SHELTER
Overall rating: yellow
Category: slash (two male Elves in love), some het content in later chapters
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel, OMC/OMC, Erestor/OFC (the audience goes "eeek!")
Warnings: melancholy, sap and tissue-alert for the last chapter
Beta: the wonderful Eveiya
Summary: Glorfindel learns that he does not know as much about Erestor as he thought. And Erestor finally confronts a part of his past he tried to forget.
Chapter 4
"I suppose my hope that you followed her to her chamber only to read her a bedtime story is in vain?"
Erestor breathed a sigh of relief. A sarcastic Glorfindel was better than an angry or hurt one, and he had secretly feared his husband might be upset by his tale. Glorfindel, who noticed the sigh, chuckled.
"Erestor. Beloved. My precious dark jewel. Did you really expect me to flee our bed over something which happened before we even met?"
"So you do not mind?" the advisor asked, looking up at his husband with hopeful eyes.
Glorfindel shrugged, then he scratched his chin.
"I would not put it quite like that. Of course I mind. I regret every moment of my life that I did not spend with you, and the thought that you have lain with others does not exactly cheer me up. It is something I would rather not know about in detail, as I am sure you understand. But you did nothing wrong."
Erestor smiled, and kissed Glorfindel.
"It is amazing how you still manage to surprise me, Fin."
The warrior rolled his eyes, then he gave Erestor a sidewise glance.
"Was it good?"
"What?"
"Well - it."
Erestor frowned.
"I thought you did not want to know the details?"
Glorfindel looked a little guilty.
"Please forgive me, I cannot help being curious. I have never known any mortals that intimately."
"Curiosity killed the Balrog-slayer. But very well. When I woke up the next morning…"
* * *
When Erestor woke up the next morning, it took him one moment to remember where he was, and two to remember what had happened the previous night. The Elf sat up, pushed the curtains aside and peeked out of the window. It must have been very early, the day was only a grey shimmer on the horizon, but Rhian had already left. Erestor supposed that she had to feed and tend to the animals, and in fact, he could see the faint glow of a lantern in the sty.
How did he feel? Erestor sank back into the soft mattress, folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, considering this question. He enjoyed the silence here – in the Last Homely House, there was always some kind of noise, even in the deepest hours of the night. Imladris itself seemed to be alive at times, and it never slept. This small cottage, however, was silent. All Erestor could hear was his own breathing and the first faint whistle of a morning bird.
Erestor decided he felt great. He had missed being touched, being close to somebody. He just had not realised how much. It was not that the previous night had been an unforgettable explosion of passion, not at all. Their love-making had been slow, loving, simple and respectful. Though Erestor's lovers had been few and far between, he considered himself no beginner in the art of love; even one as shy as he had acquired some skills over the centuries.
But this encounter, unlike the previous ones, had not left him unsatisfied. It was not so much the comfortable tiredness of the body after a night of love, but a satisfaction of the mind. Something had been missing in Erestor's life, and now it was not missing anymore. Erestor could not have named it, the closest description he could come up with was that the invisible curtain which had separated him from the company of others had been lifted. He felt more alive than before. How could this be? It had been nothing but an encounter of two lonely souls. Could this really make such a difference?
Erestor got up, stretched and splashed water from the wash basin on his face. It was fresh – Rhian must have brought it in before she left. How come he had not noticed her departure? He combed his hair, not bothering to braid it, and slipped into his clothes. His guards were still sleeping, he could hear Taldor and Farlin shift in their bed. Erestor, whose hearing was far better than Rhian's, had been an involuntary witness to their nightly activities, and he suspected they would be rather exhausted today.
The Elf walked down the stairs with light steps, and if it hadn't been so early, he would probably have whistled. When he opened the front door, cold morning air greeted him, and he welcomed it, taking a deep breath. He paused a moment to take in the sight of the fields, unreal looking under the mist, then he crossed the yard and entered the sty.
Rhian looked up from her basket when he entered. She was kneeling on the ground, collecting eggs for breakfast. The hens eyed him suspiciously, but then seemed to decide he meant no harm and went about their business, scratching in the ground.
"Good morning," she said, and smiled at him.
"It is," Erestor replied, returning the smile. This was a little awkward. How to address her? "My love" or "beloved" did not seem suitable, and calling her by her name only was too cold. He stepped closer and came to stand behind her, peeking over her shoulder.
"Are you collecting eggs?" he asked, though it was obvious what she was doing.
Rhian nodded.
"Yes. We will have pancakes for breakfast."
"Ah."
Rhian put the last egg in the basket, then she got up and wiped her hands on her skirt. Before Erestor could make another attempt at conversation, she turned and put her arms around his neck.
"You know, you could help me in the kitchen."
Erestor put his arms around her waist, and risked a smile.
"I do not know if I will be a big help, my dear," he said, and he could see in her eyes that he had addressed her the right way. "I am afraid that I lack the skills for this."
She kissed him on the nose, a quick, friendly kiss, and laughed.
"You said the same thing yesterday."
Erestor blushed, and he was very grateful when she kissed him again. This time he returned the kiss, enjoying the gentle teasing of her tongue and the warmth of the soft body pressed to his. Rhian let herself fall back into the hay, pulling him down with her.
"I hope I have not given reason for complaints or lacked consideration," Erestor said, and nibbled on her ear. An Elf would have writhed by now, but obviously mortal ears were less sensitive. Indeed – the things he learned on this journey were most fascinating.
Rhian shook her head.
"If you are only half as skilled in making pancakes, you could work as a cook for our king."
Again Erestor's cheeks flushed, and he cursed himself for it. Blushing was for maidens and Elflings, not for a warrior and advisor!
Rhian ran her hand through his hair and gently caressed his ear.
"These pointed ears are very beautiful, you know. I suppose they are not special to you, but my people are really fond of these tips."
Now it was Erestor's turn to laugh.
"I will tell Lord Elrond that our folk should braid their hair in a manner which will leave the ears visible in future. If your words are true, this could improve relations between Imladris and Gondor significantly!"
They both laughed, then they kissed again, gently at first, then more eagerly. Rhian took Erestor's face between her hands.
"I want you. Pointed ears and all. Now. Here."
Erestor's eyes got wide.
"You want us to … here? In a sty? With the pigs watching?"
She nodded.
"You are a great warrior and advisor, I'm sure you'll manage. And the pigs won't tell anybody."
"The pigs of Gondor are obviously more discreet than the pigs in Imladris then."
Erestor caressed her cheeks, then he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"You were very loving with me when we did this last night," he said, surprised that the words did not sound half as silly as he had feared.
Rhian looked at him, very serious all of a sudden.
"You deserve to be treated lovingly."
Erestor sighed.
"You know that I cannot stay here, do you not? Once the Harvest Celebrations are over, we shall return to Imladris."
Rhian ran her finger down his jaw.
"I know. I don't expect you to settle down here and become a farmer. But we should put the time that remains to good use."
And so they did - much to Erestor's delight and the pigs' confusion.
* * *
Usually, Rhian loved working in the fields. She liked being so close to nature, enjoyed the scent of the earth and the feeling of the ground under her bare feet.
But she really hated potatoes. The dry, dusty earth on her fingers drove her crazy, she hated the feeling and wiped her hands repeatedly on her skirt. Her back ached, and she felt a headache coming on. Her son was playing next to her, and from where she stood, she could oversee the farmhands. She had hired some men to help with the harvest, and cursed her husband for leaving her with all the work. What she had told the Elf last year was true – ‘taters harvest was the only time she missed the cheating bastard.
Rhian wiped the sweat from her forehead. Ah, Erestor. Whenever her life seemed too hard or worries were about to overwhelm her, she would find strength and joy in the memory of his beautiful face, but even more so, his gentle being. She doubted that he had any idea how precious he had been to her. And it was probably better this way. Who knew – maybe he had met a nice Elven lady by now, and was reading poetry to her under a starlit sky? This was probably what Elves did when they courted the lady of their hearts.
Rhian had to grin. Maybe this was custom among Elves, but she simply couldn't imagine stern, serious Erestor courting anybody. Maybe that was the reason he had not found a wife yet? Was he too stern for an Elf? Or were they all blind?
'Stop mooning over the Elf, you silly woman', she chided herself. 'There is a lot of work to do, and you knew right from the beginning that he wasn't here to stay.'
With a sigh, Rhian bent down again, pulling on a potato plant with more force than needed.
"Why do you not take a rest? Drink some water and play with your son, I will take care of this."
She started up and spun around.
"Erestor?" she gasped, and the Elf laughed.
"I am glad to see that you still remember me."
He looked very tired, and very dirty. He was clad in simple black garb, his long black hair firmly held out of his face by a single braid. She could see that a long, hard journey lay behind him, but his eyes were smiling, and she flung herself into his arms.
The hands stroking his face over and over again were rough and dirty, the fingers leaving smudges of dirt on his skin, and the kiss they shared was salty from her sweat.
But Erestor felt that he had never tasted anything sweeter.
* * *
TBC