminder of the upcoming battle. “I have work to do also.”

“Tonight. After the evening meal and our meeting with Elrond. In your chambers.”

“Yes” answered the darkling elf.

After Glorfindel left, Erestor sat heavily at his desk. He felt drained and he replayed their conversation over and over in his head. He felt relief also and joy. They had kissed! Erestor closed his eyes the better to feel Glorfindel’s lips upon his just once more. And now the perpetual churning in his stomach over the past fortnight had turned into something else - the light fluttering of anticipation.

Smiling, he licked his lips once, twice and took up the quill. He set to work copying the plans for the battle ahead and felt some comfort in the familiar pen strokes and the sound of the quill rasping over the parchment.

Dinner that night was a subdued affair and Elrond presided over it, offering prayers to the Valar and asking their blessing over the dark task that lay ahead. His strength and wisdom reassured the gathered warriors, and as they moved into the Hall of Fire, they could hear Lindir’s voice raised into soaring melody. Soon others joined him and the ethereal sound of elven voices resounded throughout the valley.

Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor and Galdor, Cirdan’s second, separated themselves from the group and gathered in the Elf-lord’s study there to finalize plans and ensure all was in readiness. Elrond decanted some of his finest and they sipped and talked and went over the maps together. The Elf-lord had noticed the new closeness between his two friends, seeing their hands touch periodically and the deference between them. Sometimes he even had to call them back to the conversation so lost were they in each other’s eyes.

“Mellyn.” he said with the familiar raised eyebrow, “Are you here with us or are you somewhere else?”

As Erestor made to answer, Glorfindel winked at him and Erestor smiled mysteriously, just slightly raising the corners of his mouth. Rolling his eyes, he clipped the warrior in the ribs as he replied,

“We are here, Elrond. I am sorry. Now, where were we?”

“What has happened, mellyn? Can you concentrate here? We have baneful work ahead.”

“I know, my friend,” answered Glorfindel, “and you know we will not fail you. We have just this day declared our love for each other and though fell deeds await, we are new in our joy. Forgive us this slight distraction. I promise that on the morrow we will be ready.”

“At last.” Elrond sighed, training his eyes on the dark advisor, “This has been long in its coming.” In an aside to Galdor, Elrond briefly explained Glorfindel’s long courtship, while Erestor whispered to the golden elf.

“At last.”

Drawing himself up, Elrond spoke.

“Well you know that I would celebrate such a thing with a fine Dorwinion, and have it declared to our company, but alas we cannot and I am sorry for it.”

“That is well,” answered Erestor, summoning the confidence that was Glorfindel’s gift.
“We will happily make it known upon Glorfindel’s victorious return. It is not yet a formal betrothal. Now, shall we continue?”

Elrond saw Erestor press his body near to Glorfindel’s and once again the four bent over the desk, talking in hushed tones. They finished their work and made to leave the study, but Elrond held his two dearest friends back for a time.

“Will you at least share a small glass with me in quiet celebration? I am glad of this good news on the doorstep of such malevolence and would drink to your happiness.”

“Thank you, my lord. But no. Go to Celebrían. We should all find comfort with those that we love on a night such as this. ” answered the seneschal, as Erestor nodded in agreement.

The pair took their leave and once outside of Elrond’s study, Glorfindel looked left and right in the hallway. He grabbed Erestor’s hand, saying,

“I will heed my own spoken wisdom. Come on, dear Erestor. You have a promise to keep.”

He gripped the staid counselor’s fingers tightly and began walking briskly, almost running. Erestor nearly tripped on his robes as he tried to keep up. For all the world, Glorfindel would have sworn he heard Erestor giggle.

“Glorfindel, slow down. Have some dignity!” gasped the counselor.

“I have waited long enough.” answered the seneschal loudly, as if announcing his intentions to all who would hear.

But there were none in the hallways to mark their passing and when they came to Erestor’s chamber, Glorfindel threw the door open, near dragging the counselor with him. He closed the door soundly and purposefully turned the key in the lock.

Erestor, now composed, moved to light a few candles and then sidled seductively to a cabinet and opened the door. Turning to the anxious seneschal, he serenely inquired,

“Will you have some wine?”

“No.” said Glorfindel

He took the glass out of Erestor’s hand and put it on the table, saying.

“I will have wine of the scholar vintage. Besides, I feel heady enough, and I would have all my wits ere I tangle with you.”

Growling, he advanced upon the advisor and embraced him roughly but closely. He moved his mouth to a perfectly pointed ear and whispered,

“Now you will keep your promise.”

Erestor smiled as the golden mane veiled him and brought his lips to the junction of Glorfindel’s neck and shoulder. Nearly purring, he answered.

“With pleasure.”

The delicate hands of the darkling advisor played over the golden one’s neck, slowly moving the cloth of Glorfindel’s tunic lower and exposing the succulent flesh. His mouth followed, leaving a trail of feather light kisses along Glorfindel’s collarbone, causing the seneschal to close his eyes and draw in a long breath.

Tightening his embrace, Glorfindel lowered his hands to Erestor’s slim hips and molded them together with his. Neither could doubt the other’s eagerness as hardness touched hardness and Glorfindel widened his legs, pulling the advisor into him.

Erestor gasped and his fingers moved more urgently, sliding down the brawny chest and grabbing at Glorfindel’s tunic. Soon he was divested of it and Erestor moved swiftly down to Glorfindel’s feet, removing one boot then the other as Glorfindel held his shoulder for balance.

Erestor stood and brought his hands to the warrior’s waist working the lacings and pulling them through. Glorfindel smiled broadly, astonished and pleased by Erestor’s heated onslaught and moved his hands to help Erestor slide the leggings from his hips.

“You are eager.” said Glorfindel.

“I am keeping my promise.” said Erestor as he stepped back to appreciate the warrior elf’s body.

“Oh Valar, Glorfindel. You are as like to one of their own as my eyes will ever see.”

And it was true. The warrior fairly shone with a gold light and his body was broad and muscled. Erestor could almost see every rippling sinew under the flesh and for a moment pictured him in battle, strong thighs guiding Asfaloth, a wealth of power in his arms.

His lips turned up and with an avaricious smile, he quickly unhooked the closures to his own robe, letting it drop to the floor in an unminded heap. While slipping the shoes off of his feet, he untied the lacings at the top of his tunic and it joined the robe on the floor. The leggings came off just as quickly and then he stood nude, his proud erection hard and upright.

As an alabaster statue, Erestor stood before the golden warrior and Glorfindel gulped as he beheld the luminous skin. So smooth and unmarred, and to his surprise not as lean as he expected. Though not as broad as his own, Erestor’s shoulders were squared and the expanse of his torso was long before curving in slightly at his low waist. His belly was taut, his legs long and lithe. Not the body of a cosseted scribe, thought Glorfindel, not at all.

Erestor saw the look of astonishment pass over Glorfindel’s face and smiled. It was a smile Glorfindel had seen often, a smile that was Erestor’s alone and carried with it an air of secrecy. Tilting his face to the side, Erestor answered the unasked question in Glorfindel’s eyes.

“I dance with knives. At least thrice a week. Certainly you would not think I would leave myself or this house undefended if the need arose. I am more dangerous than you know.”

Glorfindel’s eyes lit with delight as Erestor advanced on him, his lithe legs moving with tensile strength. As a panther stalks his prey did Erestor sidle closely and Glorfindel’s body quivered as he let Erestor circle him.

The darkling advisor came up behind him and snaked a long arm around the front of Glorfindel’s waist. With the other he moved the golden mane to the side and brought his lips to the warrior’s neck.

“I can be lethal.” he whispered and then bit, not too deeply, into the sensitive skin at the juncture of neck and shoulder.

This was as much as Glorfindel could take and he spun around and grabbed Erestor roughly. He took hold of the fall of ebony hair and pressed his mouth over Erestor’s, taking the bottom lip between his teeth. He made to bite, but drew his head back and fixed Erestor’s dilated eyes with his own.

“I do not think you want to play this game.”

Demurely, Erestor lowered his eyes and then raised them, his long dark lashes fluttering, his lips formed into an enticing swollen pout.

“I was only keeping my word.”

They smiled into each other’s eyes and came together in a searing kiss, and both were scorched by feel of flesh meeting flesh. Erestor edged them toward the bed and when Glorfindel felt it behind his knees he dropped back, taking the fair advisor with him.
They drowned in one another, each touch growing in intensity as fingers groped and plied, wafted and stroked.

The pair rolled as one, first Erestor’s body over Glorfindel’s as ardent hands and pliant lips explored wide expanses of the warrior’s heated flesh. Then Glorfindel’s, his calloused fingers leaving ripples in their wake as they learned the long planes of the advisor’s writhing form.

They were breathless in their ardor and Erestor thrust upward as Glorfindel plunged down. Arousal met arousal, the touch so thrilling that each stopped for a moment, transported, and gazed at one another in awestruck wonder.

Erestor squirmed from under Glorfindel’s body and laid on his side, turning the haloed head of his lover to face his. His fingers touched the blushing cheeks and with one he limned over Glorfindel’s lips and across the chiseled chin. Glorfindel threw his head back, offering his throat and Erestor’s delicate hand stroked down the center, just skimming the bulge halfway down. It moved under his fingers as Glorfindel swallowed and Erestor closed his eyes, concentrating on caressing the tactile skin.

Erestor drifted one long thigh over Glorfindel’s belly making sure that it slid over his lover’s straining column and Erestor smiled as he felt it twitch in reaction. His body followed and now straddling the golden one’s hips, he leaned down and took one already peaked nipple into his mouth. He sucked hard on that one and used his fingers on the other, circling then pinching.

Glorfindel moaned as Erestor’s deft fingers plied the sensitive nubs and he thrust up into the apex of his parted thighs. Muffled sounds escaped the advisor’s lips and the vibrations from them over his rigid nipples incited Glorfindel further. Erestor felt the moist secretions that had begun to ooze from Glorfindel’s sex and he moved his body down to taste the pearly drops.

He tongued briefly at the purpled crown and Glorfindel arched up at the touch. Erestor licked his lips and spread the essence over them, delighting in this first taste of his lover. It was savory in its flavor, some bitterness but layered with a dusky herbalness that was masculine and heady. Erestor wanted more.

He opened his mouth and slipped his lips over the large head of the seeping column, and circled it with his tongue as he took Glorfindel’s sex wholly into his throat. His tendriled hair wafted over the warrior’s chest and Glorfindel’s lips parted as he grasped for air.

This was his vision played out but so much more glorious was the reality. He began to push eagerly into the moist cavern and Erestor took him fully, meeting each thrust with a downward stroke of his own. Glorfindel took a fistful of obsidian hair into his hand and brought it to his mouth. He bit into it as he felt the low winding in his depths and the winding tightened and it coiled before unspooling in a snap as his essence burst forth in long spurts into the advisor’s clutching throat.

Erestor drank all of it, relishing this taste of his golden lover and sucked harder as if to wring every last droplet from the softening flesh. His smile was glowing as he lifted his head and Erestor tongued upward over Glorfindel’s naval, then chest, before reaching the grasping lips of his lover. He covered them with his own and Glorfindel welcomed him, tasting his own broth in his mouth. They kissed rapturously and long, Erestor now delving into Glorfindel’s mouth, swirling the soft inward cheeks with his tongue.

Erestor felt his own urgency as his body lay over Glorfindel’s and each touch against the warrior’s flesh brought new waves of voracious yearning for release inside of his lover. He stopped for a moment, lost in thought, and he bit his lower lip until an idea came to him. He slid from his lover’s body, stopping the protest that arose in Glorfindel’s eyes with a swift kiss to his lips.

“I will be but a moment, melethron.” he whispered.

Erestor moved silently to the cabinet again, but not to pour the already opened wine he had offered before. Instead, his hand grasped the small decanter of Miruvor, the syrupy Imladrian cordial, which though strong did not burn and was made by Elrond’s own hands. He smiled as he walked back to the bed and Glorfindel laughed.

“You would use Elrond’s own liquor for this purpose?”

“He wished us well, did he not? And even asked us to share a glass. I think we should accept his kind offer.” answered Erestor archly.

He opened the decanter and poured the viscous liquid over the fingers of his right hand and then with his left brought the decanter to his mouth. He brought the Miruvor soaked fingers to Glorfindel’s lips but before slipping them through made a toast.

“To Elrond.”

Glorfindel received the liquored fingers near to his mouth and licked at the tips before inhaling them deeper into his hollowed cheeks. He worked at the webbing between them and heard Erestor whimper at the feel of his wet tongue plying the sensitive flesh. Erestor slowly moved those long fingers, withdrawing them and then entering again, withdrawing and entering, allowing Glorfindel’s lips to torment him nearly to his peak.

He slipped them from Glorfindel’s mouth and recoated them with the cordial. Glorfindel widened his already parted legs and Erestor reached down between them, starting by circling the tip of Glorfindel’s re-awakened erection and then drawing over the pulsing vein than ran down the middle. He limned over the pendulous sacs and then centered a finger over the opening at their base. Glorfindel pushed down slightly and drew the finger in and Erestor moaned as it was taken up into the grasping heat.

As he withdrew it, he poured more Miruvor onto his fingers and over the small aperture. Now fully saturated he entered his lover again, bringing two fingers together and working them slowly into Glorfindel’s core. He prepared his lover gradually, opening his fingers and then closing them, pushing in and pulling out until Glorfindel’s body thrust down on him asking for more.

Three fingers came together and Glorfindel gladly accepted them, pulling his thighs to his chest and opening himself fully. His breath came quickly and rasping and the seeping tip of his lurching erection nearly begged Erestor for release. Satisfied with his preparation, Erestor withdrew the three fingers and entered once more with just one. He turned his palm upward and stroked over the small bump deep inside. Glorfindel nearly shot to the ceiling at this intimate touch and Erestor did it again, until Glorfindel did beg.

“Please, Erestor, please. Make good your promise. I want to take you inside.”

Erestor needed no sanction but was glad for it, as he had held back long and was near to bursting himself. He took his own weeping length in his hand and poured the rest of the Murivor over it, dropping the decanter off of the side of the bed. He poised himself at Glorfindel’s opening and slowly, slowly he pushed, wanting his lover feel every inch. He stilled for a moment as the ringed muscle grasped his glans and ensured that Glorfindel’s eyes were trained on his own. As he looked into the dark azure depths he inched forward, and saw Glorfindel’s eyes flutter when he had seated himself fully.

Gods, Erestor thought. This is what he looks like, this is what it feels like, this is what it is to be Glorfindel’s lover. He leaned down and took Glorfindel’s lips with his mouth, and kissed him with all the love and soul he could summon. He groaned into Glorfindel’s mouth as he withdrew and then slowly inched back in, relishing every ripple that he felt in that tight passage. Inhaling a great breath he began to thrust more quickly, and supported by his strong arms around Glorfindel’s shoulders, began his own rhythm, sliding in, sliding out.

Soon he was hitting Glorfindel’s small gland with each plunge and the Elf-lord went with him, thrusting against his inward strokes, counterthrusting the withdrawals. Glorfindel arched and Erestor pounded, the sound of Erestor’s sacs hitting Glorfindel’s body in cadence with the sharp cries and low grunts the pair made as they joined together.

Erestor circled his fingers around Glorfindel’s shaft and in rhythm with their coupling he stroked the ivory column, in faster and harder movements until he felt it convulse under his fingers. Glorfindel uttered a guttural cry and his life’s essence spewed forth, covering Erestor’s fingers with the creamy elixir.

The spasms that followed grasped at Erestor’s fully inflated sex and with two erratic thrusts more, he let go, the release so powerful that it silenced him, stopping his breath for a moment. He exhaled long and Glorfindel felt the breath come up over his chest as Erestor collapsed into his waiting arms. Glorfindel held him tightly and they both sunk together into a state of blissful euphoria. Eyes closed and breath heaving they embraced and Glorfindel whimpered and his arms tightened as Erestor’s softened member slipped from his passage.

“Ah Erestor, I have fully surrendered myself to you now. You have made me yours and by the Valar, upon my return, you will be mine.”

And then in a whisper he repeated the phrase, brushing Erestor’s ear with his now steady breath,

“You will be mine.”

“Aye.” said Erestor.


They fell into blessed reverie and were kissed by the moonlight as it flowed into the room. So beautiful were the light and dark hair meshing together, the alabaster and golden limbs intertwined. So beautiful in the contentment and peace that enfolded them together.

All too soon, Anor chased Ithil from the sky and Glorfindel woke with a start, remembering at once that it was the day he would ride. He gave Erestor a gentle squeeze and sighed loudly, rueful at leaving the warm arms that embraced him, but untwining them nonetheless from around his broad shoulders.

“I wish to stay thus.” said Erestor as he leaned over and laid his head upon his lover’s steadily beating heart.

“I wish it also,” said Glorfindel. He enfurled his fingers in the fall of ebony hair and held the advisor close.

Reluctantly they broke the embrace and arose, neither wanting to face their imminent parting. And neither spoke of it as they bathed and then dressed. Not until Glorfindel took up his riding armor did either acknowledge it and then silently Erestor helped the warrior with the intricate lacings and closures.

Swallowing hard, Erestor opened his mouth to speak,


The anxious look in the advisor’s eyes saddened him and Glorfindel took him in his arms once more.

“All is well, melethron. I will not die in this battle. I will return to collect on the second part of our promise. I vow it.”

Later that day, Erestor stood with Elrond and Celebrían and watched the company depart. Several hundred Imladrian archers and swordsmen were mounted and began to ride out, but Glorfindel, magnificent in his armor and sitting astride Asfaloth, stayed behind briefly. He bowed to his lord and gifted Erestor with a reassuring smile before turning and joining the company at its head. Erestor stood on the steps for a long time and then moved to a higher balcony where he could watch until even his elven eyes no longer had him in sight.

They would be gone for a month, maybe more, if the calculations they had made were correct. One elf, riding fast could perhaps make Fornost in three or four days, but a whole company and its provisions traveled more slowly. They had figured that they would arrive in ten days at most, but none knew what they would find once they got there. Imladris’ contingent was to come in stealth, so communication with Cirdan’s force had been thready, but Glorfindel had set up a series of runners to bring word to Elrond as the battle progressed.

Erestor tried to busy himself as he waited, and Elrond had helped by working with him and making sure that Erestor felt part of his family. He vacillated between confidence and apprehension, and alternately his stomach churned and then settled. He tried hard to keep Glorfindel’s words in his mind, but he had lived long and knew that the outcome of any battle was unpredictable. Mostly though he replayed his joining with Glorfindel over and over in his mind and that thought brought with it some amount of comfort.

A fortnight had past and one runner had returned, only to tell that the battle had been enjoined and the fighting was terrible. But he told also of the great force that Cirdan and Eärnur had amassed and if numbers alone could prevail then the outcome looked hopeful. Already the Witch-King had been driven out of Fornost and begun his retreat to Angmar and Glorfindel’s company and one from Gondor were engaged in pursuit.

Erestor found himself in the lord’s sanctuary often, gazing at the murals that depicted battles of the past. He prayed to the Valar to bring Glorfindel home to him, begging that the golden one’s return from Mandos could not have been so short-lived, so seemingly in vain. It was such on this day until Erestor heard calls from the courtyard. A runner had come.

Disheveled and battle-weary, the runner told the story.

***“As the Witch-King fled northwards, seeking his own land of Angmar, the cavalry of Gondor overtook him with Eärnur riding at their head. At the same time, Glorfindel’s force came upon them and between these two flanks; the Witch-King was trapped. So utterly has he been defeated that not a man nor an orc of that realm is to be seen west of the Mountains.”

“Before the Witch-King fled though, he taunted Eärnur and with a terrible cry he rode upon him. Eärnur would have withstood him, but his horse could not endure the onset and it swerved and bore him far away before he could master it. Then the Witch-King laughed and none will ever forget the horror of that cry. But Glorfindel rode up then on Asfaloth and when the Witch-king beheld him he turned to flight and passed into the shadows.”

“It was then that Glorfindel stayed Eärnur from pursuing the black King and uttered these words, ‘Do not pursue him! He will not return to this land. Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of man will he fall!”***

The runner finished his tale thusly,

“We have prevailed lord Elrond, though there were losses. None of the perian will return to the Shire, brave as they were, and some of our own have fallen, but Glorfindel was mighty and led us with honor and we have won the day.”

Erestor let go of a long breath, one that he felt he had been holding for nearly three weeks and the mysterious smile that was uniquely his own came to his lips. His lover would return and when he did…

It was another fortnight before the company was sighted on the switchback trail and the call went up that they had returned. The household gathered to meet them and Erestor was in its forefront awaiting the first glimpse of Glorfindel, victorious, at its head.

When Glorfindel had sighted the house, he rode out from the company, deftly guiding Asfaloth down the steep trail. He came through the gates and into the courtyard where the household stood waiting and dismounted quickly, giving Asfaloth a pat and acknowledging Elrond with a quick nod. But his eyes saw only his lover and he strode forth and took Erestor gently and deeply into his arms.

Upon parting, Glorfindel took Erestor’s pale, beautiful face between his battle-worn fingers and spoke.

“I have kept my part of our promise. I will have you, my dear Erestor, and now you will surrender to me and I will love you.”

Glorfindel smiled into those dark shining eyes and that very night Erestor let him.


A/N: All italized words OR words between *** and *** (in plain text) are direct quotes or paraphrases from The Return of The King, Appendix A(iv), Gondor and The Heirs of Anárion.

I realize that the term “seneschal”, properly used, is more likely to describe Erestor than Glorfindel, but I like its martial sound and I have chosen to follow fanon in only this one way.

Hat tip to ErinRua and Sulriel’s magnificent website, http://www.theoriginalseries.com/traveltimes.htm, which gives travel times between various Middle-earth realms. I checked it against Fonstad and it looks accurate. They won first place in the 2005 MEFAs and deserve it.
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