Title & Chapter Number: Fate's Mirror 9/?
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website:
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: do not own these characters, they are the property of Tolkien, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this…
Warnings: This story is rated NC-17 and contains male slash pairings and explicit sexual content. If you find this offensive, or you are under-age, I strongly suggest you stop now.
Betas: Larian Elensar
Cast: Erestor, Glorfindel, Gildor, Thranduil
Timeline: SA
Spoilers: None
Summary: Set during the second half of the second age. Reincarnated Glorfindel returns to Lindon from the Halls of Mandos to pledge his service to the High King.
Notes:
October, 1696, Second Age, Lindon
Gildor sat in a large chair by the fire in his room. He had helped his friend pack for his journey and had just finished his own packing. As he sipped his brandy he ran combat scenarios and troop rosters over in his mind, anything to keep his thoughts from straying back to the persistent fear that something terrible was going to happen to those he cared for. He had lived long and seen much death in his life. He closed his eyes and listened to the crackling of the fire, feeling its heat warm his skin and his bare feet. He leaned back in his chair, conjuring the vision he so often sought when he felt lonely. Golden hair, alabaster skin, eyes of the brightest sapphire blue. He had never told Glorfindel that he had seen him with the Prince in the corridor, had seen how Thranduil’s hands glided across his lean form, how the Prince’s lips had caressed the warrior’s ear as he whispered into it. He often wondered what it would have been like to be in Thranduil’s place. It wasn’t that he loved the warrior in that way, but he certainly found him to be beautiful, and it had been a very long time.
As he set down his goblet, he allowed his imagination to take over; summoning the fantasy that kept him company on lonely nights as of late. His hands drifted across his chest, lightly scraping across his silk tunic, his fingers moving to unbutton it and expose his skin to the warm air of the room. His fingers lightly pinched his nipples before he rubbed his palm over the pebbled nubs and he moaned quietly in response. He felt himself hardening inside his suede leggings, his arousal beginning to swell against the fabric. He imagined it was Glorfindel’s hands that touched him that way, he envisioned the warrior kneeling between his open legs, his hands sliding across his skin, his lips caressing his flesh.
A soft knock on the door broke his moment of bliss, and he sat up in his chair and answered quietly. "Yes?"
"Gildor, mellon, it is me. May I come in?"
Glorfindel. He rose from his chair and took a deep breath, glancing down quickly to see that the evidence of his indulgence was not yet prominent. "Come…" he answered.
Glorfindel stepped into the room in all his damnable glory, wearing tight leggings of tanned leather, riding boots, and a loose, nearly sheer undershirt. His hair was unbound and fell around his shoulders and he carried in his hands two goblets and a bottle of fine mead. He smiled at his friend. "I thought we would share a drink together before we both depart on the morrow."
"Of course…" he answered calmly. "Come, sit. Please, pardon my appearance, I was not expecting a visitor, but I am glad you came."
**Gods, why now?** Gildor thought to himself as he struggled to regain his composure and cover what was raging in his mind. He wanted to grab his friend and throw him to the bed, he wanted to consume him, to vent all the long years of pent up frustration and loneliness on him. He had covered these thoughts well until that afternoon and their picnic on the hill. His musings on Glorfindel and Thranduil had been a little slip, one he hadn’t intended on making. He took a seat across from Glorfindel and accepted the proffered goblet with a friendly smile.
The two friends sat by the fire, sipping the mead and talking of goings on in Lindon, telling tales of their youth, anything but talking of what was to come. Glorfindel thought about what Gildor had said to him that afternoon and wondered just how long it had been since his friend had held another in his arms. He watched Gildor’s fluid movements with his hands; the gentle smile that curved his lips, and found himself amazed that the elf Lord didn’t have a string of lovers to keep him company. But, it appeared that was not what he wanted. Glorfindel had grown to know Gildor, and what he found was a brave, loyal, and kind elf, one with a great capacity to love, one with a good natured humor that kept him afloat even in the darkest times. He admired Gildor, not only as a warrior and statesman, but as a friend. He knew that it was likely that many of them were going to their doom, himself included, and he didn’t want his friend to die lonely, to die without having known another’s loving touch. His concern wasn’t entirely selfless, he also wanted to know pleasure one more time before riding to what could be his own death.
He watched Gildor’s head come to rest against the back of the chair and his eyes close. He sat his goblet down and rose from his chair, the sweet, potent liquid steeling his resolve. He had no idea how Gildor would react to what he was about to propose, but he wanted to try anyway. He crossed the short distance to where Gildor sat and kneeled on the rug before him, placing his hands on his friend’s knees and slowly parting them.
Gildor’s eyes snapped open and he lifted his head, looking down in amazement at Glorfindel, who was settling himself between his open legs. His breath caught in his throat as the warrior’s hands slowly slid up his thighs, and he felt himself harden almost immediately. "Glorfindel…" he said quietly. "What are you doing?" His head swam with the effects of the mead and the sensual touch of his best friend.
"Gildor, mellonamin…" Glorfindel answered softly. "I want to repay you for all your kindness, I want to give you…"
Gildor placed his fingers on Glorfindel’s lips and silenced him. "I do not require payment, your friendship is enough…"
Glorfindel leaned in, his hands sliding up Gildor’s sides and inside his tunic, as he answered, "I know you do not, but I wish to give it nonetheless. Please, Gildor, let me do this. I want to do this." He pressed his lips to Gildor’s chest and felt his reaction, as surely as he felt his own rising desire.
Gildor closed his eyes and moaned quietly, arching into his friend’s touch, his body betraying his will. When Glorfindel’s mouth moved to his pebbled nipple, he was lost. The warrior worked it with expert skill, lapping at it before suckling it, then gently tugging on it with his teeth. "Ah!" he moaned, "By Elbereth, Glorfindel…" He felt the warrior smile against his chest as he tangled his fingers in his golden mane. He pulled Glorfindel’s head back and looked into his darkening eyes. All thoughts of gentle touches and caresses were gone; he was filled with carnal desire and want. He hauled his friend’s mouth to his own and pressed a punishing kiss to it, thrusting his tongue inside Glorfindel’s mouth with heated intensity.
Glorfindel moaned into the kiss as he struggled to regain his feet, pulling Gildor with him. The two of them staggered the short distance to his bed, struggling with one another’s clothing as they went. Gildor’s tunic fell to the floor and Glorfindel assaulted his ear with his mouth, surprised at the level of intensity in Gildor’s touch. His shirt was the first casualty, as he heard the fabric rip and he moaned softly as Gildor tore it from his body and growled in his ear.
Gildor grunted as he impacted the bed, and gasped quietly as Glorfindel jerked his leggings free, leaving him naked atop the coverlet. He watched with rapt fascination as Glorfindel slowly unlaced his leggings, a feral smile curving his lips as he performed this sensual action for his friend. The warrior kicked off his boots and peeled the leggings from his body as Gildor slid back upon the bed, waiting in heated anticipation.
Glorfindel crawled onto the bed and on top of his friend. He lowered his body to Gildor’s and his breath caught in his throat as he felt his arousal slide against Gildor’s. He moaned quietly as Gildor’s mouth worked his ear with expert skill and his friend’s fingers dug into the muscles in his back. They consumed one another with their hands and mouths, touching, kissing, and exploring one another.
Gildor rolled Glorfindel to his back and began working his way down the warrior’s torso, pressing his mouth into his stomach as it shrunk away, brushing his lips through the fine dusting of hair that grew above his arousal, exploring the juncture of thigh and hip with his tongue. Glorfindel arched beneath him, tangling his fingers in his hair, moaning with increased urgency as he tormented him relentlessly.
"Saes, mellonamin…" the warrior whispered breathlessly. "Im baur…"
Gildor grasped his friend’s buttocks in his hands and slid his lips around his swollen length, causing Glorfindel to moan urgently as he took him deep in to his throat.
Glorfindel groaned and arched his back, wrapping one leg around Gildor as he felt his friend knead his buttocks and encourage him to thrust into his mouth. "Aiya, Gildor!" he moaned. "I will not last this way…"
Gildor let the warrior’s length slide from between his lips and he gazed up at him with a wolfish smile. He slid up the length of the warrior’s body and pressed a deep kiss to his waiting lips, allowing Glorfindel to taste himself upon his tongue. He replaced his mouth with his hand on the warrior’s arousal, squeezing and pulling it with long slow strokes. "I want to watch your face as you succumb to my touch, mellon. I want to hear your deep voice whisper my name." He closed his eyes briefly and moaned as he felt the warrior’s hand wrap around his own arousal.
"As I wish to see your face and hear you moan my name, mellon," the warrior replied.
They thrust against one another, staring into one another’s eyes, tasting of one another’s mouths until they found their release and collapsed against one another, as the aftermath of their spent desire took them.
They lay quietly with one another, Gildor’s head tucked beneath Glorfindel’s chin, their arms wrapped around one another, their skin slicked with sweat and each other’s essence. Finally Gildor broke the silence and whispered, "We are a mess, mellonamin."
Glorfindel chuckled and shifted beneath him. "Aye, that we are, and I am getting cold."
Gildor rose to his elbows and smiled down at his friend. "Wait here." He rose from the bed and left the room for a few moments. When he returned, he carried a bowl of warm water and a cloth. He sat on the edge of the bed, cleaning his friend, caressing his skin with the warm cloth. He watched as Glorfindel smiled sleepily and sighed. He then placed the bowl and cloth on the floor, stoked the fire and added wood, then returned to the bed. He tugged at the covers and Glorfindel squirmed beneath them; he slid in behind him and wrapped his arms around his best friend.
"Hannon le, mellonamin," he said quietly.
Glorfindel snuggled back against him and whispered in return, "No thanks are necessary, Gildor. I wanted to do this, I did not want to spend my last night here without you."
Gildor closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the back of Glorfindel’s head. "You are a good and true friend, Glorfindel," he whispered. "And a wonderful lover. It was a real pleasure."
Glorfindel mumbled something inaudible as he drifted into reverie and Gildor closed his eyes, breathing in his friend’s scent and finding rest.
~*~*~*~
Erestor reclined on his bed, stroking the length of dark hair beneath his hand. Galdor’s satiated body lay between his legs, and the younger elf murmured something against his chest as sleep overtook him. His thoughts were consumed with worry for Glorfindel, for the elf that had become his close friend as well as his antagonist. He and Glorfindel had a complicated relationship, they shared few lighthearted moments and argued often; but they respected one another beyond measure and they were fiercely loyal to one another. He worried about Glorfindel often, and was usually at a loss as to what to do about it. As time went on, he found himself feeling increasingly responsible for the warrior, as if he were some wayward elfling in need of a guardian. This was ridiculous, he knew; Glorfindel was certainly capable of taking care of himself, but he could not help it.
He imagined the warrior lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, worrying for Prince Thranduil. He had to admit he was relieved when the Prince decided to return to Greenwood, and had convinced himself that it was relations with Oropher that drove that sense of relief. However, part of him wondered if that was entirely the case, if his relief was not in some small part due to jealousy. He was confused by his own feelings, he knew he and Glorfindel would never make a good match. Glorfindel was opposite of him in just about every way. Glorfindel was a soldier, a jokester, a bawdy warrior that liked naughty jokes, drinking ale, and carousing with his troops. He could be annoying and stubborn, he had a bad temper and could be irrational at times, and he possessed this calm arrogance that drove him insane. But he could also be tender, warm, and he had a big heart. He would rush in and defend the lost cause, put himself in harm’s way to protect others, and he always spoke his mind truthfully and never played games.
**Ah!** he chastised himself, **What is the point of this line of thinking?** He needed further distraction, he needed something to get his mind off Glorfindel. He nudged his lover’s lithe body and felt him shift against him. A feral smile crossed his lips as Galdor’s long fingers sought out his arousal. **Yes, this is just what I need to distract me.** he thought as his lover’s lean body slid down his own.
~*~*~*~
The King’s host was gathered before the gates of the city, regiments lined up in formation behind their captains. Elrond sat astride his horse beside the King, awaiting the command to ride east.
Gildor stood in front of Glorfindel and smiled, his hand reaching up to tuck an errant braid behind the warrior’s ear. "Be careful, mellonamin," he whispered.
Glorfindel smiled and nodded. "You be careful as well, Gildor. We will meet again in Eregion." He mounted his horse and signaled to his riders to prepare to depart.
Gildor stood beside Glorfindel’s horse and placed his hand upon the warrior’s thigh. "Do not do anything foolish, Glorfindel. We will need you soon."
Glorfindel smiled and patted his friend’s hand, then galloped down the line toward the gate, his men in tow. They stopped beside Elrond and the King and he bowed his head in respect and covered his heart with his hand. "My Lord, my riders and I are ready to depart, with your leave."
Gil-galad nodded and raised his hand in agreement. Glorfindel looked at Erestor, clad in battle gear, sitting astride his black gelding next to Lord Elrond. He noted how formidable the Counselor looked in black leather and velvet, his raven hair falling down his back in a single thick braid. He nodded his head in respect and said softly, "Be careful, Erestor. We will meet again soon."
Erestor nodded and answered, "Take care of yourself, Glorfindel, and Valar’s speed."
Glorfindel smiled and turned his horse, galloping out of the gate and heading east at great speed, followed by his riders.
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