Title: The Best of Two Worlds part I of III
Author: Enide Dear
Pairing: ErestorxGildor, Glorfindel
Rating: NC 17 smut!
Summary: Choices, choices...Isn't not choosing also a choice?
A/N: Yeah, I got my angsty ass in line and decided to start with this one. Sweet smut getting more hard core in later chapters.
The celebration Elrond had suggested as a way of greeting and welcoming captain Gildor's war-party to Imladris was going just as planned. Lights had been hung in every tree, which made the Valley shimmering like a second starry sky, outlining every delicate aspect of the beautiful buildings, music and sweet elven laughter drifted out into the night, there were delicious food and fine wines for everyone. It was, Erestor mused as he sipped his cup, a spectacular success, which didn't surprise him.
After all, he'd organised it himself.
Elrond's most trusted adviser and the true organiser behind the power of Imladris stood alone in a shadowy corner and glanced out at the light, life and wonders he'd created. No one approached him, and few even noticed he was there. Those whose minds were not yet so foggy by wine and dancing that they noticed the slim dark shade amongst the shadows always inclined their heads or saluted him with their wine in respect, but none came up to talk to him or ask for a dance. Erestor sighed and fought to keep the scalding frown from his brow, telling himself it was better he was left alone. Even amongst the bright and learned scholars of Imladris he often felt left out, set apart because of his brilliant mind and sharp tongue. Few would voluntary subject themselves to the look of 'you'd better have something interesting to say' that frequently grazed Erestor's features.
Not all avoided him, of course. Elrond cherished and respected his opinions, and the lord of Imladris was one of the few people that Erestor felt he could have an interesting conversation with.
Still, he felt a touch of loneliness as he looked out over the party, bright with happy chatting elves, most of them with the beauty and physical prowess of warriors. Imladris had needed reinforcements since Glorfindel and his warriors had to quickly leave for the Misty Mountains after rumours of goblin bands forming there. Elrond had thought it prudent to ask Gildor and his kin for aid during the balrog-slayers absence. Erestor snorted with ill-concealed annoyance. Well, it was definitely worth a few sleepless nights of party organising to get rid of the cocky, arrogant, block-headed captain! Perhaps with Glorfindel and his brutes gone some semblance of civilisation could come to Imladris. Erestor had lost count on how many times he's walked in to some remote corner of his beloved library just to be subjected to the sight of the blond captain moving and groaning over some elf and it always seemed to be new conquest too! It was indecent and even more so not to show respect to the sanctuary of the library. He'd yelled at Glorfindel, who'd only ignored him, complained to Elrond who just shrugged and seemed to find the situation amusing, and now taken to carry a decanter of water whenever he was going into the library. The sight of the oh-so-famous balrog slayer spluttering wet like a kitten and definitely put-off from his latest fling had cheered him for days.
And it was yet another three weeks of relative peace before the captain would return.
Tired of feeling alone, Erestor took out a book from a pocket in his voluminous robe. Elrond had ordered that he'd attend the party, or he wouldn't have bothered. He'd always found more solace in books that in most conversations with real persons anyway.
A few minutes later he was enthralled by the text and had all but forgotten about the party around him.
He didn't remember it until he heard a gentle cough and someone politely tapped his book.
Erestor looked up, into the most sparkling grey eyes he'd ever seen, winking with kind amusement.
"I know Essays on the nature of philosophy is quite charming, bit I've asked you twice if you would happened to know the ways to the garden. I could use some fresh air."
The elf before Erestor was of middle height, which still made him a bit taller than the chief adviser, and pale as mist. His hair wasn't the soft blonde of Lórien elves, but almost as silvery as the lord Celeborn's, although cut short in a warriors fashion. But he was dressed as a lord; fine golden embroidering of leaves ran along his white coat and there was a weapon-sign over his heart. The elf still smiled kindly at Erestor, holding two cups of wine and waiting patiently for an answer.
my lord Gildor. Forgive me." Taking care to note his place in the book, Erestor put it away in his deep pocket. "I was indeed caught up in the Lady Elwing's musings of the true aspect of awareness. I apologise. Finding the gardens is a bit of a trick, but I am certain I can give you a decent explanation."
"Ah yes. Lady Elwing has some interesting opinions, although I find that she's somewhat abstract. I much more appreciate her earlier works such as Fascinations of the First Age or Branched illusions, although that one is a bit poetic in its prose."
Erestor realised that he was gaping and quickly tried to compose himself. Warriors weren't supposed to discuss philosophy! It was
I am afraid I would have to disagree with you there, my lord. Poetry and philosophy should not - can not be separated, and Lady Elwing proves this so very elegantly."
"I see." Gildor smiled again, now with an interested and challenged hint. "Well, then perhaps you would like to continue this gentle disagreement in the gardens? You can show me the way there, so I shan't be lost, and anyway my friend " he nodded to the dance floor "- seems to have found more intriguing company than mine." He laughed, soft and warm as honey, and indicated with a shrug towards an elf that was dancing over the floor with a radiant elf-maiden in his arms.
Erestor could understand her happiness; like all of Gildor's company the elf was well-build and moved with hunting grace, and his face was porcelain beautiful. Although none of them were as attractive as their lord and none had that slight darkness in their eyes, that hint of viciousness in their smile that made Erestor's mouth dry and his heart speed up.
The thought rattled him, but he couldn't deny it. He seldom engaged in such matters, and the feeling of desire that now swept him was almost unfamiliar to him. He had such high standards in lovers as he had with everything in his life they must be more than a beautiful face and body. Of those in Imladris that held up to his ideals, few had been interested in him in return. And why should they be? He knew that although he was as beautiful as any other elf no gorgeous looking but thick headed balrog slayer perhaps most saw him as a stuffy bore, invaluable in knowledge, but someone to seek out for his mind, not his body. Elrond had once told him that he's misunderstood the reactions he got; the elves of Imladris weren't bored by him, they were *scared*. He was brighter than almost all of them, and not afraid to scald someone to a shivering heap if he thought they deserved it. But lord Gildor didn't seem afraid. Or bored. Erestor smiled, trying to hide his nervously giddy emotions, and accepted the glass of wine.
"Of course my lord. It's this way." He hoped he kept this voice steady, but he wasn't used to these feelings of uncertainty. Was he just imagining the way Gildor was looking at him, the way that storm-grey glance moved over his body from the corner of the war-leaders eye, as if Gildor could see through his clothing? A shiver of not entirely pleasant emotions slid up Erestor's spine.
"No 'my lord', my dear chief advisor. I'm only the leader of a war-party, nothing else. If anything, I'd say lord Elrond's most trusted and honoured advisor outranks me." Gildor put a long arm around Erestor's shoulders, in a motion both comfortable and intimate; Erestor could but pray that the other elf didn't notice his slight trembling at the touch. Gildor's strong arm around him, the lean hard body brushing against his, the humble yet confident air, and that faint smell of pine on Gildor's skin and hair
.it all made Erestor weak at the knees, sent blood pumping through him. And scared him.
When they reached the gardens cool and filled with the fragrance of night blossom Gildor sat down on the edge of a fountain, with a smooth, almost predatory movement that sent new shivers down Erestor's spine. The pale elf ran long fingers through the waters, playing with it, teasing it in such a sensuous way that Erestor had to look away.
"So. You truly believe that poetry and philosophy should not be separated? I'll recall Lord Tuorn having an other opinion in his essay The discussion of natural studies." Gildor smiled up at him, a slow, friendly smile but with a challenging undercurrent.
Some of Erestor's nervousness fell away; these were more familiar battlefields. Intrigued and enthusiastic once more, he sat down next to Gildor, close enough to feel the comfort of having a warrior near, but not so close as to make him nervous again, and gathered his wits.
"Perhaps, but Lord Tuorn is most subtly gainsaid in
The discussion went on for another hour or so, without real resolve. Although it was soon obvious that Erestor was the most learned and intelligent of them, Gildor's shrewd remarks and unorthodox opinions made for delightful conversation. Erestor found himself laughing more than he had done in at lest thirty years. But at long last, he couldn't stifle a yawn. Blushing, he tried to explain.
"Forgive me! It is not that I think your company boring the absolute opposite in fact! But I have been working hard and late these past weeks and
"It's alright." Gildor laughed, again that warm and comforting sound, and mercifully interrupted his babbling. "Come, lean on me. We don't have to talk. Just watch the stars with me."
Erestor couldn't resist, and didn't want to resist, as Gildor slipped down from the fountain to sit in the grass, and pulled him down with him. Gently, Gildor lay down Erestor's dark head in his lap, stroking the high brow and soft long hair. Erestor felt melted to the core of his being, there were nothing, no one in his past that had ever made him feel so warm inside, so safe and sheltered. The strong callused fingers wiped away all worries, but brought up other feelings, dreamy fragments of how it would be to feel those fingers on the rest of his body, gentle but firm, strong but subtle.
"I've never met a warrior who reads philosophy before," he said, keeping his eyes on the stars, "most of them can't even spell the word."
Gildor threw back his head and laughed, a free, wild sound that echoed over the garden.
"And you wonder why they fear you so!" His fingers now teased Erestor's ear, delicate, soft movements. "Why must I choose? Why can't I have it all the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of defending those I love, as well as challenges of the mind and the wisdom of learning?"
beyond words, my lord Gildor." Ruefully, but still smiling, Erestor shook his head in mock surrender.
"And you, my dear chief advisor, are as tense as a bow string." Gildor's strong hand closed around the tendons of Erestor's shoulder, making the advisor wince a little. "You work to hard, and you worry to much. Lay down, and remove your robe. I will help you."
Erestor's heart skipped a beat. Here? He wanted to ask. Right here, in the grass? But he couldn't bring the words over his lips. Slowly, he sat up, not daring to meet Gildor's eyes. His fingers fumbled as he unbuttoned his robe and let it fall to his slim waist, revealing lean shoulders, smooth creamy skin that quickly got goose-bumps from the chill autumn night or the presence of Gildor he didn't know. He could feel the pale elf's eyes moving up and down him as if it had been Gildor's fingers and another delicate shudder rattled him. Erestor dared a glance over his shoulder, and the nervous fluttering in his veins became fire. There was such desire in Gildor's eyes, such tenderness and almost possessiveness. It should have scared Erestor, but it didn't. In those eyes he saw what he'd wanted without knowing it for so long.
He lay down in the dewy grass, stretching out, whiles his heart beat fire into his veins with every quick beat. When he felt Gildor's weight settle on top of his thighs he almost groaned. Strong fingers, callused yet gentle palms, started stroking his back, kneading his shoulders following his spine in smooth, comforting circles, and he felt muscles relaxing, tension running out of him, his body surrendering to the confident touch.
When Gildor leaned forward and caressed his raven-black hair from his face, the pale smiling face so close to his, Erestor couldn't help himself; he leaned up, flushing with fire, and brought their lips together.
The kiss was strong; Gildor's tongue taking possession of his mouth, licking his lips and prying them open, Erestor panting into the warm smoothness.
"You are so beautiful, my dear," Gildor murmured as the kiss broke, still leaning over him, meeting Erestor's eyes; the dark eyes burning with arousal but still wide-eyed with the onslaught of emotions that made shook him. "Fair as prose, sharp of mind as philosophy, strong and reliable as a thesis proved."
It was too much; now he was being complimented in his own language!
"I want you," he whispered, "I need you, my lord."
Gildor smiled again, and gently moved him over to lay on his back, again with his face to the stars, but now unable to look anywhere but at the lord still sitting over him. Gildor shook of his own robe, and pulled his cream-white shirt over his head. Erestor's tongue tried to bring moisture to his suddenly dry lips; Gildor's chest was strong and broad, a long healing scar along his ribs accentuating the smoothness of the rest of the skin. His nipples were small and taut, and in the very subtlest of pink shades. Long tendons held up a neck as strong and graceful as a marble pillar. Erestor's finely-boned hand came up, moving carefully around the long scar that was still vividly red along the edges.
"You must get this seen to," he mumbled.
Gildor laughed, shaking his head.
"Truly, you are amazing Erestor. You need not worry about me. You need not take care of me. Tonight isn't about me, at all. It's about us. You must trust me. Do you?"
Erestor swallowed, and felt the last burdened of responsibility fall of him; he felt light as a
"Yes. I do trust you, my lord."
The smile on Gildor's lips turned a small shade more vicious.
"If you don't stop calling me that, chief advisor, I might start to enjoy it." He leaned down, kissing Erestor again, hard and searing, letting his lips and mouth move down the vulnerable skin of Erestor's neck, teasing the soft skin there. Erestor moaned quietly as Gildor wrapped his tongue around his dusky nipple, making it wet and aching hard for more. For a few short moments he feared that someone would come, to see them here, to see the highly honoured advisor groaning under a warrior, but he quickly discarded the fear. Gildor would know how he felt; the war-lord wouldn't expose him so such humility. And Gildor was far more accomplished at scanning the night-garden for sounds of approaching footsteps than he was.
He would have to trust Gildor. He trusted Gildor.
Hot, hot lips drew fire along Erestor's chest, down his belly where Gildor impatiently pushed his robes further down, sliding of him to remove the clothing completely. Erestor couldn't control himself any longer, naked under those burning storm-cloud eyes; he grabbed Gildor's shoulders, trying to pull him down, trying to feel all that strength and fire against his own skin, but Gildor skilfully grabbed his wrists and pushed his arms against the grass. Pinned down under the war-captain's weight and strength, Erestor squirmed and tried to move. He might as well have tried to move a tree. Gildor sat quietly, holding him down without effort, and again Erestor felt a jolt of nervousness. Was something wrong? Did he suddenly disappoint Gildor? He opened his eyes, not realising he had closed them before and his breath caught. Gildor was looking at him, no, eating him with his eyes as if he was a feast laid out, the captain's grey eyes gliding up and down the lithe, thrashing body underneath him, such hunger in his eyes that it might have scared Erestor if he hadn't felt the same at the sight of Gildor's body.
"You will be mine," Gildor said, his voice hoarse with desire. "I'll make you mine!"
And he smiled, a smile that seemed to turn every bone in Erestor's body red-hot like iron, ready to be pounded into the desired shape. Erestor seemed to have forgotten how to speak, as Gildor abruptly sat up, releasing his grip, and unbuckled his own trousers. Standing up on his knees over Erestor, the pale captain let his pants drop almost carelessly to his knees, narrow hips and powerful legs buckling slightly as he stroke his own desire.
"My lord. My lord." Those were the only words Erestor could remember as Gildor caressed the inside of his thighs, lifting up his legs so that they rested on the captain's broad shoulders.
When Gildor leaned forward, Erestor was neatly bent over himself, his knees almost at his chin, and his hands desperately clawing at Gildor's shoulders, trying to make him move faster, further into him. He closed his eyes as he felt Gildor pushing against him.
"No. Open your eyes, my love. I want to see how much you want me." Gildor's command was soft, but none the less held all the strength of a captain used to command.
Shivering, Erestor obeyed, and gasped when Gildor slid into him, strong, rhythmical, fierce. He heard himself moaning, Gildor panting, the sound of their bodies moving against each other. Gildor caressed his face, moved a finger inside his mouth to suck at the pace of their lovemaking, bent his pale head to kiss him, to lick at his ear, the captain's free hand stroking Erestor's arousal, until Erestor could take it no more. He gasped, buckled against the strong body sheltering him, and came with such force that for a moment his mind went blank, and it was all he could do just to try to remember how to breath. He came to just as Gildor threw back his head, the pale, beautiful body arching above him, fierce pleasure flushing the pale face, and Erestor felt a rush of warmth inside him.
Panting, Gildor fell down, although kept his weight on his elbows to save Erestor, and placed another kiss on Erestor's now slack lips. Exhausted, sated, sheltered, Erestor fell into deep sleep, warmed and comforted by Gildor's body.
When Erestor woke he was laying in his own bed. His body was tingling with an energy he barely could restrain. He couldn't remember when he'd last slept so well or deep, his mind free to relax from all the little worries and thoughts that usually occupied him.
An arm lay over his chest, and as he tried to move, it strengthened its grip, pulling him closer to a warm body. Surprised, Erestor turned to see Gildor's sleeping face barely an inch from his own. The captain must have carried him here last night, after he passed out. He didn't doubt that Gildor's passing through the corridors had gone unnoticed; he just regretted that he hadn't been awake to enjoy the comfort of those strong arms.
"Awake already?" Gildor mumbled without opening his eyes. "It's still early, my love."
"An advisor's day starts early," Erestor chided gently, trying reluctantly and without success to get free from the warm embrace.
"Hmf. Perhaps there's something I can do to persuade you to stay in bed a few more hours? I'm pretty certain Elrond can keep Imladris from falling down the cliffs without you for at least a few more hours." He yawned and opened sparkling, amused eyes. "Not entirely certain, of course, but fairly confident."
Erestor chuckled and mock-punched him on the shoulder.
"Ow! You have far too much energy at this time of the morning. I fear I must wear you out again, if only to get some peace and rest." Gildor ignored his protests and pulled him close, running his hands from the top of Erestor's head, down along his back to firmly grip his buttocks. Erestor gasped, and pressed himself against the warrior, grabbing his short, pale hair fine as spider web and kissing him fiercely. Gildor smiled and through the covers away from them. Again he pinned Erestor down, eating him with his eyes, but this time he kept stroking Erestor's desire, apparently drawing almost as much satisfaction from the advisor's gasps and moans as if he'd been the one to be pleasured.
"You are still sore from last night," he said as he caressed Erestor's chest with his other hand, and before Erestor could protest he added, "but there are many other things we could do to wear you out, my energetic little scribe."
And with that he simply turned around, laying himself down on top of Erestor with his long legs spread on each side of Erestor's head, and his mouth at the advisor's curly black short hairs. Erestor felt as if lightning had touched him when that warm smoothness engulfed him; he couldn't move much, but he wasn't feeling uncomfortable. Somehow the flat parts of his body and Gildor's pressed against each other to take the weight of his chest, and wave after wave of pleasure swept over him as Gildor sucked and teased and licked him. Gildor's own desire was pressing hard against the side of his face, and suddenly Erestor realised the obvious; he turned his head and heard Gildor groan around his erection as he started to pay back to the captain's ministrations.
For a while there were just the muffled sounds of working mouths and bodies grinding against each other, Erestor trying his best to keep some concentration on what he was doing despite the fact that he could barely think for the desire that rolled over him. This time it was Gildor who came first, filling Erestor's mouth with his taste, which Erestor drank down greedily, but he didn't last much longer himself, his body shaking with need as Gildor teased him into another breathtaking orgasm.
Smiling, Gildor climbed back up to the pillows and pulled him close.
"So. Can we sleep a bit longer now?"
Erestor couldn't even answer, just buried his face against the strong chest and fell into deep sleep once more.
The following days past like a dream for Erestor. Never before had he felt so sought after, so wanted, so needed. He still had work to do, as had Gildor, but at every chance the war-captain got he sought out Erestor, brought him out of his office to walk in the gardens and kiss under the trees, came with lunch which was something Erestor had often neglected when caught up in his work, brought presents, or simply spirited him away to make sweet, tender, breathtaking love to him. Every chance they got they spend together, every night they could they slept together, every chance of love they got they took. Erestor felt dizzy with wonder, barely even realising that Elrond always seemed to find ways for him to be free when Gildors war-party came back from their missions, so that he could wait, anxious as a maiden, for his captain to return. He was baffled at Gildor's attentions, eager to do whatever the captain asked of him, breathtakingly in love. The hunger and desire in Gildor's eyes and actions was proof enough of the captain's want for him. He'd never been so happy in al his life.
And then Glorfindel returned.