Chapter Eight

Glorfindel had spent an unsatisfactory sort of morning. Having no duties or responsibilities had swiftly lost any attraction it might have held, and he intended making a point of asking Gil what plans, if any, had been made for his future. He had never known this amount of leisure in his life, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to find ways to fill the day.

Talking to Elrond had solved little of the confusion he had felt on waking, but sharing the past had certainly helped lift his spirits. He was often surprised by how genuinely caring Elrond could be, especially when he thought no one was paying too much attention.

Glorfindel knew that a large part of his apprehension was rooted in his personal inexperience. He had no idea what would happen next time he and Gil met, nor what was expected of him. What he did know was that if Gil placed as little importance on their night together as he feared might be the case, then something in him would die a little and Ecthelion’s memory would return to accuse him for a very long time.

He was, in fact, busy telling himself to stop worrying until he could see Gil’s response for himself, when, turning to take a shortcut across the lawn, he spotted the King striding purposefully straight towards him.

The previous night rushed back, a tumble of words and caresses, naked skin and life-altering pleasure. Glorfindel felt the colour rise in his cheeks and cursed himself. Gil-galad came to a stop in front of him, giving him an intent look before smiling his greeting.

“You’re a bit of a challenge to find, you know,” Gil commented. “This is my second attempt. The first time I seemed to keep missing you. Where do you get to when you're on your own?” His tone was easy, amiable, but his eyes were alert.

Glorfindel returned the smile, gesturing vaguely. “I just left the stables. I wanted to have a look at Carod; he was limping a little yesterday.”

Gil nodded. “I wondered if you might be there. Are you on your way anywhere in particular, or do you have time for us to talk for a few minutes?”

Glorfindel laughed a trifle wistfully. “Gil, time is something I have more than enough of. Please, whatever it is, go ahead.”

He marveled at the lack of awkwardness in their conversation. Gil had said nothing out of the ordinary, which was only natural as they were in that most public of places - the central courtyard of the Palace, but there was a look in his eye that had not been there previously, a warmth that effortlessly diminished Glorfindel’s concerns. Unbidden, his thoughts flew back and he could almost feel Gil’s mouth on his throat, and was startled by the sudden heat that washed over him.

Gil was watching him with interest, still smiling slightly. “Let’s get inside out of this gale,” he suggested, gesturing towards the entrance leading to the main staircase. “We can’t talk here. Not about the topic I have in mind, at any rate.”

They went inside together, up the staircase and along corridors, finally reaching Gil-galad’s workroom. Once inside, the King closed the door and wordlessly pulled Glorfindel to him and proceeded to kiss him. Glorfindel stopped trying to think and simply responded.

The kiss started slowly and unpretentiously enough, but quickly accelerated into something considerably more than a simple expression of affection. When at last they separated, both were flushed and panting, leaning against the wall and each other. Glorfindel’s long, blonde hair had somehow wound itself around Gil’s arm and hand, and Glorfindel’s hands were under the King’s shirt, pressed flat against warm flesh. There seemed to be very few questions left; Gil, however, had a couple.

“Tell me something,” he asked, between breaths. “Did you feel in any way used, taken advantage of, last night? That I was less than sincere? And where the hell were you when I woke up, anyway?”

“Gil, I didn’t feel ready to let the whole of Lindon know whom you amused yourself with last night…”

Gil broke in firmly. “I did not ‘amuse’ myself, as you put it. Is that the way it seemed to you? I spent the night with someone I haven’t known very long, but who means an immense amount to me.” He leaned in again and emphasized the words with a lingering kiss.

Glorfindel drew back, shaking his head. “Gil, no, of course I didn’t think that, not really. But there will be so much gossip and speculation…”

“What, more than what there is already? They’ve been laying odds on it for the last two weeks, I believe...”

Glorfindel stared into the light blue eyes in disbelief, seeking some hint of mischief, but they were completely serious. Something of his discomfort must have shown in his face because, after returning his stare, Gil leaned forward with a sigh so that their foreheads touched. “All right,” he said eventually. “I’ll give you a little time for discretion, but I am not prepared to act as though we are doing something wrong. It’s enough that I had to hear Elrond’s thoughts on the subject; I don’t want anyone else getting the same idea.”

“Elrond?” Glorfindel asked, puzzled.

Gil nodded, half laughing. “You saw him this morning, am I right? Let me guess - you got trapped into telling him where and how you spent the night, didn’t you?”

They stood, leaning together with their foreheads still touching, Glorfindel sighed. “He’s impossible. Before you even realize you’ve opened your mouth, you find yourself telling him things you didn’t even know you knew... Should I have kept quiet?” he asked with a sudden flash of concern. “I wasn’t discussing you, I just…needed to talk and he’s a good listener, strangely enough...”

Gil was struck by the wistful tone, and wondered for the hundredth time how he would have coped with being drawn out of his time and place and set down amongst strangers with no idea of what was expected from him - no reason for his continued existence. He drew Glorfindel closer, resting his cheek against the waves of soft, golden hair.

“Of course you can confide in him,” he said gently. “And in me as well, remember? At least he’s showing concern for someone other than himself for a change. He seems almost as fond of you as he is of that dog. Considering his opinion of most people, you can take that as a huge compliment.”

Glorfindel turned, his head against Gil’s shoulder, and glanced around the room, taking in the quiet disorder out of which the King was known to be happiest working. The table was in the process of disappearing under the sprawl of documents, although a corner had been cleared to make place for a tray bearing an assortment of bread, cheeses, and fruit as well as an untouched wine cup.

“Haven’t you eaten yet?” he asked, still leaning against Gil and nuzzling his neck softly, not exactly kissing his throat so much as caressing it with his mouth. He was quite content to stay there within the circle of Gil’s arms, savouring the reassurance that closeness gave him. Gil - solid, assertive and confident - was the perfect antidote to insecurity.

“Wasn’t really hungry,” came the answer, close to his ear. “After nearly throttling Elrond, I was more interested in finding you, making sure things were well between us. Food somehow didn’t seem very important.”

He gave Glorfindel one final hug and then released him, standing back to brush gleaming golden hair back from a face that was already looking far more relaxed than when they had first run into one another.

“When I found you’d left, I guessed, rightly I hope, that you probably didn’t want to be there when my staff started wandering through. It wasn’t till Elrond accused me that I though you might have been avoiding me instead. He has a way of making a point,” he added with a rueful smile.

Glorfindel looked concerned. “Looking back, I might not have explained myself properly. I did try and tell him that, but he doesn’t always listen. I was feeling – unsure about a few things this morning. I need to start watching my tongue, I suppose.”

Gil snorted with amusement. “With Elrond?” he asked.

He turned and went over to the table, scrutinizing the tray, before retrieving a peach slice. "Don’t waste your time. If he wants to know something, he’ll stop at nothing. He currently has nothing better to fill his time with. He’s bitter and angry and unhappy, and he makes it his business to share the pain. You like peaches, don't you? “he added, offering the fruit to Glorfindel who, joining him at the table, surprised him by resting a hand lightly on his wrist, leaning forward and allowing himself to be fed.

He licked the juice off Gil’s fingers almost unthinkingly and asked, “Angry about what? I know he’s unhappy, though getting him to talk about something when he doesn’t want to is impossible, but…”

Gil, who had been watching Glorfindel with a mixture of curiosity and increasing interest, selected an orange segment, which he held offered the blonde after first sampling it himself. “For most of his life, the only family he had was Elros. At the end of the month, they separate for life. Elros goes to Númenor; Elrond stays here.”

He paused, his face thoughtful. This was a decision that he had found puzzling and unlikely from the start. The twins were very dissimilar but nonetheless close. He would have expected them to wish to remain together. No amount of careful probing on his part, however, had elicited an explanation from either of them.

“They made their choices for whatever reasons appeared relevant to them at the time,” he continued. “Elros seems content enough with his lot. Elrond, I think, is finding it very hard to come to terms with losing his brother. Elros is the strong one – Elrond just puts on a very good face.”

Gil stopped talking abruptly as Glorfindel, who was still holding his wrist, turned it and began to lick the trail of nectar which had dripped down from the orange. Gil exhaled sharply in response. He found another orange portion and teased it lightly against Glorfindel’s lips, then watched, fascinated, as the tip of a pink tongue licked it slowly, sampling before accepting. Deep blue eyes watched him steadily from under golden brown lashes, as Glorfindel slowly sucked the fruit into his mouth.

"Considerably less inhibited than you were yesterday, aren’t you?” Gil murmured, reaching out a hand to stroke the fair hair which, worn loose for a change, fell in golden, sunlit waves to below Glorfindel’s waist. The only other person Gil-galad could think of with similar hair was his aunt Galadriel. “When exactly did you turn into such a tease?”

Glorfindel was sucking Gil’s fingers now, running his tongue over each in turn, lapping like a cat. His eyes were sparkling with mischief as he released them. ”Are you objecting?”

Gil’s response was to wind his hand through the silky hair, closing it over bunches of soft brightness and drawing the blonde towards him, his eyes studying moist lips with serious intent.

“I like to think I learn something from every new experience,” Glorfindel said, drawing back slightly from Gil, blue eyes now alight with laughter. “May I show you what I have learned from you already? Perhaps you could tell me if I need to give extra attention to anything - if there are areas where further study might be indicated?”

Gil raised an amused eyebrow. “I’d be honoured to assist you in your studies,” he said, slowly allowing the hair to slide free from between his fingers.

For a moment they stared at one another, then Glorfindel leaned closer and began slowly running his hands down Gil’s body, before finally sinking to his knees and allowing cheek and forehead to take the place of hands, rubbing and pressing until reaching the place where hardness strained against the cloth of Gil’s leggings. He looked up then, sudden uncertainty in his eyes. Gil, both hands now kneading and bunching the soft, gold hair, met his glance and nodded wordlessly.

Glorfindel undid fastenings, moved inconvenient clothing aside. Then, with an unexpectedly clever mouth, proceeded to give Gil a detailed demonstration of what he had learned the previous night, with a few extra touches direct from his fertile imagination.

~*~*~*~*~

Although normally acutely aware of his surroundings, Elrond had been wandering aimlessly, his thoughts alternating between the sound of Glorfindel’s voice as he described Gondolin and the look in Gil-galad’s usually friendly blue eyes and his almost unnatural speed. Sudden awareness returned as he realized he was heading straight for a black haired Elf, who was busy wrestling awkwardly with a large crate.

“Why are you struggling like that? Get someone to see to it for you,” he said, speaking without prior thought for the second time in a matter of hours. As the words left his mouth, he heard the underlining of the unsaid division between himself and Erestor who, as a junior advisor, would obviously not have someone available to haul crates around for him. He wondered idly at what point his tongue had finally taken control of his brain.

Erestor blinked, surprised by both the question and the tone of voice, but chose to overlook the hopefully unintended lack of courtesy. “I needed to make a few purchases, and I though I could get them to my room without being late back to work,” he said by way of explanation. He straightened up, pushing braided hair out of his face and grinned. “This is heavier that I thought and taking longer than I could ever have imagined.”

He was about to ask jokingly if Elrond was offering to help him, but remembered in time the current chaos to be found in his room. He had purchased the majority of the items on his list and had simply deposited them on the floor or bed until he should had time to reorganize. He had been forced to take the morning off work, which had required some careful explaining, but Erestor was wonderfully inventive at need and had found plausible reasons for his absence.

He took in Elrond’s appearance with interest, noting the conservative clothing, the tasteful mithril hair clasps, and the painfully braided hair. “You must have something important to see to, please don’t let me keep you,” he said, smiling to take the sting from the words. At Elrond’s blank look, for he had completely forgotten the small matter of his appearance, Erestor said, “Well, the clothes, no dog….”

Elrond had recently been more or less pinned against a wall by a very large, rather angry Elf. Gil-galad had seriously frightened the Half-elf, though it was not something he would readily have admitted. His cousin’s speed and strength had been completely unexpected, and it would also be a long time before he got over the shock of those ice-cool eyes. Reaction set in, and it made his words abrupt.

“My choice in clothing is no concern of yours,” he snapped, ignoring the fact that the outfit belonged to Elros. “And I had no idea I was required to take my brother’s dog with me everywhere I went.”

He had locked Laslech inside when he left and, accustomed to spending her days with him, she had whimpered. The sound had followed him all the way across the garden, each small whine an accusation. Feeling guilty was a rare experience for Elrond, and he disliked it intensely.

Erestor’s amber eyes regarded him thoughtfully. “I apologize for presuming, My Lord,” he said in his most formal tones, bending to retrieve the crate which he had put down while they talked. It contained ornamentation for a room he suspected the Half-elf would not be visiting any time soon, if at all. “However, in the future, you might consider taking your ill humour out at the source, instead of on whoever happens to be unlucky or unwise enough to cross your path.”

Hefting the crate, he nodded with distant politeness, almost unbalancing himself in the process, and gritting his teeth, set off back to his lonely and extremely untidy room. Elrond stared after him, for once unable to come up with any kind of an appropriate response. Earlier the Half-elf had thought things were as bad as they were likely to get. He had been wrong. The day had actually managed to get worse.

With a final glance in the direction of the waning figure of Erestor, who had not looked back, he headed for home, and the one person – albeit four-footed – who he could rely on to still welcome his company.

They were sitting in the box seat beneath the window on the far side of the room, Glorfindel leaning back against Gil’s chest, his head against one broad shoulder, with Gil’s arms loosely round his waist. The window looked out over the far side of the grounds, towards the stables, and was high enough to ensure privacy

“You needed a break,” Glorfindel said lazily. ”If that mess on the table is anything to go by, you still have a lot to see to today.”

“No more than usual,” Gil said ruefully, “Anyone who thinks being King of Lindon is glamourous should come and spend a few days in this room. It would soon change their ideas. It’s never ending. I can’t believe some of the things that end up being my problem.”

“At least you have something to complain about,” Glorfindel said, one hand toying with Gil’s fingers that were currently laced together and resting on his stomach. “I’ve rested, and I understand that I needed to do that. I’ve met the people you seem to think I should know. I can find my way around without getting lost. Surely that’s enough? All this time on my hands isn’t good for me. I need to feel I’m doing something, being useful in some way.”

“Well, you did manage to find something useful to do with part of your day, at least,” Gil chuckled, turning his head to breathe in the clean fresh scent of the fair hair spilling across them both. “I know you said you’d rather wait for tonight, but I feel completely selfish. Are you sure I can’t…?”

“I need something to look forward to.” Glorfindel chuckled. “Otherwise the day just stretches ahead endlessly. That’s the heart of the problem,” he added, more seriously, tilting his head back to look at the King. “I don’t know why I’m here, Gil, in fact I have less than no idea. I remember falling into darkness, I remember waking on the boat, but there’s nothing else between. If I was given a purpose, I somehow failed to retain the memory of it. “

He settled his head back against Gil again, smiling, before adding, “One thing I’m sure of, though. I am quite certain I wasn’t sent back to provide an erotic break in the day for the High King.”

“And here I was thinking the Valar really loved me,” Gil said, stroking hair back from smooth skin, as well as out of his mouth, so that he could rest his cheek against Glorfindel’s forehead. “I don’t know what they want from you either, sweetheart. Foolish of me, it never occurred to me that it was bothering you, which it naturally would be. I suppose I just thought that in time you would tell me what you wanted to do with your life.”

“If only,” Glorfindel laughed wryly. “I lie awake at night worrying about it. I remember Círdan telling me there must have been a strong purpose, and then I think that maybe I won’t be where I should be, do what I should do, misuse this second chance…”

“Círdan,” Gil said thoughtfully. “Most of my life when I’ve needed advice or suggestions, that’s who I have turned to. I think the time might have come for us to see what he thinks your role should be. In addition,” he added, pressing a quick kiss to warm skin, “to your singularly important job of taking my mind off such important problems as which wines to serve at Elros’ farewell dinner.”

~*~*~*~*~