GLORFINDEL LION-HEART
Genre: slash, humour, sap.
Rating: yellow/mild orange
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel (not the Balrog-slayer, though), Erestor/Legolas
Warnings: AU, and how! A wee bit of angst.
Beta: Miss Enismirdal, the mūmak multiplicator
Feedback: But most certainly yes!
Beautiful artwork by Nellas of Doriath!
Summary: Glorfindel wishes he had a lion-heart. And Erestor.
Author's notes: They only thing this story has in common with my "usual" AU are the customs of the Woodland Elves. Originally, this was supposed to be a stand-alone. Alas, it turned out to be a new series. Thanks for convincing me to write this series, it was a lot of fun!
CHAPTER 1
"I think I would be scared to death if I should ever encounter him at night," Melpomaen said, dangling his legs. The young Elf sat beside his friend on the wall separating Lord Elrond's apple trees from the courtyards. While the wall was rather effective at keeping courtyards away, it was pretty useless when it came to preventing the apples being stolen by the great number of Elflings running wild in Imladris. And though neither Melpomaen nor his friend were Elflings anymore, they still appreciated the sweet fruits very much, and so both were chewing on their apples.
Or Lord Elrond's apples, if one wanted to nitpick.
"Of course, you would also be scared to death if you encountered him alone in bright daylight," Glorfindel grinned, and Melpomaen threw the core of the apple over his shoulder, where it hit Lord Elrond's cat who had been dozing in the late afternoon sun. The animal hissed and trotted a little further into the garden, out of the young Elves reach.
"Well, who would not! Especially you, fraidy-cat!"
Glorfindel sighed. It was all too true - he was a coward. He could not tell whether it was a tragedy that his parents had named him after Gondolin's great warrior, or one of those cosmic pranks the Valar enjoyed to pull on the Eldar once in a while. His parents had probably hoped that this name would encourage their son to strive for a great future but, unfortunately, Glorfindel had so far not excelled at anything. He looked down at his skinny knees, then over to the patrol that had just arrived, and sighed even more deeply.
"I bet he is not afraid of anything," he said, and Melpomaen laughed.
"Erestor? Afraid? No, I really cannot see that. It is rumoured that the Haradrim stick his picture to the rears of their Mūmakil to make sure nobody is stealing them."
"My ada would say that the arse of a mūmak was the best place to stick any picture of Erestor's," Glorfindel replied, and the two young Elves broke out in loud laughter. It was known all over Imladris that Glorfindel's father, who was tutoring Lord Elrond's children, would have carried the captain of Imladris' troops in his own arms to Mordor if Lord Elrond had allowed it. Erestor stood for just about anything that the tutor loathed. He often said that the only time Erestor had touched a book in his life had been when he had thrown it after one of his guards.
No, Glorfindel mused, Erestor was not one to sit down and read books. Or one for small talk. Or poetry. Or flowers. Erestor lived for horses, warfare, wine and love. Or whatever it was that the daredevil of an Elf considered love. At his home, such things were not discussed, but Glorfindel had overheard more than once conversations between his parents, believing him to be in bed and asleep, where his ada expressed his disgust for Erestor's undertakings. He remembered well one night where all of Imladris had been in a tizzy after his guards had brought an injured Erestor back. The face of the captain and his chest were covered in blood, and at first, Lord Elrond had been beside himself with worry.
This had changed into a rage attack when the Lord of Imladris had learned that the cause for Erestor's injury had not been an ambush by Orcs or an attack by Wargs, but a husband who had returned earlier from a journey than expected and found his wife in a rather explicit situation with the captain, which resulted in a ferocious swordfight in the bedchamber.
It had taken Lord Elrond a lot of work to save Erestor's left eye. He had been successful, once again confirming his reputation as the best healer in Middle-earth. But ever since this incident, a large scar disfigured the left half of Erestor's face.
Alas, anybody who had been hoping that this experience would have made Erestor repent his roguish ways saw such hopes bitterly disappointed.
"He is bedding everything on two legs that is not a ladder," Glorfindel's father used to say, and this was certainly an opinion shared by many of Imladris' citizens. But despite his many flaws, Erestor was still admired and respected. He was loyal and did not fear anybody. His biting wit amused all those who were not the target of his sharp tongue, and while many Elves complained about his behaviour, most of them secretly admired Erestor for his spirit and the courage to do what pleased him.
Erestor and the patrol had entered the courtyard after Glorfindel and Melpomaen had sat down on the wall, and so the two young Elves had the best places to watch the spectacle. And it was a spectacle. Erestor and his patrol, all of them rogues to befit their captain, made sure their arrival was noisy and wild. They brought their horses to a halt rather close to the fountain in the centre of the courtyard, and three of the warriors jumped off their horses with a loud yell and right into the water.
Erestor laughed, and then attempted to dismount his horse, a mean, evil-spirited black steed who bit and kicked everyone except his master. Glorfindel thought that Erestor was flowing off the back of the animal, in one swift, fluent motion. They must have been long and bothersome weeks out in the woods, because the dark Elf was covered in dust, grime and, much to Glorfindel's horror, a dark substance that looked suspiciously like blood. Erestor's long black hair was braided messily in a single, thick braid which hung down his back. There was a wound on his forehead, untreated and encrusted with dried blood. But still Erestor looked as if he would enjoy himself immensely.
"Now look at this," Melpomaen whispered. "He brought half the wood with him. Uh, he really needs a bath." He pinched his nose and rolled his eyes theatrically, and once again, Glorfindel had to stifle a giggle.
"Be quiet, or he will hear you," he hissed, and elbowed Melpomaen in the side, which only caused more laughter.
"I always enjoy a good joke, would you mind sharing yours with me?"
The laughter died down immediately and both young Elves stared wide-eyed at Erestor, who had sneaked up to them without a sound, and was now grinning at them. He had very white teeth, Glorfindel noticed, and they looked quite sharp. Glorfindel would not have been surprised in the least if he had heard that Erestor preferred to eat meat in the raw.
Melpomaen and Glorfindel shrunk visibly, and were not able to say a word. Melpomaen was so scared of the idea that he had angered Erestor and might face bitter retaliation now that he did not notice the mirth in the captain's eyes.
Glorfindel still held his apple, unable to move or speak.
"Well, will you share your merriment now? I am waiting. You see, I would be grateful if you could hurry up, because I long for a bath. I need one, I guess."
Melpomaen turned brick red, and would have given anything for the ability of turning invisible. Erestor was so tall, so intimidating and so... very much Erestor.
The captain arched an eyebrow.
"I see. I will not hear any jokes today. How very, very regrettable this is. Well, young Master Melpomaen, I hope you will have the courage to talk to me some other time."
Melpomaen almost dropped off the wall, and finally, his tongue decided to work again.
"You... you know me?" he squeaked, and Erestor graced him with a wolfish smile.
"But of course I do. Note well, young one, that nothing happens in Imladris without me knowing it. Be it lords, ladies, peasants or Elflings - I know about their ups and doings."
Glorfindel had watched the conversation with increasing fascination. Erestor, he was sure by now, meant no harm; he just wanted to tease them. He was gentle and witty, but one look into those dark eyes and Glorfindel knew that there was steel under the velvet. Everything about Erestor screamed "warrior". He could not imagine him wearing a robe, reading a book or listening to one of Lindir's romantic tunes. But Glorfindel could well imagine Erestor unleashed, in a murderous frenzy...
"And you, young Glorfindel, are you already looking forward to your coming of age ceremony?"
Glorfindel, lost in his musings, started when he realised that Erestor had addressed him.
"I... I suppose so," he stammered, and looked down at his half-eaten apple.
Erestor reached out and put two fingers under Glorfindel's chin, gently lifting it so that the young Elf had to look at him.
"You should. This is the best time of your life, young Glorfindel. Carefree and happy. And come next week, you will be your own master. You will make decisions, fall in love and fall in hate. This is an important time, make good use of it. Be courageous. Take risks."
Glorfindel, unable to speak, nodded automatically. Erestor smiled, and this time it was not wolfish or mocking - it was the understanding smile. Glorfindel silently wondered what Erestor had been like at his age - had he already been so fearless?
"I am not courageous," Glorfindel answered, suddenly feeling a little more at ease in the presence of the intimidating captain. "I am nothing special at all. I cannot sing, I cannot dance, I have never been very good at my studies, and I am afraid of far too many things. My uncle said I have the wits of a sheep, and I fear he is right."
Erestor frowned, and Glorfindel shuddered under the scrutinizing gaze of those dark eyes.
"Glorfindel, it does not matter if you have the wits of a sheep or the low attention span of a trout. All that matters is that you have a lion's heart. Never forget this."
Erestor let go of Glorfindel's chin, and straightened up.
"I hope to make your uncle's acquaintance at your ceremony, young Glorfindel. I am quite sure he and I will engage in a most interesting discussion."
"You... you want to come to my ceremony?" Glorfindel gasped, staring at the captain in disbelief.
Erestor nodded.
"But of course. I saw you sleeping in your cot, I saw you playing with your building-bricks, and I watched you picking flowers in Lord Elrond's garden. I hope I will see you finally doing more exciting things, and I expect you to dance with the prettiest young lady present. This aside, my presence will annoy your father, which in return will delight me to no end."
Erestor took the apple out of Glorfindel's hand, took a big bite and returned it to the young Elf, who still stared at him like the rabbit at the snake.
"Delicious apples. Enjoy them; I shall be off to my bath now, young thieves."
With that, he turned around and went to look after his horse.
And Glorfindel stared at his apple.
* * *
"I am so proud of you," Glorfindel's nana sniffed, and hugged him tightly. It was about the twentieth time she had done so during the day, and while Glorfindel had put up with it before the ceremony, he found this to be undignified behaviour now. After all, he was officially an adult, and should be shown some respect.
Glorfindel was surrounded by family and friends, but he did not listen to their well-wishing and chatter. Lord Elrond, who had been so kind to conduct the ceremony, had talked about responsibility and duty, about the importance of contributing to the community and family. To Glorfindel, those words had been like a gentle breeze - hardly noticeable and immediately forgotten.
'Be courageous. Take risks,' Erestor had said. Easier said than done! What risks could be taken here in Imladris? Stealing one of Lord Elrond's apples had been one of the most wicked things Glorfindel had ever done. There were no dangers or adventures in Imladris. The only dangerous thing so far had been the five young ladies who had clung to Glorfindel's robe ever since the ceremony had ended. They had almost started a fistfight over who was allowed to dance with Glorfindel. He had taken advantage of the argument and disappeared.
'I expect you to dance with the prettiest young lady present'. He wished Erestor had delivered a manual to go with that advice. Glorfindel was shy, and while the young ladies present were fair enough, he did not feel drawn to them. As a matter of fact, he was quite happy in his quiet corner, watching the festivities in his honour without having to participate in them.
"You look far too serious for one who has just reached adulthood."
Glorfindel almost jumped in the air when he heard Erestor's voice behind him. How did the captain manage to sneak up without a sound? This was very unsettling. Glorfindel turned around, and took a step back at the sight of Erestor. The captain was not wearing a robe, and Glorfindel doubted that he even possessed such a garment, but his clothes were exquisite, brown silk and velvet and soft, dark green suede, and he looked very regal. Unlike most of the other Elves, he wore no jewellery, not even a ring.
Glorfindel swallowed hard, chastising himself for just staring, which was very rude.
"I enjoy watching people," he finally said. "This is all very confusing."
Erestor nodded.
"I can well imagine. You are not one who seeks to be the centre of attention."
Glorfindel shrugged, then nodded.
"I suppose not. Yesterday I was still nothing but a young Elf, and now I am grown up. It takes time for me to... understand this."
"Here," Erestor said, and passed his goblet on to Glorfindel. "The best way to win life is by conquering it. And every conqueror needs a little bit of encouragement."
"Thank you," Glorfindel whispered, then sniffed on the fluid in the goblet. He wrinkled his nose.
"What is that?" he asked, and sniffed again. Erestor laughed upon seeing the suspicious expression on Glorfindel's face.
"It is Sloe. It is a speciality from my home realm. You distil white grain spirit and then you add sloe berries. It is very sweet; I thought you might like it and so I parted with some bottles for your festivities."
Glorfindel was touched, and took a sip of the beverage. He pulled a face; the taste was unfamiliar to him, and the liquid burned in his throat. But it was also good, sweet and dangerous and - he took another swig.
"Where is your home realm?" Glorfindel asked between two further sips.
"I hail from Mirkwood, and you should really not drink this too fast, Glorfindel, unless you wish to spend the night with your head over a bucket instead of resting in some pretty lady's arms."
Glorfindel almost spat out a mouthful of Sloe.
"Oh no, no, no ladies for me! I am not interested in such - things," he protested, and blushed. Erestor laughed and slapped his back.
"Maybe not tonight, but I would bet a lot of silver coins on your change of mind in that matter. You are now an adult, do as you please." Erestor winked at Glorfindel, and added: "And let be done what pleases you. Remember: you have a lion-heart."
Erestor winked again, then he returned to his friends who had gathered by the entrance of the balcony, each of them already rather drunk and laughing loudly.
Lion-heart. The laugh! Glorfindel decided that he would be better off spending the evening with this lovely drink in his goblet than musing over his shortcomings. And the more he drank, the better he felt. A warm feeling spread through his body, his fingers began to tingle and he had a rather dopey smile on his face. Admittedly, his legs became a little wobbly, but this was quite funny, and Glorfindel experimentally took a few steps.
Oddly enough, the floor seemed to move. How curious! Glorfindel did not even consider the possibility that he might be drunk. He was just happy, smiling and in love with the world. And ready to conquer it as well! Oh, there was nothing he could not do, despite being thin and skinny and having rather dull looking blond hair and the brain of a sheep.
He heard Erestor's laughter, and Glorfindel turned his attention to the captain. Erestor was drinking as well, but not from a goblet. He held a bottle by the neck, and now and again, he took a long swig. Every time one of his friends told a joke or, more likely, made a rude remark about someone, Erestor threw his head back, sending his black hair flying. He had opened the laces of his shirt, and exposed a long neck.
Glorfindel could see some of the tattoos the warriors of the Woodland Elves wore as signs of their victories. How come he had never noticed? It was as if the Sloe gave him the ability to see more clearly. Of course, Erestor wore the typical garments of a Mirkwood Elf. How had he come to Imladris, anyway? King Thranduil's people were not exactly known for their urbane ways.
Maybe he should ask him? Glorfindel giggled, and took another swig. Erestor was leaning comfortably against a pillar, and watched the crowd dancing, chatting and laughing. He seemed quite happy. And fair.
Fair? Glorfindel had never thought of Erestor as fair. His features were not as smooth and harmonious as was common among the Eldar, and then there was the scar, of course. But there was something about Erestor... maybe he would show Glorfindel the tattoos if he asked? Again, Glorfindel had to chuckle. It would be fun to see Erestor's face upon being asked such a bold question!
Glorfindel peeked in the goblet and found it empty. He sighed - no, the word "bold" could not be used in connection with himself. He was not bold. If he had been, he would have crossed the room and gone to Erestor, telling him - what? The young Elf's head spun and the floor seemed to move up and down. He had a very odd feeling in his stomach, and felt oddly light-headed.
Erestor looked at him. Glorfindel turned around to see if somebody was standing behind him, but he was all alone in his corner. And now the captain smiled and lifted his bottle in salute. 'You have a lion heart,' Erestor had said. How could he have such confidence?
Glorfindel returned the smile very shyly. 'Be courageous. Take risks.' Maybe he should? In the back of his head, an idea formed. It was bold and risky and probably completely mad, but it would take courage. And what day would be more fitting and suitable to be courageous for the first time in his life than this?
Glorfindel put the goblet resolutely on the table. He missed a plate only by luck, and then he began to walk with determination towards Erestor. He had to concentrate on every step, as the floor was moving and his head spinning, but all the time his view was locked with Erestor's. The captain saw Glorfindel approaching and arched an eyebrow.
"It looks like somebody is coming for more Sloe," one of his friends said, and laughed.
"It is his big day. He may have all the Sloe he wants," Erestor replied. By now, Glorfindel had reached him, and stood in front of Erestor, slightly swaying.
"More Sloe, Glorfindel?" Erestor asked, and waved his bottle.
"No..." Glorfindel tried to say more, but his tongue was so heavy. Erestor had three heads, which was very odd. Which was the real one? Glorfindel decided to go for the middle one, stood on his toes and pressed a kiss on Erestor's lips. Those who had seen this most interesting incident stopped their chatter and turned their heads and, within seconds, every Elf in the Great Hall of Imladris was staring at Glorfindel and Erestor. Glorfindel's mother fainted, and her husband cursed the fact that he had left his sword at home.
Alas, nobody looked more surprised than Erestor. For a moment, he felt anger rising about this intrusion and he gnashed his teeth, but then he looked at the happy face of the young Elf in front of him, the veiled gaze in the blue eyes. An innocent in every possible way, and certainly not with any malicious intent, so Erestor relaxed.
Glorfindel, however, tensed. His Sloe-induced euphoria began to wane, and all of a sudden, he noticed the silence around him. And Erestor looked at him - with pity?
Glorfindel felt as if somebody had poured a bucket with ice water over him. What had he done? The comfortable warmth in his stomach turned to cold and nausea. He had embarrassed himself in front of all of Imladris! And Erestor and his friends would probably laugh about him for at least two centuries! Erestor and his friends? All of Imladris, probably only with exception of his parents!
At the thought of his father's likely comment on this incident, Glorfindel fled. He pushed his way through the crowd and ran through the main door, out into the courtyard. Tears began to flow as soon as he was out in the mild night air, and then he ran as fast as he could. Away, only away from the place of his shame!
Meanwhile, Glorfindel's father had attempted to follow his son, but Erestor held him back.
"Let him go. He has to think things over, and he is old enough now to do so himself. Do not embarrass him further by treating him like an Elfling."
Glorfindel's father had a rather sharp rebuttal in mind, but when he looked into Erestor's eyes, he saw serious concern. And Erestor was right, of course. Glorfindel was not an Elfling anymore. It would take time for him to get used to this as well.
Erestor let go of the tutor and addressed the crowd.
"Stop gawping and continue to celebrate! There is nothing to see here!"
For a moment, there was silence, then the Elves of Imladris decided that it would be wiser and more entertaining to continue to laugh and dance instead of possibly facing Erestor's wrath.
"Here," one of his friends said, and handed Erestor a new bottle of Sloe. "I think you will need this."
* * *
The feast was over, and it had ended with the leading Elf missing. Neither hair nor hide had been seen of Glorfindel since his hasty departure, and only Lord Elrond's reassurances that no Elf would get lost in Imladris and that Glorfindel would certainly be well and safe could convince his parents to return home.
Only some servants were left, cleaning up the mess the feasting masses had caused. They were supported by Elladan and Elrohir, who helped by eating the rest of the cakes. Erestor stood outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air. He loved the very early hours of the morning, when the day was nothing but a faint, dim light on the horizon. Despite his wise advice to Glorfindel's father, he was worried. He did not fear for Glorfindel's safety, but he could well imagine the turmoil that must be going on in Glorfindel's heart.
Erestor decided to go for a little walk before he went to bed. The incident this night had reminded him of his youth. He remembered well stolen kisses in the stable, first declarations of undying love. Unfortunately, King Thranduil had not been delighted in the least upon finding his son, Legolas, and Erestor in a haystack, and so Erestor had decided to leave Mirkwood. From all he had heard, Thranduil had become milder over the years, but Erestor was still very bitter about the way the first great love in his life had come to an end.
Now where would an embarrassed young Elf hide, Erestor mused. Not at home, with his outraged parents, this much was sure. The stables? Not very likely.
"I must be the last Elf Glorfindel would want to see right now," Erestor reasoned with himself. "So it would be the logical conclusion that Glorfindel hides somewhere I would never go to."
Erestor turned around and headed double quick back to the Last Homely House. For the first time since his arrival in Imladris, he would set foot in the library.
* * *
Erestor did not have to start a long search for Glorfindel. The young Elf sat behind one of the desks, and only looked up when Erestor stood next to him. He had been so engrossed in his misery that he had not heard the dark Elf entering.
"You missed your feast," Erestor said, and Glorfindel jumped up, throwing the chair over
"I am sorry," Glorfindel whispered. "I really did not want to do that! But my head was so funny, and I was so happy, and..." He broke off, confused and lost.
Erestor picked up one of the books on the desk and skimmed through it. "'The Love Life of the Stag Beetles'? Who on Arda reads such a thing?" he said, not going into Glorfindel's apology. He put the book back, and approached Glorfindel, who stood with his back against one of the shelves. Erestor was so close now, as close as he had been when he... had done the unspeakable thing. Glorfindel blushed again.
"Do not worry. People will discuss this for two or three days, then something else will tickle their fancy. It was only a kiss, not the end of the world. But I do have to ask - why did you do it in the first place?"
Glorfindel looked down at his shoes.
"I wanted to," he murmured.
Now look at this, Erestor thought, he has grown up very quickly. He reached out and cupped Glorfindel's face with his hands, gently coaxing him to look up.
"Personally, I think that the most important moment in an Elf's life is when he holds a sword for the first time. Alas, I am well aware that the majority of our fellow Elves would not agree. They would probably say that the first kiss is the major turning point in our lives. I would say that your first try does not count. Here is another piece of advice from me, Glorfindel: only kiss someone if you are sober."
Erestor tilted his head and kissed Glorfindel. His mouth stifled the surprised yelp the young Elf gave, which turned into a contented sigh very soon. Melpomaen had often announced that he would never, ever kiss anybody in his whole life, because it would be disgusting to have somebody else's tongue in your mouth. Glorfindel could not have disagreed more. This was the best moment in his life!
Erestor was mildly surprised by Glorfindel's enthusiastic reaction, but he did not refuse when the young Elf melted in his arms. He had only planned on giving Glorfindel a bit of a cheer up, and now he realised that he was rather enjoying this as well. Glorfindel clung to him like a leech, and if the young one did not let go soon, Erestor would probably suffocate. A nice way to die, no doubt, but a little early.
Glorfindel looked very disappointed when Erestor pulled away. Erestor gently stroked his cheek.
"As lovely as this is, do not forget to breathe, or your pleasure will be short-lived, young one," he joked, and Glorfindel gave him a dopey grin.
"This was nice," he simply said.
"Yes. And now you have to return home, fair young Glorfindel; your parents are waiting and worried about you."
Had Erestor asked Glorfindel to climb on the table and dance a Hobbit jig, Glorfindel would have probably done so. He was totally enchanted by Erestor.
"As you wish," he said, and Erestor shooed him out of the library. He was quite grateful that none of the Elves living in the Last Homely House showed up; explaining what he had done with Glorfindel at this time of the night in the library, of all places, would have been a little complicated.
Once outside, Glorfindel took a deep breath of the night air. He began to dance, spinning around and around.
"I am happy!" he giggled. "And my head is spinning!"
He stumbled on his wobbly legs, and would have fallen had Erestor not caught him. Glorfindel used the opportunity to cling to the warrior, and pulled him down for another kiss.
Now it was Erestor's turn to yelp.
"Will you let go of my son immediately!" a very angry voice screamed. Erestor immediately let go of Glorfindel, who had not really registered the commotion. He looked up at Erestor from half-lidded eyes, face flushed and hair tousled. Utterly enchanting, Erestor thought.
"Your son is well," he yelled, "but you should not run around here in your nightshirt, you will catch a cold!"
Glorfindel's father, really dressed in nothing but his nightshirt and armed with a pitchfork, became even angrier upon hearing Erestor's mocking voice, and stormed towards the captain cursing and roaring.
Erestor decided that it was neither the time nor the place to make the acquaintance of a pitchfork, so he winked at Glorfindel one last time, then turned and ran away, disappearing into the forest.
"What have you been thinking, Glorfindel!" his father cried, still clutching the pitchfork. "To embarrass yourself and our family in such a way! Of all the noble Elves there, you had to go and kiss that scoundrel!"
Glorfindel did not answer, he still gazed after Erestor, though the dark Elf had been gone for quite a while.
His father grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him.
"Glorfindel! I am talking to you!"
It was like waking up from a dream. Glorfindel reached up and touched his lips. They were tingling, and he could still taste Erestor. He turned to his father.
"I am sorry, ada, I did not listen. What did you say?"
His father threw the pitchfork away and towered over Glorfindel, arms akimbo.
"You will not go near that Elf again, Glorfindel. Not as long as I am alive. And now I will hear no more about this."
"No."
The father stared at his son, doubting his own senses. Had Glorfindel just said what he thought he had heard?
"What did you say?" he asked.
"I said: no. I will go close to Erestor again, and I will not go home with you now."
Glorfindel looked at his father, and for the first time, it was not a discussion between father and son, but between two adult Elves who knew what they wanted.
"Oh yes, you will," his father replied, but Glorfindel shook his head.
"No, ada. I am of legal age now. I can do whatever pleases me and go wherever I want to. And if I should ever feel like kissing Erestor again, then I will do it. And now you should really go home. Erestor was right, you might catch a cold."
Glorfindel turned around, letting his ada stand with a face expressing utter disbelief. There was a big smile on his face, his head was light and the butterflies in his stomach fluttering. His breathing calmed down to normal speed, and Glorfindel touched his chest. He could feel his heart beating.
His lion-heart.
* * *
TBC