30 Kisses 17 & 20
Dec. 6th, 2005 03:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meretriculaChemistry that I don't want to do is an amazing motivator to write fic. I kinda wanted these to turn out better, but eh. They are quiet and full of angsty fluff, which is good enough for 10 o'clock on a Monday night.
Erestor stared down at the document on his desk, his lips pressed together into a thin white line. He'd drawn the proposal up himself, drafted it, and gotten all the signatures to put it into effect - except his own. But all the Valar in the Undying Lands knew he didn't want to sign it.
Resisting the urge to crumple up the accursed paper into a ball and hurl it into the fire, he dipped his quill into his ink-pot and carefully added his own name to the list of approvals at the bottom of the sheet. He dusted sand over the parchment to dry the glistening ink, folded it precisely into thirds, and set it down on the pile of out-going documents. Then he slammed his quill down on his desk, threw his ink-bottle at the fireplace, and stormed out of his office to the tinkling accompaniment of shattering glass.
*
Elrond found him several hours later, asleep and curled up in a window-seat with a good view of the road into the Valley. He sat beside his wayward advisor and woke him with the gentle press of lips on his forehead. "You missed dinner," Elrond said mildly, watching Erestor's eyes flutter open.
"I wasn't hungry," Erestor replied flatly, turning to stare out the window again.
"You still need to eat." Elrond scooted closer and gazed cautiously down at Erestor's angry expression. The cold moonlight threw all the sharp, bony edges of Erestor's underfed face into even sharper relief. "He'll be home tomorrow, Erestor."
"And he'll leave the day after." Erestor shifted away from Elrond and pressed his cheek up against the windowpane. His breath had fogged up the glass beyond all hope of seeing through it before he spoke again.
"One week every four months, when we met. I could never wait until he was gone, and I barely blinked and he'd be back again with something new to annoy me with.
"Twenty years ago we decided it should be one week every three months. It wasn't quite safe anymore. Then one week every two months, then a week every month, then two, and I just signed the Valar-curst piece of parchment that says he's to be away three weeks in every four." His voice caught as he choked down tears, and he made no movement to resist as Elrond gathered him in his arms, stroking his back soothingly. "I can't eat and I can't sleep and every second he's away I'm afraid he'll do something unbelievably stupid and heroic and Glorfindel and get himself killed and I just want him to come home - "
Erestor began to cry, the sort of graceless, inelegant crying expected of small children, full of gasping sobs and hiccups. Elrond held him helplessly, murmuring comforting nonsense that they both knew meant nothing. As his tears slowed, Erestor whispered miserably, "Why couldn't this have happened when I still hated him?"
"Er... Sam," Merry said nervously. "Do you get the impression that Mister Strider and his elfy friend don't get along too well?"
Sam glanced up the path to where Strider and the blond elf he had introduced as Glorfindel were engaged in a rather... spirited debate. But it was in Elvish, and with Master Frodo gone with the elf-lady, none of the hobbits could understand what was being said. Maybe Elvish always sounded angry.
"I'm sure Mister Strider and Mister Glorfindel would never endanger us by fighting on the road," he reassured Merry firmly. Then he looked back at Strider, hoping that his anxious gaze would somehow prevent the violence hanging over the two warriors from exploding.
*
"When this is all over, you insolent whelp, we shall have this out once and for all, and I shall render you of considerably less use to darling Arwen before I am through," Glorfindel hissed from between gritted teeth, glaring at Aragorn.
"Only in your wildest fancies," Aragorn retorted. "I beat you once; I'll beat you a second time."
"I was bloody well distracted and hung-over, and I taught you everything you know, you ungrateful brat."
"Is it not a fine day when the student surpasses his teacher?" Aragorn asked innocently.
Glorfindel snarled. "I should beat you unconscious and have your horse-thieving lady sew your braggart mouth shut, and were Erestor not so misguidedly fond of you, believe me, I would."
"Horse-thieving?" Aragorn repeated indignantly. "Arwen is not a thief!"
"She stole my horse!" Glorfindel replied with considerable frustration. "An entire stableful to choose from, and she had to steal mine!"
"Asfaloth is the fastest horse in Father's stable, and how did you get here anyway, if she took your horse?"
"I stole Erestor's," Glorfindel answered promptly.
Aragorn stopped dead and stared at him.
"What? Erestor can't ride her. Isn't that right, Firesnap?" Glorfindel crooned, stroking his stolen mare's nose. The horse immediately attempted to bite off his hand; Glorfindel pulled it back just in time. "Bad Firesnap," he reprimanded the mare mildly. "No apples for you."
The horse whuffled, and tried to step on Glorfindel's foot.
*
"Here we are in Rivendell, young master hobbits," Aragorn said encouragingly. He'd dropped back some time ago to walk with the drooping halflings, after he and Glorfindel had decided to press on after dark.
"Oh, good," sighed Merry.
"Can we see Master Frodo?" Sam asked anxiously.
"And is there anything to eat?" Pippin added.
"After we get inside the house, young master hobbits," Aragorn laughed, and led the three weary halflings up the path to his father's house. He paused when Sam tugged on his sleeve to hold him back. "Yes, Samwise?"
"Mister Strider, is that Master Glorfindel's lady?"
Sam pointed back at a slim shadow that had detached itself from the general darkness of the night and come out to meet Glorfindel. The black-cloaked figure now stood wrapped in the circle of Glorfindel's arms, face hidden in the blond warrior's neck.
Aragorn chuckled. "I suppose you could say so, in a manner of speaking. Come along, young master hobbits; your midnight snack awaits you."
*
"You should be in bed," Glorfindel murmured into Erestor's hair. "You'll catch cold waiting out here."
"I couldn't sleep," Erestor replied indistinctly, into the fabric of Glorfindel's cloak.
Glorfindel's arms tightened instinctively. "Nightmares again?"
Erestor didn't answer, which was answer enough. "Erestor..."
"Elrond said you'd be home tonight. I wanted to wait for you." Erestor pressed himself closer to Glorfindel's body, clinging to him almost. Glorfindel wrapped his cloak around both of them and leaned down for a soft kiss.
"I'm home now," Glorfindel said gently, when he drew back. Erestor settled into the warm circle of his arms and cloak with a quiet sigh. Despite the chill in the air, they remained out in the gardens for a very long time.
Sylvie, I swear I'll do the Fake RPG soon. Be contented with the elf-slash for the moment. ~snuggles and love~
Erestor stared down at the document on his desk, his lips pressed together into a thin white line. He'd drawn the proposal up himself, drafted it, and gotten all the signatures to put it into effect - except his own. But all the Valar in the Undying Lands knew he didn't want to sign it.
Resisting the urge to crumple up the accursed paper into a ball and hurl it into the fire, he dipped his quill into his ink-pot and carefully added his own name to the list of approvals at the bottom of the sheet. He dusted sand over the parchment to dry the glistening ink, folded it precisely into thirds, and set it down on the pile of out-going documents. Then he slammed his quill down on his desk, threw his ink-bottle at the fireplace, and stormed out of his office to the tinkling accompaniment of shattering glass.
*
Elrond found him several hours later, asleep and curled up in a window-seat with a good view of the road into the Valley. He sat beside his wayward advisor and woke him with the gentle press of lips on his forehead. "You missed dinner," Elrond said mildly, watching Erestor's eyes flutter open.
"I wasn't hungry," Erestor replied flatly, turning to stare out the window again.
"You still need to eat." Elrond scooted closer and gazed cautiously down at Erestor's angry expression. The cold moonlight threw all the sharp, bony edges of Erestor's underfed face into even sharper relief. "He'll be home tomorrow, Erestor."
"And he'll leave the day after." Erestor shifted away from Elrond and pressed his cheek up against the windowpane. His breath had fogged up the glass beyond all hope of seeing through it before he spoke again.
"One week every four months, when we met. I could never wait until he was gone, and I barely blinked and he'd be back again with something new to annoy me with.
"Twenty years ago we decided it should be one week every three months. It wasn't quite safe anymore. Then one week every two months, then a week every month, then two, and I just signed the Valar-curst piece of parchment that says he's to be away three weeks in every four." His voice caught as he choked down tears, and he made no movement to resist as Elrond gathered him in his arms, stroking his back soothingly. "I can't eat and I can't sleep and every second he's away I'm afraid he'll do something unbelievably stupid and heroic and Glorfindel and get himself killed and I just want him to come home - "
Erestor began to cry, the sort of graceless, inelegant crying expected of small children, full of gasping sobs and hiccups. Elrond held him helplessly, murmuring comforting nonsense that they both knew meant nothing. As his tears slowed, Erestor whispered miserably, "Why couldn't this have happened when I still hated him?"
"Er... Sam," Merry said nervously. "Do you get the impression that Mister Strider and his elfy friend don't get along too well?"
Sam glanced up the path to where Strider and the blond elf he had introduced as Glorfindel were engaged in a rather... spirited debate. But it was in Elvish, and with Master Frodo gone with the elf-lady, none of the hobbits could understand what was being said. Maybe Elvish always sounded angry.
"I'm sure Mister Strider and Mister Glorfindel would never endanger us by fighting on the road," he reassured Merry firmly. Then he looked back at Strider, hoping that his anxious gaze would somehow prevent the violence hanging over the two warriors from exploding.
*
"When this is all over, you insolent whelp, we shall have this out once and for all, and I shall render you of considerably less use to darling Arwen before I am through," Glorfindel hissed from between gritted teeth, glaring at Aragorn.
"Only in your wildest fancies," Aragorn retorted. "I beat you once; I'll beat you a second time."
"I was bloody well distracted and hung-over, and I taught you everything you know, you ungrateful brat."
"Is it not a fine day when the student surpasses his teacher?" Aragorn asked innocently.
Glorfindel snarled. "I should beat you unconscious and have your horse-thieving lady sew your braggart mouth shut, and were Erestor not so misguidedly fond of you, believe me, I would."
"Horse-thieving?" Aragorn repeated indignantly. "Arwen is not a thief!"
"She stole my horse!" Glorfindel replied with considerable frustration. "An entire stableful to choose from, and she had to steal mine!"
"Asfaloth is the fastest horse in Father's stable, and how did you get here anyway, if she took your horse?"
"I stole Erestor's," Glorfindel answered promptly.
Aragorn stopped dead and stared at him.
"What? Erestor can't ride her. Isn't that right, Firesnap?" Glorfindel crooned, stroking his stolen mare's nose. The horse immediately attempted to bite off his hand; Glorfindel pulled it back just in time. "Bad Firesnap," he reprimanded the mare mildly. "No apples for you."
The horse whuffled, and tried to step on Glorfindel's foot.
*
"Here we are in Rivendell, young master hobbits," Aragorn said encouragingly. He'd dropped back some time ago to walk with the drooping halflings, after he and Glorfindel had decided to press on after dark.
"Oh, good," sighed Merry.
"Can we see Master Frodo?" Sam asked anxiously.
"And is there anything to eat?" Pippin added.
"After we get inside the house, young master hobbits," Aragorn laughed, and led the three weary halflings up the path to his father's house. He paused when Sam tugged on his sleeve to hold him back. "Yes, Samwise?"
"Mister Strider, is that Master Glorfindel's lady?"
Sam pointed back at a slim shadow that had detached itself from the general darkness of the night and come out to meet Glorfindel. The black-cloaked figure now stood wrapped in the circle of Glorfindel's arms, face hidden in the blond warrior's neck.
Aragorn chuckled. "I suppose you could say so, in a manner of speaking. Come along, young master hobbits; your midnight snack awaits you."
*
"You should be in bed," Glorfindel murmured into Erestor's hair. "You'll catch cold waiting out here."
"I couldn't sleep," Erestor replied indistinctly, into the fabric of Glorfindel's cloak.
Glorfindel's arms tightened instinctively. "Nightmares again?"
Erestor didn't answer, which was answer enough. "Erestor..."
"Elrond said you'd be home tonight. I wanted to wait for you." Erestor pressed himself closer to Glorfindel's body, clinging to him almost. Glorfindel wrapped his cloak around both of them and leaned down for a soft kiss.
"I'm home now," Glorfindel said gently, when he drew back. Erestor settled into the warm circle of his arms and cloak with a quiet sigh. Despite the chill in the air, they remained out in the gardens for a very long time.
Sylvie, I swear I'll do the Fake RPG soon. Be contented with the elf-slash for the moment. ~snuggles and love~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-12-06 03:30 am (UTC)IT'S JUST MONDAY?
*cries*
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Date: 2005-12-06 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-07 01:40 am (UTC)I love how the second one tied into the one where Glorfindel dueled Aragorn. And a good rant from Glorfindel about Arwen's horse-thieving ways is always good. ^_^
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Date: 2005-12-07 01:50 am (UTC)it's all one biiiiiig series. when I'm done writing I'll even put them in order. It'll be fun! (Grr argh. Arwen stole Glorfindel's horse. And his part. Glorfindel is prettier and thus should get more screentime. ~RAGE~)