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 mûmak 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 2
There was only one person in Imladris for whom Erestor made the effort of cleaning up before making a call, and that was the Lady Celebrían. He did not go as far as changing his garments, but at least he brushed the dust from the training grounds off his jerkin, then combed and re-braided his hair.
His knock on the door was answered with a cheerful "come in!", and Erestor entered. Celebrían, dressed in hunter's gear, sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace. Beside her was a small heap of goose feathers, and a pot hung over the fire. From the stench, Erestor concluded that it was glue. Celebrían held a half-finished arrow in her hand and was just about to finish the binding of the feathers when Erestor approached her.
"Has your hunt been lucky?" the captain asked, and Celebrían nodded.
"Indeed! A boar, and I was the one who shot it! Elrond missed by a long shot. But I ran out of arrows, and before I let one of your hacks make some for me, I would rather do it myself."
Erestor had to hide a grin when he saw the smug smile on her face. Knowing that he had the right to do so, he helped himself to a goblet of wine, and sat down opposite her. Erestor stared into the fire. Winter had come early this year, and he was glad to sit here on a bear's fur and warm his hands. Admittedly, Elves did not feel the cold the same way mortals did, but this did not mean they enjoyed freezing their noses off.
"So you asked for me." Erestor broke the companionable silence after a while, and Celebrían nodded. She put the finished arrow aside, and looked at the captain, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Indeed I did, for I need your help. As you know, Elrond has sent out invitations for the annual archery tournament this coming Time of Stirring."
Erestor nodded. "I know, and I am already looking forward to it. Our guards are in excellent form, so I hope they will finally manage to beat the Galadhrim. With all due respect, after two centuries, it would be about time."
Celebrían laughed. "I have no doubt, Erestor, and I know how much of a thorn in your side my father's smug grin is. But this is not the reason I called for you. As you know, Elrond has sent an invitation as every year to King Thranduil as well."
Erestor clenched his jaw. His feelings for his former king were not of a kind nature, but he did not comment. It was obvious the bad news was yet to come.
Celebrían reached for her own goblet and took a sip of the wine.
"To our greatest surprise, he accepted the invitation this year. He will not attend personally, though, but send one of his sons and a selection of his best archers."
Erestor was surprised, but did not show it.
"Which of his many sons is he sending?" he asked.
"Legolas."
"Ah."
This "ah" told Celebrían all she had suspected for many centuries already. She did not know why Erestor had left his home so many years ago and settled in Imladris, but she had always known that Legolas had something to do with it. While she did not have her mother's gift of foresight, Erestor's unease whenever talks turned to Thranduil's eldest son had been obvious. She did not like to expose Erestor to unpleasant memories, but it could not be helped: Legolas would visit Imladris.
"The reason why I asked for you, Erestor, is that I wish to make the stay for your kin as pleasant as possible. I admit that I do not know much about the customs in Mirkwood, but as it used to be your home, I hoped you could give me some advice."
Erestor cleared his throat.
"Well, make sure there is enough wine, and lock your daughter away," he said.
Celebrían laughed and threw her head back, sending the silver blond hair flying.
"Of this I have thought myself, Erestor! There will be wine aplenty, and Arwen will be grounded for the duration of the tournament. No, what I need to know is if there are any things your kin might find offensive that we would not, or if there are any customs we have to consider."
Erestor, who forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand and not get lost in bitter memories, thought about her question for a moment.
"Never insult their pride. One of the main reasons the Elves of Mirkwood loathe Lothlórien so much is the snobbish attitude your kin show, my lady. If it makes them happy, the Galadhrim may consider their Woodland kin to be as backwardly as they want, but they would be well advised not to voice such opinions in public. And it might be a good idea to remind all of Imladris that the Mirkwood Elves are warriors. They are not used to being outside of their own realm, and their ways might look a little… coarse to outsiders."
Celebrían nodded.
"I understand. You want us to show them the respect they deserve. This can certainly be done. Will you look after the delegation from Mirkwood, Erestor? I want them to enjoy their stay here, and as I know how remote their culture is, they might feel more comfortable if one of their own kin accompanies them."
Erestor paled, and she noticed well.
"My lady, you know that I always follow your orders, but I do not think that King Thranduil would approve of this."
Celebrían stood up. Erestor was once again impressed how she managed to look regal and awesome even wearing hunter's gear and with a smudge of dirt on her cheek.
"Erestor, please excuse my blunt language, but I do not give a rat's arse for King Thranduil's opinion. Imladris is our realm, and it is Elrond and I who have the say here. If the hermit in Mirkwood does not approve of it, he is invited to come here and voice his protests in person. I shall give him an answer suited to his complaint. You will look after the delegation from Mirkwood, period."
She put a hand on Erestor's shoulder, squeezing in lightly.
"This is, of course, unless you would not be happy with this task. If this should be the case, please tell me, and I shall relieve you of this duty."
Her voice, who had been sharp and commanding before, was now mellow and full of concern. Erestor suspected that she knew more about his history than he thought, but he shook his head.
"No. No, my lady. There is no need, I will look after them."
"Thank you, Erestor. I knew I could rely on you. And now for your next task!"
She took her bow and threw it to Erestor, who caught it in flight.
"It is chipped. Please bring it to the bow maker, and see if he can repair it. It is my favourite bow, I would hate to lose it."
Erestor bowed.
"I will do so immediately, my lady. If anybody can repair a bow, it is Glorfindel."
* * *
TBC