Wicked game.

Title: Wicked game
Author: Az (azmodan76@yahoo.co.uk)
Homepage; http://www.nad-no-ennas.net
Pairing: Fëanor/Glorfindel (Glorfindel/Erestor –implied) (Silmarillon-
Rating: NC-17
Summary; Glorfindel wants to be like his ender brother Arato (oc) and
joins the army of Gondolin – but what happens to him there he was not
ready for.
Warnings: Angst, violence
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, don’t sue me.
Author’s note:
Originally I made this for a challenge, but my plotbunny with this pairing
ran amok. But it still turned out as a fic. Thanks to Bersa & L’L for the
kind words. And ofcourse thanks to Miriel who betaed the first part, and
thanks to Lisbet who betaed the whole shebang!


Wicked game.
// I never dreamed that I’d love somebody like
I never dreamed that I’d loose somebody like

Part 1 – What a wicked thing to say you
never felt this way




The blond elf looked up lazily at the elf standing next to him. “What
do you want, Arato?” he mumbled.

Arato squatted down next to Glorfindel on the grassy hill. “You
must come eat with the rest of us, mother is worrying.” Glorfindel
did not answer and Arato sighed. “Come now, little brother, do not
waste your time here – I agree that Gondolin’s gardens are
magnificent, but you must eat.”

Glorfindel sighed. “You are right, there is no need to worry mother
and father.”

“No,” Arato whispered and ran a hand over Glorfindel’s golden hair.
“Will you do me a favour, penneth?”

“Anything,” Glorfindel answered and turned his face to look directly
into his brother’s.

“When I go back to the barracks, take care of mother?”

“Of course,” Glorfindel answered with a smile, and stood up.

“You will outgrow me soon,” Arato laughed and wrapped an arm
around his brother’s shoulders.

“Aye, I will become a grand warrior some day,” Glorfindel said a-

Arato laughed wholeheartedly. “I’m sure you will, but first you need
to eat, so you can get some flesh and muscles on those skinny legs
of yours.”

Glorfindel just answered with an offended snort, and followed his
brother home.


-months later-

“Arato! Father!” Glorfindel yelled as he ran as fast as he could,
clutching the parcel in his hand tightly. “They want me! They
actually want me!”

“Hold on, little flower” Arato laughed as Glorfindel almost ran him
down in his eagerness to get inside. “Who wants you?”

“The king, the king,” Glorfindel rambled.

“For what?” a female voice suddenly said.

Glorfindel looked up and saw his mother standing in the doorway
with a deep frown. “The army, mother,” he said more calmly.

“Oh…” she sighed and looked away with badly hidden sadness. “So
he wants you too, will he leave me none of my sons?”

“Oh, mother!” Glorfindel exclaimed and rolled his eyes. “This is
what I…” he was stopped mid sentence by Arato, who gently
pushed him backwards and took a step towards their mother.

“Please mother, no harm will come to him, do not fret so,” Arato
said softly. “We are safe here in Gondolin.”

“For how long?” the mother said and looked up at Glorfindel with
tears in her eyes. “Please, little flower, do not go. Stay here with

Glorfindel bit his lip. Seeing his mother this disturbed made him
uneasy. “Why can’t you be happy for me?” he finally croaked.

“There is nothing to be happy about,” their mother said and turned
around and ran into the house.

“Mother!” Glorfindel yelled and ran after her.

She turned around and looked at her youngest. “You have the
heart of a minstrel, not a warrior,” she whispered. “The army will
be the death of you, body and spirit.”

Glorfindel looked down at the floor. “But I want to fight, I want to
be able to defend our city.” He looked up at his mother and smiled
a weary smile. “To defend you.”

“I don’t need to be defended, when my time comes, it comes, my
son.” She turned around and walked to the kitchen where she
absentminded grabbed some vegetables and started to peel them,
not turning around to see if Glorfindel had followed her.

“These are times of peace for Gondolin,” Glorfindel said as he
walked into the large kitchen. “And if makes you happy, I will sing
the enemy to death when the time comes.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle, but returned to her serious face
quickly. “Do no jest about such serious matters, my son.”

“Mother, please listen to me. I want to do this. I have waited for
this moment, waited to become old enough to follow Arato. Will
you deny me this on some strange woman’s intuition?”

“Do NOT speak to me like that Glorfindel,” his mother hissed. “I
have lived long, and seen much. You have not, so I will demand
you listen to your elders for once, and take that head of yours out
of the sky.”

“Honestly, mother,” Glorfindel whined. “It is not like I am going to
battle or anything. I will learn to fight with wooden swords. I can’t
even cut myself on them; the worst possible scenario would be me
getting a splinter!”

“Don’t fool yourself,” she said more calmly.

“Mother,” Glorfindel begged and walked over and wrapped his arms
around her, “I promise I won’t take on a dragon or a Balrog single-
handedly if that makes you feel better.”

“Glorfindel, my little flower,” she cooed and kissed her son gently
on the forehead. “I will leave this matter to be dealt with by your
father. If he say you can go, then I will not object.”


-10 days later-

When he finally left his parents’ house, it was with a knapsack, and
a grin that was impossible to wipe off his face. He was going! He
was actually going!

“Glorfindel?” Arato said as they walked down past the main square
in the city.

“Yes?” the young elf mumbled.

“You promise me to try your hardest, right?” Arato said and ruffled
his brother’s hair.

“Oh yes, I will earn my braids, I promise!” Glorfindel answered with
a dreamy look.

“Just so you know, there is no shame in admitting that it is not
your fate to fight.”

“Oh Arato, not you too,” Glorfindel whined. “I want to fight, and I
promise you that I will take you on for a sparring before this year is

“Is that so, little flower?” Arato laughed.

“Yes!” Glorfindel hissed and nearly stomped the ground in
aggravation. “And I will win,” he added hotly.

“Relax, little brother,” Arato chuckled. “I believe you. You might be
scrawny, but I have never known you to be a liar.”

“Good” Glorfindel said and relaxed slightly as he walked slowly
towards the barracks of Gondolin, excited about what the future
had in store for him, but at the same time glad Arato was with him.
Change was a little scary after all, but he had a good feeling about
this, and yes! He was sure he would be every inch the warrior that
his brother was.

Part 2 – What a wicked game to play to
make me feel this way

– 3 years later –

The sky was blue, and all seemed peaceful. Glorfindel sat on his
horse and smiled at the good fortune that they had this lovely
weather for his first mission outside Gondolin itself. The others had
tried to frighten him with stories of thunderstorms and wargs. But
this was not what they had warned him about at all; this was
wonderful. He felt so important, and most of all, grown up. He
would come of age this year, and then… then… he thought to
himself with a wide grin.

His musings were disturbed when their patrol met up with yet
another patrol; he scanned the new elves. Arato! He was there.
Glorfindel smiled at his brother, he knew he must be eager to
return home. Last year he had bonded with Ëa, a beautiful
elfmaiden, and they expected their firstborn within weeks. These
were indeed glorious times.

Arato spurred his horse over to where his brother waited. “My
favourite warrior,” he said with a loving gleam in his eyes. “They
even gave you a real sword this time,” he teased.

“Arato,” Glorfindel sighed.

“I know, I know,” Arato chuckled. “Forgive me, Lord Glorfindel of



“Shit for brains.”

“Hold it!” a voice roared, and both elves clammed up on the spot.

“Forgive me,” they said in unison and looked up at the
commanding captain.

“I guess you did not hear what was just said,” the captain smirked.

“No sir,” Arato said hesitantly and Glorfindel just blushed in shame.

“We shall ride west. The word is there is a another patrol there
from Gondolin who needs our aid.”

“Yes sir,” they both said and glared at each other, trying not to
burst out laughing at this absurd situation.


Later they came to a halt close to where the patrol in need was
said to be. The captain frowned when he did not see anybody. “All
right,” he yelled, “we have to split up and search. There is not
much daylight left, so make good use of it.”

And so Glorfindel went with his brother and two other elves. “Are
you scared, little brother?” Arato suddenly whispered.

“No,” Glorfindel lied.

“You should be,” one of the other elves said.

“Why? These are times of peace,” Glorfindel said.

“It is only peace for as long as the enemy wants it to be, little
flower,” Arato said and looked serious.

Suddenly one of the other elves slid from his horse and went over
to a shrub at the edge of the forest. “Look!” he yelled and held
something up –

Arato paled. “It is a part of a Gondolindrim uniform.”

“How did that get there?” Glorfindel whispered almost inaudibly.

“I do not know, little brother,” Arato said and looked at the two
other elves. “We should ride and find the Captain.”

The elf on the ground nodded, but was unable to say a word
before his throat was pierced by an arrow. “Go, Glorfindel, GO!”
Arato screamed and drew his bow aiming for a foe he could not

“No” Glorfindel yelled, but drew his sword.

“I order you to…” Arato started but was brutally stopped when
three arrows hit his chest and side. He widened his eyes and
looked at Glorfindel. “Run…” he whispered and slid from his horse.

“Arato!” Glorfindel screamed and felt treacherous tears threaten to
fall. No! This wasn’t happening! He must have been dazed because
someone suddenly jerked his shoulder.

“Come, we must flee,” the remaining elf yelled. “Glorfindel, come
we cannot do anything for your brother now.”

“No! He might still be alive. I would rather die myself than leave
my brother here!” he hissed and shrugged his shoulder hard, so
the other elf’s hand was removed as Glorfindel slid from his horse.

“Suit yourself,” the elf said and spurred his horse, but only traveled
a few meters before a new volley of arrows stopped him, and he
too fell lifelessly from his horse.

Glorfindel rushed to his brother’s side, and paid no attention to the
newly dead elf. “Arato? Arato? Answer me,” he pleaded as he
squatted down next to his brother.

“Sit still,” a voice commanded.

Glorfindel obeyed, but raised his head to see the intruding elf. He
was tall and had soft features. Under different circumstances this
elf would have been the most beautiful of sights. Dark hair flowed
like a river down his back, neatly braided and knotted in the style
of the house of Fëanor. “He’s but a child!” the elf yelled.

2 other elves came from the forest, looking curiously at Glorfindel.
One of them came to his side, raised his sword and turned it so the
tip rested against Glorfindel’s neck. “You are a brave little one, I
must give you that,” the elf behind him said.

“Or stupid,” the first elf that had come from the forest said.

“Now answer me, little one,” the first elf said. “What is your

“G-Glorfindel,” he stuttered, hating the way his voice was coming
apart at this moment.

“Very well, Glorfindel of Gondolin, brave warrior or stupid child… I
do not know, nor do I care,” the elf said and squatted down in
front of the Glorfindel. “What I want to know is where is the
entrance is to the secret realm of Gondolin?”

Glorfindel remained silent and bowed his head; he had given his
oath to never reveal this.

“I can give you a clean death, a soldiers death,” the elf with the
sword on his neck said.

“Or I can have the horses tear you slowly apart,” another elf said.

Glorfindel felt at loss, he did not want to die, but neither could he
tell them. He looked at his hands that were trembling violently. This
is not the time to break, he thought to himself.

“Maedhros!” a voice yelled. “Amrod, Amras! What are you doing?”

The elf who had been squatting down in front of Glorfindel spun
around and looked up at the newly arrived elf who came out on a
huge black horse. “Father,” he said softly and bowed in respect.

The elf on the horse slid down and frowned. “What are you
thinking? He is but a child,” he chided.

“But he is from Gondolin, he can lead us there,” the elf who had
now removed the sword answered.

“And since when have you gotten a straight answer from a
frightened child, Amrod?” Fëanor said and tilted his head to look at
his youngest sons.

“You are right, father.”

Glorfindel looked up on what appeared to be their father, this is…
this is… his mind rambled, this is the kinslayer, this is Fëanor
himself. He looked directly at the elder elf and opened his mouth to
say something but not a word came out.

“Amras, take him with you on your horse and bring him to the
camp,” Fëanor said and smiled at Glorfindel.

“Father?!” Amras whispered confusedly. “He is a prisoner, not a

“Just do as you’re told, child,” Fëanor roared.

Amras nodded and shot his twin a displeased glare. “Fëanor the
merciful now, is it?” he mumbled as he hoisted Glorfindel to his
feet. “Come then, little elf.”


They reached the noldo camp in the dark, and Fëanor jumped
gracefully from his horse, looking at his sons. “Go and rest, we
have a long day tomorrow,” he said and held out a hand to

Glorfindel didn’t know what to do with the offered limb, but as
Amras slammed an elbow in his stomach, he hesitantly reached a
shaking hand to Fëanor’s larger one, letting himself be lifted from
the horse. “Come, little one,” the elder elf said softly. “You must be
hungry, am I right?”

Glorfindel nodded and followed the kinslayer. They walked through
the camp and into a large tent.

“I know Lembas is not the most tasty, although it fills your
stomach,” Fëanor chuckled. “Sit, brave Glorfindel.”

Glorfindel did as told and instantly sat down in a chair, not even
daring to breathe. “So sweet and innocent,” Fëanor mumbled and
handed Glorfindel a glass of wine. “Have you ever had wine?”

Glorfindel shook his head, not know what he should call Fëanor.
“Oh, forgive me, I did not introduce myself properly. I am Lord
Fëanor, and the other elves you met are three of my seven sons,
the twins not being much older than you. They act with the rush of
youth.” He smiled he raised the glass and looked at the red liquid
inside. “The best wine Beleriand has to offer, and it is all ours to do
with as we please.”

Fëanor sat down opposite Glorfindel and sat down his glass. “You
see, I am in trouble,” he stated. “When I was younger I did some
rash actions too, actions that cost me my home and title.”

Glorfindel finally found his voice and croaked, “I know my lord, and
I read about Alqualondë.”

“Oh good…” Fëanor said and smiled. “Then there is no need to
repeat that tedious tale.”

Glorfindel shook his head and took a sip of his wine; it was hard to
understand that this elf was the mastermind behind all the evil he
read about. His eyes were so warm, and so… sad?

“As you might have read then, I cannot return home, and I do not
think that living like this,” he made a gesture with his hand around
in the tent, “this nomad lifestyle is anything to give my sons. They
need a home, and this…” he paused and smiled, “this is where you
come into the picture, brave, brave little Glorfindel.”

“Me?” Glorfindel stared wide-eyed at the dark-haired lord. “How,
why… I mean I cannot…”

“Oh yes you can,” Fëanor said with a warm smile. “All I need is a
home. I am tired of living out here in the wild, where we never get
a decent nights rest, afraid that we will be killed in our beds.”
Fëanor stood up and walked around to Glorfindel, and placed a
finger under the youth’s chin, raising his head to look him directly
in his eyes. “You have a home, do you not, young Glorfindel?”

“Aye,” Glorfindel whispered.

“Will you deny Amrod and Amras the same?” the dark-haired elf
whispered back. “All I need is the location of the entrance to the
valley where Gondolin is.”

“I can’t tell you,” Glorfindel whispered with a shaking voice.

“I need a home, and I am sure my dear nephew will give my sons
just that,” Fëanor said softly while he traced Glorfindel’s jaw with a

“B-but…” Glorfindel stammered.

Fëanor squatted down and looked directly at Glorfindel. “You are
Noldor, are you not?”

Glorfindel nodded and swallowed hard.

“And yet you are blond,” the dark-haired elf whispered and curled a
lock of Glorfindel’s golden hair around his finger. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Rare, very rare indeed,” Fëanor mumbled.

“I never thought of that,” Glorfindel answered truthfully.

“You mean you have never been complimented on your rare
beauty before?” the elder elf whispered seductively.

“No, never,” Glorfindel said and looked puzzled.

“Then let me be the first, you are indeed a very, very beautiful elf,
Glorfindel.” Fëanor smiled and removed some golden strands from
Glorfindel’s forehead.

Glorfindel felt his heart hammer away in his chest. What was this?
Something he did not understand, but his body apparently did,
much to his own embarrassment. “I… ehm… You… Are very pretty
yourself my lord,” he finally managed to croak out.

“Thank you, young Glorfindel,” Fëanor said and ran a fingertip over
the blond’s ear and smiled as he watched the young elf tremble
beneath his touch. The impossibly blue eyes watched him in sheer
wonder. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I don’t know…” Glorfindel stated, “you just look so…”


“No, kind,” the young elf added.

“Well, despite what is said of me, I am a kind elf,” Fëanor
whispered. “Have I hurt you yet? Have I not been anything but
cruel to you?”

“You have treated me very well, Lord Fëanor,” Glorfindel
whispered, leaning into the soothing touch of the elder elf.

“Do I frighten you?” he asked.

“….no,” Glorfindel said slowly.

“Good,” Fëanor whispered and leaned in and ever so gently kissed
the full lips of the youth.

Glorfindel gasped in surprise and blinked rapidly as he tried to
understand what had just happened. “What… why…” he breathed.

“You are a gem, Glorfindel. I would be but a fool if I denied that I
lusted to kiss those sweet lips, or to run my hands over that perfect
soft pale skin.” Fëanor purred and kissed Glorfindel once more; this
time it was a much more demanding kiss.

Poor Glorfindel was at loss for words. He had been trained to
withstand pressure from interrogations, but this was different; this
made his heart beat faster and an odd sensation pool in his groin.
It was nothing and yet everything like the dark fantasies he had
given birth in his chamber at night. But the other elf had always
been faceless, and never this breathtakingly beautiful. And so when
Fëanor took his hand and began to guide him toward the primitive
bed made of pillows and pelt, he made no objections. All he was
wondering was when he was going to wake up from this odd

Fëanor slowly undressed him, and ran his hands over the flushed
skin, leaving Glorfindel breathless; he had never thought that it
would feel like this. He had been warned about situations like this,
but now that he was in one, it was so much harder to recognize.
His musings were disturbed when Fëanor leaned in and planted a
soft kiss on Glorfindel’s shoulder. “You are just as soft as you look,”
he murmured, making the young elf blush to no end.

But as Fëanor’s kisses trailed downwards, Glorfindel froze. “P-
please my lord, I have n-never…”

The dark-haired elf looked up with a wolfish grin. “Just relax, little
one,” he whispered and ran his hands around Glorfindel’s waist to
cup his behind. And for just a second the young Glorfindel was
about to panic, but when he felt the soft lips ghosting over his
erection, all thoughts of escape died.

Hearing the little muffled yelp from the young one, Fëanor smiled
to himself and concentrated on the task at hand. He took the
golden haired elf in his mouth, and much to Fëanor’s amusement it
did not take Glorfindel long before he was trembling with
unreleased need, and mumbling incoherently. He increased his
speed and the young elf buckled beneath him, but the elder just
tightened his grip, not letting Glorfindel squirm away, and when he
finally spent himself, it must have been the sweetest sound the
older elf ever heard. He slowly crawled up on the bed kissing his
way up over the youth’s still trembling body. “Sweet, sweet little
golden one,” he murmured, and smiled when Glorfindel opened his
impossibly blue eyes, looking directly at him. “Do you still find me
wicked?” he purred.

“No…” Glorfindel panted.

“Would you still find it wrong to show me the way to my nephew?”
Fëanor purred even deeper.


Fëanor sighed and wrapped his arms around the young elf, resting
his head on his shoulder. “I have a secret too, you know,” he
whispered while he trailed lazy circles around Glorfindel’s nipple.
“Would you like to learn of it?”

Glorfindel took a deep breath and relaxed against the older elf.
“What must I do?”

“It is quite simple,” Fëanor whispered. “You have to promise me

Glorfindel sighed, what was he to do? He was insanely curious to
know what this secret could be, but he knew he had to tread
carefully now. “This secret of yours,” he whispered back, “does it
include me?”

“Very much so,” Fëanor whispered. “So? What is your answer, my
young lover, will you give me your promise?”

Glorfindel closed his eyes and took a deep breath “Yes.”

Fëanor smiled predatorily and kissed the soft skin on Glorfindel’s
neck. “I want you to promise you will stay with me here, for as
long as I should wish, stay here by my side and in my bed.”

This confused Glorfindel beyond belief. “I promise,” he whispered,
“now tell me of your secret.”

“Your brother,” Fëanor said and propped himself up on an elbow,
looking at the confused youth.

“Arato?” Glorfindel gasped. “But he is… I-is”

“No, he is not,” Fëanor said with a warm smile. “He is alive, here in
my healers tent.” The elder elf raised a brow. “For now.”

“Will you hurt him if I do not tell you the way to Gondolin?”

“What do you think,” Fëanor asked with a dark laugh. “You tell
me… would I?”

“I don’t think so,” Glorfindel said a little timidly, as if he was not

“Good,” Fëanor said smiling, and rested against the golden youth
once more. “Now sleep, brave Glorfindel, and tomorrow I will take
you to see your brother.”

“Thank you,” Glorfindel whispered and before he knew what was
happening he curled up against the elder elf, relishing the body
heat and the sound of another heart beating next to his.

Part 3 – What a wicked thing to do to make
me dream of you

Glorfindel squinted as he looked up at the sun, feeling the grass
under his hands. He slowly sat up and watched the last homely
house in the distance. It had been over 100 years since he had
come here, and still his mind wandered off to ancient times.
Sometimes he wished that Namo had removed his memories,
wiped the slate clean. He could do without these bittersweet
thoughts. But what he had done, and the memories of his first and
only lover had returned to him, leaving him with fluttering heart
and a black conscience. He had tried to tell himself that he could
not have done anything different.

He had been but an instrument to play for the seasoned warrior,
and Fëanor had known what he was doing. Had kept him in a daze
of wine and sweet kisses for days and days, until he had done the
unforgivable, he had told him- had told him how to find the secret

Arato had been nursed back to health, and they had both been
allowed to leave. That one action still puzzled Glorfindel to this day.
It was clear that none of the sons had wanted to let their prisoners
go. But Fëanor wanted it this way, and so they had obeyed.
Glorfindel was not sure he had even wanted to leave, all he had
wanted to do was to see Arato off, and curl up on the pelts in
Fëanor’s tent and listen to tales from their motherland, and cherish
the soft kisses bestowed to him once in a while. He was a pet, this
he knew, but a well kept and well loved one.

But Arato had not wanted to leave without Glorfindel. They had
argued and they had both ended up in tears. And even now it
brought tears to Glorfindel’s eyes thinking of his brother’s unkind

“I am not leaving without you.”

This had been Glorfindel’s doom. He had tried to reason with his
brother, still hiding his true intentions, but Arato had been
relentless. In the end Glorfindel had begged and pleaded, but his
brother had been unyielding, not giving one inch. He simply would
not leave without Glorfindel. And he had cried, oh by the Valar he
had cried bitter tears, trying to explain to Arato why he wanted to
stay. But his reasoning had just made Arato sterner. He had been
sure that some spell had been cast on his brother. Glorfindel had
grabbed his brother and shaken him, sobbing in despair, begging
him not to say so, or give him such ultimatums. For Glorfindel knew
how much Arato wanted to see his wife and child. He had to go
back to Gondolin, and in the end Arato had slapped his younger
brother hard, leaving an angry red mark across Glorfindel’s cheek.

“You are coming with me, or we shall both stay here in misery. I
leave the decision up to you.”

This had brought more tears to Glorfindel’s eyes, and in the end he
gave in.

“Yes, I will go with you to Gondolin,” he had whispered. These
were the words he had regretted most in his life. He should have
been less sensitive, and done what he had wanted for himself, yet
he had not. He had thought of Ëa and her fatherless child, not of
his own heart.

Arato had, despite his hard actions, not neglected to see his
brother’s despair, and wondered what might lie behind it, and so
he had asked him. And Glorfindel had timidly told him. Told him
that he had arrived a prisoner and would leave with a broken heart.
Arato had slapped him again, and Glorfindel just sat there and let it
happen. He knew it was wrong, but it did not feel wrong. Arato had
wanted to know what he had told the kinslayer, and Glorfindel had
told the truth. He had told about the hidden valley.

“Then you are the dooms man of Gondolin and its people,” Arato
had said with a stern face.

Glorfindel had tried to explain Arato that it was not like he thought
at all, that Fëanor just wanted a home. But Arato had laughed
sarcastically and grabbed Glorfindel painfully hard. “Never tell a
living soul what you have done here or what you have said –
NEVER!” he had hissed. And Glorfindel had been so frightened and
lost at that moment that he had not been able to do anything other
than just reply with a vague hiccup.

So the next morning they had left. Arato had thanked Fëanor for
nursing him back to health, and taking care of his brother. And
Glorfindel had just stood there trying not to cry, feeling the smirks
from Fëanor’s youngest, the twins. They were looking at him with
amusement, and he could feel their mocking from behind him.
Arato had seated himself on his horse, Glorfindel had to force
himself to look up on Fëanor who stood there, next to one of his
sons. The elder elf smiled and winked. And Glorfindel stood nailed
to the ground dumbstruck. “Safe journey, brave Glorfindel,” he said
and rested his hand over his heart in a respectful greeting.

Glorfindel had been about to answer when Arato had pulled him up
behind him on the horse “I…I..” he started but sighed and dropped
his head down, looking at the ground. “Goodbye my lord Fëanor.”
He had wanted to say more, he had wanted to jump off the horse
and run to bury himself in the soft tunic that his beloved was
wearing, wanted to feel his hand run over his hair in soothing
strokes, and wanted to hear the soft voice comfort him. Yet all he
could muster was a return greeting, and a nervous smile. He
leaned against Arato and tried to hide his sorrow, knowing that
Arato had vowed to kill both him and Fëanor should he return to
his bed.

When Arato had finally spurred the horse, Glorfindel looked up at
Fëanor once more, and still to this day he was not sure if it had
been tears he had seen lurking there under the long black

Still this many millennia after, he remembered every touch, kiss
and sweet moan. He had loved Fëanor, yes he had. Even though
he knew now, with a grown individual’s insight, that the kinslayer
had done nothing but use him, Glorfindel had not felt used – he had
felt loved.

Glorfindel lay down in the grass once more and watched the clouds
float by. Somehow he had found something inside the Noldor that
he was sure Fëanor himself did not even know had existed there.
For even though he had revealed the secret, the kinslayer had not
used his knowledge, ever!

Glorfindel still remembered the day when Arato had told him that
Fëanor and 5 of his sons had been killed in battle. The fire spirit
had finally caught up with the fierce elf, he had said. But Glorfindel
had excused himself and returned to his chamber where he now
lived, and cried. He had cried for what seemed an eternity, and
little did he then know that the two remaining sons did not have
second thoughts on selling their knowledge.

And so he had indeed been the dooms man for Gondolin and its
people, and for himself. All for him and his treacherous and naive
heart, all was lost. The city fell, Arato died, the high king died, and
he himself had… had… deserved the Balrog.


“Lord Glorfindel?”

“My lord?”

Glorfindel opened his eyes and looked up at the dark-clad advisor
of Elrond. “Oh, Lord Erestor, what brings you out here?”

“You did, Lord Glorfindel” Erestor answered and raised a brow.
“You have been gone an awful long time, and Lord Elrond needs
you to brief the patrol that is about to leave today.”

“Oh, I forgot” Glorfindel murmured and sat up, while he smiled
disarmingly at Erestor.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing out here my
lord?” Erestor asked timidly.

“Thinking, remembering…. my dear chief advisor,” Glorfindel said
with a sad smile.

Erestor just nodded and Glorfindel slowly stood up. “Love,” he said
softly, “I was thinking of love.”

“Oh…” Erestor said and looked at the horizon with an odd smile.

“Have you even been in love, lord Erestor?” Glorfindel asked.

“Yes, I have,” Erestor answered with a mysterious smile before he
turned to Glorfindel. “Now come, we are needed in the last homely

“You are righ.t” Glorfindel said and smiled back. Erestor in love? He
wondered whom the gloomy advisors heart belonged to, but no
apparent solution came to him. And he was in too much in a hurry
to get back to his tasks that he never noticed the gleam in the
dark-haired elf’s eyes. Otherwise he would have noticed who had
made his way into the reserved elf’s heart. And it would have
surprised him greatly, and warmed his heart. He had sworn back
then never to tell a living soul about what he had done, or whom
he had loved – Arato had wanted it that way, and still to this day
he honoured this wish of his brother. But somehow this chief
advisor of Elrond had crept into his dreams; one day perhaps he
would say something. Once and for all chase those frightening
shadows away, and let love and laughter be a part of his future, to
lay the past to rest…

Why it was now that these thoughts came to him he did not know,
but suddenly he just took a hold of the advisor’s hand, out of the
corner of his eye he saw the startled elf blush furiously, and a smile
crept to the golden-haired elf’s lips. This time around it would be

-the end-


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