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The crunch of ice behind Erestor made him sigh. He knew without turning that Glorfindel would be standing at the top of the hill, feet just denting the crusted ice that had formed over the heavy snow that had fallen during the winter storm. It wasn't fair. Erestor wasn't the one who humiliated himself in front of a host of noble elves from around Arda in the Hall of Fire. No, that award went to Glorfindel, who thought, in his drunken stupor, to tell them all of Erestor's letter where he had confessed his feelings to the great blond oaf. The lovely little letter had become the topic of multiple rounds of poetry, much to Erestor's horror. Even Bilbo tried to stop it, and the old hobbit loved to meddle in love affairs.
“May I have a word?”
“No.”
“Erestor.”
“You asked for a word. That word is no . Now go away.”
He heard a sigh and ducked his head further into his robes. While elves did not feel cold, for the most part, Erestor had always been a bit susceptible to it – another point many had teased him for over the Ages.
“Are you going to sulk out here all day?”
“What I do is no affair of yours. You made that perfectly clear. Go away.”
“You –,” he heard Glorfindel curse and then footsteps faded away. Which was fine . Erestor told him to go and for once – once! – that blond oaf had listened.
( Why did he listen now when he never listened before? Had Glorfindel humiliated Erestor enough? What had he done wrong in the first place? )
Erestor gathered his robes tighter around his legs and tucked his hands deep into the folds of the cloth. It was foolishness of the highest order to fall for that oaf. That fool. The bane of Erestor's existence. Well. No, that was the army of mice that liked to infiltrate the library in Imladris, but still! Perhaps ranked second in that category then. Glorfindel was ridiculous. A braggart. Smarmy. Brave. Handsome. Charismatic – no! No, no, no. Now was not the time. He needed to root this stupid feeling out of his heart so he could return to Imladris, avoid the fools and their pointed laughter and hibernate in the library or his rooms until the next round of gossip cleared this humiliation from everyone's minds. Perhaps Bilbo would be kind enough to help him with that. Surely Lindir had annoyed Bilbo enough with his lovely little letter song that the old hobbit would help Erestor dump Lindir in bed with the cook and the stable master and make sure every single body in Imladris found out about it.
Surely that wasn't too much to ask?
Erestor sputtered as a warm cloak was dumped over his head. He fought to find his way out of it, but found to his horror that something or someone had the nerve to pick him up ! What outrage! He was going to cause an Incident and no one was going to argue over it, so help him...
“Stop wiggling,” Glorfindel growled at him. Erestor did not squeak. “You're freezing.”
“I'm an elf! I do not feel the cold! And let go of me!”
“Then why can I feel how cold you are through your robe and mine?”
He was wearing Glorfindel's robe? What – no. No, he wasn't going to think about that right now. Erestor managed to free his face from the depths of the smelly ( why did it smell so good ) cloth and tried to kick his way free of Glorfindel's hold. That did not go well for Erestor. In short order he found himself tucked into the curve of the oaf's body, his legs tangled with Glorfindel's, and the both of them in some sort of trough of snow at the bottom of the hill. Erestor felt his face flame and cursed his pale complexion. This was the worst .
“Are you done with your tantrum now?”
“My tantrum. My tantrum ? How is this – you know what, I don't care. Get off me, take your stupid robe, and your stupid self and go away!”
“I'm sorry.”
Erestor hated the way his breath caught. He hated the way his heart lurched. It was the worst . “Sorry? Sorry for humiliating me in front of everyone last night? Sorry for taking my words and exposing them as a lark? Sorry for breaking my – let go of me. Right now.”
“No.”
“Go bugger an orc you spoon licker!”
“I'd rather lick you,” and then the oaf did and what in Arda was this? A hallucination? Did Lindir spike his tea again? He was going to cut that brat's hair and paint him blue!
“No, Lindir did not spike your tea and what do you mean by again?” There was a hint of a growl there. Erestor did not find it tempting. No, he did not.
“That is neither here nor there. What is the meaning of this! You – you licked me!”
“Well I could bugger you, but I thought I would woo you first.”
Erestor sputtered. His brain may – may – have gone blank for a moment. Perhaps. Then his sense caught up with him and he felt hot and then cold and then hot again. “Let go of me,” he hated the way his voice would go wobbly. It was such a tell. He could never get it to stop. “You've had your fun. To go that far – I did not think you were cruel.”
The arms around him went tight. Erestor blinked his eyes clear and ignored the fact that there was wetness on his face. It was snowing, that was all. Even though the sky was blue and clear and so bright it hurt his eyes. Yes, that's why his eyes were watering. It was simply snow-blindness.
That was all.
“I have never been confessed to,” Glorfindel's breath was warm on Erestor's ear. He tried to ignore it. “I did not have the urge to find a partner in all my years in Gondolin. Your letter was...quite the surprise.”
“But you and Lord Ecthelion...”
“Thel and I were fast friends,” Glorfindel sighed. “He always said that the other half of his soul did not lay in Gondolin, but would never tell me where. Perhaps he has found them in Aman. I do not know.”
Erestor closed his mouth and did not know what to say. The rumor that Glorfindel and Ecthelion of the Fountain had been lovers in Gondolin had been one of the main reasons why Erestor had tried to keep his distance from the blond idiot for decades. From the second Erestor had set eyes on Glorfindel, his heart had raced, his palms had grown damp, and he'd had the stupidest urge to write poetry. It was awful. He was terrible at poetry.
But then Glorfindel had looked at him and smiled and all of Erestor's resistance had gone out the window. He'd thought...well, it was silly, but it seemed like Glorfindel had started to visit the library more, had even asked Erestor about some books – and, well, yes they had been on military strategy of the Second Age but still! They had spoken! Glorfindel had smiled at him! At Erestor! Dumpy, average, no-name Erestor! He'd been over the moon. He'd thought...oh it was such a silly idea. That Glorfindel – the Glorfindel of Gondolin – would pay attention to Erestor of Imladris when the nobles of the First Age had fallen over their feet to be noticed by the Lord of the Golden Flower...
Well. It was quite a silly dream, now wasn't it?
But now... “Why are you here?”
“I told you. I would like to woo you.”
Erestor swallowed hard against the knot in his throat. “Who put you up to this?”
“No one!”
“Then why...”
“I didn't know how to respond,” Glorfindel's nose was ridiculously cold where it was tucked against Erestor's neck. “Then the days went on and you...did not return. I thought I'd bungled it. Made a hash of it like I always do. Then Kilendir gave me a bottle of that spiced rum before the banquet and kept toasting me with it. By the time we were in the Hall I'd had about four bottles of it and the lads thought it would be the perfect time for me to tell everyone about your letter and how happy it made me. Then I really bungled it up.”
“Kilendir? He can't stand me.”
“...Really, now. I did not know such news.”
“He tried to take me to bed centuries ago and I kicked him in the balls. Elrond had to separate us. I had expected to be beaten quite badly, but Kilendir screams like a human child when bitten. It was rather startling.”
“You...bit him?”
“Well he had a fist in my hair and an arm around my throat. If he didn't want to be bitten then he shouldn't have put his arm there.”
“Is that how he got that scar?”
Erestor smiled. “Oh, yes.”
Glorfindel let out a snort. Erestor blinked. Then Glorfindel began to giggle and really, it wasn't that funny. Well. Maybe. Perhaps a little.
“He – he said,” Glorfindel was gasping into Erestor's neck. He was decidedly ignoring that. “He said he got the scar from saving a maiden during an orc raid on the East-West road!”
Erestor let out a snort of his own. “To my knowledge that idiot hasn't been outside of Imladris in all his years here.”
Perhaps Erestor did squeak – a little – when he was abruptly turned in Glorfindel's arms so that he could look up at the other elf. What a sight that was. Glorfindel's face was framed by the deep cerulean sky above and the snow covered trees that surrounded them. Light glinted off Glorfindel's golden hair, causing a halo to form around his head. In his eyes Erestor could see the light of the Trees.
Erestor looked away. He was so silly. Glorfindel was an oaf. An idiot. An absolute fool. But he was not cruel. Perhaps this talk of wooing was to soothe Erestor's hurt pride. That would be worse. “Did Elrond put you up to this?”
“To what?”
“The – the wooing whatever.”
“No,” the word was drawn out and Erestor hated how he could tell that Glorfindel was trying not to laugh. “But he did have some words for me when I woke in the stables this morning.”
Erestor blinked and then cut a glance at him. “The..stables?”
“Yes. Apparently Bilbo said he would guide me back to bed after you...left the Hall. I do not remember much besides trying to sing,” he made a face. “I am sorry about that. I cannot carry a tune in a bucket.”
“I thought it was lovely, despite the way you were ripping my heart out,” Erestor said and then wanted to brain himself.
The mirth left Glorfindel's face. “I am sorry,” he said, quiet and soft, the words just for them. “I very much appreciated your letter and would like to formally Court you, if you agree.”
“I had simply hoped that – what?” Erestor blinked up at him. Glorfindel stared back. “I. You. Would you...repeat that, please?”
Glorfindel brushed a strand from Erestor's face. His fingers felt like embers against his skin. “I, Glorfindel of Gondolin and Imladris, would like to formally Court you, Erestor of Imladris. What say you?”
Erestor squinted up at him. “Are you still drunk?”
Glorfindel smiled, his fingers resting against Erestor's cheek. “No. I am quite sober and serious.”
“I...” Erestor didn't know what to do with himself. This was quite out of his expectations. “Yes?”
“Are you asking me or –”
“Oh do shut up.”
“There's my Erestor,” Glorfindel said and Erestor's breath caught at the smile on his face. He leaned in and their kiss felt like the first hint of Spring on a chill morning. Erestor gasped when they parted, surging forward to press the two of them close again and threw his arms around Glorfindel's neck.
Later, much much later, when they were walking back to Imladris hand in hand, a question he forgot to ask returned to him. “What did Elrond say to you this morning?”
“Ah. Well. That.”
“Yes?”
“It was. Perhaps. A bit...sharp.”
“Ah?”
“And to the point.”
“To the...”
“He had a sword.”
“A sword ?”
“Bilbo had one too. I was rather worried.”
“They what ?!”