Whirlwind 1

By Orchyd Constyne


Erestor watched Elrond's eyes return to their stormy grey, showing him that the mental conversation the Elf-lord had been engaging in was over.  His friend turned a sad smile to the Councilor.  "Thranduil will arrive within the week.  Please ready his room."

Erestor looked at his friend with an odd expression.  Ready a room for his Lord's lover?  That made little sense to Erestor. "Meldir, Thranduil has not used 'his room' in centuries beyond counting.  He shares your suite."

Leaving the balcony, Elrond sighed.  "Not this time."

Erestor then realized what must have just happened.  The Noldo was old enough to know what this meant.  The members of the Company had been decided, and his long-time friend was going to send his lover's son. His heart ached for what Elrond was about to go through.  But, since his counsel had not been requested, he was not about to offer it.  He simply nodded.  "I will go have the room aired out now and locate his favorite linens."

The Councilor did not bother to summon servants to prepare the King's room; he was perfectly capable of taking care of it himself.  In truth, there was really nothing to do but make up the bed.  Erestor had the room aired out once a week, and Thranduil's preferred bedclothes were folded at the foot of the large four-poster bed.  No sense in making things difficult, he reasoned.

Erestor was unfolding the sheet when he was enveloped from behind by two strong and very welcome arms.  "I thought I heard you in here," Glorfindel purred in his ear.

"I was being quiet," Erestor replied, settling back against his lover's chest.

Glorfindel smirked.  "I know.  The silent sound of efficiency was deafening."

Erestor hit Glorfindel playfully on the arm.  "Make yourself useful. Help me make the bed."

The Seneschal kissed Erestor on the neck, making the Noldo shiver, before releasing him and walking to the other side of the bed and taking the other corner of the sheet.  They worked in silence for a few moments, then Glorfindel looked around, seeming to truly *see* the room for the first time.

"Don't we usually reserve this room for Thranduil?"

"Yes," Erestor replied simply.

"We're not putting anyone else in here, are we?"

"No."

"And Thranduil isn't going to be staying with Elrond?"

"No."

"What happened?"

Erestor hesitated, briefly, then decided to be honest.  "Legolas."

The Elda's eyes widened.  "He's sending *Legolas* on this insanity?!"

"That's how it appears."

"Son of an Orc," Glorfindel swore.  "I'll go talk to him."

"I don't think it will do any good, meleth.  Just help me finish this."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Glorfindel screamed in a sudden fit of anger.  "Damn you, don't you see what he's doing?!"

Erestor actually backed away a step, suddenly afraid of his love, despite the bed that separated them.  The motion caused Glorfindel to rethink himself.  The Seneschal clenched his eyes shut for a moment and shook his head.  "I'm sorry.  I'm just a little on edge."

"I understand.  The One Ring -- here in Imladris.  It's enough to make anyone jumpy.  Especially you."

"I... think I'll just go lie down," Glorfindel mumbled with a fair amount of shame and embarrassment flooding his voice.  He left the room as silently as he arrived, leaving a stunned Erestor to finish up Thranduil's bed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The week had passed with relative peace, with Glorfindel avoiding Elrond as much as he could.

The Seneschal rode at the head of the small guard doing the morning rounds checking the Imladris border.  Once they had done the sweep and began the ride back to the house, Glorfindel let his mind wander over the past decade.

He felt out of place, he felt as if something had shifted in him and it frightened him.  He had a rage he never thought he could have.  The Elda would find himself seething, wishing to strike someone, saying things he would never had said in his previous years.  Glorfindel would find himself hurting those he loved the most.

Those like Erestor.  The dark-eyed love was the center of most of Glorfindel's outbursts.  He had yet to strike or truly harm his lover, but he had come too close for the blond Elf's comfort.  He was afraid he would seriously harm someone.  And from his previous tantrums, it looked like the most likely Elf that would be forced to endure that final madness would be Erestor.

They had been together for several centuries, and Glorfindel had originally attributed his short temper to the monogamy.  He had never held such an exclusive relationship before.  Erestor had even mentioned officially bonding to one another, but Glorfindel refused -- not while he felt so out of control.  He wanted Erestor to always have a way out, a way away from him and his insanity.

That was what it felt like: a slow descent into dementia.  For the most part, he was balanced and in control.  But, there were other times when he would lost all grip on himself and he would irrationally lash out.  He would suddenly feel as if he were drowning in jealousy or in paranoia, the two main emotions that triggered the violence in him when it came to Erestor.

Glorfindel's attentions were brought from his internal struggle by the eldest Peredhel twin, who was trying to get him to converse.

"Thranduil will arrive tonight?"  The question was innocent enough.

Just being reminded of the Mirkwood Elf brought home the betrayal he felt by Elrond in the Lord choosing his lover's son.  That storm that had been dormant in him the past week awoke with a new fury.  The only being close to him at that moment, though, was the Half-Elf he had always seen as the son he could never have.  With a phenomenal effort, Glorfindel reined in his irrational anger and was able to respond with a clipped, "So we were told."

"Is there something on your mind?"

Through clenched teeth: "No.  Nothing."

Blessedly, Elladan realized that Glorfindel was in a less-than-pleasant mood and wished not to be disturbed.  He did not even speak to let the Balrog-slayer know that he'd heard Thranduil approaching; instead, he used the gesturing "language" that he and Elrohir had developed while on the trail of roving packs of Orcs.  Elrond had been so impressed by it that he'd ordered all border patrols to learn it, starting with his Seneschal.

Glorfindel gave the "acknowledged" signal with a huff and moved to take up an escort position for Thranduil.  He did not speak on the journey back to the stables, merely bolstered his reserves against the confrontation that he could feel approaching.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The conversation with Thranduil went better than he expected, which is to say, no one was killed in an insane fit of anger.  After the Elven King met with Elrond, he had pretty much kept to himself these past two weeks, which suited Glorfindel just fine.  The Seneschal tried to go about his daily business as smoothly as possible, but he was now constantly battling his desire to just jump up and strangle someone.

Erestor was his safe haven, though.  Elrond's Councilor accepted him unconditionally, never judging him or pressing him for answers that Glorfindel just didn't have.  No matter how trying a day he had, the Elda could always melt into Erestor's arms and let the dark-haired beauty take it all away.

More than once, the consolation gave way to gentle lovemaking, much as it had done this night.  After talking Glorfindel down from his most recent bout of ... whatever it was he was going through, the Noldo was running his fingers through the blond's hair when Glorfindel sat up and kissed him in thanks.  The kiss had deepened, hands began to roam, and all thoughts of the outside world were forgotten.

At the end of a blur of fondling and kissing, Erestor sat on the bed naked, bent onto his hands and knees while Glorfindel slowly made love to him from behind.  The Elda's hands were cool against his skin as they held him, and Erestor's head drooped, his breathing punctuated by soft moans and delicate sighs.

Glorfindel massaged Erestor's ass as he slid his shaft in and out of the tight opening.  He was patting the Noldo's behind when his balance shifted, and his hand came down a little rougher than he'd intended. When Erestor moaned, though, Glorfindel experimentally gave the other cheek a slight smack.  The Councilor gave another moan of pleasure, and Glorfindel continued, randomly spanking Erestor's ass every two or three thrusts.  The feeling sent shivers through his cock because Erestor would tense up with each smack, tightening the muscle around Glorfindel's rod.

The intensity of the spanks grew, and soon Erestor's rear was being pummelled with loud, powerful strikes that made his skin tingle and sting.  The sensations had been pleasurable at first, but now his ass was beginning to ache from the punishment.  He had trouble drawing in enough breath to speak or even cry out, though; the continual onslaught was certainly taking its toll, but Glorfindel felt so good inside him that he was torn between the pleasure and the pain. Erestor didn't find his voice again until a particularly strong blow went awry and struck his hipbone, sending a jarring pain through his whole body.

"Ouch!  That one hurt!" he cried out.

Glorfindel did not respond, did not even seem to hear.

He tried again.  "Please stop that, meleth; it's really starting to hurt."

Again, nothing.

"Glorfindel, I'm not joking, you're hurting me!"

Erestor felt the Elda's hands on his back and breathed a sigh of relief.  The moment was short-lived, though, when he felt his head jerked up and back.  Glorfindel had taken hold of Erestor's long, dark hair and pulled with the force of reining in a steed. Erestor's throat strained to take in air against the pressure, and his eyes filled with tears.  Almost immediately, Erestor felt Glorfindel's cock throb inside him and the heat of his orgasm spilling forth and filling him.  He choked back a sob, his sight began to blur from the pain and lack of breath, and his neck muscles screamed in protest at being bent the wrong way.

When Glorfindel's release had finally subsided, Erestor's head snapped back against the bed as the Elda relinquished his grip with a start. "By the Valar," Erestor heard him whisper, "what did I do?"

Glorfindel looked down at the mottled mass of redness and rapidly forming bruises that criss-crossed Erestor's behind.  He covered his mouth with a hand to muffle his cry of shock.  "I'm sorry, melethron!" he suddenly exclaimed, pulling out roughly and backing away from the bed in horror.  "I'm so very sorry!"

Erestor rolled onto his side, gingerly, as his buttocks were now in great pain, and held out his hand to his lover.  "Shh, shh, Glorfindel," he said in the most comforting voice he could manage. "It's okay.  We've never done this before.  It was very nice; it just started to hurt after a while."

"No, no," Glorfindel said, sobbing as he fell back against the wall and slid down to the floor.  "You don't understand, I wanted to *hurt* someone.  I wanted to hurt *you*!"

Erestor got out of the bed and knelt beside the Elda, wrapping his arms around Glorfindel and cradling him to his chest.  "I don't know what's happening, a'maelamin, but we'll get through it together, I swear."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Erestor was busy in his small office when Elladan came into the room. The Peredhel must have just returned from his extended patrol; he was still in riding leathers and was road-weary.  But more than that, he looked meek, which was odd for the eldest twin.  Erestor stopped writing his letter to Lord Celeborn and stood up.  "Is something wrong, Elladan?"

Elladan was always amazed at the cool, even tones of his old tutor's melodic voice.  The dark eyes always spoke of wisdom, age and cold, calculating precision.  Erestor made chills go down his spine, so different from Glorfindel.  "Can I speak with you frankly, Erestor?"

Erestor's expression softened slightly when he realized how anxious Elladan was.  "Of course, pen-neth."

"I think something is wrong with Glorfindel."

Erestor sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.  He had hoped to keep this change in attitude to just himself and his lover.  "How do you mean?"

Elladan chewed the inside of his cheek a moment, trying to find the right words.  "These past weeks, he's become edgy.  He snaps at Elrohir and I over the smallest things.  He nearly brought Elrohir to tears last week during one of the training sessions. He seems... darker, angry all the time."  Shining silver-grey eyes met his ink black ones and Erestor knew how upset Elladan was.  "And then, on the patrol...  I just gave my report to Ada, but I didn't tell him everything.  I wanted to talk to you first. Erestor, I found myself becoming *afraid* of him."

"I know," the Councilor said simply, sighing deeply.  Elladan opened his mouth, but Erestor held up a hand to silence him.  "This is something that Glorfindel is having to work through.  We don't know what is happening, but it is possible that it is the Ring's closeness to him."

"Because of the Balrog," Elladan said quietly.  "Because of his death."

"Yes.  As you can imagine, it is quite a painful subject for him, so I would appreciate it if you not speak to anyone else -- especially Glorfindel -- about his troubles or this conversation."

Elladan narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  It wasn't like the Noldo to be so detached when speaking to the twins, his pupils. "You're worried about him, aren't you?"

For a moment, the strong front that Erestor was putting up crumbled, and Elladan saw the hurt and fear just behind the Councilor's eyes. "Desperately," Erestor whispered.

The elder Peredhel walked to Erestor and clasped him firmly by the shoulders.  "He's strong.  Whatever it is, he'll overcome."


Continued in Part Two

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