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Translations

maer aur - good morning

pen vuin - dear one

melethen - my love

ernilen - my prince

meleth - love

pen neth - young one

meldir - friend (m)

melin chen - I love you

Peredhel - Half-Elf

mellonen - my friend

hannon chen - thank you

Lu Vinui: First Love

Beta: Ilye

chapter seven

Imladris, Echuir - 1921 of the Second Age

Thranduil slipped through the door into the room next to his own. Anor had not yet risen and he could steal through the room easily in the pre-dawn light. He ghosted through the main room and stepped lightly into the bedchamber. Thranduil's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of Glorfindel lying in his bed, the Elda's golden hair fanned out on the pillow and his bright eyes glazed and half-closed with reverie. It pleased Thranduil to see that the Balrog-slayer obviously slept in the nude and the Prince quickly removed his own clothing.

The Wood Elf slid beneath the cool sheets and brought his body close to the warmth of Glorfindel's. As soon as Thranduil's body came into contact with Glorfindel's, the elder Elf's eyes became clear and aware, taking in the sparkling green eyes of his lover.

"Maer aur, pen vuin," Thranduil murmured.

Glorfindel smiled sleepily and raised a hand to touch Thranduil's cheek. "Aye, it seems to be a very good morning, melethen." Glorfindel twined his fingers through Thranduil's hair and brought the Elf-prince's lips to his.

Thranduil shifted, deepening the kiss until Glorfindel seemed to notice for the first time that his Prince was naked beside him, and he drew back. "Your clothes seems to have disappeared, ernilen," the Elda teased.

"I wouldn't worry," Thranduil returned. "They'll find their way back; they always do."

Glorfindel chuckled. "Am I to assume you are here to take advantage of my... vulnerable state?"

Thranduil slid his hand over the soft skin of Glorfindel's stomach, resting his palm just above the indent in the Elda's belly. "I do not believe, my Lord, that you are ever vulnerable." The Prince's eyes had darkened and Glorfindel could feel his lover's arousal hot and hard against his hip.

Glorfindel felt his own desire flare within him and he pulled Thranduil down for another heated kiss. Thranduil slowly slid his hand down the expanse of Glorfindel's stomach. He smiled into the kiss when Glorfindel arched his hips off the mattress in an attempt to bring his hard length into contact with Thranduil's questing fingers. "Now who is impatient?" he asked, nipping at Glorfindel's bottom lip.

The Elda laughed softly. "Are you telling me you would like to wait? We could go and break our fast, and perhaps Lord Elrond could demand my presence today."

Thranduil growled and rolled so that he was atop the Balrog-slayer and bit at the skin of Glorfindel's neck. "Nay, my Lord. You are mine for the day and I will not waste a moment of it," he whispered hotly against Glorfindel's throat.

Glorfindel ran his nails down Thranduil's back, delighting in the moan it brought forth from the Prince. Glorfindel knew their first time was not going to be slow and long; the Elda was already painfully aroused and he wanted to feel Thranduil within him as soon as possible. "If you wish the day, melethen," he panted, turning his head away from Thranduil to expose more of his neck. "Then we have the day to explore one another. I want you now." To stress his desire, he thrust up against Thranduil, bringing their erect members together.

The Wood Elf groaned and nodded. "Where do you keep the oil?" Glorfindel motioned to the bedside table and Thranduil stretched over the Elda to reach the drawer. Glorfindel could not help himself and he captured one of Thranduil's nipples in his mouth, drawing on it hungrily as he continued to thrust against the Prince. Thranduil shuddered and quickly located the phial. When he returned to his original position, he looked questioningly at Glorfindel. "Do you..." he asked hesitantly, indicating the phial.

The Elf-lord chuckled and unexpectedly spread his legs, allowing Thranduil to nestle between his thighs. "Does that answer your unasked question, ernilen?" Glorfindel's eyes glittered with laughter. It had been many years since he had had a lover so passionate and playful as Thranduil.

Thranduil laughed as he opened the phial and poured a generous amount on his hand. He glanced up at Glorfindel, his eyes the color of oak leaves in the summer. "Have you done this before, my Lord, or are you a blushing maid?"

Glorfindel sat up and shifted so he rested on his hands and knees, presenting Thranduil with his backside. "Even when I was untouched, Thranduil, I never blushed."

The Prince leaned down and bit the swell of Glorfindel's buttocks while running his slick hand between the cleft. "Then I must simply try harder."

The Seneschal pushed back against Thranduil's hand. "Do not try, simply do!"

Thranduil let out a laugh and slid one finger into the tight passage of Glorfindel's body. The Elda gasped, but no sooner had the sound left his lips than the pressure ceased. He whimpered at the sudden emptiness, but Thranduil had thrust his finger forward once again before the cry had even been completed. Glorfindel pushed back, but Thranduil once again removed his finger.

"You are cruel!" Glorfindel glared over his shoulder at the Sinda.

Thranduil chuckled. "I've only begun, meleth." The Prince returned with two fingers this time and Glorfindel threw his head back and cried out. He quickly pumped his fingers, slicking the passage thoroughly. "Though I would like this to last much longer, Glorfindel, I do not think I can wait. I have waited months for this opportunity... I will be careful -- though I make no promises of being gentle."

Glorfindel could hear the smile in Thranduil's voice but all thought was lost when the thick length of his lover impaled him. "Ai!" he cried out, his need lost in Thranduil's groan of possession. They remained still for several moments, their ragged breathing the only sound in the cool light of dawn. "By the Valar, Thranduil," Glorfindel ground out. "Move!"

The Prince set a rapid pace, gripping Glorfindel's hips almost painfully. The Elda reached beneath himself and began to stroke his cock in a frantic motion, unable to hold back his release. The elder Elf's orgasm ripped through him and his body trembled uncontrollably. Glorfindel heard Thranduil's long moan and felt the liquid heat of the Prince's seed coat his passage. The Seneschal had never had such a complete sense of satisfaction as he did at that moment.

Thranduil pulled away from Glorfindel, resting for a moment on his knees. He was almost disappointed with how quickly the act had been, but the deep sense of contentment he felt negated the small inkling of regret.

The Elda kicked the soiled coverlet to the floor before falling to his side, a sweet smile lighting his face. "Come, let us rest for a few more hours," Glorfindel said, his blue eyes dancing in the gentle early-morning light. "I do believe you will need your strength for when I take you, pen neth."

The Elf-prince laughed softly and joined Glorfindel, wrapping his arms around his lover tightly. "I am ready if you are, melethen."

Glorfindel nuzzled Thranduil's neck, sighing happily. "In a little while," he mumbled sleepily.

Thranduil shook his head. "In a little while I am sure Lord Elrond and a host from Lothlórien will be waiting outside your door, demanding your attention."

The Elf-lord wrapped his legs around Thranduil's, successfully pinning the Prince within his embrace. "Not even Manwë himself could pull me from this bed or your arms this day, ernilen."

"We shall see about that," Thranduil said softly, kissing Glorfindel's golden tresses before slipping into reverie.

Lothvaen stood outside the door to Erestor's office. The office he had shared for so long now seemed foreign and imposing. Lothvaen took a deep breath and rapped sharply on the door.

A muffled voice called out to him. "Enter!"

The young Noldo walked into the well-appointed office and looked around. He still wasn't used to bypassing the Chief Councilor's study every morning. Lothvaen approached the large, heavy, cherry wood desk, his eyes focused on the stiff-backed Elf sitting behind the imposing piece of furniture. Lothvaen could not count the number of fantasies he had that involved one of them laying across the cool, smooth surface, the papers and quills strewn about the floor while they made passionate love.

Erestor cleared his throat. "Lord Lothvaen."

Lothvaen stared into the depths of Erestor's dark, bottomless gaze, trying to decide how to approach his former employer. "My Lord, I desire a word with you."

The Elf-lord put his quill down and sat back in his chair, folding his hands elegantly in his lap. "What would you like to discuss, my Lord?"

"I would like to discuss what happened between us, Erestor." Lothvaen dropped the pretense of formality and crossed his arms. "In your bathing chamber."

Erestor could feel the color drain from his face. "I do not know what there is to speak of, Lothvaen."

"Much, I would think. I desire you." The room dropped into silence and Lothvaen wondered if he had been too forward. "I have wanted you from the night I came to your rooms seeking the next volume of text I was to transcribe."

The Chief Councilor raised one eyebrow. "Three hundred years?"

Lothvaen nodded.

"That is a very long time, meldir," Erestor replied cautiously, afraid of where this conversation was leading.

"Indeed." Lothvaen stepped closer to the desk. "I want you to know that I did not pleasure you out of some twisted sense of duty."

Erestor shot to his feet, his chair falling to the floor loudly. "I do not wish to discuss this, Lothvaen. I would appreciate it if you left my office now." The elder Noldo's voice trembled and he cursed himself for showing such lack of control.

Lothvaen unconsciously advanced on Erestor, his brow furrowed with concern. "My Lord?"

Erestor continued to step back, his fists clenching and unclenching with anxiety. "Lothvaen, please," he replied, closing his eyes when his back came against the solid barrier of his office wall. "Leave."

The younger Elf quickly came around the desk, reaching out for the frightened Councilor. "I do not think I should leave, Erestor. These things need to be said." When Lothvaen's cool hand touched the flushed cheek of his former employer, he registered the shudder that shook the dark Elf's body. "Melin chen, Erestor." Lothvaen's voice was barely a whisper as he spoke the words he had withheld for so many years.

Erestor's dark eyes flew open and his face contorted with rage. The scream that erupted from the Elf-lord's throat tore through Lothvaen, the raw, primal quality of the sound terrifying him with its intensity. "No!" Erestor brought his hand right hand up and grasped Lothvaen's wrist in a painfully tight grip. Erestor coiled his muscles, and with his right hand, gave a powerful shove to Lothvaen's chest, releasing the younger Elf's own right hand in the process. The force of Erestor's thrust was such that the stunned Noldo flew over the desk and landed most of the way across the room from the fuming Councilor.

The Elf-lord's rage did not ease with the source of his apprehension now across the room. Erestor's heart pounded and he stalked to his desk. He gripped the edge of the massive piece of furniture and flung it away from him, sending the contents of his desk flying: ink staining the pale carpet, quills fluttering to the floor, and papers becoming smeared when the flask of water on his desk shattered.

Erestor flung his robes off in one swift movement, revealing the same basic tunic and leggings Lothvaen had seen the day Erestor bested Thranduil on the practice field. A glint of the late morning light reflecting off a metal surface brought Lothvaen's wide, terrified eyes up to the intimidating sight before him. Erestor had wedged himself into the corner farthest from his former employee and held in his hands a long knife. Lothvaen didn't want to know where the wild Elf had kept the blade.

Lothvaen jumped to his feet in fear when the door to the office swung open, banging loudly against the wall. "Erestor!" the Lord of Imladris called from the doorway. Elrond and Lindir rushed into the room, both stopping short when faced with the destruction of the room. Elrond's grey eyes fell on Lothvaen. "Where is he, Lothvaen?" he asked, his voice even and calm.

The young Noldo pointed to the corner. "There."

Elrond saw his dear friend cowering in the corner, his eyes large with fright and shining with tears. "Oh, meldir," he whispered. "I thought we were over this." Elrond removed his robes and motioned to Lindir. "Close the door, keep everyone away from here. Do not speak of this to anyone." Lindir nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Lothvaen caught his breath and flexed his arm, wincing when a sharp pain raced up to his shoulder. "What in Morgoth's name just happened, my Lord?" Lothvaen started to walk toward Elrond but a whimper from the corner stopped him.

The Peredhel held up his hand. "Stay there, Lothvaen. He will kill you if you come too close to him." For a moment Lothvaen thought Elrond wasn't being serious, but the stern expression in his eyes told Lothvaen all he needed to know.

Elrond slowly made his way to Erestor, avoiding the broken glass and ink. "Erestor," said softly. "Erestor, give me the knife." Elrond's heart tightened when the large, lost eyes looked up at him. "Now, Erestor." The trembling Elf dropped the blade to the floor, burying his face into his arms resting atop his drawn-up knees. Elrond kicked the weapon aside and sat down in front of his friend, whispering to him in Quenya. Long minutes passed and finally Erestor inched away from his position against the wall and slithered into Elrond's open embrace.

"He has these episodes," Elrond said suddenly to Lothvaen, stroking Erestor's raven locks. "I thought they had subsided, but it seems they have resurfaced."

Lothvaen crept closer to the pair on the floor, but Erestor seemed to sense his presence and recoiled slightly in Elrond's arms. "Stay behind the desk, Lothvaen," Elrond commanded.

"My Lord?" Lothvaen wrung his hands nervously, watching the huddled creature that he no longer recognized as Erestor.

"Erestor? Mellonen? Come now; let us go to your rooms. Wouldn't you feel better there?" Elrond's tone was as if he were speaking to a child and Lothvaen's confusion just deepened. Erestor nodded weakly and Elrond looked up. "Please, go to his rooms and wait for us there, Lothvaen. We will be up shortly."

Lothvaen did the only thing he could do: he nodded and left the room, his head spinning with this new facet of Erestor.

Elrond sent Erestor into his room and walked to the room beside his Councilor's suite. He knocked on Glorfindel's door and tapped his foot impatiently. Hearing stifled laughter and quiet speaking, his eyebrow lifted in curiosity. Elrond knocked again, and this time he heard curses and thumping before the door opened and Glorfindel stood before him, bed-rumpled and flushed.

"My Lord," the Elda said, bowing his head slightly.

"Glorfindel." Elrond smiled at the disheveled Seneschal. "I wondered if you planned on seeing to your duties this day?"

Glorfindel cleared his throat. "I mean no disrespect, Elrond, but... unless there is a Balrog standing in the main courtyard of the Last Homely House, I will be otherwise engaged for the day." The blond Elf flashed his Lord a shining smile.

"Have you seen Prince Thranduil? He has not come down for breakfast." Elrond had a pretty good idea where Thranduil was, but he wanted to see Glorfindel squirm.

The Elda cleared his throat. "Thranduil? I am... uncertain... I..."

Elrond chuckled. "I am certain, meldir, that you know exactly where the wayward Prince is. Very well, I suppose the two of you have earned a day of rest."

"Hannon chen, mellonen," Glorfindel said, bowing slightly.

Elrond waved him back into his rooms. "Go, enjoy yourself, meldir."

The door closed and Elrond's mood darkened once more. Erestor. The Half-Elf entered his friend's chambers without knocking and found Erestor reclining on his bed with his eyes closed. Lothvaen was nowhere to be seen.

"Erestor? Where is Lothvaen?" Elrond looked around the luxuriant room, seeking his newest Councilor. Before Erestor could reply, though, Lothvaen came into the room bearing a tray of simple cheeses and tea. "Ah," Elrond said. "A lovely idea."

"Elrond," Erestor said weakly. "I think Lothvaen and I should speak." The Chief Councilor opened his eyes wearily, blinking in the bright light of his room. "Alone."

The Elf-lord nodded and smiled encouragingly at his friend. "I am but a room away, meldir." Elrond walked to Erestor's side, leaning in to place a loving kiss on the distraught Elf's forehead.

Lothvaen had poured Erestor a cup of the herbal tea and watched the interaction between the Peredhel and the Elf. He could sense their affection, the deep trust Erestor shared with Elrond. Lothvaen felt a tug of longing within his breast, wanting to have Erestor trust him as he did Elrond. The young Elf hoped he still had the opportunity. After the outburst Erestor had had that morning, Lothvaen feared his former employer would never allow him into his heart.

Elrond left quietly, and Lothvaen brought Erestor the steaming cup of tea. Erestor looked up into Lothvaen's wine-colored eyes and sighed. "Sit, Lothvaen. If you have decided you love me, then there are things you need to know about who I am and the things I have done in my long life." Erestor turned his gaze from the open, expectant face of Lothvaen. "When I am done, then we shall see if you love me still."


	Navigation multi-part stories previous next Translations maer aur - good morning pen vuin - dear one melethen - my love ernilen - my prince meleth - love pen neth - young one meldir - friend (m) melin chen - I love you Peredhel - Half-Elf mellonen - my friend hannon chen - thank you		Lu Vinui: First Love Beta: Ilye chapter seven Imladris, Echuir - 1921 of the Second Age Thranduil slipped through the door into the room next to his own. Anor had not yet risen and he could steal through the room easily in the pre-dawn light. He ghosted through the main room and stepped lightly into the bedchamber. Thranduil's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of Glorfindel lying in his bed, the Elda's golden hair fanned out on the pillow and his bright eyes glazed and half-closed with reverie. It pleased Thranduil to see that the Balrog-slayer obviously slept in the nude and the Prince quickly removed his own clothing. The Wood Elf slid beneath the cool sheets and brought his body close to the warmth of Glorfindel's. As soon as Thranduil's body came into contact with Glorfindel's, the elder Elf's eyes became clear and aware, taking in the sparkling green eyes of his lover. "Maer aur, pen vuin," Thranduil murmured. Glorfindel smiled sleepily and raised a hand to touch Thranduil's cheek. "Aye, it seems to be a very good morning, melethen." Glorfindel twined his fingers through Thranduil's hair and brought the Elf-prince's lips to his. Thranduil shifted, deepening the kiss until Glorfindel seemed to notice for the first time that his Prince was naked beside him, and he drew back. "Your clothes seems to have disappeared, ernilen," the Elda teased. "I wouldn't worry," Thranduil returned. "They'll find their way back; they always do." Glorfindel chuckled. "Am I to assume you are here to take advantage of my... vulnerable state?" Thranduil slid his hand over the soft skin of Glorfindel's stomach, resting his palm just above the indent in the Elda's belly. "I do not believe, my Lord, that you are ever vulnerable." The Prince's eyes had darkened and Glorfindel could feel his lover's arousal hot and hard against his hip. Glorfindel felt his own desire flare within him and he pulled Thranduil down for another heated kiss. Thranduil slowly slid his hand down the expanse of Glorfindel's stomach. He smiled into the kiss when Glorfindel arched his hips off the mattress in an attempt to bring his hard length into contact with Thranduil's questing fingers. "Now who is impatient?" he asked, nipping at Glorfindel's bottom lip. The Elda laughed softly. "Are you telling me you would like to wait? We could go and break our fast, and perhaps Lord Elrond could demand my presence today." Thranduil growled and rolled so that he was atop the Balrog-slayer and bit at the skin of Glorfindel's neck. "Nay, my Lord. You are mine for the day and I will not waste a moment of it," he whispered hotly against Glorfindel's throat. Glorfindel ran his nails down Thranduil's back, delighting in the moan it brought forth from the Prince. Glorfindel knew their first time was not going to be slow and long; the Elda was already painfully aroused and he wanted to feel Thranduil within him as soon as possible. "If you wish the day, melethen," he panted, turning his head away from Thranduil to expose more of his neck. "Then we have the day to explore one another. I want you now." To stress his desire, he thrust up against Thranduil, bringing their erect members together. The Wood Elf groaned and nodded. "Where do you keep the oil?" Glorfindel motioned to the bedside table and Thranduil stretched over the Elda to reach the drawer. Glorfindel could not help himself and he captured one of Thranduil's nipples in his mouth, drawing on it hungrily as he continued to thrust against the Prince. Thranduil shuddered and quickly located the phial. When he returned to his original position, he looked questioningly at Glorfindel. "Do you..." he asked hesitantly, indicating the phial. The Elf-lord chuckled and unexpectedly spread his legs, allowing Thranduil to nestle between his thighs. "Does that answer your unasked question, ernilen?" Glorfindel's eyes glittered with laughter. It had been many years since he had had a lover so passionate and playful as Thranduil. Thranduil laughed as he opened the phial and poured a generous amount on his hand. He glanced up at Glorfindel, his eyes the color of oak leaves in the summer. "Have you done this before, my Lord, or are you a blushing maid?" Glorfindel sat up and shifted so he rested on his hands and knees, presenting Thranduil with his backside. "Even when I was untouched, Thranduil, I never blushed." The Prince leaned down and bit the swell of Glorfindel's buttocks while running his slick hand between the cleft. "Then I must simply try harder." The Seneschal pushed back against Thranduil's hand. "Do not try, simply do!" Thranduil let out a laugh and slid one finger into the tight passage of Glorfindel's body. The Elda gasped, but no sooner had the sound left his lips than the pressure ceased. He whimpered at the sudden emptiness, but Thranduil had thrust his finger forward once again before the cry had even been completed. Glorfindel pushed back, but Thranduil once again removed his finger. "You are cruel!" Glorfindel glared over his shoulder at the Sinda. Thranduil chuckled. "I've only begun, meleth." The Prince returned with two fingers this time and Glorfindel threw his head back and cried out. He quickly pumped his fingers, slicking the passage thoroughly. "Though I would like this to last much longer, Glorfindel, I do not think I can wait. I have waited months for this opportunity... I will be careful -- though I make no promises of being gentle." Glorfindel could hear the smile in Thranduil's voice but all thought was lost when the thick length of his lover impaled him. "Ai!" he cried out, his need lost in Thranduil's groan of possession. They remained still for several moments, their ragged breathing the only sound in the cool light of dawn. "By the Valar, Thranduil," Glorfindel ground out. "Move!" The Prince set a rapid pace, gripping Glorfindel's hips almost painfully. The Elda reached beneath himself and began to stroke his cock in a frantic motion, unable to hold back his release. The elder Elf's orgasm ripped through him and his body trembled uncontrollably. Glorfindel heard Thranduil's long moan and felt the liquid heat of the Prince's seed coat his passage. The Seneschal had never had such a complete sense of satisfaction as he did at that moment. Thranduil pulled away from Glorfindel, resting for a moment on his knees. He was almost disappointed with how quickly the act had been, but the deep sense of contentment he felt negated the small inkling of regret. The Elda kicked the soiled coverlet to the floor before falling to his side, a sweet smile lighting his face. "Come, let us rest for a few more hours," Glorfindel said, his blue eyes dancing in the gentle early-morning light. "I do believe you will need your strength for when I take you, pen neth." The Elf-prince laughed softly and joined Glorfindel, wrapping his arms around his lover tightly. "I am ready if you are, melethen." Glorfindel nuzzled Thranduil's neck, sighing happily. "In a little while," he mumbled sleepily. Thranduil shook his head. "In a little while I am sure Lord Elrond and a host from Lothlórien will be waiting outside your door, demanding your attention." The Elf-lord wrapped his legs around Thranduil's, successfully pinning the Prince within his embrace. "Not even Manwë himself could pull me from this bed or your arms this day, ernilen." "We shall see about that," Thranduil said softly, kissing Glorfindel's golden tresses before slipping into reverie. Lothvaen stood outside the door to Erestor's office. The office he had shared for so long now seemed foreign and imposing. Lothvaen took a deep breath and rapped sharply on the door. A muffled voice called out to him. "Enter!" The young Noldo walked into the well-appointed office and looked around. He still wasn't used to bypassing the Chief Councilor's study every morning. Lothvaen approached the large, heavy, cherry wood desk, his eyes focused on the stiff-backed Elf sitting behind the imposing piece of furniture. Lothvaen could not count the number of fantasies he had that involved one of them laying across the cool, smooth surface, the papers and quills strewn about the floor while they made passionate love. Erestor cleared his throat. "Lord Lothvaen." Lothvaen stared into the depths of Erestor's dark, bottomless gaze, trying to decide how to approach his former employer. "My Lord, I desire a word with you." The Elf-lord put his quill down and sat back in his chair, folding his hands elegantly in his lap. "What would you like to discuss, my Lord?" "I would like to discuss what happened between us, Erestor." Lothvaen dropped the pretense of formality and crossed his arms. "In your bathing chamber." Erestor could feel the color drain from his face. "I do not know what there is to speak of, Lothvaen." "Much, I would think. I desire you." The room dropped into silence and Lothvaen wondered if he had been too forward. "I have wanted you from the night I came to your rooms seeking the next volume of text I was to transcribe." The Chief Councilor raised one eyebrow. "Three hundred years?" Lothvaen nodded. "That is a very long time, meldir," Erestor replied cautiously, afraid of where this conversation was leading. "Indeed." Lothvaen stepped closer to the desk. "I want you to know that I did not pleasure you out of some twisted sense of duty." Erestor shot to his feet, his chair falling to the floor loudly. "I do not wish to discuss this, Lothvaen. I would appreciate it if you left my office now." The elder Noldo's voice trembled and he cursed himself for showing such lack of control. Lothvaen unconsciously advanced on Erestor, his brow furrowed with concern. "My Lord?" Erestor continued to step back, his fists clenching and unclenching with anxiety. "Lothvaen, please," he replied, closing his eyes when his back came against the solid barrier of his office wall. "Leave." The younger Elf quickly came around the desk, reaching out for the frightened Councilor. "I do not think I should leave, Erestor. These things need to be said." When Lothvaen's cool hand touched the flushed cheek of his former employer, he registered the shudder that shook the dark Elf's body. "Melin chen, Erestor." Lothvaen's voice was barely a whisper as he spoke the words he had withheld for so many years. Erestor's dark eyes flew open and his face contorted with rage. The scream that erupted from the Elf-lord's throat tore through Lothvaen, the raw, primal quality of the sound terrifying him with its intensity. "No!" Erestor brought his hand right hand up and grasped Lothvaen's wrist in a painfully tight grip. Erestor coiled his muscles, and with his right hand, gave a powerful shove to Lothvaen's chest, releasing the younger Elf's own right hand in the process. The force of Erestor's thrust was such that the stunned Noldo flew over the desk and landed most of the way across the room from the fuming Councilor. The Elf-lord's rage did not ease with the source of his apprehension now across the room. Erestor's heart pounded and he stalked to his desk. He gripped the edge of the massive piece of furniture and flung it away from him, sending the contents of his desk flying: ink staining the pale carpet, quills fluttering to the floor, and papers becoming smeared when the flask of water on his desk shattered. Erestor flung his robes off in one swift movement, revealing the same basic tunic and leggings Lothvaen had seen the day Erestor bested Thranduil on the practice field. A glint of the late morning light reflecting off a metal surface brought Lothvaen's wide, terrified eyes up to the intimidating sight before him. Erestor had wedged himself into the corner farthest from his former employee and held in his hands a long knife. Lothvaen didn't want to know where the wild Elf had kept the blade. Lothvaen jumped to his feet in fear when the door to the office swung open, banging loudly against the wall. "Erestor!" the Lord of Imladris called from the doorway. Elrond and Lindir rushed into the room, both stopping short when faced with the destruction of the room. Elrond's grey eyes fell on Lothvaen. "Where is he, Lothvaen?" he asked, his voice even and calm. The young Noldo pointed to the corner. "There." Elrond saw his dear friend cowering in the corner, his eyes large with fright and shining with tears. "Oh, meldir," he whispered. "I thought we were over this." Elrond removed his robes and motioned to Lindir. "Close the door, keep everyone away from here. Do not speak of this to anyone." Lindir nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Lothvaen caught his breath and flexed his arm, wincing when a sharp pain raced up to his shoulder. "What in Morgoth's name just happened, my Lord?" Lothvaen started to walk toward Elrond but a whimper from the corner stopped him. The Peredhel held up his hand. "Stay there, Lothvaen. He will kill you if you come too close to him." For a moment Lothvaen thought Elrond wasn't being serious, but the stern expression in his eyes told Lothvaen all he needed to know. Elrond slowly made his way to Erestor, avoiding the broken glass and ink. "Erestor," said softly. "Erestor, give me the knife." Elrond's heart tightened when the large, lost eyes looked up at him. "Now, Erestor." The trembling Elf dropped the blade to the floor, burying his face into his arms resting atop his drawn-up knees. Elrond kicked the weapon aside and sat down in front of his friend, whispering to him in Quenya. Long minutes passed and finally Erestor inched away from his position against the wall and slithered into Elrond's open embrace. "He has these episodes," Elrond said suddenly to Lothvaen, stroking Erestor's raven locks. "I thought they had subsided, but it seems they have resurfaced." Lothvaen crept closer to the pair on the floor, but Erestor seemed to sense his presence and recoiled slightly in Elrond's arms. "Stay behind the desk, Lothvaen," Elrond commanded. "My Lord?" Lothvaen wrung his hands nervously, watching the huddled creature that he no longer recognized as Erestor. "Erestor? Mellonen? Come now; let us go to your rooms. Wouldn't you feel better there?" Elrond's tone was as if he were speaking to a child and Lothvaen's confusion just deepened. Erestor nodded weakly and Elrond looked up. "Please, go to his rooms and wait for us there, Lothvaen. We will be up shortly." Lothvaen did the only thing he could do: he nodded and left the room, his head spinning with this new facet of Erestor. Elrond sent Erestor into his room and walked to the room beside his Councilor's suite. He knocked on Glorfindel's door and tapped his foot impatiently. Hearing stifled laughter and quiet speaking, his eyebrow lifted in curiosity. Elrond knocked again, and this time he heard curses and thumping before the door opened and Glorfindel stood before him, bed-rumpled and flushed. "My Lord," the Elda said, bowing his head slightly. "Glorfindel." Elrond smiled at the disheveled Seneschal. "I wondered if you planned on seeing to your duties this day?" Glorfindel cleared his throat. "I mean no disrespect, Elrond, but... unless there is a Balrog standing in the main courtyard of the Last Homely House, I will be otherwise engaged for the day." The blond Elf flashed his Lord a shining smile. "Have you seen Prince Thranduil? He has not come down for breakfast." Elrond had a pretty good idea where Thranduil was, but he wanted to see Glorfindel squirm. The Elda cleared his throat. "Thranduil? I am... uncertain... I..." Elrond chuckled. "I am certain, meldir, that you know exactly where the wayward Prince is. Very well, I suppose the two of you have earned a day of rest." "Hannon chen, mellonen," Glorfindel said, bowing slightly. Elrond waved him back into his rooms. "Go, enjoy yourself, meldir." The door closed and Elrond's mood darkened once more. Erestor. The Half-Elf entered his friend's chambers without knocking and found Erestor reclining on his bed with his eyes closed. Lothvaen was nowhere to be seen. "Erestor? Where is Lothvaen?" Elrond looked around the luxuriant room, seeking his newest Councilor. Before Erestor could reply, though, Lothvaen came into the room bearing a tray of simple cheeses and tea. "Ah," Elrond said. "A lovely idea." "Elrond," Erestor said weakly. "I think Lothvaen and I should speak." The Chief Councilor opened his eyes wearily, blinking in the bright light of his room. "Alone." The Elf-lord nodded and smiled encouragingly at his friend. "I am but a room away, meldir." Elrond walked to Erestor's side, leaning in to place a loving kiss on the distraught Elf's forehead. Lothvaen had poured Erestor a cup of the herbal tea and watched the interaction between the Peredhel and the Elf. He could sense their affection, the deep trust Erestor shared with Elrond. Lothvaen felt a tug of longing within his breast, wanting to have Erestor trust him as he did Elrond. The young Elf hoped he still had the opportunity. After the outburst Erestor had had that morning, Lothvaen feared his former employer would never allow him into his heart. Elrond left quietly, and Lothvaen brought Erestor the steaming cup of tea. Erestor looked up into Lothvaen's wine-colored eyes and sighed. "Sit, Lothvaen. If you have decided you love me, then there are things you need to know about who I am and the things I have done in my long life." Erestor turned his gaze from the open, expectant face of Lothvaen. "When I am done, then we shall see if you love me still."