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 10
Glorfindel had assumed that the loss of Erestor's eyesight might have sharpened his other senses. But still, Erestor did not notice when Glorfindel quietly entered the cave which housed the training area. Unlike the other halls, this one had a ground of very fine sand; falling down would not be overly painful.
There were stone benches along the walls, and Glorfindel sat down on the closest one. He knew that he should have made Erestor aware of his presence, but Glorfindel could not bring himself to do this yet. He had no idea if it was the strong liquor Legolas had given him that made his head spin, or the turmoil in his heart when the fact finally began to sink in that Erestor was not dead. The same Elf he had mourned for these last years, the hero for whom a touching memorial service had been held by the banks of the Bruinen was - alive.
Erestor wore nothing but an old pair of leggings and a green shirt, and he had his bare feet planted firmly in the soft sand. His long hair was collected in one single, thick braid, which hung down almost to his waist. Seeing the well-known single braid, unusual among the Elves in Imladris, was comforting for Glorfindel. It was a small thing, but one that connected the surrealism of Erestor's presence with the reality of the past.
Erestor held a sword in his outstretched hands, his face all concentration on his task. It was an odd dance he performed, swinging the weapon and moving gracefully. It looked beautiful enough, but yet Glorfindel could well imagine how deadly and efficient this skill would be if used in battle.
If Erestor could see the enemy, that was.
Glorfindel's heart contracted painfully when he looked into Erestor's eyes. He had fooled himself for a while there, trying to ignore the truth, but seeing the grey shadows that covered Erestor's pupils made him painfully aware of his blindness. He shivered when he tried to imagine what the world must be like for Erestor now. Not seeing the sunshine, only feeling its warmth. Not admiring the beauty of a flower, only enjoying its scent.
Glorfindel bit his lips, but still a sigh escaped him. Immediately, Erestor spun around, lowering the sword. He looked in Glorfindel's direction, but focused too far to the right to keep the illusion of him actually seeing Glorfindel upright.
"Who is there?" he asked. "Is it you, Legolas?"
Glorfindel swallowed hard. There was no way around this now, he could not simply turn and leave, so he stood up and pulled his jerkin straight. How pointless - Erestor would not be able to see it, anyway.
"No, it is... it is I, Glorfindel."
A multitude of emotions showed on Erestor's face before it took on a blank expression. Surprise, delight, anger, insecurity. Glorfindel had no idea what was going on behind that mask, and did he really wish to find out?
"Glorfindel. So it has finally come to this: my little secret has been found out."
There was a hint of regret in Erestor's voice, but that aside, it gave nothing away about his true emotions. Glorfindel thought about the many things he wished to say, express his happiness and relief, but in the end, this was not what really gnawed at him.
"How could you do this?" he asked. "How could you let us all believe that you were dead? Do you know how much you hurt us?"
Erestor swirled the sword, let it dance over his head, threw it in the air and caught it just before it dropped to the ground. It was a skill he had practicized for hundreds of years, and his hands remembered the movements, even if his eyes could not see anymore.
"But I am dead. Dead to the world, dead to myself, and I wish I could have stayed dead to you as well. You should not have come here, fair young Glorfindel. It is never a good thing to see the heroes of our childhood demolished."
Glorfindel closed his hands into fists, the knuckles standing out white.
"I am not 'young Glorfindel' anymore, Erestor, and the days of my childhood have long passed. I wish to know what happened, and what drove you to play such a cruel trick on us!"
Erestor stared at Glorfindel. Or rather, he stared at a point just beside Glorfindel's head, giving Erestor’s face an empty expression, which was rather disconcerting. Then he dropped the sword, sat down and buried his hand in the soft sand.
"I was severely injured and left for dead on the Redhorn pass. Some Dwarves found me. My king refunded their expenses and brought me home. He made it clear that life in Mirkwood would be better for me, as I would not have to risk my neck for some noble lady who wishes to travel through an Orc-infested area despite everybody dissuading her from doing it. Maybe I should have protested and defended the Lady Celebrían, but as I have secretly had the same thoughts at times, I kept quiet."
Erestor's finger drew swirls and circles in the sand.
"Dwarves are not as skilled in healing as Elves are. They managed to fix my broken bones and stitch up torn flesh, but as for my eyes..." He drifted off.
Glorfindel swallowed hard; his mouth was very dry.
"So you have lived here ever since you... disappeared?" he croaked. Erestor nodded.
"My king has adjusted everything here for my needs. Furniture may not be moved, and the farriers have placed plaques in every corridor. When I touch the prominent signs I know where I am and to which side I have to turn. After all those years, I know the Great Cave by heart, and can move freely without help. Alas, outside of this place..." He broke off, and shrugged his shoulders.
"Lord Elrond could have helped you," Glorfindel said. "He is the greatest healer of our people, and..."
"Spare me your advice," Erestor snapped. "He is a great healer, yes, and I am very certain he would have just loved to spend his time on the Elf who failed his wife!"
Glorfindel shook his head, taken aback by the bitterness in Erestor's voice.
"You did not fail her, Erestor. She called me to her the day before she left for Valinor, telling me how you fought for her to the end. She certainly held no grudge; on the contrary, she spoke of you with great warmth and friendship."
Erestor said nothing, only bit his lips. His face closed up, and Glorfindel did not know what to say.
"Imladris is still your home. Everyone would be happy to see you again."
"You claim not to be young anymore, Glorfindel? Then please do not speak such childish words." Glorfindel was hurt by Erestor's sharp tone, but he knew no reply.
"Oh yes, I could return to Imladris, running into doors and falling over an Elfling's toy left on the stairs. I could totter through the streets and feel the pitiful eyes of my fellow Elves on me. 'Look, there goes Erestor, the poor fellow,' they will say. 'Once he was a great warrior, and now look at him!' I would rather be dead to them. Please accept this, Glorfindel."
Erestor searched around for his sword, then stood up. He walked towards Glorfindel, and came to a halt in front of him.
Glorfindel swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tears, but he was not overly successful. Erestor reached out, touching his hair, then gently ran his hand down to Glorfindel's face and cupped his cheek. He brushed the tears away with his thumb, and smiled.
"No reason to spill tears, Glorfindel. Return to your home and your family. I ask only one thing from you, and that is that you keep my secret. I rather be a dead legend than a living object of pity. Let me keep my dignity."
Glorfindel nodded, and his face was burning. Anger, sadness, and the feeling of Erestor's hand. It was like being struck by a lightning, and his knees became wobbly.
"I have your house," he finally said.
"I know. And she was right to give it to you. And now leave, Glorfindel."
With that, Erestor let go of the bow maker, crossed the room and continued his training. For a while, Glorfindel watched him, but when he could be sure that this had been Erestor's last word, he turned and left.
* * *
"I really do not think that this is a good idea, Legolas," Glorfindel protested. He tried to turn around and leave the room, but Legolas held him back by his sleeve.
"On the contrary, this is a very good idea, after all it is mine. What place would be more suitable for a confrontation than here? It is perfect, he cannot run away."
Glorfindel could have throttled Legolas. Or Erestor. Or both of them. This was a nightmare!
"I cannot go in there, Legolas. I… I mean… I would have to take my clothes off…"
Legolas rolled his eyes.
"Of course you have to take your clothes off! What, are you trying to tell me now that you take baths in Imladris with your clothes on?"
"No, we do not," Glorfindel growled. "But… Erestor is in there…"
Legolas patted Glorfindel's back in an almost fatherly gesture.
"There, there. No need for modesty. He will not go blind seeing your precious bits. This aside, he is blind already, and most precious bits look the same, with exception of mine, of course. Seen one, seen them all."
Glorfindel's face turned red. Whether this was caused by Legolas' blunt speech or the heat emanating from the cave in front of them could not be told, though. Legolas felt a tiny bit of pity for the other Elf, who looked like one going to battle Orcs without a weapon rather than like one going to enjoy the famous Mirkwood spa.
"Enough with the discussions already. Go in there, enjoy the sights, declare your love or drown him. I do not care, as long as this saga finally comes to an end. Off you go!"
With that, Legolas gave Glorfindel an encouraging jostle, and he stumbled forward.
The beauty of this place took Glorfindel's breath away. Despite the circumstances, he had to admire this miracle. The Mirkwood spa was actually a stalactite cave, hosting a natural pool, fed by a hot spring. Steam rose from the water, and there was a slight scent of sulphur in the air. Not enough to be unpleasant, but noticeable. Just like in Thranduil's council hall, crystals were embedded in the walls and the roof of the dome. The light of the many torches in the cave broke in the crystals, was reflected by the water and illuminated the cave.
It took Glorfindel a while to collect his thoughts, and he looked around. There was only one Elf in the pool. Not surprising considering that it was in the middle of the night. And Legolas had been right; it was Erestor who floated in the warm water at the shallow end of the pool, oblivious to Glorfindel's presence.
"Sink or swim!" Legolas hissed behind him, and so Glorfindel finally made up his mind and walked along the basin. He was certain that Erestor heard his footsteps, but of course the former captain of Imladris' guards could not know who he was. Erestor did not seem to care who his company was, anyway, for he neither moved his head nor did he say anything.
Glorfindel swallowed hard upon seeing the still figure floating in the dimmish, yellowish water. It was so wrong, standing here and watching, without Erestor knowing it. But yet, Glorfindel could not look away. Erestor's torso was covered with the intricate tattoos of the Mirkwood Elves, telling of his victory. The patterns were interrupted and disfigured by various scars, telling of his lost battles as well. The torn flesh had been stitched together without great skill, and so the tattoos now looked like a badly assembled puzzle.
Glorfindel divested himself of his clothes, and he took his time doing it. Jerkin, shirt, boots, leggings. He shivered briefly when his now naked skin was exposed to the air, but soon he was covered by a thin layer of sweat from the heat. Glorfindel stood on the upper step of the stairs leading into the pool, and waded into the water.
"Is it you, Legolas?" Erestor asked, without moving a limb. "I am not in the mood for wicked activities, my friend. I suggest you try to find relief in the arms of that lovely young armourer of yours."
There was a splash when Glorfindel dipped under the water, and another one when he emerged, shaking his wet hair.
"No, it is not Legolas. It is I, Glorfindel."
Erestor sighed, but made no attempt of fleeing the place.
"Glorfindel. You are still here. Did you not listen?"
Glorfindel clenched his jaws.
"You have no right to order me around, Erestor. You cannot tell me where to go and when to leave. I have decided to stay here in Mirkwood, and I suggest you get used to this idea very soon, for I shall not go away just because you want me to."
Erestor shook his head, surprise on his face.
"And, pray tell, what are you intending to do here in Mirkwood? Far away from Imladris' soft beds and rose gardens?"
"I am a bow maker. What place would be better for my business than Mirkwood?"
"Any place without spiders, I would say."
Glorfindel did not reply, and for a while, they were just drifting in the water, without speaking. There was a slight current in the pool, and so Glorfindel found himself floating next to Erestor soon. Somebody had to break the silence, and as Erestor did not seem to be willing to speak, Glorfindel decided to get it over and done with.
"I love you."
There. He had said it. He had often daydreamed about telling Erestor how he felt, certain that he would never be able to speak those words in the other's presence, and now it had been so easy. So natural.
Erestor turned his head to Glorfindel.
"Nonsense. You are clinging to a romantic childhood fantasy, Glorfindel. I am not the hero of your dreams. I have done bad things, things that I should be ashamed of, but I am not. I have hurt many and been overly generous with my affections. You should find yourself a nice little wife and have a couple of Elflings, Glorfindel."
"Will you stop treating me like an Elfling?" Glorfindel snapped, and before Erestor could say another word, he found himself pressed against the ground of the shallow water, with Glorfindel's body covering his. Two strong hands pinned his own over his head. Erestor, who had swallowed some water, coughed and struggled.
"I do not want a wife, and I do not want Elflings! Ever since the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, I have always wanted one thing only, and that is your love, Erestor. And if it was not for my love, I would hate you now for breaking my heart and making these last years miserable just because your vanity and your ego did not allow you to return to Imladris!"
For a short moment, Erestor panicked. He was not in control of this situation, and that was the worst thing about losing his eyesight. He had to rely on others, had to trust them, and this had never been something he felt comfortable with. He was not in charge anymore. Glorfindel was.
Despite his blindness, it would have been an easy thing for Erestor to free himself of Glorfindel, who was smaller and of slighter built, and no warrior. Years of experience were an advantage to Erestor. He could have thrown Glorfindel off easily and left.
Glorfindel suddenly realised what position they were in. He was painfully aware of the naked Elf underneath him, and he felt the heat surge through his body. Without further thinking, he let go of Erestor and buried his hand in the dark hair, pulled him closer and kissed him hungrily. The kiss tasted of sulphur and the Sloe he had drunk to support his courage. For a moment, Erestor was petrified, then he returned the kiss.
Glorfindel heard muffled voices, and it was like he had been drenched with a bucket of ice water. Realisation hit him - just what was he doing here? He let immediately go of Erestor.
"Erestor... I am so sorry..." he stuttered. "I really did not want to do that!"
Erestor reached out and pulled Glorfindel close again.
"You say so every time we kiss. It is becoming a tradition."
Glorfindel buried his head against Erestor's neck. He felt the warrior's hands on his back, idly caressing his skin. Glorfindel did not have to move; the current of the source feeding the pool rocked him gently against Erestor's body, and he groaned.
"This feels so good," he said. It was a clichéd thing to say, but Glorfindel, who was neither a poet nor a scholar, had no other words to express what he felt like. It did feel good, after all. Felt good to be here and be held by Erestor, inhaling his scent which was mixed with the sulphur. It felt good feeling those hands on his skin, hands that left burning streaks of fire where ever they touched him.
Glorfindel closed his eyes when Erestor nibbled and sucked on his ear. Countless were the times when he had dreamt of this. There had been a thousand scenarios in his fantasy of this moment. Sometimes he had been the seducer, other times the seduced one. But no fantasy of his had ever come close to this. A part of his being which he had thought lost, a piece of his heart which had gone missing had been returned to him.
Erestor, not one for long musings, hooked a leg over Glorfindel's backside and pulled him close, making his wishes known very clearly.
"Do you want me to... have you?" Glorfindel stuttered, and Erestor laughed. It was the laughter of the Erestor of old, the fearless warrior who had caught two young Elves sitting on a wall, eating apples they had stolen from Lord Elrond's garden.
"Now that is something nobody has ever asked me before!" Erestor laughed. "Do I need to show you the way, or will you find it..."
Glorfindel had found his way without further guidance, and Erestor's quip was cut off by a loud groan when Glorfindel entered him. Their love-making was short but intense; there would be time for sophistication later. Erestor would have given anything to see his lover's face now. His fingers caressed Glorfindel's face, and he could feel the sweat on his lover's skin, the way he frowned in concentration, and finally, the expression of ultimate entrancement.
Glorfindel went limp in Erestor's arms, breathing heavily, and the warrior hugged him close, tucking his lover's head under his chin. He stroked the wet hair. Glorfindel took Erestor's hand and kissed it.
Erestor smiled.
"My bow maker," he said, and caressed Glorfindel's back.
"My sword master," Glorfindel murmured, exhausted, and drifted off into sleep.
"My lion-heart," Erestor whispered, and pressed a gentle kiss on Glorfindel's head.