Title & Chapter Number: Good Relations 11/16
Author(s): & - Author's Index
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: We do not own these characters; they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. We are not making money off this story; it was written for the pure pleasure of it.
Warnings: Slight angst, graphic homoerotic (slash) content, incest.
Betas: Alex
Cast: Haldir/Glorfindel, Elladan/Elrohir, Legolas/Elrohir, Thranduil/Elladan
Timeline: TA AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: The sequel to "Peace Offerings". Glorfindel and Haldir escort the twins to Mirkwood at Galadriel's request in the hopes of forming a political union.
Erestor helped Galathil dress in the narrow passageway, before retrieving the lamp and leading his pupil to the exit. He pushed the tapestry out of the way and waited until Galathil had stepped into the hall before replacing the lamp. Once again, they heard the sound of stone grating against stone as the secret door slid shut.
Without speaking, Erestor took Galathil's hand in his and led his young lover back through the hallway and up the stairs that led to his room. Closing his door behind him, he locked it against interruption, and turned, folding his arms across his chest.
Galathil looked back at him, his face a mask of warring emotions, though confusion was foremost. The Prince opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it again, shaking his head.
"Speak what is on your mind, Prince. I know you must have questions," Erestor said quietly, moving away from the door to the small, pedestal shaped table in the corner. A bottle of red wine and two glasses waited, and he poured equal amounts into each glass before handing one to the stunned Prince.
Galathil took a deep, fortifying sip of his wine before he managed to gather his thoughts enough to speak.
"Adar, Legolas," he said softly. "Elladan and Elrohir." He looked up at Erestor and frowned. "How did this happen? How long have you known that my father loved my brother?" He shivered delicately, taking another sip of wine. "I do not know whether to be happy for them or revolted by the prospect. It does not seem the natural way of things."
"Who are we to say what is natural and what is not, Galathil? Would you deny your father and your brother their heart's desire?" Erestor arched an eyebrow gracefully. "Are you in a position to know their hearts better than they do themselves?"
Galathil dropped his gaze to his wine and shook his head. "No, I suppose not, my lord." He looked up and met Erestor's gaze unsteadily. "They seemed to genuinely love each other."
Erestor smiled gently. "They do, my prince. They have lived with this secret for long, hiding their love from others who would not understand it. Can you imagine what that must have been like for them?"
"No," Galathil admitted quietly. "I cannot. It must have been difficult for them, to love each other and see others who could openly express it. Never having that freedom," he said softly, shaking his head. "I cannot imagine what that would be like."
"The mark of a great ruler is wisdom, Galathil," Erestor replied seriously. "In order to achieve true wisdom, one must look beyond what society deems is right, and think for one's self, make one's own decisions. To do this you must be brave enough, strong enough not to give in to the pressure of having your thoughts ruled by others. We are all free, Galathil, free to ask questions, free to make our own decisions and choose our own paths. But we must be brave enough to do so."
He placed his glass of wine on the table, and took Galathil's from his hand as well. Turning, he pulled the Prince into his arms, enfolding his lithe body against him. "Law does not apply to one's heart, Galathil. Love has its own rules, its own law, that is above the judgment or questioning of others. However, we live in a world that does not always respect love in its more unconventional forms." He placed a kiss against the soft skin of Galathil's temple before continuing. "Therefore, in order to assure that your father and brother, and Elladan and Elrohir, are not hurt by their choices we must never breathe a word of what we saw to anyone. Understood?" He drew back to look at Galathil's face.
Galathil's frown faded and he nodded slowly. "Yes, my Lord, I do." He managed a faint smile at his tutor. "Well, now can I see why Lord Elrond has you as his advisor. You are most wise, my Lord Erestor. Glad I am to have had you as my tutor in this, among other things." His smile turned slightly wicked.
Erestor gave him a mock scowl. "Impudent princeling. Ready yourself for bed. It has been a long and tiring day."
~*~*~*~
Haldir dressed, only his short, jerky movements revealed how upset he was by Glorfindel's words.
He had not meant to upset his lover, but he felt that, as seemed typical of late, that Glorfindel was overreacting. He replayed the scene in the bath over and over in his mind, and could not understand why Glorfindel had become so upset. His lover did behave less than his years – he freely admitted it. Why Haldir's comment had set him off confused him, and the fact that Glorfindel did not accept his apology angered him.
Scowling, Haldir finished dressing, intent upon finding Glorfindel.
Servants of Thranduil's hall took one look at the scowl on the marchwarden's face and wisely stepped out of his path. He took the steps quickly, his keen gaze sweeping the hall for any sign of his lover. One elf stood nervously by the main door, and Haldir targeted him quickly.
"Did you see Lord Glorfindel pass this way?" he barked.
Nodding, the elf pointed at the doors. "He went through, that way," he answered, before moving quickly out of the way.
He moved swiftly and with purpose, fairly certain where his lover might have gone to deal with his anger. His suspicions were confirmed when he reached the training arena and spotted the familiar golden form.
"Glorfindel, we need to talk," Haldir said, crossing the sand.
"No, we do not." Glorfindel replied coolly as he unsheathed his sword and stepped toward a large cotton stuffed leather bag resembling an orc.
Haldir's scowl deepened as he watched his lover ignore him. He reached out, catching the end of Glorfindel's tunic in his fist. "Yes," he growled. "We do."
Glorfindel's eyes drifted down to where Haldir clutched his tunic and he looked back up at the marchwarden with an emotionless expression. "Do you plan to tear it off me, Haldir? For I fight just as well without it."
Haldir's eyes narrowed. "I did not come here to fight with you, Glorfindel," he replied, his voice equally cool. "I came here to try to make amends with you. Will you at least listen?"
"Well," Glorfindel said, his voice calm but an undercurrent of anger was present nonetheless. "That seems to be what we do more often than not. Try to make amends. Frankly, I grow weary of this entire affair, Haldir. I said what I had to say. You and I are clearly not suited to one another. You would do better to find a mate that was more like yourself, more... staid. Perhaps Erestor is still available." He stepped back, the tunic slipping free of the marchwarden's hands. He swung his sword in a roundabout over his head making solid contact with the dummy. "As for myself," he said as he drew the blade across the makeshift orc's throat. "I would do better to find one who is more lighthearted and appreciates who I am."
Haldir's jaw tightened. "So that is it?" he snapped, stepping close once more. His eyes were cold. "Is it just that simple for you to step away? What we have means that little to you?" He drew himself up and gave a brittle smile. "Perhaps I was mistaken to believe in your words of love, your promises to me, if you are willing to give up this easily."
Glorfindel hurled his sword toward the ground and it stuck in the sand, point down, his grip on his composure had finally snapped. "Easily?" he shouted, "You think this is easy? To give my heart to one who constantly finds fault in me? From the night you were deposited in my chamber, I have placated, apologized, soothed, reassured, contained my temper... by the Valar, Haldir! I have done everything short of turn myself into you! What more do you want from me?"
"Your respect, for one," Haldir snarled, his fists clenching tightly. "That you understand that I am NOT like you, but that I am still capable of loving you, though the Valar only knows why. You think you are the only one who has controlled his temper? Gods, Glorfindel!" he was nearly shouting. "I resent that you feel you are placating me, or worse yet, soothing me! I never, never asked you to become me! I only ask that you understand me and accept me for who I am." He moved closer, his arms stiff at his sides. "And to accept my apologies when I offer them, and not storm out like a petulant elfling whenever we disagree!"
Glorfindel stared at him for a moment, hurt clearly evident in his eyes. When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was very quiet. "I was once like you, so serious, so dedicated to my duty. My entire being was wrapped up in what I did, in earning the respect of my peers and masters." He sighed. "After what I have been through, what I have seen, I recognize that even for an elf, life can be short, Haldir. I will waste no more time acting proper, playing the part of the staid, serious advisor. The fact that I play pranks, appreciate bawdy humor, makes me no less dedicated to my duty than you are. The difference between you and I is that I live life, Haldir, not just muddle through it under the guise of duty." He picked up his sword and wiped it clean, placing it back in its sheath. "I am sorry you have wasted so much time on me, on so petulant an elf. Perhaps when you finally sail west you can ask the Valar yourself why you and I were thrown together when it was clearly a waste of your time." He walked away.
"Glorfindel!" Haldir cried, his pride refusing to allow him to follow. "Do not walk away from me."
Glorfindel left the arena with his head bowed, looking as if the weight of all of Arda rested on his shoulders.
Haldir stared after him until he disappeared from view, before his face crumbled with anger and grief. He dropped to his knees, the sand cushioning the impact of his fall, and bowed his head. For a long time, he knelt, motionless, only the fine trembling of his shoulders giving testimony to his pain and heartache. Finally he rose, wiping his hand across his eyes and drying them. Taking a deep breath, he schooled his expression, until he wore a mask of calm, stoic composure. He stepped from the sands without looking back.
~*~*~*~
Galathil curled next to Erestor, enjoying the warmth of his silky skin against his own. The Noldo's arms were curled around him, holding him even as he slept, and Galathil could hear the slow and steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his ear.
He should be asleep by now, but he was not. By rights, his body should not be stirring the way it was, especially after the last lesson Erestor had given him. Yet he could not help the way his body responded to the simple touch of Erestor's bare skin against his own. His arousal throbbed insistently, and he could not keep from pressing it against Erestor's thigh.
He raised himself slightly on his elbow and looked down at the sleeping Noldo. Erestor's lovely dark eyes were glazed in reverie, and Galathil smiled to himself. His lover's eyes were one of his most arresting features; eyes so dark they appeared almost black, especially in the heat of passion, were framed by lashes so thick and dark they appeared to have been daubed with soot. They were expressive eyes, capable of evincing so many different emotions, but Galathil loved them best when they burned with desire.
His gaze traveled across the aquiline nose and finely sculpted cheekbones, before resting in fascination on Erestor's mouth. It really was difficult to decide which was his lover's best feature, really: his eyes, or his luscious mouth, so red it seemed to have been stained by wine or berry juice. It was a mouth made for kissing, for nibbling, for sucking on. He could never get enough of the taste of Erestor's mouth, and he relished every kiss his lover bestowed upon him.
Galathil shifted slightly against Erestor's body, but his movement did not wake his lover as he continued his visual exploration. His eyes followed the smooth column of Erestor's throat to where it joined with his collarbone. His fingers itched to trace the delicate skin there, where it stretched to thinness, knowing it was even softer and silkier than it looked. He continued downward, admiring the muscles and planes of his lover's chest, still well defined from his years of training with the sword and archery. His arousal throbbed at the thought of tracing the line between Erestor's pectorals, before snaking across to lightly tease a pale, dusky colored nipple until it hardened deliciously beneath his tongue.
The sheet covered Erestor's body just below his stomach, and Galathil carefully lifted it away, his breath stilling as his gaze drifted lower. A light dusting of hair, the same ebony color as what fell from Erestor's head covered the base of his lover's arousal. The length of silky flesh lay nestled, soft and harmless looking, between Erestor's lean thighs, but Galathil knew from experience what it looked like when fully aroused. He sighed quietly, remembering the feel of Erestor's hardness filling him, stretching him, taking him to heights of pleasure he did not know existed.
Pulling his gaze away from Erestor's length, he continued his slow perusal, admiring the finely shaped muscles in his lover's thighs and calves, before finally ending at a pair of elegant and graceful looking feet. A smile curved his lips, and he began to retrace his path.
Erestor had shifted slightly at some point and his legs had parted, one bending slightly at the knee, giving Galathil a tantalizing glimpse of the tender skin at the back of his knee. Unable to resist such a tempting treat, he leaned forward, swiping his tongue across the crease. Erestor shifted again in his sleep, and Galathil darted a worried glance at his lover's face, worried that his impulsive behavior may have awakened him. To his relief, Erestor's eyes were still glazed, his breathing slow and even.
Silently chastising himself for his foolishness, he returned to his visual exploration.
Was it his imagination, or did Erestor's length look a little more substantial than it had when he had first gazed at it? He was not certain, but he felt an almost unbearable urge to lightly stroke the soft, velvet skin of his lover's length, to watch it grow and harden beneath his hands. Even better than that would be to take the softness into his mouth and feel it expand slowly, filling him until he could hold no more.
His own arousal wept freely, throbbing insistently against his leg, and he struggled to ignore it as he swept his gaze upwards, inch by inch, lingering on Erestor's nipples for several moments, before finally returning to his lover's beautiful face.
Eyes so dark they appeared black glittered up at him in amusement and something else he could not name.
"Enjoying yourself, my prince?" Erestor asked softly.
Galathil felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at having been caught. "Forgive me, my lord," he stammered. "I did not mean to rouse you."
Erestor reached for Galathil's hand and placed it directly on his fully hardened arousal. "But rouse me you have, princeling." His generous mouth curved into a wicked smile. "What do you intend to do about it?"
It took him several tries to form the words. "What would my lord wish of me?"
The Noldo's eyelids lowered halfway as he looked up at Galathil. Instead of answering, he reached up, pulling Galathil across his chest. His lean thighs parted as he settled Galathil between them, and the Prince gave a soft, needful groan.
"I think, perhaps, it is time to know something of what you would wish, my prince," Erestor said gently. His hands slid across Galathil's back and down, before coming to rest on the curves of the Prince's bottom. His black gaze met Galathil's and held him captive. "What would you wish of me, my prince?" he demanded quietly.
His mouth felt unaccountably dry as he realized what Erestor was offering. He licked his lips, looking down at his lover with open hunger.
"Everything," Galathil breathed softly. "I would wish for everything, my lord."
A soft chuckle escaped Erestor and he arched his eyebrow delicately. "That is quite a request, melethron," he said, smiling. "Perhaps we should start simply?"
Galathil nodded, feeling foolish. "Aye," he replied, rocking his hips against Erestor's and drawing a soft gasp from his lover's lips. He smiled, pleased that he had elicited such a reaction. "Kiss me, my lord."
Erestor's smile widened as he moved his hands upward to cradle Galathil's face. "Yes, my prince," he replied, drawing his mouth to his own.
He felt as if the air had been knocked out of him as Erestor kissed him hungrily, his tongue hot and insistent as it slid into his mouth. Hands drew him closer, holding him still as his lover plundered and ravaged his mouth, finally giving him a taste at what Erestor's kisses had hinted at all along. He opened his mouth wider, whimpering low in the back of his throat as Erestor's tongue slid deeper into his mouth, curling to flick teasingly against his teeth. His lover drew his tongue into his mouth and sucked on it, making Galathil moan helplessly.
Galathil's hips ground sinuously against Erestor's. The slippery fluid that leaked from their arousals made the sensation of skin rubbing over skin even more delicious. Galathil struggled to keep a tenuous hold on his control as he deliberately slid their lengths together, and it was Erestor who finally broke from the kiss to groan in pleasure.
His mouth free to explore, Galathil did not hesitate to indulge in his earlier fantasy to taste Erestor fully. He raised his upper body on his arms so he could fasten his mouth to the thin skin where Erestor's neck met his shoulder. He drew the delicate skin into his mouth hard, sucking on it even as his tongue swirled over the flesh he bruised. Erestor purred, his hands burying themselves in Galathil's hair as his body arched beneath him.
Galathil drew back, pleased at the small red mark he had made on the pale skin of his lover's neck. He had marked him as his for now, though part of him was stunned that Erestor had allowed it. Intrigued, he bit gently on the tender skin just below the pit of his lover's arm, and he felt Erestor give a delightful shudder beneath him.
His tongue drew circles down the narrow path between the muscles of Erestor's chest, before moving to explore his nipple. The skin pebbled beneath his tongue, and he drew the hardened peak between his lips, sucking on it as he had Erestor's neck. His lover cried out softly, his eyes closed in pleasure. Smiling against the silken warmth of Erestor's skin, he moved to the other nipple, giving it the same, loving attention. Erestor's hands tightened their grip in his hair when he drew the nipple between his teeth, biting gently.
"Ai!" Erestor cried, shuddering once more. "Saes, Galathil."
Hearing his lover plead with him this way was more exciting than he could have possibly imagined. He continued his torment of the hardened nub, licking it, nipping it gently with his teeth, loving the feel of Erestor's body writhing beneath his. Finally, he heeded his lover's soft pleading words, wondering if Erestor himself knew he was speaking them, and moved downward. He could not help but linger at the small indentation at the center of Erestor's stomach, loving the way the skin jumped and trembled when he delved his tongue into it deeply. He could hear his lover's ragged breathing, his soft, needful groans the sweetest sounds he had ever heard.
Galathil used the tip of his tongue to trace a wet path down the rest of Erestor's stomach, before he nuzzled the soft hairs that grew at the base of his lover's arousal. The scent that rose from Erestor's skin was heady – an intoxicating combination of musk and spice he could almost taste on the back of his tongue. He buried his nose in the soft skin at the juncture of Erestor's groin and nipped the flesh with his teeth, leaving another mark of his passage.
"Saes, melethron," Erestor murmured huskily. "Touch me."
He rolled his eyes up to meet the burning gaze of his lover's and smiled wickedly. "Patience, my lord," he whispered, sliding his tongue along the crease of his hip. "I will savor every moment of this and not be hurried."
A weak chuckle escaped Erestor. "Very well," he managed, closing his eyes as Galathil finally gave into his own need and ran his tongue over the crown of Erestor's length.
He had tasted Erestor this way before, many times, as a matter of fact, but it never ceased to thrill him, the combination of smell and flavor that was uniquely Erestor's. He filled his mouth with it, taking it as deeply as he could, before letting the velvety hardness slip through his lips. His tongue flicked out against the tip, gathering the droplets that had formed there and rolling them on his tongue, savoring the taste. He drew it between his lips once more, his teeth lightly scraping over the skin as he swallowed his lover's length deeply.
Erestor's hands gripped the sheets beneath him and his hips rose and fell with the steady rhythm of Galathil's motions. He could hear his lover's breathing quicken, his groans taking a desperate edge as he brought him towards the pinnacle of his pleasure. Galathil's own arousal ached where it pressed against the mattress but he ignored it, concentrating solely on giving his lover pleasure. His hands gripped Erestor's thighs and spread them wider, before brushing his fingers teasingly over his lover's opening.
Erestor shuddered, crying out, and his length seemed to swell between Galathil's lips before the warmth of his seed spilled into his throat. He swallowed, his mouth working to catch every drop, milking his lover's arousal until Erestor was twitching beneath him. He drew back, finally, letting the length of flesh slip from his lips.
Galathil rested his head against one trembling thigh and looked up at Erestor, smiling at the flushed and debauched look on his lover's face.
Licking his kiss-swollen lips, Erestor smiled back at Galathil, his eyes still hungry and dark. "Do you wish to have me, my prince?" he asked huskily.
He blinked; stunned that Erestor would offer him the one thing he never dreamed he would have. He licked his own lips and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Erestor reached across the bed to the small table, his fingers closing on the jar of salve. Without a word, he handed it to Galathil, and spread his legs invitingly.
Galathil took it from him with fingers that trembled with excitement. "Are you certain, my lord?" he whispered.
Dark eyes seemed to burn him with their heat. "Take me, Galathil. I wish to feel you inside me."
He needed no further urging, and he managed to open the jar, scooping out a generous portion of the slippery substance with his fingers. He coated his arousal thoroughly, groaning softly at the touch of his hand on his flesh. He gathered more of the salve on two fingers before setting the jar aside. Taking a deep breath, he deliberately locked his gaze with Erestor's, and slid his fingers into his lover's heat.
Smooth, heated walls gripped his fingers as he pushed them deep, and he groaned softly, imagining what that heat would feel like surrounding his length. He twisted his fingers slightly within their tight prison, curling them, seeking out the small bundle of nerves he knew would give Erestor pleasure. His index finger brushed against it, and he was rewarded with a rumbling groan, his lover's body quivering in response.
Erestor's length was already starting to re-awaken, and Galathil used his other hand to stroke it into hardness once more. His fingers thrust, curling, finding his mark again, and he finally heard the words he wanted to hear.
"Saes, Galathil. Do not make me wait," Erestor whispered, his eyes closing tight.
He moved, leaning forward to brush his lips against his lover's. "As you wish, my lord," he murmured. He withdrew his fingers from Erestor's body and placed the tip of his arousal against his opening. Bending his head to claim Erestor's lips once more, he slowly pushed forward, pushing past the tight ring of muscles and sliding into his lover's welcoming body. Tight heat gripped him so deliciously he was nearly undone. He held himself still, sheathed in Erestor's body, and took a trembling breath.
Erestor's eyes fluttered open, his brows slightly drawn as he looked up at Galathil.
A small, trembling smile curved Galathil's lips. He wanted to remember this moment forever. "Amin mela lle, Erestor," he whispered, almost shyly.
His lover's smile was tender, though his eyes burned with heat. "Move, prince," he whispered back.
Galathil moved. His mouth claimed Erestor's in a bruising kiss as he began to thrust, his tongue mimicking the actions of his body. The need for air and to give voice to his pleasure made him finally draw back, his hand gripping one of his lover's thighs and lifting it higher against his chest. His other hand curled around Erestor's length, stroking it in opposition with his thrusts.
Erestor groaned, his hips lifting to meet Galathil's thrusts, taking him deeper, and he felt his lover shudder with pleasure when his length struck his mark. He shifted slightly, aiming for it again, and was rewarded by a deep, breathless moan. He felt Erestor tighten around him, his passage squeezing him mercilessly and he cried out. The warmth of his lover's seed spilled over his fingers as he buried his length deep, his own body shuddering as he attained his release.
Utterly spent, he collapsed against Erestor's chest, his length still twitching inside his lover's body as he gasped for breath. Arms reached up to enfold him, stroking the light sweat from his skin, and he felt the soft press of Erestor's lips against his forehead.
"Hannon lle, Erestor," he said finally, when he could speak. He heard his lover's soft chuckle.
"You are welcome, my prince."
His length softened and slid free, and Galathil rolled from the bed, mindful of his lover's limbs. He padded soundlessly across the room and fetched a cloth, which he dampened from the bowl of water on the washing stand. He retraced his steps and knelt beside Erestor on the bed. Using the damp cloth, he thoroughly and lovingly cleaned the traces of their passion from Erestor's skin, before applying it to his own. Tossing the cloth in the basket that held soiled clothing, he curled his body next to Erestor's, snuggling against him.
He felt Erestor's arm curl around his shoulders, pressing him closer for a moment, and he sighed, utterly content.
"Are you well pleased, my prince?" Erestor asked softly.
"Yes, my Lord," he replied sleepily.
"Good," Erestor murmured.
Galathil turned his head so he could see his lover's face better. "May I ask you a question, my lord?" he asked hesitantly.
A dark eyebrow quirked upwards before Erestor finally nodded. "What is it, Galathil?"
"Have you ever…"
"Let one of my pupils take me?" Erestor finished for him. He smiled faintly and shook his head. "No, Galathil. Now go to sleep."
Galathil smiled. "Yes, my lord," he whispered, curling against Erestor once more. He felt his body relax as he finally succumbed to reverie.
~*~*~*~
Haldir carried the few belongings he had brought with him to Mirkwood to the room he had been given, grateful that the servant had been content to simply point the way without following him.
Setting his belongings aside, he shut the door and locked it behind him. He leaned against the door for a moment, glancing over his new quarters without much interest. His eyes fell naturally on the bed, and he saw that it was smaller than the one he had shared with Glorfindel. Emotion threatened to overwhelm him and he viciously pushed his hurt and anger away. He would not grieve like his heart had been torn from him, shattered into a million pieces.
Even if it was true.
He stumbled slightly when he stepped away from the door. He felt weary, drained, as if he had spent the last few hours battling orcs instead of his former lover. He straightened, stiffening his spine and clinging to what was left of his pride.
Glorfindel was the one who had finally walked away, not him. It was Glorfindel's fault, not his.
Haldir undressed and slid beneath the sheets, reaching up to extinguish the small lamp on the bedside table. He folded his arms beneath his head and stared up at the ceiling.
Perhaps it was all for the best, he tried to convince himself, blinking in the darkness. He felt something warm and wet slide down his cheek, but ignored it. It was better to find out now that Glorfindel did not love him, did not want him, did not need him.
He was better off without him, he thought, tears sliding unheeded down his cheeks. He was far better off alone.
~*~*~*~
Glorfindel stared up in the blackness of his room, trying to ignore how empty the bed felt with only him in it, trying to ignore the way his former lover's scent seemed to permeate the sheets. He did not acknowledge the ache in his heart and body, or the remorse that filled him for his harshly spoken words. He refused to remember the hurt in Haldir's eyes, or the sound of Haldir's voice when he called after him.
It was better now, to have found out that he and Haldir were not meant to be, before things went too far. It was better to know that they were not as compatible as he had thought, despite the way the way his heart ached with an emptiness that threatened to consume him. He convinced himself that Haldir had never truly loved him for himself, that he had never understood him or accepted him at all. They were far too different for it to have ever worked out happily. He understood that now, even if his heart cried out differently. He had tried, hadn't he? But what was he supposed to do, change who he was? Haldir was not willing to do that. So why should he be willing?
He rolled to his side, clutching the pillow that still held Haldir's scent.
Glorfindel tasted his own tears, and they tasted of bitterness. Yes, he thought, clutching the pillow tighter, drying his tears against the softness. He was far better off alone, as he always imagined he would be.
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