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01/22/19 01:01 am
Thank you SparkyTAS and Gabriel- this is lovely- you get birthday wishes for days!
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happy birthday, Ziggy!!
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Shout Archive

To Ward Winter's Chill by elfscribe

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Story notes:

Beta: Capella.
Feedback: Mmm, love it!
Warnings: m/m, memories of an abusive relationship, semi-non-con moment, cursing (most people think the cursing is humorous).
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkien's estate. I havea no claim, I makea no dough.
Notes: This is a sequel to Ossë's Gift. (Was originally an epilogue and then it got out of control.) 
Originally posted on LJ 5/4/07 as a birthday present for Ennorwen.

Twilight was folding the landscape into ambiguous shades of grey. Erestor listened to the wind’s hiss as it bent the grasses to its will, the sound punctuated by the horse’s blowing breath and the percussion of his long stride upon the turf.  The chilled softness of the air signaled impending snow.  Although the shortest day of the year had passed, they were traveling north where winter held sway for several months to come. Behind him, Erestor could feel Glorfindel's astonishing warmth as he held him close. Fin’s large cloak enveloped them both, leaving Erestor’s face and legs exposed to the air's nip.   
One of Glorfindel’s hands guided the horse while the other arm encircled Erestor’s waist, making the Counselor feel both secure and somewhat controlled.  He did not like this rather subservient position but he had disliked the idea of riding behind even more. Since there was only one horse, he hadn’t had many options. Accustomed to being the one in charge in most any situation and yet overwhelmed by his new-found affection for his friend, Erestor’s feelings jostled together in a uncertain fit.                                       
And that was not all that was causing Erestor distress. Oiolairë's stride was sure and smooth, but every jounce and forward lunge served to remind Erestor of the activities of the night before and the malaise was becoming more pronounced as the hours fled.  He shifted uncomfortably and the motion freed, for a moment, his lover’s grip about his waist.

“We are nearly there,” Glorfindel said in his ear. “We’ll make it before nightfall. Are you getting stiff?”  His voice had the light timbre of a viol. Erestor wondered if he ever tired.       

“Not stiff, so much as . . .” Erestor wriggled again. It was a strange dual sensation, one of discomfort, but at the same time the tenderness and heat focussed his attention in a way that was rather erotic.                          
Glorfindel chuckled.  “A little sore, are we?”

“Sore. Yes, I’m sore!” Erestor said irritably.  “And I know who to blame for it.”

“Who was it begged to have his arse set afire? And I distinctly remember those exact words.”

“Glorfindel, you should know that something like that, said in the heat of passion, should not be taken literally,” Erestor replied, rather primly.

Glorfindel laughed. “Is that so? I shouldn’t have taken you—literally?”

“Indeed,” Erestor scoffed. “You were most thorough in your interpretation.  I am now suffering as a result.  I hope that pleases you.”  Again, he shifted.

“Everything about you pleases me,” Glorfindel said. “Most especially that charming arse of yours. I could compose an ode to its perfection of contour and color; its round firmness with its adorable dimples.” His hand left its position on Erestor’s waist, eased across his belly, slid around his hip to stroke a buttock. “Did you notice how perfectly we fit? More than perfect. I waited a long time for that.  A long, long time.”

The rumbly purr of Glorfindel’s voice vibrated against Erestor’s ear, raising havoc with Erestor’s nether regions. Oh yes, there was nothing like the formidable Glorfindel pounding him into the beach.  The memory of last night, the first time they’d admitted their affection to each other; the first time he’d been free to express it; well, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.  The images, sounds, textures all came back to thrill him over again.  He thought of the beauty of Fin’s body, the outline of his hair and his broad shoulders silvered by a glaze of moonlight; the peculiar, gasping moan of desire when first he had breached Erestor; the increasingly urgent rhythm as his loins thumped against Erestor’s rear and the backs of his thighs; and then the sight of Fin’s face: mouth dropping open, contorted as if in torment, then lightening to ecstasy. Oh, what a feeling of power to have Fin lose himself in his embrace. As Erestor relived the memories, heat fingered upward from his loins. There were times in his past when physical satiation with a new lover had ended the fascination.  Not so with Glorfindel.  Having made love to him had only fed the fires.  He realized he wanted this elf badly.  Wanted all of him.
But Erestor had devoted his life to controlling his feelings and during the ride he’d had time to mull over the situation.  Like fragile moths, the doubts had come nattering.  So, they’d had one glorious night.  What now?  How could he possibly allow anyone at court to know, especially those who had listened so long to his recital of Glorfindel’s faults, mostly relating to his promiscuous ways.  Blessed Eru, what would the King say?  Erestor did not relish the thought of the teasing he would have to endure.  But that he could tolerate.  There were greater worries. Did Glorfindel really care for him or was Erestor just another notch on the much-nicked headboard?  Perhaps, Erestor thought, he should  feign indifference, so that Findel did not know the depths of his affection? Caution and brinksmanship had ever been the Counselor’s bywords. He stirred again, settling back against that strong body. “Is my arse all that you wanted?” he muttered.

“All that I wanted and more,” Glorfindel said, mistaking Erestor’s meaning. “Fortunately for you,” he continued, “I have something to ease your trouble. Widgewyn gave me some numbing salve before we left.” Glorfindel licked the rim of Erestor’s ear, the warmth immediately growing cold in the wind. “I am looking forward to applying it.”
“Widgewyn gave it to you!” Erestor grumbled. “Why would she do that? You didn’t tell her about us, did you? I’ll never be able to show my face in that village again! How am I to direct building a lighthouse amidst a crowd of sly looks?”

“I didn’t have to say a thing.  She saw us come dragging in this morning, sand in our hair, silly grins on our faces—you walking funny—don’t deny it.  She’s a woman who knows a thing or two. When she gave us the supplies, she slipped the jar to me. ‘Glad I am to see you two getting on so well,’ she said. ‘Take this; you may find it welcome tonight.’ Such a thoughtful gesture, don’t you think?”

With sweet menace, Erestor said, “A thoughtful gesture, surely.  But Findel, what makes you think you’ll have an opportunity to use it tonight?”

“I assure you the house will be most comfortable, much better than the beach last night.  I plan to attend to your every need. Aches and all.”  Glorfindel licked the edge of Erestor’s ear again, then suckled his earlobe, taking into his warm mouth one of the ruby studs Erestor wore. There was a click of metal against teeth.  Erestor pulled away.

“I meant that I have suppressed such needs for hundreds of years now,” Erestor said, turning his head to look behind him. “A night like last one should be enough to last me for months.  Surely, you didn’t expect a repetition?”

There was actually a pause, an intake of breath, then a stammer of sound from Findel.  Erestor had caught the warrior off guard.  He turned back quickly to hide a little smile. 
“What? But I thought . . .” Glorfindel exclaimed.

“You thought what, that I would fall at your feet any time you wished?”          

“You gave every impression last night of enjoying it as much as I did.  Am I wrong in that assumption?”  There was an edge of hurt in Glorfindel’s voice. He had dropped his arm from around Erestor’s waist.

“No indeed.  Truthfully, it was marvelous.  I can see why you have a reputation as a most ardent lover.  The whispers at court hardly do the reality justice.”

“And yet you do not wish to repeat the experience?” Glorfindel asked.  His hand, which had come back to rest upon Erestor’s thigh, began stroking in a small circle.

“I did not say that, maethor nîn.  I simply said that you may have done your job so well that I am sated into the foreseeable future.  You should not make assumptions about my appetites.”

“Ah,” Glorfindel said, “Well, my dear Counselor, so skilled in the game of words, you may have heard it said that an appetite long denied takes more than one gorging to be truly satisfied.  And in fact, the hunger, once awakened by a taste of the dainty it craves,” he squeezed Erestor’s thigh,  “returns more ferociously the next time.”

“Do you believe that you are so appetizing that I cannot control my hunger?” Erestor asked.

“Mandos! All Lindon knows about Erestor’s notorious self control,” Glorfindel snorted. “However, I did not know it was a contest. Or that you had a need to prove yourself any more in that regard. I thought we both enjoyed the feast in equal measure. Tell me then: last night, oh, about the third round of coupling when you were screaming for Mandos to deliver you - was that all an act?”
“No, it wasn’t,” Erestor admitted. “It was glorious. Well, except for the sand and er . . . the after effects.”

Glorfindel chuckled.  “If you are truly sore, then I shall not trouble you in that manner tonight.  There are other ways to enjoy each other.”  He gently bit Erestor’s neck.

“I am fine, Findel,” Erestor said irritably.  “Don’t think that last night was my first rough coupling.  I recover quickly.”

“Then what is troubling you?” Glorfindel asked.

“What makes you think I am troubled?”

“I have known you, Counselor, for several hundred years.  I am quite familiar with your moods.  You are irascible when something bothers you.” Glorfindel paused.  “Come to think of it, you are irascible under normal circumstances.” He chuckled. “You know quite well what I mean.”
“Irascible am I? If so, it will have been two hundred years of trading sallies with an exasperating miscreant that has done it,” Erestor said.

“I would have thought,” Glorfindel replied gently, “that last night would have altered the pattern—at least somewhat.  Am I wrong?”  Once again his breath husked against Erestor’s hair, reminding him of that same sound in his ear last night, of passionate groans and whispered endearments.

“Very well then,” Erestor relented. “You are correct; I am . . . concerned. In the hard light of day, I’ve been thinking, Findel, I am not sure that what we have done is wise.”

“Does wisdom usually prevail when love is concerned?” Glorfindel asked.

“Shouldn’t it?” Erestor said.  (But his heart leapt upon hearing the word ‘love.’)

“Whether it should or not, it is my experience that it rarely does,” Findel said. “But let’s ponder this.  What are we doing that is so unwise?  We are neither of us attached.  We have no entanglements that I can think of . . .”

“There are all your past entanglements, all those elves who have warmed your bed over the years and who still reside at court. What of them?”

“Are you jealous ‘Restor?”


“Mmmm, I think you are.  Well, I won’t apologize for my past.  I enjoyed my dalliances and it was hardly my fault that you were unavailable.  And last night I discovered the reason for it,  that all the while I was longing for you, thinking you had pledged yourself to some ideal of sexual purity and virtue unattainable by the rest of us, you were in fact playing courtesan to Lord Ossë. And apparently satisfying his every desire.  I saw him, in all his stunning beauty. A formidable rival.  Indeed, beyond any in my experience. Tell me, did you enjoy his attentions, Erestor?”

“It wasn’t a matter of enjoyment, really,” Erestor said tightly.

“I want the truth, meleth. Did you enjoy it?” Glorfindel’s voice dropped into a growl.   He squeezed his hand possessively about Erestor’s waist.

“Yes,” Erestor admitted.                            

“Well then, you see.  I am the one who should be jealous.  How can I rival a god?”

“There is a difference.  He held me captive to my vow. I came to resent him.”

“Do you worry that I will hold you captive to a vow, Erestor?  You needn’t fret, I will never chain you down in any way.  I, too, value my freedom.”

“Good,” Erestor said, though the words did not feel certain as they left his lips.  He thought that perhaps what he wanted were assurances of love, but he did not know in what form he wanted them.  His relationship with Glorfindel was too new and raw, reforming itself after hundreds of years of bristling at one another like two feral dogs.  But from the first, he now realized, there had been attraction.  It had evolved into an unstated friendship that formed the foundation for what he was feeling now: a trembling of the heart, a feeling of unbalance, a desire so strong it threatened to overwhelm him.  He said, “In any event, Findel, Lord Ossë is no longer in the picture, whereas many of your paramours are. In fact, I remember just before we left for Umbar, you had a very *touching* farewell scene first with Gildor and then later on a different staircase with Celemîr.”

“Erestor, can’t you just enjoy the moment?” Glorfindel’s voice had become as soothing as if he were quieting a frightened horse. “Enjoy this time that we have together right now.  Savor the bite of the air, the rhythm of Oiolairë’s stride, the anticipation of a warm fire and a pleasant evening all alone together. You know it is a rare thing to have a quiet space in between duties and obligations.  I have learned to make the most of those times and there is no one with whom I would rather spend a perfect night by the fire than you.”

That was close enough to what he wanted, Erestor thought. “Perhaps you are right,” he said. Erestor willed his muscles to relax, even though he realized that Findel had not really addressed his concerns about past lovers and in fact, had skirted the issue. Ah well, clearly it would be wise to let it drop, for now.  He rolled his neck to relieve the kinks.  “So, how much further is it then? The bite of the wind that you have praised has only served to roughen my cheeks and awaken my appetite.”

“There you are,” Glorfindel chuckled, “talking of appetites again.”
“And there you are, single-minded in your thinking.”

“How do you know what I had in mind?”

“Because I know you for an insatiable rogue and because it has been evident throughout our ride together during which you have been so strategically situated behind me,” Erestor returned.

“And has that been so very unpleasant?” Glorfindel asked quietly. 

Erestor sighed. “No,” he said.

“Because for me,” Glorfindel said, “it has been wondrous to have you like this, in my arms.  To feel your warmth, breathe in your smell.” He inhaled deeply in Erestor’s hair. “I’d like to have you against me like this, forever.”  Erestor felt Fin’s lips moving downward to brush against his cheek.  Heard his own breath catch as Glorfindel’s hand pressed gently against his belly, fingers flexing in the cloth of Erestor’s tunic.  Findel’s hips rocked once against Erestor’s backside, ever so slightly.  It stirred the embers in Erestor’s loins, set them to smouldering.  “I confess I’ve been having less than virtuous thoughts.” Glorfindel’s voice had dropped in pitch.

“Such a rare thing for you,” Erestor retorted.

“Thoughts of all the ways in which I can enjoy you,” Glorfindel continued, unperturbed.  “You think it is difficult to ride with a sore rump, think about riding perpetually . . .um. . . hard.”

Erestor could feel the truth of his statement, nestled happily against his arse and nudging gently up and down with the horse’s stride. What marvelous equipment the elf possessed! He had a brief vision of both of them riding naked, of raising himself up, feeling Fin’s shaft nudging between his legs, before setting back down in one smooth, engulfing motion. A cloud of tingling fireflies danced upward from his nether regions. He shifted.

“You don’t fool me a moment, my dear,” Glorfindel said. “I saw the real Erestor last night, unleashed and undone by sweet pleasure. A fiercely sensual creature. Anything else you try to pass off to others is a charade.”
“Is it?  If I choose, I can remain unmoved by your proximity,” Erestor sniffed.

“That sounds remarkably like a challenge to me,” Findel said.  His hand shifted, slid dangerously along Erestor’s abdomen, downwards. Touched him - there.

“Fin, what are you . . .?” Erestor began but his words ended in a sudden intake of breath and a little jump as Glorfindel’s large hand cupped him firmly through the fabric of his breeches.

“Unmoved are you? Here is evidence to the contrary,” Glorfindel purred.  He began an up and down motion, gently squeezing as he went; then on the upstroke he added a small circular glide of his thumb over the head of Erestor’s rapidly unfurling shaft.

“Blessed Eru,” Erestor gasped. “That is unfair.”              

“Who said I fight fair?” Glorfindel said.  His stroking continued, slowly, agonizingly, up and down, up and down.  Erestor was fully erect now and there was nothing he could do about it.  Tingling shivers darted upwards, came back to rest in his groin, pooling in a glow that began to be tinged with the color of urgency.  He could feel a slight dampness at his crotch, growing with each maddening stroke.

“Findel . . .” 

“Last night I didn’t have a chance to worship you as I should have done,” Glorfindel said. “But I’ve been thinking about your cock, how beautiful it is, how delightfully firm and straight,” at this, he squeezed tightly the entire length of the glide up and back, causing Erestor to gasp, “about how I’d like to put my mouth on it, tease it with my tongue, lick it until the honey begins to well up and spill over the side.  I want to dip up that nectar, smear it all over you until you are drenched with our combined juices.” Glorfindel licked the rim of Erestor’s ear, then sucked on it, rolling his tongue around the ruby stud.

“Nguh, Findel,” Erestor said, wriggling a little in a half-hearted attempt to get away.  But gods, it felt good. Glorfindel responded by dropping the rein on Oiolairë’s neck and holding Erestor more tightly about the waist. Oiolairë lowered his head slightly and slowed. Glorfindel clicked his tongue at him, whereupon he resumed his fast forward walk.  Fin began using both hands to unbutton Erestor’s breeches.

“Fin . . . Findel, what are you doing?” Erestor choked.  “No, not here. . . ”  Erestor grabbed Glorfindel’s hands, finding them amazingly strong. For a moment they struggled together. A brief burst of cold air hit Erestor as their motions opened up the cloak.

“Hold it closed, Erestor,” Glorfindel commanded.  And before Erestor even bethought himself, he had followed orders, grabbing the edges of the cloak and drawing it tight about them.  While Erestor was thus distracted,  Glorfindel opened Erestor’s breeches, and with a deft motion, hauled his cock out of his pants.  It was a relief to be free of the constriction, but now Erestor felt the chilled air on his delicate anatomy. Glorfindel pulled his hand out from under the cloak, spat on it unceremoniously, and the next thing Erestor knew, it was wrapped about him again, gliding wet, warm, enticing.

“Fin, not now!” Erestor cried, then he gasped again as Glorfindel quickened his movements, holding him lightly between thumb and forefingers.

“Why not?  There is no one to see.  No one to know,” Glorfindel chuckled.  “Except perhaps Oiolairë and he swears he won’t tell.” He leaned forward, still steadily stroking. “Will you, Oiolairë?”  The horse’s ears flicked back and then pricked forward again. Glorfindel laughed.

Now he was employing his palm in a most inventive manner.  Erestor could hear the wet sound of his flesh being manipulated.  His blood pounded in his ears. He saw clouds of spots amidst the vague shapes of the fen.  “Oh gods,” he said.

“Why do you fight it? Relax, Erestor. Give in to the sensation,” Glorfindel was saying.  “Doesn’t that feel good?  Yes, I know that it does.”  His other hand snaked up under Erestor’s tunic and worked its way to his chest.  “I cannot keep my hands off of your beautiful body, ‘Restor,” he purred.  “Do you know how much I longed to do this all these years, to touch you all over, feel you come undone under my hands? Now that I have you, I can’t get enough.”  The rough fingers had found a nipple, taken it in a delicate pinch, then tightened, rolled it, released, pinched again, then back and forth between long fingers.  That, combined with the continual stroking, the thumb swirling about, light pressure alternating with a rough touch, was making  Erestor light-headed, awash in sensation: heat, a tingling that moved as if connected by a thread from his nipple down to his balls. He felt a preliminary spurt of fluid, could feel himself tightening.  His release seemed as if it were hanging palpable in front of him, beckoning.
“Fin, please,” he moaned.

But Glorfindel slowed his strokes.  Abruptly he switched his attentions to the other nipple. “I didn’t finish telling you what I want to do to you,” he explained patiently.

“Unnnhhhh, Findel,” Erestor pleaded.

“I want to suck on you, swallow you down whole, taste your honey on my tongue while I put a slick finger inside you, deep inside you, Erestor.”  A whimper burst from Erestor’s throat. “Yes, just like that. I’ll stroke you from the inside. Stroke your center, while I’m pleasuring you with my mouth. Once I get you close, so close to release that your balls are shuddering, then I’ll pull off you and plunge my cock inside you, Erestor.  Deep inside you. I’ll take your body for my own, and I won’t care if you’re sore, or you resist, because you know you don’t want to. You want this, you want to feel me take you, drive into you so hard and deep that we merge together, and we’re one, and there is no one to stop us, and we feel nothing but the rapture of our love.”

The pressure coiled up in Erestor’s loins, swelled, and then lashed upwards, releasing a pulsing wave of pleasure. “Unnnhhhhhh!!!” he cried out. “Mandos! Bloody pits of Angband!”

For a moment the world had gone white. Sensation coursed through him as Fin continued stroking, his rhythm slowing as he milked the last of Erestor’s essence from his body.  His hand had suddenly become very slippery. Findel stopped the motion and held him gently while imaginary butterflies flitted about Erestor’s vision.
“Sweet fucking Eru,” Erestor swore.

“You liked that?”

“No, you bastard, not at all,” Erestor panted.  Findel let him go and brought his hand up to his mouth.  Erestor could hear him licking it like a cat.  He smacked his tongue.

“Bittersweet,” Glorfindel said.  “Just like you.”  He wiped his hand on the cloak.

Erestor reached down and fumbled himself back into his pants.  “Why did you do that?” he asked shakily.

“Would you rather I hadn’t?”

“No,” Erestor paused.  “It was . . .” he shivered with an aftershock.  “It was fine. . .  well . . . yes, fine, good.”  He felt Glorfindel flex his hips behind him, felt the ever-present ridge nudging his arse.

“It seems you are in some difficulty. I should return the favor,” Erestor said.  He reached behind, palmed the evidence of Findel’s unrest, and was impressed anew at its size.  Another feeble twitch of sensation shot upwards from his spent organ.

“No, I can wait,” Glorfindel replied. “You’re not the only one who can control himself, you know.”

Erestor squeezed, felt the elf behind him shudder. He realized that the upcoming evening might be something out of an adolescent’s wet dream. Lovemaking was always more effective with practice.  Last night had been merely a warm up. “You think you got the better of me just now?” Erestor said.  “I’ll have you know, I never let that happen for long.  You are in for a very demanding night.”

“Promises,” Fin said.

Erestor twisted his body around and reached up behind his head.  He pulled Glorfindel’s face to his, and kissed him, hard and long on the mouth.  At first he felt Fin tense in surprise, then he relaxed into the kiss; their tongues met, flailed.  Erestor opened his mouth wider, devoured Glorfindel’s lips, then withdrew, taking Fin’s lower lip between his teeth and tugging, just hard enough to be painful.   He could feel the elf’s breath quicken.  “Yes, a promise,” Erestor said still holding onto his chin, “You obviously don’t know who you’re playing with.”  Fin’s face was shadowed, barely visible in the rapidly fading light.  But just as Erestor’s neck was protesting from the angle and he turned back around, he caught a flash of a melting grin.

He felt a chuckle behind him. “Play with me,” Fin said. “I look forward to it.”
“I’m going to eat you alive,” Erestor murmured.

“I’m counting on it,” Fin replied.

Chapter end notes:

meleth - (Sindarin) love
maethor nîn - (Sindarin) my warrior                      

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