Title:
The Flow of Silver Water
Author: Tuxedo Elf
Pairing: Glorfindel/Ecthelion
Beta: Eni
Rating: R
Summary: Returned to life without warning or
reason, Ecthelion seeks to make the most of life while awaiting
his destiny.
Notes: Rávo is an OC belonging to Eni,
but she's loaned him to me for this chapter! *Squee* Thank you!
Chapter
4
As
the morning sun streamed through the window, Glorfindel slowly
awoke. The sun was warm on his face and the soft blankets draped
lightly over his body in gentle folds. Outside he could hear
nothing save the songs of the many birds who also called Imladris
their home. Comfortable and content, he lay in bed, completely
at peace and having no real desire to move, his mind still foggy
from sleep.
Yet
as the fog lifted, the memories from the previous day returned.
Glorfindel gasped, finding himself suddenly very awake indeed
as he was suddenly struck with a wave of hope and uncertainty.
“Good
morning.”
Looking
up, he realised his head was still pillowed on Ecthelion’s
chest and his lover was gazing down at him. Letting out a breath
he didn’t realise he’d been holding, he draped an
arm over Ecthelion’s leg.
“For
a moment I thought…” He trailed off, smiling sheepishly.
“As
did I, if I am honest,” Ecthelion admitted. “I was
quite relieved to find you still here.”
Sitting
up, Glorfindel remained close, allowing Ecthelion to wrap his
arms around him. “I nearly stopped breathing when I thought
it a dream!” he said, feeling more like a child than a
grown Elf at such a confession.
Ecthelion
chuckled. “Do not do that – it would be most frustrating
if you returned to Mandos when I have only just left!”
Turning
in Ecthelion’s arms, Glorfindel kissed him tenderly. “Do
not fear. Now that you have returned, I am not going anywhere.”
Glancing out of the window, he saw how high the sun already
sat in the sky. “Except perhaps to breakfast, and I am
taking you there with me!”
Laughing,
Ecthelion released Glorfindel from his hold, allowing them both
to leave the bed, albeit reluctantly. Taking Ecthelion’s
arm, Glorfindel stole a quick kiss before moving into the bathroom
and leaving his amused and surprised lover to wait in the bedroom.
Swiftly,
Glorfindel washed and tidied his hair, before returning to the
main room, only to find Ecthelion standing around looking confused
and somewhat embarrassed.
“Is
something wrong?” he asked gently, moving closer. He could
not remember ever seeing Ecthelion looking so uncomfortable
and he found it unnerving.
Ecthelion’s
cheeks went pink as he answered. “Might I borrow some
clothes?” he said. “I have only what I wore to travel
in and they are now soiled with dust and dirt and most unsuitable
for being seen in public.”
For
a moment, Glorfindel looked surprised before remembering that
he’d had nothing on his return either. It was apparently
not something Námo troubled himself with. “Of course!
Forgive me, I quite forgot!” he said, hurrying to find
something suitable. It was not easy – he favoured different
colours to Ecthelion and did not want to further his awkwardness
by giving him something completely unlike the clothes he preferred.
Eventually he located a pair of dark leggings and a green tunic,
handing them to his lover with a measure of relief and watching
as Ecthelion disappeared into the bathroom with them, to wash
and change in private, still not quite comfortable enough to
undress in front of Glorfindel.
When
he returned some minutes later, Glorfindel winced. Ecthelion
was slightly taller than he and of a more slender build –
the difference was not vast but it was enough to make the tunic
a poor fit.
“I
think we should visit the tailors after breakfast,” he
said before Ecthelion could comment.
“I
agree,” Ecthelion replied, his expression neutral. Glorfindel
was hard-pressed not to laugh. If Ecthelion had a weakness it
was for fine clothes – to have to wear something of such
a poor fit must be quite distasteful to him. “We’ll
ask for a rush order,” he added as Ecthelion tugged on
a too-short sleeve.
“Excellent,”
he mumbled, before another realisation struck him. “I
have no money.”
“I
have plenty,” Glorfindel assured him. “Do not worry.
Come, breakfast awaits us.”
Sighing
and pulling on his boots – which thankfully disguised
the fact that the leggings were also too short – Ecthelion
followed Glorfindel out of the room.
*********************
There
was a pause in conversation as they entered the dining hall
and headed towards the top of the table, near Elrond. There
were not many here, Ecthelion realised, only those of high rank
or who were otherwise close to the Lord and his family.
A
place had been made for him next to Glorfindel and, though he
felt like something of a fraud, having no valid title in this
new age, he was grateful for it. Having greeted Lord Elrond
and his sons he sat, looking curiously at the others around
him.
Glorfindel
gestured to a dark-haired Elf opposite him. “This is Erestor,
Lord Elrond’s chief councillor and his wife, Seroniel,
who teaches the young ones.”
“It
is a pleasure and an honour to meet you, Lord Ecthelion,”
Erestor said pleasantly, his wife echoing the statement.
“My
thanks,” replied Ecthelion, “though please, titles
are not necessary, nor indeed, even valid.”
“As
you wish,” Erestor said, “I hope you are happy here
in they valley.” Turning, he smirked at Glorfindel. “Even
if your arrival does utterly ruin Glorfindel’s reputation.”
At
this Glorfindel looked quite irritated and not a little confused.
“What on Arda do you mean?”
“It
is simple,” Erestor replied, looking far too innocent.
“You have become quite famous as the Balrog Slayer who
returned to life. However, we now have Ecthelion, who has returned
after slaying no less than four, if the histories are accurate.”
Glorfindel’s
jaw dropped and he spluttered inelegantly. “Erestor! That
is… it is not something to jest about!” It was clear,
though, that he was not truly insulted and was, in fact, trying
to save face in front of his lover. “That aside, there
is nothing wrong with my reputation!”
Ecthelion
watched the exchange with amusement. Leaning over, he briefly
turned his attention to the councillor’s wife. “Are
they always like this?” he asked.
“Aye,
nearly always!” she returned. “It is never serious;
they are good friends really.” Looking at Glorfindel,
her gaze softened. “This is the most enthusiastic I have
ever seen him, though. You have made such a difference in such
a short time.”
Touched,
Ecthelion smiled. “I am glad to hear it; I hope I can
continue to do so.” He shook his head in amusement as
Glorfindel finally sat back with an irritated sigh, glaring
at Erestor. “I did not know breakfast came with a show.”
Reaching
out for a piece of bread, Glorfindel snorted and didn’t
answer, causing Ecthelion to chuckle.
They
ate in comfortable silence for several minutes, until Glorfindel
suddenly stopped. With great deliberation, he turned to Erestor.
“I believe you have lost something, my friend,”
he said evenly.
Looking
confused, Erestor set down his tea-cup. “What would that
be?”
Bending
down, Glorfindel carefully removed the dark-haired Elfling from
his leg and set her on his knee. Erestor’s cheeks went
red, as did those of his wife.
“She
escaped her nurse again?” he muttered to Seroniel, who
only shrugged and looked apologetically at Glorfindel as he
sat with her daughter on his knee.
“Did
you sneak out again?” Glorfindel questioned the child
gently.
“She
wanted to braid my hair. I don’t like it,” she said,
staring up at Glorfindel, who couldn’t argue, as he hated
tying his own hair back, despite what it once cost him.
Just
then, the child noticed the unfamiliar Elf sitting next to Glorfindel.
Immediately her eyes went wide and she put her thumb in her
mouth nervously. “Who oo?” she asked around her
thumb.
“This
is Ecthelion,” Glorfindel told her. “He is very
important to me and I would like you to be his friend. Ecthelion,
may I introduce Lalwen, daughter of Erestor and Seroniel.”
Slowly,
the Elfling removed her thumb from her mouth and stared at Ecthelion,
who smiled gently at her.
“Hello,
Lalwen,” he said.
“Hello,”
she replied shyly, looking him over. “Your tunic doesn’t
fit.”
Glorfindel
gasped and Ecthelion flushed red. “No, no it doesn’t,
little one,” he said uncomfortably. “But soon I
will have one that does.”
Deeply
embarrassed, Seroniel got up and went to collect her errant
child. “I think we had best get you back to your nurse,
before you cause even more chaos!” she said, plucking
Lalwen off Glorfindel’s lap.
Trying
not to laugh at his lover’s pink cheeks, Glorfindel also
rose. “And we best go to the tailors before Ecthelion
starts to regret his return!”
“It
would take rather more than that to change my mind,” Ecthelion
chuckled as he stood. “However I would like clothes that
fit.” Glancing around the table, he gave a small bow.
“I thank you for making me so welcome.” With that
he turned and followed Glorfindel out, slightly relieved to
be leaving the chaos of the dining hall. It had seemed incredibly
loud after the quiet of Mandos.
******************
“I
should warn you,” Glorfindel said as they walked down
the hall, “our tailor is widely regarded as the best on
Arda, but he is a little – unusual.”
Ecthelion
raised an eyebrow. “Unusual how?” he asked.
Pausing
outside a tall door, Glorfindel grinned. “You’ll
see,” he replied and pushed the door open, ushering Ecthelion
in.
The
moment Ecthelion laid eyes on the tailor, he understood what
Glorfindel meant. The Elf was dressed from head to toe in velvet
– black leggings and a purple, richly embroidered tunic,
as well as velvet choker around his neck. The overall effect
was somewhat unnerving, but Ecthelion had to admit, the clothes
were exquisite and if this was an average sample, he was sure
to find himself well-dressed.
The
tailor looked up from his work as they entered, pushing a strand
of dark hair out of his eyes and slowly rising.
“Ecthelion,
may I introduce Rávo, Imladris’ head tailor.”
He gestured to the Elf, who bowed slightly. “Rávo,
this is Ecthelion of the Fountain. He is in need of some new
clothes.”
“So
I can see,” Rávo replied, looking at Ecthelion
with deep disapproval that almost caused the powerful Lord to
cringe. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a tape measure
and pointed to a low stool in the centre of the room. “Come,
come!” he cried, clapping his hands enthusiastically.
“Let us put this disaster to rights!”
Almost
before he knew what was happening, Ecthelion found himself standing
on the stool in nothing but his – or rather Glorfindel’s
– leggings, while the tailor danced around, taking every
conceivable measurement.
Finally
Rávo had all he needed and Ecthelion stepped down, looking
a little dazed.
“Thank
you,” he said, stepping back to where Glorfindel stood.
“How soon will they be ready?”
Rávo
cast one last disapproving look over the ill-fitting garments.
“You’ll have the first set tomorrow.”
“That
would be wonderful, thank you.” Glorfindel responded,
ushering Ecthelion to the door. “Just do not over-do it!”
he added as they left the room, closing the door behind them.
“Does
he tend to over-exert himself?” Ecthelion asked as they
walked away.
Cheerfully,
Glorfindel put his arm round Ecthelion’s shoulders. “My
love, he is worse than you before one of Turgon’s inspections!”
*********************
Over
the next few weeks, life settled into a comfortable routine.
Ecthelion joined Glorfindel on patrol and soon proved that he
had lost none of his skill with the blade. While it had been
decided that he should not lead a patrol until he was better
acquainted with both the warriors and the land, his presence
was a great asset to the forces of Imladris and his easy-going
nature soon put at ease those who were nervous around him.
When
not patrolling or with Glorfindel he took to rediscovering his
old hobbies – those of painting and playing the flute.
Glorfindel was only too pleased to provide him with as much
canvas and paint as he wanted and watched in delight as the
pictures took shape.
As
far as he was concerned, life was almost perfect. There was
only one thing that was troubling him.
Several
weeks into Ecthelion’s return, their relationship had
still not been consummated. Glorfindel was reluctant to say
anything, fearful that Ecthelion would think that was all he
wanted, when in truth he would gladly remain chaste forever
to keep Ecthelion by his side. However, he could not help the
reactions of his body when Ecthelion was so close and it became
more difficult with each passing day.
Lying
in bed, Glorfindel gazed at his sleeping lover. He could not
help but admire the slender form that was barely concealed by
the blankets and the face that was utterly peaceful in slumber
and his body reacted accordingly to the sight.
Sighing,
Glorfindel rolled onto his back and pushed down his sleeping
pants. Closing his eyes, he took himself in hand and began to
stroke.
END
CHAPTER 4
