Work Text:
Title: Dead Man’s Party (1)
Author: phyncke
Character(s): Elladan/Glorfindel, Elrohir/Erestor and various other elves
Rating: R
Beta(s): Aglarien and Khylea
For: Sultry in September 2016
Note: some movie verse reference for Lord of the Rings
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I have borrowed them for my own amusement and for yours I hope.
Summary: Glorfindel receives a mysterious invitation that he cannot refuse. Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel take a journey to a historic place in Valinor. Things get strange but life and love triumph in the end.
Part I
The elves sat at breakfast on the veranda, looking out on the peaceful view of Tol Eressea. Glorfindel ate warm oats while Elladan had hot house strawberries with cream and Elrohir simply drank juice.
Elladan sighed, “All this serenity is rather unnerving, is it not? This monotony gets to one after a while. We have only been here two months and I find myself wishing for the wilds of Middle Earth and a good orc fight!”
Elrohir just about spit out his orange juice at his brother’s exclamation but felt somewhat the same way. It was all the same here in Valinor, day in and day out. Nothing to do. He imagined the women crocheting in their rocking chairs and the men reading accounts of battles long past with longing in their hearts. The women could read the battles too if they had the mind to. He was not discriminatory in any way.
Glorfindel gazed out of the window at the perfect landscape from their home outside of the Tirion by the Sea. They lived on the eastern shore and had a view of the ocean Normally that would be an exciting prospect as seas could be quite turbulent but here in the Undying Lands there were no storms, no swells and the waves lapped at the coast in a very tranquil manner.
The Valar and Maiar kept everything very strictly in control. No bad weather, no storms, nothing inclement. They did allow mild rain so that crops could be watered on the hillsides and farms. But that was not very interesting. It was almost a mist. In other areas of the world, there could be typhoons, hurricanes and monsoons but none of that could happen in Aman. Most days passed with the same monotonous sunny weather at a very reasonable temperature. No need to wear a jacket for a light breeze off the water with no cold to it.
On this particular morning, a courier reached the house and knocked on the front door. He was delivering an invitation to a very exclusive party to be held in Tirion proper and the invitation was for Glorfindel exclusively. Elladan went to answer the door and came back to the veranda with the envelope graced with elegant calligraphy on the front.
“This is for you, Glorfindel,” Elladan murmured as he handed the reborn elf the weighty envelope. The lettering was impressive and done with a steady hand by someone who had perfected the art form of handwriting.
“It must be important if it was hand-delivered all the way to the house. Usually our mail is delivered in town.” Glorfindel broke the wax seal and noted to himself that it was from the House of Fingolfin.
It was a parchment letter by way of an invitation to a formal party at Fingolfin’s home, or rather ballroom, in Tirion. The text stipulated that he could not bring guests and that the invitation was for him and him alone. Glorfindel found that rather peculiar. Why could he not bring anyone? That was decidedly odd and unfriendly.
He had not seen King Fingolfin since his return to Valinor but had known him earlier in his first life and along the arduous and harrowing trek to Middle Earth ere the dawning of the First Age. So they were known to each other. He wondered if this were a reunion of some sort and so the sons of Elrond were not invited nor their father for that matter. He wondered why.
“What does it say, Glorfindel?” asked Elrohir as he buttered his toast with an annoying rasp of the knife.
“Is it important?” Elladan asked, trying to lean around and get a glance at the card.
Glorfindel handed it to him as it was not a secret. Elladan read it with an arched, dark eyebrow, leaning back on his chair. He tossed the invitation on the table in front of Elrohir’s plate with aplomb.
“Well that IS odd,” Elladan exclaimed.
“Whatf isf?” Elrohir mumbled, his words muffled by the toast in his mouth.
The elder brother explained, “There is a party hosted by King Fingolfin of the Noldor to which Glorfindel is exclusively invited and he cannot bring any guests. Invitations were not included for us.”
“Hmmf,” Elrohir continued to eat.
Glorfindel surmised, “It might be a reunion for those who went on the journey across the Grinding Ice or some such thing. I don’t know.”
“Well that sounds dismal.” Elladan said.
“Rather.”
Glorfindel debated going but knew that he could not very well decline an invitation from a High King of the Noldor. The manner of the missive arrogantly assumed a positive reply and did not actually provide a mechanism to accept or decline. It simply stated, “Your presence is requested...”
It might as well have demanded he be there for all the subtly it represented and he did not even know what it was about. He could not bring his lover or any friends. This was altogether rude or very important, he could not decide which.
Elladan reached out to caress Glorfindel’s fingertips and offered, “You don’t have to go, you know.”
“I think I do. It would be social suicide otherwise. I cannot anger Fingolfin.”
“No, you cannot,” Elrohir said as he wiped crumbs from his mouth. “And we will want a full report of what transpires.”
“Very true,” Elladan agreed.
Glorfindel sighed.
“Don’t be so glum about it. It could be fun after all. You might see old friends and talk about old times.”
“That is what I am afraid of. Some things are best left in the past.”
“Well, that is not true. We have fond memories of the past, don’t we?” Elladan tried.
Glorfindel turned over Elladan’s hand and traced the line etched on his palm. Elrohir studiously ignored the affection between the two elves. He had grown accustomed to their little touches and caresses. He, truth be told, was hot in the pursuit of one Lord Erestor, but that elf was playing hard to get and would not even allow a simple kiss.
Glorfindel and Elladan were well past that, having realized their love in the wilds of Middle Earth one stormy night on patrol when Elladan had used the cold as an excuse to get unusually close to his mentor and wheedle his way into a more intimate relationship. They had shared the confines of Glorfindel’s bedroll and it had gone from there. Cuddling on a cold late autumn night had furthered Elladan’s cause and fulfilled his long standing passion. They had never questioned their attraction and it had been as though they were meant to be together.
Elrond had not been surprised by the turn in their relationship and Celebrían had been pleased when they had arrived in Valinor already so attached.
And so it was, they were lovers. They did not really care what Tirion society thought of them. Elladan knew that there were other male couples around from Middle Earth. Thranduil was with Lindir; Orophin was with Melpomaen; Haldir was with Sael. All happy and contented male couples living in the Undying Lands under the Valars’ (noses. He knew they were not married as there was no equivalent for males living together but they were all in committed relationships and very contentedly so. The elves of Valinor would have to catch up with what had happened in Middle Earth and he would not be surprised if there were secretive relationships already here in the Blessed Realm. Such things could not be suppressed much as one might try. Love would have its way.
Celebrían had been happily united with her husband upon his arrival to Valinor though she had nervously awaited his ship once it had been sighted in the Bay of Eldamar. Something in her had known that the white sailed ship carried her spouse across the Shadowy Sea and her heart contracted. She hoped against hope that they would be reunited again after all their years apart. She had spent her time healing in the Gardens of Lórien, wandering and resting and dreaming of a time before her hurt had occurred. The flowers, trees and vines of that garden combined to heal her fea and hroa in a way she never could have in Middle Earth and when Elrond came over the sea, she was joyous in her spirit again.
Elladan and Elrohir had been very glad for his parents when he had come to Valinor, finding them blissful and happy. It softened the news they had to deliver of Arwen’s passing after Aragorn’s death and the grief that they had from her choice of a mortal life. The brothers had stayed in Arda as long as their sister had lived and been with until her last dying breath. They sat vigil in Lothlórien among the fading mallorns as she had loved it there and had pledged her love to Aragorn on Cerin Amroth.
It was with much sadness that they informed their parents of Arwen’s passing and the remaining members of the family could share in the grief for her. They took comfort in each other and had solace in the fact that Arwen had done as she wished and loved Aragorn as her heart had needed to. She had no regrets. In her life she had loved Elessar fully and in her death she had been shrouded in the grief of his passing. She could live but a year without him before languishing in sorrow in Lothlórien.
“Where shall we go today?” Elrohir asked.
They had been exploring the sights in and around Tirion and other locales and trying to make the best of the interminable peacefulness that was Valinor. They rode hither and yon, camped and bivouacked. Truth be told they were trying to recreate some of the excitement of Middle Earth here in Aman but it did not really work. It was all too serene and placid. Sometimes they sparred and jousted and fought though it was only with practice swords as real blades were expressly forbidden.
Most of the famous blades of note were kept in ceremonial cases and on view in Tirion Square. Many of the named swords had never been recovered and were buried in the desolate places of Middle Earth. Ringil, for example, had been buried with Fingolfin in his mountainside grave above Gondolin. Some weapons made their way to Valinor. Elrond’s sword Hadhafang passed down to him from Idril was one of the weapons on display on the town square. Elladan and Elrohir let their swords be placed there as well and Glorfindel surrendered his as well. They had no need of their fighting equipment for there were no conflicts in Valinor. All was peaceful or so it seemed. Any fighting was really play fighting and they made wooden blades to simulate battle with.
“We have not been to Alqualondë yet. What say you we go there to pay our respects?” Elladan suggested.
Glorfindel and Elrohir looked solemn. For Glorfindel it would be a trip back to his past as he had been at Alqualondë at the dawn of the First Age when the elves had fled Valinor. They had been betrayed by the great elf Fëanor who had instigated the first kinslaying of the Teleri. It was a very tragic episode in elvish history and the first instance of elf killing elf. Fëanor had asked the Teleri to provide him with ships and they had refused. Instead of accepting their answer, he attacked the Teleri and stole the ships from him. Fingolfin coming upon the battle mistakenly believed that the Teleri had attacked Fëanor’s party and joined the battle against them. And so the Noldor were able to take the ships and won the day. Many elves were killed that day. Glorfindel for his part stood back and refused to participate in a battle with other elves. He did not spill elvish blood ever in his life and was glad for that fact. He did witness the kinslaying and would never forget that horror.
They loaded their horses with provisions for two days and headed off down the road to Alqualondë. They did not worry about weather or brigands or anything untoward happening on their trip as this was Valinor; nothing unpleasant ever happened here. The weather would be idyllic, the nights serene and there would be no orcs to waylay them along the road. It would be an uneventful journey as such and the only tumultuous occurrence might be the surge of emotion that Alqualondë caused in Glorfindel. Elladan was prepared to comfort his lover and provide the solace that he might need.
They slept the first night under the stars. Elladan and Glorfindel shared their bedroll and Elrohir slept on the other side of the fire. They had cooked fresh killed rabbit which were plentiful on the road. Both the brothers were skilled at hunting with bow and arrow and they had packed vegetables. Water was to be found at a nearby stream so they made a very tasty stew.
“This reminds me of home,” Murmured Elladan as he ate from his tin bowl.
The others knew what he meant. They had all spent much time orienteering in the wilds of Middle Earth under the stars with Elbereth as their guide, the moon as their companion. It felt good to relive their past in this way and share it together. They began to swap stories of their adventures, memories of what they had done and it brought them comfort in the stillness and calm of the night in Aman.
They talked for some time and then fell silent, each in their own thoughts, finally falling asleep to the sound of the crackling fire. Glorfindel wrapped himself around Elladan beneath their blankets sighing into his long, dark hair. They breathed together through the long, serene night.
Waking up the next morning, Elrohir was up before them and boiled water over a freshly laid fire. The sun had just risen and there was a mist all around their campsite. The horses grazed nearby and then went to the river for some water. “You are up early, mellon.” Glorfindel stretched in the bedroll and watched as Elrohir began to make oats for breakfast.
“You know me. I always rise first when we are camping.”
“That is true. You always were first up in the mornings.”
“Bad habit, I guess.”
“I would say it is a good habit, if anything.”
Elrohir smiled at him as he stirred the hot cereal in its pot.
“I did not want to disturb you two. You looked so peaceful sleeping there.”
Glorfindel smiled at that. It was nice to know they looked well together in reverie. Elladan stirred and poked his head out from under the covers.
“Is there tea, brother?”
“There will be tea as soon as the water boils, I assure you.”
“Bless the Valar.”
Elrohir laughed at Elladan’s dramatic exclamation. He knew his elder twin needed his tea and set about making it now that he water was ready. They all needed the morning beverage. That much was true. At times they had tasted the exotic brews of coffee of the Haradrim but they did not have access to that in Valinor. Here they grew the tamer tea so that was what they drank.
Elladan stretched and went to sit next to Elrohir by the fire, finding his tin tea cup in his pack. His hair was in a state and would need combing out but he could not do anything until he’d had a cup of tea and something to eat. Glorfindel loved watching Elladan in the morning before he was all put together. There was a vulnerability to him that few people saw. It was endearing and captivating.
“How about that tea, brother?” Elladan rasped.
Elrohir strained out the leaves and poured the precious beverage into his brother’s cup. It was a very strong black tea that would aid him in waking up for the day. They all especially liked this tea that grew on farms local to Tirion.
The younger twin served up their tea and then their hot cereal which they ate in companionable silence as the mist dissipated into the morning air. The oats would fortify them for the morning and give them the energy they needed until their mid-day meal. By that time they would be in Alqualondë and could find a place to picnic in the town square there. There was a nice park of sorts commemorating the events that had taken place all those years ago complete with commemorative statues honoring the Teleri who had died there.
Glorfindel stood up and stretched, arching his back languorously in the early morning light. His golden hair picked up the rays of the sun and shimmered with a golden light. Elladan could not help but admire his beauty. His eyes followed his lover as he made his way to the moderately flowing stream to make his ablutions.
“Stop drooling, brother. Your admiration is plain to see,” Elrohir quipped as a brother could.
“I am besotted. It is pathetic.”
“Almost pathetic. Just shy of that.”
“Thanks, Elrohir. If he were Erestor, you would be just as bad.”
“Truer words, my brother.” Elrohir grinned and spared a thought for the dark-haired counselor of Imladris. Hair so black it almost looked blue and eyes of brown with a hint of gold flecks in them could be his undoing. He had admired Erestor for as long as he could remember; boyhood infatuation growing with him to an adult passion. He imagined that Erestor knew and was waiting for Elrohir to make his feelings be known.
There were small signs; a glance over an open manuscript; a seemingly accidental brush of fingertips that terrified him and excited him all at once. He would act on his feelings soon if he could get up the courage.
“Elrohir, Elrohir, Elrohir…”
Elladan repeated his name until he got his brother’s attention. He knew what had been happening, of course. He had been in a waking reverie over his beloved counselor and had not been listening.
“Yes?”
“We should pack up and make ready. The morning is getting on here.”
“You are right.” Elrohir broke his train of thought with a manual shake of his head and began to move, breaking camp in the very methodical way that they had always employed in Arda. First douse the fire and go from there, step by step and leave no trace of their presence. It had been very important to their survival in the wilds of
Middle Earth, less so now but old habits died hard. They packed up their bedrolls, remaining food and took their canteen dishes to the river to clean them off. On the way they passed Glorfindel who was heading back to the camp. He knew it was time to leave and so was coming back to assist in breaking camp. His hair was wet and his skin nice and shiny from having washed in the stream.
In short order, they had everything packed up onto their horses. Elladan and Elrohir freshened up in the stream
There was a slight breeze as they crested the hill overlooking the bay. They could see the Telerin ships in the marina down below, beautiful in their majesty but not so magnificent as the ships they had made ere the First Age. Those vessels were legendary and had been burned by Fëanor at Lothgar. This was in spite so that Fingolfin’s host could not make the crossing to Middle Earth. It had been a very bitter day when they had seen the ships burning across the sea and their leader had to make the decision to cross the Grinding Ice. That course had caused much anguish and many more lives lost.
All of this crossed Glorfindel’s mind as they looked down upon the graceful ships in the harbor, harkening back to those times as a remnant of their former glory. He could see people milling about, going on with their day. Today there were memorials to what had occurred and life moved on but part of Glorfindel would always have visions of the slaughter and carnage of the kinslaying at Alqualondë. It was not an experience that was easily forgotten. Elves should not fight each other; elves should not kill each other. It was unnatural and a transgression. This was why his mind could remember it so clearly. He had not raised his sword that day as he had been at the back of the host and had realized in time what was truly happening. He had wept for those who had participated in the horror and dreamed of it still, just as he still dreamed of the cold of the north. Some things you never could forget.
It was getting midday and the sun was nearing its apex. The sea shimmered as though there were a million precious gems in the water. Waves crashed on the breakwater and the ships rocked on their moorings at the piers.
“I am glad to see that the Teleri still make beautiful ships. These are not as large as the ones of old but are still wonderfully made.” Glorfindel spoke softly as they rode through the quiet seaside town.
They continued until they reached the large monument in the town square, positioned exactly in the center and raised so it was visible from every viewpoint around. The base was a simple pedestal supporting a very detailed sculpture of Nienna entwined with a proud Telerin ship as of old. It was all rendered in white marble. It showed the ship in full sail and the wind blowing the Vala’s hair along the side of the ship. It evoked movement and speed as though her tresses were water that the vessel could move through. There was a dedication to the Teleri lives lost in the kinslaying, and visitors left small round stones around the base edge to show that they had visited (2). There were many stones and it was evident that many elves had stood here contemplating the horrors of what had occurred on these grounds.
Elladan picked up a small stone to place, as did Elrohir. Glorfindel stood with his hands clasped at his waist and his head bowed. One might think he was praying but his eyes were closed and he was deep in thought. After a moment, he opened his eyes and bent to place a small rock on the monument. He released it from his fingers on the granite pedestal and let out the breath he was holding.
“Let’s go find some place to eat our lunch. Perhaps there is some place along the waterfront,” Elladan said as he squeezed Glorfindel’s muscular shoulder.
They all walked away from the monument towards where they had left the horses. Elrohir rummaged in his saddle bags pulling out pouches and well wrapped food. He transferred it all into an empty satchel. It bulged as he slung it over his shoulder. Elladan grabbed the wine and water skins while Glorfindel unpacked a large blanket for them to sit on. With all this in hand, they made their way towards the waterfront to find a suitable grassy picnic spot.
The elves around them did not give even look at them as they passed. The locals must have been used to outsiders making the pilgrimage to Alqualondë. Elladan and Elrohir looked Noldor, having dark hair and grey eyes and the overall Noldor aspect, even though they were also half-elven, while Glorfindel was Vanyar with golden hair and sky blue eyes. The Teleri around them all had similar coloring to the twins, dark hair and grey eyes as was common to their kind. So there was nothing untoward about their party of elves.
“This looks good right here,” Elladan said as he stopped and looked back at Elrohir. “What say you, brother?” They were standing in front of a small grassy field with live oak trees on the periphery.
“Very nice. Some shade trees and the grass is nice. We can lunch here and have a nice nap if we are so inclined. But not tarry too long. We will need to get on the road for home before too long.”
And so they did just as they planned. They lunched on light fare, talked of history, the horrors of war and then happier times between them and napped for a very short time under the noonday sun with the sound of the waves to comfort them.
Elladan shed his boots and let his toes sink into the soft grass while the others slept
Part II
Glorfindel and Elladan lounged in a post-coital haze on their bed. They had returned from Alqualondë, unpacked the horses, had a quick, cold dinner and retired to their room. They shed their clothes in short order and fell upon each other with lusty hunger. All of their pent up sexual energy from the last few days came to the fore and they let it have full rein.
Elladan loved to run his hands all along Glorfindel’s muscled body, over his torso, arms and well-muscled shoulders. His skin was warm to the touch and his fingers practically tingled as they moved over the smoothness. They each enjoyed receiving the attentions of the other but on this occasion Glorfindel made love to Elladan passionately and forcefully. They moved together in perfect rhythm until both came to fulfillment in a crescendo of love and passion.
And now they lay in their bliss not wanting to move. Elladan drifted off to a calming sleep and snored lightly into Glorfindel’s ear. He would never admit that he snored, as the golden-haired elf would tease him about it. He flat out denied it refusing to acknowledge it in any way.
A short time later, Glorfindel carefully extricated himself from the loving embrace of his partner and went to the bathroom to wash up so he could get ready for Fingolfin’s party. He had no idea who would be there and needed to dress in formal clothes. He dried off after the bath and padded to the closet to choose a set of robes that would be appropriate.
He chose a light green elvish tunic with fine leaf embroidery on the half collar with matching leggings. He had slippers to go with it. His skin was lightly scented from the sandalwood soap he’d used in the bath and he spent some time braiding his hair in the bathing chamber mirror. He put a gold bracelet on his wrist and left that as his only adornment. Best to be simple and he did not go in for elaborate jewelry.
“You look lovely, Glorfindel. You will turn some heads tonight.”
“I hope not.”
“Well, you always do. You cannot help but to.”
“That is kind of you to say, Elladan, but it can be more of a curse than anything. Looks are a shallow attribute.”
Elladan moved from the bed like a jungle cat, stalking over to Glorfindel. He was gloriously naked and half erect.
“Shallow, yes but appealing as well.”
Glorfindel laughed and shoved him away.
“Don’t mess up my clothes. I will see you later. You are far too tempting in that state.”
“What state is that, my love?” Elladan fell back onto the bed to lounge at his ease.
“You know what I mean.”
Elladan pulled the sheet over his pelvis and the fabric tented nicely. “Oh, I know. I am almost painfully aware.”
Glorfindel smiled and bid him farewell, promising to return later that night and fulfill his every desire. Elladan rolled over and went to sleep.
The ride to Tirion was quiet and uneventful, another serene night in this serene land. The rhythmic hollow clop clop of Asfaloth’s hooves on the road was a comforting sound as he got closer and closer to town. This was one in a line of horses named Asfaloth that Glorfindel had had the privilege of traveling with. It always seemed to be a fitting name for the white horses that he preferred.
He reached the outskirts of the city proper and navigated the wide streets to the palatial home of the former High King. The party was in the ballroom which was in a building separate from Fingolfin’s home. There were many floor-to-ceiling windows and the hall was lit from within. Glorfindel handed his horse off to a groomsman and went up the few steps to the front door. He could hear the sound of conversation within.
The ballroom was liberally decorated with ornate gilded woodwork and plush settees and velvet couches. The people looked golden, bathed in the halo of candlelight, beautiful to behold as elves were. Glorfindel tried to discern the purpose of the gathering. Turgon was here, as was his wife who had perished on the ice. They walked hand in hand together, united in life again.
Ecthelion stood over at the buffet, devouring crudité and hand-dipped prawns in cocktail sauce. He had always been a big eater. He was very muscular and ate a lot to maintain his physique. The Lord of the Fountain raised a champagne glass to Glorfindel and he made note to check in with him later. He wanted to see how he fared in his reborn life. He was not sure how long his friend had been alive in his second life but hoped he was doing well and was happy. They had always been boon companions in Gondolin and he had meant to look him up in Valinor. He was sure many of his old friends now lived. In fact, many of them were here at this party, if he did not miss his guess.
His mind was working out the possible reasons for this gathering. He thought it might have been a reunion of the Long March but there were elves from different ages here and other times. He saw Haldir of Lórien (3) amongst the crowd. He nodded at Oropher of the Greenwood as he reached for a flute of champagne from a server who passed. The former King winked at him and seemed in a jovial mood.
It was curious. All those who were here were reborn elves and had spent time in Mandos. They had been released from the Halls of Waiting to live again. Glorfindel was unique in that he had been sent back to Middle Earth to participate in the great events that were happening and to serve Lord Elrond in the fight against the evil of Sauron. He had been the only one so designated by the Valar to go back to Arda to join in the struggle, but the gods must have had their reasons for this. He could not pretend to know but he did as they requested and served his lord.
“This is a strange gathering, don’t you think, Glorfindel?” Haldir sidled up to him and took a sip of the excellent vintage of champagne. “ At least the food is good. I usually don’t accept such cryptic invitations but I admit I was curious and one cannot really refuse a summons from Fingolfin, now can one?”
“Not really, no,” Glorfindel admitted as he munched on a piece of very fine cheese. Everything was of the best quality. They could have no complaints on that score.
“Why do you think we are here?” Haldir asked plainly.
“Your guess is as good as mine. I am sure we will find out before too long.”
The silver haired elf moved along to another group of elves who had perished with him at Helm’s Deep, leaving Glorfindel to continue to wonder at the purpose of this gathering. He grabbed a tasty prawn from a tray as it went by, not bothering with the dipping sauce. He munched and walked through the crowd.
Círdan is not here, he thought to himself. Elrond is not. The twins were not invited. But Ecthelion is here and Haldir. What do they have in common? They are as different as two elves could be.
“Hmm.”
Aredhel stopped in front of him and smiled.
“You look perplexed, Glorfindel. You have always been transparent, which is an endearing quality but not good for a card player, I suppose. What is it that you ponder?”
“Hello, Aredhel.” Glorfindel leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “How are you?”
“I am fine. I am avoiding certain people and glad to see you. I have no idea what father is up to. I received the same silly invitation as everyone else.”
“Hmm.”
“There you go, pondering again. I am sure there will be speeches of some sort. Father is keen on speeches. He likes to hear himself talk at any rate.”
“You should be more kind to your father.”
Aredhel grinned. Glorfindel had always liked her even though she had given them the slip when they were escorting her in Nan Dungortheb which had led ultimately to ruination and despair in Gondolin. Such were the cataclysmic chain of events unleashed by the actions of this headstrong girl. She adored her son, Maeglin, but Glorfindel did not see him here and assumed that he had not been reborn as of yet. There must be some reason for that at the wisdom of the Valar. The Valar must have had their reasons.
“I am kind to my father to his face but there is no reason I cannot talk about him behind his back,” She tittered and moved along after giving his arm a fond squeeze. “It is good to see you, Glorfindel. We must have tea the next time you are in Tirion.”
“Yes, we must.”
He heard the sound of a gong at the front and saw Lord Fingolfin position himself at a raised dais. And now, he thought, for the reason for this auspicious gathering.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to thank you for coming here tonight. For taking time to join me here for this party. It is not merely to enjoy food and drink and music that I have brought you here…it is a matter of some import…”
So began Fingolfin’s political diatribe as to the superiority of their kind - or as he termed it, those from Mandos who have had the actual experience of dying. He surmised that those who had been through the death experience would have more abilities in their new lives and thus be better able to rule and manage government. The former High King spoke at some length on the subject.
Glorfindel schooled his features into a serene expression and he looked around at the other elves present. Some stood gaping with their mouths hanging open and others took his tack, no expression at all. He looked at Ecthelion who raised an eyebrow but gave nothing else away.
Fingolfin finished with some fist pounding on the podium and lots of glaring at the audience and then there was dead silence as his words sank in. A few people grabbed more champagne as the waiter offered it up. Uncomfortable coughs punctuated the silence. Glorfindel could see where this was going and he knew he would have to speak against the former King of the Noldor. He did not relish confrontation but did not shy away from it either.
/----/
Elrohir stood nervously on Erestor’s doorstep. He had watched Glorfindel leave for the evening and decided that the time was now. He would wait no longer. He rode over to the dark-haired counselor’s cottage up the road and now was at a loss for what to say or do. He was gobsmacked - an appropriate word for what he felt, at a total loss. He had knocked so Erestor was about to open the door any moment now. He thought seriously about hiding in the bushes and waiting for his love to retreat back in the house. He could not do that really but he did think about it for a long two minutes.
The hinges creaked as the door opened and Erestor smiled as he saw Elrohir standing there.
“Elrohir! To what do I owe this pleasure? I was not expecting you tonight!”
“Well, uhh. Umm.” The half-elf stammered as he tried to think of a reason for his visit that did not give away his ultimate goal of confessing his undying love.
“Well, never mind. I was just putting on some tea and thinking about dinner. Come in, come in.” Erestor stood back to let him in and ignored Elrohir’s lack of composure.
Elrohir followed Erestor into the very elegantly decorated cottage.
He really loved it here and always felt comfortable. It felt very much like a home with many of the counselor’s possessions from Imladris. There was an ornate lamp that Erestor had gotten while traveling on a diplomatic mission, a rug with rococo patterns and an exotic flare that he had bartered for from a Haradrim trader. There were pottery vases and paintings that Erestor had purchased all during his very long life in Middle Earth, and some items acquired in Valinor from local artisans in Tirion.
Elrohir sat at the rough hewn farm table in Erestor’s kitchen while Erestor busied himself making tea. He ran his fingers along the wood finish and could not utter a word. It was not their usual comfortable silence. The son of Elrond felt decidedly nervous about what he was going to say and did not know exactly how he was going to say it.
When he had the mug of tea in his hand, he played with the mug and spoon, looking down at it studiously. Erestor had made him his favorite, chamomile tea, while having herbal tea himself.
“Elrohir, shall I make this easy for you? I think I know why you are here.”
“You do?” Elrohir looked up into those smiling brown eyes.
“I do. You have come to tell me you have feelings for me and have for many years.”
“I have?” Elrohir blinked.
“You have. I feel the same and we have waited far too long to tell each other.” Erestor leaned over his tea and blew on it to cool it off.
“We have?”
“We have. Now kiss me so that we can get on with our lives.”
Elrohir smiled because it was just like Erestor to take charge of things and he leaned over to brush their lips together, softly at first and then more passionately. The kiss went on for quite some time until Elrohir pulled back to look quizzically at Erestor. “Were you planning on doing this soon?”
“Yes, of course. If you did not get on with it.”
Elrohir nodded and took a drink of his tea which was now the perfect temperature.
“Do you suppose I could spend the night?” Elrohir asked shyly.
“I suppose you should, given our expression of mutual feeling.”
And they kissed again for a very long moment and continued their evening over dinner and a nice fire in the fireplace. They made love long into the night and then fell into a deep slumber reserved for those madly in love. They lay entwined like two halves of the same heart.
/--/
Glorfindel rode home along the long road from Tirion and had time to think about all that had taken place that evening. He had heard tell of Fingolfin’s madness but never seen it first hand. He had always known him to be a brave and true elf who was strongly principled. Evidently something had gone awry in his mind. He had heard about him challenging the Dark Lord Morgoth to a duel. That did seem a little bit crazy to Glorfindel. He wondered at the Valar releasing him from Mandos before he was ready. One was supposed to be healed, whole and hale when returned from the Halls.
After Fingolfin had spoken and the crowd stood in stunned, awed silence, Glorfindel had worked his way to the front of the room. He noted that Aredhel looked quite troubled and Argon also did not know what to make of this latest aspect of his father’s personality.
“My lord, if I might present an alternative to your proposal…” Glorfindel began.
And he suggested that those who had had uninterrupted lives might actually have more experience because they had lived more and so were very capable as well. It might not be a matter of who was more capable but of working together to share and collaborate together for the better of all. In conclusion, things were fine the way they were and no rebellion of those from Mandos was necessary. The elves could live as they were, together. No one need usurp power from anyone.
He could hear the collective sigh of relief from most elves present and saw Fingolfin’s children press in at the front and lead Fingolfin quickly away. He would need counseling from the Valar at any rate.
Ecthelion clapped him on the shoulder and congratulated him on averting certain disaster and vowed to come see him soon. He was surrounded by well-meaning and grateful elves.
As soon as the champagne and food were gone, the elves dispersed and went off into the night. Glorfindel urged his horse to speed along the path to his home. He needed to see Elladan and find comfort in his mate.
He took the turns at a quick pace and before too long he could see their hilltop house. He galloped the last stretch of road and saw the light on in their window. He knew that Elladan was up and waiting for him. He dismounted in the courtyard and took Asfaloth to the barn. Glorfindel always took very good care of his horse, brushing him down each night and leaving plenty of food and water for him. He hurried through these tasks tonight.
He got to their chamber and Elladan slumbered on the bed by lantern light. The half-elf rested on top of the coverlet wearing only sleeping pants and nothing else. His skin glowed in the flickering light and Glorfindel admired his lover’s well defined muscles. He went to his closet and began to take off his evening clothes, grabbing his nightwear from the dresser. He kicked off his shoes, taking off his leggings to fold and put away. Then he unbuttoned his tunic and hung it up in the closet. He slid on his sleeping pants and turned to the bed.
Elladan had curled away from him so Glorfindel slid behind him fitting his body to the curve of his mate. The elder twin murmured, “Did you have a good time?” He yawned and struggled to be awake enough to hear about Glorfindel’s night.
“I will tell you in the morning. Let’s not worry about it now.”
Glorfindel was already drifting off to sleep and letting his mind quiet down after all the emotional upset earlier in the evening. The presence of his partner comforted him and he was quickly slipping into reverie. All would be well in the morning and he was sure that Elladan would find the whole thing amusing or at least ironic.
And so they fell into sleep together entwined and happy.
The End
(1) Title inspired by Oingo Boing Song – Dead Man’s Party – full lyrics here –
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/oingoboingo/deadmansparty.html
(2) I am borrowing a Jewish custom of leaving stones on grave site marker. This custom is done to show that one has visited a loved one and paid respects.
(3) Movie verse Haldir who died at Helm’s Deep.