Timeline: the last year of the Third Age

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The end of the War of the Ring, as it came to be called, was a time of adjustment and rebuilding for the many races of the Secondborn. As it was now their time and their Age, history followed the course of these new beginnings, forgetful of those of the Firstborn left on this shore to whom even greater change beckoned.

Arwen of Rivendell had traveled to Gondor in company with the highest born of her kind that still remained East of the sea, receiving both crown and husband with her father’s blessing and good wishes. Elrond Half-elven had no more than two years left in these lands before sailing West and was a pragmatic elf and a loving father, there was no time left for grudges.

On his return to Imladris he found more than enough work to keep him from brooding over his loss. He and those members of his household closest to him, save for one, would leave within two years but there were many who would travel across the sea ahead of that time. Preparations had to be made and decisions taken on their behalf. The one who would remain behind at the sailing of the Ringbearers was Glorfindel, formerly of Gondolin, who had first seen life in the West before the coming of the darkness, and who had remained in Middle-earth at the end of the Second Age for love of Eärendil’s son. For the sake of that love, too, he had undertaken to remain in Middle-earth for the period of Arwen’s life, only sailing westward and home at her passing.

There was no leisure to be gained by this postponement, however. In fact he found he was working harder than he had in years. There were wandering, leaderless orc bands to hunt down and dispatch, roads long neglected save at direst need to be patrolled, and arrangements without number to be made. Furthermore, he was expected to share his memories of the lands in the West, though he secretly wondered why anyone asked him – it had been a very long time since he had seen his first home and he was certain they would find it much changed. He tried not to smile too openly at Galadriel’s tart suggestion that any change could only be for the better.

Messages were carried back and forth between Imladris and the Havens on a regular basis, until it finally reached the point where Círdan and Elrond realised it would be best to consult face to face. Times had changed dramatically. The roads were not yet secure but the danger was reduced to the point where a small company of well armed Elves were more than a match for anything that might lie in wait for a more unwary traveller. The Half-elven lord of the valley was delighted at the prospect of travel. His time on Middle Earth was drawing to a close and before leaving he had an urge to once again explore the landscape around his home.

Before the wedding in Gondor, it had been many long years since Elrond had left Imladris, staying within its confines and using his inborn skills and the power of the Ring of Air to safeguard the refuge and its people. The centuries-long effort had left him worn and weakened, which he attempted to shrug off as a matter of no concern. Glorfindel knew better, but lacked the heart to insist on going to the Havens in his place. With so little time left, he found it difficult to deny the love of his heart anything.

Travel may have become safer but Glorfindel picked experienced fighters, armed to the teeth, to form the well turned-out escort which he decided, despite a number of commitments, to lead himself. Elrond lost no opportunity to tease him about this excess in caution, but was unable to completely disguise his delight. They had both been working well into the night, and time together had become rare and precious indeed.

~*~*~*~

The journey was uneventful. The year had turned and grey skies and biting wind were very much the order of the day, though the weather seemed a little milder for the season than in previous years. Glorfindel rode in companionable silence beside Elrond, indulging in the quiet pleasure of watching him as he stored up memories against the day when Middle-earth would be part of a never to be revisited past.

The company from Imladris was greeted at the turn of the road that led down to the Havens by riders sent as a mark of honour by Círdan to conduct them down to the harbour settlement. Elrond, however, sat motionless on his horse, his face expressionless and looked beyond them to the sight of the rolling waters of the western sea beside which, more than the turning of two Ages past, he had known his first home Glorfindel caught his attention and offered a look pitched somewhere between question and reassurance. Almost imperceptibly he raised a dark gold brow, treating the brief answering shake of the head to a long look before letting his eyes drop.

The remains of the day passed well enough. Círdan was a considerate host, and they were given every opportunity to rest and refresh themselves before beginning the first round of discussions. These mainly involved ways to address the very real concerns of those Sindar who would be crossing the Sea with some trepidation to what was for them, as well as for Elrond and for Círdan himself, an unknown land. Glorfindel, born in Valinor during the Time of the Trees listened more than he spoke during these discussions.

They broke for a meal too early to be called dinner but certainly too late for luncheon, which was brought to Elrond and Glorfindel in the privacy of the little terrace outside the suite of rooms the Lord of Imladris had been given. They sat talking casually and enjoying the food, taking pleasure in the mild winter sunshine and the fact that the wind had lessened.

Glorfindel sat facing the sea which, in his opinion, formed the perfect backdrop to his companion and divided his attention between the breathtaking view and the grey-eyed, full-lipped face he loved to watch. Elrond contented himself with the sight of the ancient buildings of the Grey Havens, set up against the cliff. He had no desire to look upon the water. After a time he lost the thread of the conversation and sat listening to the sea birds wheeling above, lost in dark memory until finally Glorfindel, concerned, reached across and touched his arm lightly, running strong fingers down to rest on his wrist.

“Elrond? What is it?” he asked. “Are you unwell? Is it too cold out here?” As they were alone he reached over and rested his other hand gently against Elrond’s cheek. He had taken to treating the Half-elf with exceptional gentleness since the power of the Three had been unmade, leaving him to face the toll being a Ringbearer had taken on his body. Elrond mainly treated his efforts with amused affection.

The dark head, less sable than an assortment of russets, ambers and bronze in the sunlight, was shaken, and Elrond gave a slight smile at Glorfindel’s concern. “It’s just the sea,” he explained, as though that said everything, and to Glorfindel perhaps it did. He certainly knew that, almost alone amongst Elvenkind, the son of the legendary Mariner hated the sea. “I was remembering my mother.”

“Ah!” Over time Glorfindel had been made the custodian of too many of this Elf’s secret thoughts and memories to need further explanation. He took one of the expressive hands in his and began stroking the long fingers lightly. “I thought you had stopped doing this to yourself. I know the assault on your home and the sight of your mother choosing her own death before it could be chosen for her was a traumatic thing for a child to witness but, Elrond, let it go. Feanor’s sons are long dead now, and your mother is safe with your father. You have carried that picture of fire and death for long enough.”

Elrond smiled at him ruefully. He had heard the same words before, several times in fact. Each time he agreed that Glorfindel was right, each time he agreed that it was time to finally bid farewell to a nightmare childhood and each time they both knew that the memories would return, often when least expected. He drew in a breath deeply and released it slowly, bringing himself back to the present with its own share of tragedies and problems. “I’m sorry for that,” he said “It was just being here – my mind wandered down strange paths. We were discussing horses?”

Glorfindel opened his mouth and then closed it again. They were so close that there were times they seemed almost to be one person, but within Elrond there was always the place where no one trespassed. Glorfindel had long since stopped trying to invade those innermost thoughts, though it still had the power to hurt him when his concern was dismissed in this manner. Accepting the inevitable he returned to discussing the implausibility of taking horses on the journey into the West.

~*~*~*~

Elrond sat and talked with Círdan and others until late that night before finally seeking his rooms. He assumed that Glorfindel would have sought his rest long since, so the disappointment he felt on finding the room empty was tempered by expectation. The windows were open to the night, to the breeze and the sounds of the waves, memories from his long lost childhood. The wind had dropped completely, the clouds had cleared, and things looked set for a fine day on the morrow.

He had changed from formal robes into sleeping trousers and an old, comfortable shirt, and was busy attending to his hair when there was the softest of taps on the door, which then opened, admitting the tall, golden-haired figure of Glorfindel. Elrond’s face lit up and he smiled warmly, holding the brush out wordlessly.

Glorfindel took the brush and settled down behind Elrond, possibly a little closer than was strictly convenient for the implied task. He leaned forward and his golden hair, worn unbound for no other, drifted forward over one of the Half-elf’s shoulders and fell across his chest.

“You didn’t think I would let you end the night alone, did you?” he asked softly, speaking with his lips close to an elegant ear while he brushed carefully down the length of dark hair from which Elrond had already removed all clasps and ties. Glorfindel loved the feel of that hair, it was fine and soft and twined round his fingers like spiderweb. The dark haired Elf shook his head, still smiling.

“I had hoped not, though I was far from certain.”

Glorfindel chuckled softly, pretending to be still serious with the brush while his free hand went about its own business, which involved sliding lightly up and down one of the bare arms before him, raising gooseflesh in its wake.

“You shut me out again, when we were on the terrace. You have done this for all the years I have known you, but it never gets easier for me to accept” he said quietly, watching the light sparkle in the fine strands of hair. He had never seen hair that caught the light as Elrond’s did, and the sight was one of the main reasons he enjoyed brushing it. “The more something upsets you, the more determined you are to stare it down, face it alone and put it into its place. It took no less a voice than Galadriel’s to persuade Estel that you didn’t really need to see the Black Gate again, no matter what memories you might be wanting to lay to rest.”

Elrond sighed, and glanced back over his shoulder. “I wondered who’d been at him,” he admitted wryly. “It’s very seldom he’s managed to stand against a request from me, after all. Why did she feel the need to stop him? I merely wanted to see it once more, see if I remembered it correctly…”

“You wanted to see where Ereinion died, you mean,” the golden warrior said in a voice he kept carefully matter of fact. “You fooled no one with that innocent curiosity, I fear. And there is nothing to see, Elrond, it looks, so I am told, much as before. It would merely have been one more sorrow to add to your memories. Very like listening to the sea and remembering another time, another haven.”

He was silent for a while, busy with the shining hair which he had now draped over one arm and was in the process of brushing vigorously in the manner Elrond usually enjoyed. . Finally, on a sigh, he said, “He was the most practical of Elves, Elrond. He of all people would have wanted you to let memories like that lie in the past where they belong.”

“It was all too quick. I had no time to mark the place where he fell, no conclusion if you will. That was all I sought, Glori, truly. Closure.”

Glorfindel’s fingers stopped trailing up and down Elrond’s arm, and he said in a neutral voice, “Do you want to talk about this? I was further away, I had a clearer view and would have seen more than you could in the midst of all that horror.”

There was a tiny false note to his voice, which said that he would do this thing, but he would take no pleasure from it. After his rebirth Glorfindel had been a reluctant soldier, returning with a deep, abiding respect for life and a distaste for the taking of it, though at need he had always been willing to fight the enemies of his people. He never spoke of that last battle where too many good friends had fallen and Elrond had never insisted. This time was no different as the Half-elf shook his head firmly.

“All talked out and dealt with long ago, my love,” he said. “As is my childhood. Talking is not what I seek now. Something to take the chill from the night air, perhaps?”

He leaned back against the powerful chest and closed his eyes, feeling the tension of the day drain out of him as he listened to the sounds in the room; the beating of a steady heart against his ear, soft breathing, the hiss of the candles and, outside the window, the crashing of the waves. They stayed thus, simply being together for a few minutes, then there was a quiet sound as the brush was put aside and Glorfindel, feeling the quick flutter of anticipation stir within him, wrapped his arms round Elrond and drew him down onto the bed where he lay with his eyes half closed and his head back.

Waves of soft sun-gold hair pooled around him and drifted across his face as Glorfindel leaned over and sought the long, smooth throat, which he kissed softly, brushing his lips gently down in a line to the little hollow at the base, which he explored with his tongue in long, slow swipes. A quiet sigh stirred his hair, tempting him to suck softly at the wet skin before moving on downward. He ran his fingertips along Elrond’s collarbone, then bent his head lower and licked a dark nipple that hardened almost immediately at his touch. He teased it gently with his tongue, circling and stroking it while he leaned on an elbow and moved his free hand firmly over his lover’s shoulder, arm and ribs.

He moved to the other nipple, intensely aware of the warmth of the skin and the eager response of the body beneath his. Glorfindel had had many lovers but not one that made him feel as Elrond always did – alive, desirable, loved. They had met in the Second Age in Lindon, and he had taken one look at the young Half- elf rumoured – rightly – to be the King’s lover, and had fallen completely and irrevocably in love. It had lasted through wars and disasters, through Elrond’s marriage to Celebrían, the silver lady with blood as royal as his own. It had finally found expression years after her sailing into the West, looking beyond friendship one wine-filled midwinter night, waking to uncertainly smiling grey eyes and a hesitant offer of more than friendship.

Glorfindel smiled at himself. He had become so engrossed in memory he had slowed his exploration of flesh that felt new and exciting to him every single time they loved and he was being reminded by hands that had reached down and were tugging firmly at his sleep trousers. He deposited one last kiss to the taut, swollen nipple and turned to slide easily out of the offending item of clothing, which he dropped over the side of the bed before kneeling up to remove the loose shirt he still wore, removing the vial containing their current oil of choice from the pocket and placing it on the small table beside the bed.

“Always prepared?” Elrond asked him, laughing and stretching out invitingly on his back.

Glorfindel knelt looking down at him, completely unaware of the picture he presented with his long golden hair glinting in the lamplight as it moved lightly around his shoulders and arms. His body was firm and toned, with the long, strong muscle of the runner and all round athlete, his skin carried the softest hint of gold, his nipples were pale rose and erect with his increasing passion. Noticing the desire in Elrond’s eyes he ran his hands lightly down his own body, brushing his nipples lightly, then reaching lower to touch his by now darkening and fully erect penis.

He smiled teasingly at his lover, then bent and initiated a deep kiss that held all the longing of their day spent apart within touching distance. One kiss led to another, and another still, and they moved to lie on their sides and from there moved so that Elrond lay over Glorfindel, tangling his hands in the golden mane as they kissed and rubbed against one another. He moved a leg over the strong body beneath him, and began to rotate his hips rubbing their erections together. Glorfindel bit his lip sharply, running a hand down Elrond’s back to cup his ass in a grip that was far from gentle. They lay kissing and touching as they moved against one another until, abruptly, Glorfindel whispered,

“Enough. I need more than this.”

The oil was thrust into Elrond’s hand wordlessly and, knowing from long experience what was required, he opened it then drew back to lie on his side. He ran a hand, barely a touch of fingertips, teasingly down Glorfindel’s body, starting at the base of his throat, the feather-light touch causing him to quiver with need. He withdrew the hand long enough to lick a finger thoroughly, before returning to tease the rather attractive navel, circling it and then dipping the finger in and out a few times before proceeded down to his goal.

Oil was poured into his hand, warmed a moment, then applied slowly and lingeringly to Glorfindel’s achingly erect cock, his hand sliding over and round it, rubbing his palm over the swollen head. Glorfindel was breathing harshly by this stage, the touch sending heat coursing through him. He reached one arm round Elrond, holding him loosely and tracing agitated patterns on his skin while the other hand fisted the sheet. Application complete, Elrond squeezed firmly and was rewarded with a jerking movement of hips and a low groan. He continued stroking slowly for a minute, watching his hand move smoothly up and down the considerable length, watching the oiled skin glow softly in the candle light, then Glorfindel said quietly,

“Playtime’s over. Come, I need you now.”

Elrond nodded wordlessly, knelt up and astride the powerful body and then, by slow stages, sank down and impaled himself on his lover’s pulsating, steel hard erection. The sensation of the unprepared velvety tightness clamping around him caused Glorfindel to grit his teeth to keep from crying out aloud, an action not advisable in strange surroundings. Elrond moved slowly and carefully, rocking back and forth until he had taken his lover in all the way, till he could feel the brush of crisp golden curls against his buttocks.

He stayed completely still for a minute, leaning forward very slightly to rest his fingertips on Glorfindel’s shoulders. The summer-blue eyes opened at his touch, and Glorfindel lay looking up at him, breathing harshly, keeping still by sheer force of will. His hair was a tangle of gold over his arms and shoulders and fanned out from his body, in fact he seemed to be lying in a sea of gold silk. Carefully Elrond leaned forward until only the head of Glorfindel’s cock remained within him, then straightened up, sinking back onto it. Slowly increasing the pace, he repeated this action again, and yet again.

Glorfindel lay and breathed, watching the shimmering dark hair flow back and forth, watched the play of light over a skin that glowed from the light sheen of sweat which was caused by desire, not effort, as he had discovered early in their relationship. He ran his hands up strong thighs and grasped Elrond’s hips firmly. Then, as Elrond leaned back again, he thrust up. The Half-elf cried out sharply and the sound sent shudders of desire through Glorfindel. He was so hard it actually hurt. He kept his hands steady, his eyes on Elrond, who was riding him with half closed eyes and a look of intense concentration on his face.

Glorfindel found awareness of his surroundings was slowly slipping away from him as the rocking become harder and more determined. Elrond leaned forward, bringing his knees up and leaning his forearms on Glorfindel’s chest and the golden warrior closed his eyes, wrapped his arms round the body he loved more than anything else on Middle-earth, and immersed himself in the rising tide of throbbing, urgent heat. He vaguely felt Elrond clasp his shoulders, felt teeth at his neck sending slivers of fire through him and the warm wetness of seed pumping over his belly, then he was in another place where his entire awareness centred on a need to thrust deeper and faster until he finally reached his peak and climaxed deep within the still-contracting heat.

~*~*~*~

They lay loosely entangled, breathing slowly reverting to normal. Glorfindel lay on his back and Elrond on his stomach, his folded arms on Glorfindel’s broad chest, his cheek resting on his arms as he looked sleepily through the window at the night sky. Glorfindel was running his free hand over the long hair that had settled around Elrond like a dark cloak. He reached down lazily to draw the covers up about them, and they squirmed and murmured and settled back into more or less the same positions they had held before.

“I ask a lot of you don’t I?” Elrond mused thoughtfully, lying watching the stars, utterly relaxed under the firm, steady hand. “I must sorely try your patience. Fearing and hating the sea for the memories it brings, dwelling still on the passing of a former lover. Why do you put up with me, Glorfindel?”

Glorfindel was quiet for a few minutes, gazing up at the ceiling and absently stroking his lover’s back. Finally he placed a kiss on Elrond’s temple. “Because the first time I saw you in Lindon, as far out of my reach as a star, I loved you. Because I have never loved you less from that day to this, even on the days when you are so infuriating I find it hard to like you. Because you are my past and my future. Because you will cross the sea, even though you have no love for it, because you must. Because when it is my turn to do so, you will be waiting for me.”

Elrond nuzzled into Glorfindel’s neck, then slid an arm around the warrior’s waist and pulled himself closer so that their bodies molded once more together. They lay quiet for so long Glorfindel though he slept, then Elrond spoke softly into the starlit room. “You are my centre, my balance. I may act in a manner that is sometimes less than loving, I may appear to take your heart for granted, but I will be scanning the horizon, waiting for your ship. You complete me. No matter who or what I find there, only when you join me will I be able to call Valinor home.”

~*~*~*~*~

Finis

~*~*~*~*~

Beta: Charlie
AN: Written for Red’s birthday