Glorfindel stretched his arms above him and took in the
room. He didn’t have any windows
in his rooms, but he preferred it that way, for he liked to nap midday and
didn’t like the room to be too bright for it.
Blinking as he turned to the left, and then to the right, he sat up in
panic in the darkness.
“Erestor?” he called out, pulling the tangle of sheets
and blankets from his body. There
was no answer as he tumbled from the bed and stumbled to the table, fumbling to
light a candle. His hands found
something else before finding the flint – something flat. Glorfindel picked up the book and flipped through it,
squinting at it in the darkness. He
smiled when he saw the violet ink and Erestor’s smooth writing, and the notes
of what had transpired the previous night.
Letting out a deep sigh, for he had feared for a moment he
had only dreamed the encounter, Glorfindel made his way into the washroom.
Now that his senses were coming back to him, he realized from the ache in
his body that the events that had occurred were most definitely not a dream.
Dressing simply in a pair of loose fitting pants,
Glorfindel wandered back through the hallway, hearing humming as he traveled.
Entering the library, he found Erestor sitting upon the padded stool,
sorting through a stack of books. “Good
morning, Wilwarin,” said Glorfindel softly, moving behind Erestor to embrace
him.
Erestor smiled, but questioned, “Butterfly?”
“Yes, but you’re more beautiful,” said Glorfindel.
“Why a butterfly?”
“You’ve always reminded me of one,” admitted
Glorfindel, rubbing Erestor’s shoulders.
“In Gondolin, you were so eager to learn, you were like a caterpillar,
eating up all of the knowledge you could find.
When I found you again, you had sheltered yourself, built a cocoon.
I hoped for many long years that one day you would break out of that
shell. After Elrond left, after we
learned of this bond we shared, I watched as you slowly began to free yourself,
but I did not want to press things. You’ve
slowly unfolded your wings through the years we’ve spent together, Wilwarin, I
am happy you finally let me teach you to fly.”
“I like flying,” smirked Erestor, his eyes closed and
body relaxed at Glorfindel’s touch.
Grinning, Glorfindel crouched down a little more so that he
could wrap his arms around Erestor and place his cheek against his lover’s
back. “Perhaps another flying
lesson can be arranged.”
“Later. I
think my wings are going to fall off if you don’t allow me time to rest,”
said Erestor. He looked around the
desk and asked, “Where do you keep your quills and ink?
I must make a few notes before I begin this task.”
Glorfindel strayed one hand down to the bottom desk drawer
and opened it, reaching inside without looking. He pulled out a box and casually opened it, then paused.
“Something the matter?” asked Erestor.
“No, nothing, I…” Glorfindel slide his fingers along
the feathers, and Erestor looked down to see what was going on.
Covering the box swiftly, Glorfindel shied away and stood up, tapping the
box with the fingers of one hand.
“What have you got?” wondered Erestor.
“It’s a pen,” said Glorfindel, wishing he hadn’t.
Erestor scratched the side of his neck, perplexed.
“Can I use it, then?”
Glorfindel uncovered the box and looked inside again.
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
Covering the box once more, Glorfindel explained, “It’s
a bit silly, really. I know that
all you use for pens are peacock feathers, I do not recall why but I know there
was a reason.”
“I like the weight of them,” said Erestor, following
Glorfindel around the room with his eyes.
“There you are,” said Glorfindel, continuing, “Every
one I saw you use was black, or dark colored at least. Very solemn and dignified, but always black.
Understandably so, the peacock tends to be a bird of that color, or the
tail is, at least. However, I
happened upon a peacock one day that was golden, a little orangey as well, and
he was so kind to drop two feathers for me.”
Glorfindel handed the box to Erestor shyly.
“I had meant to give it to you before, but the time never came for it,
and it always seemed too trivial.”
Erestor pulled the lid off to find a feathered quill made
with twin golden peacock feathers. The
nib was golden as well, not the steel he was used to using.
“You made this,” he stated, taking it from the box.
It was lighter than he imagined it could be, and the feathers glittered
in the light. “It is remarkably
beautiful.”
“I guess you like it, then,” Glorfindel said.
He was standing against a bookshelf, looking a little embarrassed and a
little proud that his gift was so well received.
“I love it.” Erestor
set the quill down on the desk and stood up, approaching Glorfindel.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Lifting a hand to stroke Glorfindel’s cheek, Erestor
leaned closer and met Glorfindel’s lips, coaxing the younger elf to relax.
Just as Glorfindel began to place his hands upon Erestor’s hips, the
dark elf took hold of his lover’s wrists and pinned them up above against the
shelves of books. “You said
something about… flying lessons,” purred Erestor, rubbing himself against
Glorfindel in a most sensuous manner before nipping at the bare throat that
presented itself.
“Oh… Erestor…” groaned Glorfindel, fighting to kiss
his love once more. He was granted
this, but only after torture long enough to arouse him.
“Flying… falling… I will do whatever you ask of me…” he panted
as they broke for air. “Forever.
Always.”
Gliding his hands down along muscled arms, Erestor sighed
as he embraced the blonde elf and was nuzzled and cuddled in return, tears
pricking at his eyes. “I love
you, Glorfindel,” said Erestor softly into his lover’s ear as they held one
another.
Snuggling closer, Glorfindel whispered, “And I, you, Erestor.”