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 4
"So, and now tell me: is there a special someone in your life, Erestor?" Legolas asked, and pressed another kiss on the nape of Erestor's neck.
"That is a very odd question, considering that we are both naked and just made our way through chapter 7 of 'Mirkwood Love Secrets'," Erestor muttered.
Legolas laughed.
"Something I definitely enjoyed very much, old friend. Your skills have very much improved since our last encounter. But I think I can safely say that neither you nor I intend to get married and ride off hand in hand into the sunset. Though I would love to see my father's face upon hearing such news."
"You are completely insane," Erestor said, "and I mean that in the most affectionate way possible."
Legolas caressed Erestor's side in a manner that made him shift, not sure whether to seek more contact or avoid it.
"Ah, still a little ticklish now, are you!" Legolas grinned. "But you have not answered my question yet, oh elusive one: has no Elf ever managed to capture your heart? No tender stirrings of your romantic soul? Butterflies in your stomach? Come on, you may tell me, I will keep your secret."
Erestor buried his face in the pillow. Legolas’ weight on his body felt good, and he certainly enjoyed their more intimate activities as much as hunting deer or competing in archery with Legolas, but the Mirkwood Elf was right: this was an encounter of old friends, not lovers. Oddly enough, Erestor felt very relieved about this.
When Erestor did not answer, Legolas decided that more serious methods had to be applied to make Erestor part with the information he wanted, and he began to tickle the captain.
"Stop that!" Erestor yelled, and bucked under Legolas, who giggled like a fiend and continued the tickling torture without mercy.
"Not before I know who holds your heart! Tell me!"
"Never!" Erestor gasped.
"Then suffer!" Legolas declared, and tickled Erestor's side until the Elf cried for mercy.
"Stop it! I will tell you everything! Lord Elrond keeps his jewels in a jerry under his bed!"
Legolas halted and scratched his head.
"In a jerry under his bed? I would have thought in his breeches, but what do I know… So, now tell me: who is she? Or is it a he?"
Erestor had to catch his breath first. Legolas was certainly exhausting him in every way possible!
"I am not married, and I have never been," he said, resting his chin on his crossed arms. "And I cannot say that I have ever been truly in love, the crush of my youth on the obnoxious son of King Thranduil aside. But there was once one who… touched my heart."
Legolas, aware of a certain undertone in Erestor's voice, stopped the teasing, and caressed Erestor's shoulder instead, covering it with tiny kisses.
"Tell me about it," he said.
Erestor cleared his throat.
"Well, I would not say that I was in love, but there was something about him… it was the night of his coming-of-age ceremony. I gave him Sloe to drink, and…"
"Sloe? You gave a young Elf Sloe for his coming-of-age ceremony?" Legolas cried, and slapped Erestor playfully up the head. "What did he do, tear off his clothes and dance on a table?"
"No. He kissed me."
"He – kissed you. Just like that," Legolas snorted, and snapped his fingers.
Erestor felt rather silly.
"Yes. It did not mean anything, though."
Legolas sighed.
"How many Elves were attending this ceremony, Erestor?"
The captain shrugged.
"Half of Imladris, I guess, plus some guests from Lothlórien."
"Aha. And among all those Elves, of whom especially the Lothlórien variety are known for their beauty, he went up to a one-eyed battle horse like you? Well, if that does not mean anything, then I do not know."
"Only means that he was drunk," Erestor muttered.
"Of course. And that was all? He kissed you? Must have been quite some kiss if you still remember it!"
"It was not really a kiss. Not that one, anyway."
Legolas arched his eyebrows.
"Good grief, conversations with you are like pulling teeth – so there was another kiss then?"
Erestor nodded.
"Yes. He was embarrassed and ran away, and I went looking for him. And then I kissed him."
"And that kiss was better?" Legolas inquired.
Erestor sighed deeply.
"Yes. Oh yes. It was like… the kind of… it was his first kiss, and he was… melting in my arms, you know? It was good."
"And? Why did you part?"
"Part?" Erestor shook his head. "That was all. We never were... there has never been a 'we'."
"Why not? You liked him. He obviously liked you. So where was the problem?"
Erestor groaned.
"Legolas – if you had listened to my story, you would have heard that I said he was celebrating his coming-of-age ceremony that day. I am just a few centuries shy of my 4000th birthday, and he was… we had nothing in common.”
"Erestor, I hate to tell you, but you are an idiot. How long ago did this happen? Fifty years ago? A hundred? Yesterday?"
"Let me see – we are currently in the year 2509 of the Third Age – well, it was one hundred and thirty-seven years, 7 months and 28 days ago then," came Erestor's muffled reply, for he had pressed his face into the pillow.
"One hundred and thirty - say, I should really think he would be old enough now to suit you, Erestor! Have you never tried to renew your acquaintance?"
Erestor bucked and Legolas lost his balance, rolling over the bed. Erestor sat up and raked his hair with his fingers.
"I see him once in a while when I need a new bow or arrows. He has become a bow maker and owns a little shop at the other end of Imladris. But he does not care for me, I really doubt he even remembers the incident."
Legolas covered his face with his hands.
"For an intelligent Elf like you are, Erestor, you are also remarkably stupid. As if anybody could ever forget their first kiss!"
He moved closer and put his arms around Erestor's middle, pulling him close and resting his head on his shoulder.
"I certainly have never forgotten mine, Erestor, as clumsy as it was. And I would really like to see the Elf who has gifted me with such a wonderful memory happy and loved."
Erestor covered Legolas' hand with his own, gently squeezing it.
"You are a good friend, Legolas, and I have never forgotten it, either. But it is better the way it is. I am not made for company. In my heart, I will always be a warrior, and I cannot see myself settling down."
"Well then, if you like to see yourself as the lone wolf among the sheep, so be it. But I certainly want to see the one who managed to keep your mind busy for – what was it? One hundred and thirty-seven years, 7 months and 29 days?"
"28 days, Legolas, and no, I do not think that this is such a bright idea."
"29, Erestor, as it is past midnight. And as my bow needs some mending, I shall head for the shop of your bow maker tomorrow and have a closer look at him. What is his name, by the way?"
"Glorfindel. And your bow is perfectly in order."
"Glorfindel – ah, I see, you still prefer blonds. Yes, my bow is in perfect order at the moment, but it will be chipped by tomorrow."
Erestor stared at Legolas, and he saw the mischief in his eyes.
"You are evil," he said, and shook his head.
"Luckily for you, I truly am." Legolas stretched sensuously, displaying all his amenities in the most favourable way. He beckoned Erestor. "And now, come here so I can show you how evil I really am!"
He did not have to invite Erestor twice, who rolled Legolas on his back and gently bit his neck.
"You exhaust me. I do not know if I am up to another chapter of Mirkwood Love Secrets, Legolas."
Legolas chuckled.
"Just close your eyes and think of Mirkwood!"
Erestor thought of chapter 8 instead, and the night passed in a most pleasant manner.
* * *
TBC