Thought I might post this scribbling on this journal! Don´t kill me for bad English, but it was so much fun to write it, and since I made my fic journal Friends Only...I do not write canon. The professor would turn over in his grave if he read this! But I cannot write somber stories, even if I try.
Author: Nofics
Fandom: LOTR
Pairing: Glorfindel/Namo
Rating: NC 17 (not really, but I wanted to be on the safe side) Ha! Reread it, definitely NC 17
Words: 3162
Disclaimer: Thanks for letting me play with your beloved characters, Mr. Tolkien! I´ll bring them back come evening!
My Fair Captain
The roaring of Rivendell´s waterfalls was slowly grating on Glorfindel´s nerves. The captain of Elrond´s army stood in front of his window, staring into the mist created by the water thundering down the precipice and the downpour from above. What a coincidence his name was not on today´s roster! That would have made him one miserable elf, riding in the pouring rain to protect Rivendell´s borders, soaking wet and chilled to the bone. Glorfindel could not stand the cold any more, since he had been brought back to the living by Namo´s command. The keeper of the slain certainly possessed a morbid sense of humour, releasing him from the biting cold of his halls to let him end up in this darn part of Middle-Earth, surrounded by ever falling water, be it from above or in the form of cataracts. And how come nobody had asked him if he had strived for reincarnation at all? Needless to say, Mandos´s Halls had been as homey as an orc´s den, orc not included,presumably to circumvent the possibility that the dwellers of said halls at least had a tiny bit of fun chasing those wretched creatures around, cold as the air of Helcaraxe and busy as Thranduil`s Mirkwood after dark , minus the spiders. Why he never had met another unfortunate soul was a mystery to him, one that only the dark lord of these halls would have been able to solve, but Namo had been busy all those days. Too many new arrivals, way too much paperwork and administrative tasks to deal with, since the other official residents in this murky dwelling were not inclined to support the host.
Vaire, Namo´s wife, had been intent on blanketing each and every surface of her husband´s halls with her weaving products, their vivid colours in stark contrast to the gloominess of the place. In spirit Glorfindel had often torn down the tapestries, woven history or not, to cloak himself in their woollen warmth, adopting such drastic measures to banish the cold that had taken over his body. A body created out of memories, because he did not possess hands to tear, eyes to weep, a mouth to shout out his pain, his despair because of having failed his king, his friends, young Earendil. And full of pain he had been for a long time, restlessly roaming the vacant halls, trying to grasp what had gone so terrible wrong, why all they had fought for had literally gone up in flames.
At this point usually Nienna made her appearance, the kindest soul in Mandos, and the most unsettling. As much as Glorfindel´s tormented soul longed for words of consolation, Namo´s sister´s never ending flood of tears confused him. Why would she bemoan his suffering this fulsomely, when she did not even know his fate in detail? They had not even had a talk about it! Private conversation with Namo he had had, of course, there was no getting round it. Namo did not cavil. He sat opposite the one entrusted to his care, listening, sprawling out, listening again, sprawling out even more, seeking a more comfortable position...Glorfindel had watched him with awe. Namo was beautiful, more beautiful than any elf he had seen before. His midnight black hair was steadily falling into his ethereal face, pale hands nervously pushing back the silken strands. Vaire´s love for vibrant colours certainly had not affected her husband´s appearance. Namo attired himself in sombre colours only. Glorfindel had begun to bet with himself if it would be a dark grey, midnight blue or, the Valars help him, a black outfit, which made Namo appear like the grim reaper, a character dispensable in the Halls of the Dead. The velvet dark red robes the dark lord only wore when Glorfindel had forgotten to bet at all. Later on those incidents gave him a lead that the Lord of the Dead had very well read his thoughts and had done him the favour and wear the clothes Glorfindel had bet on.
The blonde warrior had to admit he had fallen in love with the Lord of the Dead at first sight, as probably almost every other elf landed here had, devastated of having been robbed of his life and put into the gloominess of those halls, desperately clinging to the only one who held comfort for his tormented soul. Was this the reason why he had not wanted to leave, because he had been in love with Namo? Glorfindel closed his eyes, shamefully aware that the thought of the Valar alone stirred something down his loins, a feeling presumed dead since his return. He had never bedded someone since the day of his release, not on the long journey back from Valinor, and much less here in Imladris. His nether regions apparently had suffered final damage because of the everlasting coldness in the Halls of Waiting. Frozen to death, maybe? Glorfindel supposed killed by shame, more likely, because the ever gentle master of those halls had found out his well-guarded secret. No, not the one that he had fallen in love with him, the one no one should ever know about. The one that would have made his parents cringe in shame, had they been still alive to become aware of their son´s abnormity.
“Do you ache for a lover left behind?” Namo had asked, his violet eyes burning into his blue ones. Did Namo see blue eyes, or did he stare into a remembered nothingness, simply asking the questions he was charged with, to report about his victim´s past? Glorfindel wanted to believe so badly that his fate was important to the keeper of the slain, but his brain told him that, no matter how compassionate Namo acted, Glorfindel´s fate was one among many, nothing special at all. He had averted his eyes, unable to stifle the disappointment he had felt at that moment. His miserable life had never provided him with a lover of the same preference, who would have reassured him that he was no failure at all, that he might be different from other males, preferring the same sex, but that he was loved nevertheless. “No. None that was still alive when I died!” he had wanted to say, because the only one who had bedded him from time to time had been Ecthelion, who had already lost his life defending a balrog. See, no lover left behind, he had thought smugly, finally meeting Namo´s gaze again. He had expected to find revulsion in the Valar´s facial expression, telling him that Turgon had been right to rid his white city of faggots. What he got was compassion and reassurance that he was no error, that Iluvatar had created him this way, because it was no crime to be different when it came to love. He had wanted to kiss Namo at this moment, but his anxiousness had quelled that impulse.
Unbuttoning his official tunic, hand-made by some pitiful seamstress, the tiny buttons almost too delicate for his war-trained fingers, he headed towards his private bath. Elrond had moved him to his new quarters, when the first nightmares had arisen, Glorfindel helplessly staggering through the endless corridors of Imladris, soaked with sweat, his eyes feral. It had been Erestor, sweet little Erestor, delicate but sharp as a tack, who had led him to his Master´s rooms, knowing that Elrond would know a way to soothe the tormented warrior. The Master of Imladris had filled him up with his strongest sleeping –draught and put him on the sofa next to his sleeping room. Elrond had been a warrior himself, fighting under Gilgalad´s command. He knew the way nightmares came into being. He had had enough of his own bloodshed. It was certainly not the first time Elrond had brought a sick member of his household to his private rooms to be able to spend at least a few hours near his mate. Celebrian was not amused, of course, but in Glorfindel´s case she had been gracious. Glorfindel was a hero, and everybody did love him. If only the blonde warrior would be able to forgive himself! Elrond´s soft assurance that everything was in order had finally lulled his captain to sleep. But the stench of burning flesh, the cries of the dying had been so real! Glorfindel had known he had dreamt of a battle long gone, but he had been tied to this hideous scenery. The nightmares did come more frequently now. Why had Namo not erased all memories of the hidden city, when he had seen the future captain fit to leave his halls? Looking into the tall mirror he examined the hideous scar on his hip the balrog´s whip had left on his otherwise unblemished skin. This one had remained, too, to remind him of his failure. Glorfindel took a deep breath. Tomorrow, he would ride out to slaughter the next batch of orcs, keeping Imladris safe and hale, free of enemies. He would not fail this time!
The steaming bath had soothed him. This time he had not scrubbed his skin to the point it bled, only to get rid of unwanted memories. A towel slung around his lean hips, he returned to the window. Dawn had settled, the mist of the falls still lingering in the air. At least it was not raining any more. Glorfindel shivered in the crisp evening air, aware that he would have to dress up for dinner soon. Elrond was not one for decorum, but he was adamant that his executive personnel met in the evening to discuss next day´s projects during meal taken together. As if there would be a change in scheme for him: ride, slaughter, ride again, bring back the injured in the evening, support Elrond tending them. A sudden chill made him aware his room door had been opened. The scent of sandalwood was familiar to him, finally something he had come to cherish. “I am on my way, Elrond! I got sidetracked by the weather...Did you know I never could stand the rain? Only this one day, I prayed for a downpour. So hot...it had been so hot, fire everywhere...why on earth can´t I stop thinking about it!” He had managed to keep his voice steady this time, although he had bit his lip hard to accomplish this. Glorfindel was intent on not further burdening Elrond, showing him what a mess the leader of Imladris´s defence was in reality. Caught between two worlds, incapable of letting bygones be bygones. Something must have gone seriously wrong in the Halls of Waiting. Why should Namo send such a wreck that he was to Middle Earth, to support and counsel Earendil´s heir?
“Too soon, it had been too soon. “ The soft spoken words made Glorfindel freeze on the spot. What the heck? “Namo?” He heard the swishing of silk, as the other moved to stand beside him. “I had voiced my misgivings in the council, but time pressed. I could not keep you safe any longer. Your fate had been rewritten.” “You knew? But you could have erased those memories! No one feels for the fate of Gondolin at a time like this, when men and elves have to fight their own battle against evil! Who will listen to those ancient tales, when orc hordes raid their settlements, to kill or take captive their loved ones? I should ride day and night to delete our enemies´ number, but...I am tired, Mylord! Those sleepless nights have left me ailing, my strength is waning, I long for respite instead of defeating our enemies in battle!” He pondered what Namo would think of this pathetic speech, recited by one of his former entrusted souls, clad only in a thin towel covering his genitals. What a way to deliver such an accusatory speech, especially when your opponent was dressed meticulously, high polished leather boots and gloves made of smoothest leather completing the Vala´s outfit. Valinor´s finest, as always, Glorfindel thought and secured the knot in his towel.
Coming to think about it, he did not remember wearing any clothes in the halls of Mandos. The warrior blanched considerably. Did that mean he had run around naked all the time? “Wish that it were this way!” “What?” Glorfindel croaked, his face turning a nice shade of red. Such thoughts from the keeper of the dead! Absolutely impossible! The Doomsman of the Valar was married, kind of! Vaire would have a say in that matter! But then there had been this kiss, when Glorfindel already had been given his new body and Namo had come to say farewell. And what a kiss it had been, hot and demanding, his own tongue taking the lead, the Vala eagerly copying its moves. He had left the halls of waiting with a hard-on, harder than any he had had in his former life, and then...nothing. How come he did only remember now? “You!” he hissed. “You made me forget about it!” Namo looked guilty. “Would you have preferred the first action in your second life to be taking care of a boner?” True, not the best start into a new life, but an interesting one, in hindsight. “And why are you here, in my sleeping room, after so many years?” Namo´s grin became outright feral. “To accomplish what I started once!”
Very well then, Glorfindel was tired, he was naked, he had to show up for the evening discussion, but afore he had to cope with a horny Vala. He dropped the towel. Namo dropped his gaze, only to examine what had been concealed until now. Attack was the best form of defence, Glorfindel thought, and tackled the Vala, pushing him towards the bed. They toppled down the mattress, the blonde effectively knocking the wind out of his former care-giver. It did not curb Namo´s enthusiasm, to the contrary, the lord very well remembered their uncompleted tongue play and all the things he had read in Glorfindel´s mind but never had been able to put to the test. Glorfindel´s nimble fingers found a way into Namo´s elaborated tunic, accidentally tearing out a few of the tiny buttons, his fingertips coming across nipples already erect with want. His other hand slid down Namo´s torso, pausing at the prominent erection, his thumb gently rubbing the head of it. Oh yes, somebody was very, very excited, the proof of it already dampening the Vala´s snug trousers. Namo was definitely enjoying himself beyond all measure. He´d have to restrain him quickly, or it would be over too soon for the two of them.
“Who the heck has tailored such shit! You are no sissy to dress like this!” Glorfindel still fought with the amount of tiny buttons which adorned Namo´s shirt, afraid that he´d tear the fine silk. “Now guess!” came the Vala´s dry response. “Then how do you two make love? Start on the first day of the week and be ready when the week is halfway through?” Namo cackled, and Glorfindel´s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, something he had adopted from Elrond. Namo. Cackling. The end of the world must be nigh. “In fact, we do not make love. Our auras flow into each other...” “That´s platonic squared!” Glorfindel guffawed, all the while trying to visualize this sort of coupling. A moment later he was in stitches, quickly restraining himself when he saw the hurt in the Vala´s eyes. Iluvatar had definitely withheld a lot from his nearest subordinates. Finally divested of his clothes, Namo expectantly looked at the blonde warrior, knowing as much about what to do as the man in the moon but clearly enjoying himself. Glorfindel bent down and kissed the sensible lips, his free hand sneaking below the pillow to retrieve the vial of oil, kept there for his rough skin, among other things. He would need a fair amount of it to get his Vala ready for intercourse!
As anticipated Namo tensed up when he felt cool fingers, slick with oil, invading his most private parts. Up to that point this body had experienced nothing but feelings of joy or utter dejection, according to whether the elves in his charge came along or not. This body was fake, a concession towards the scared souls of those who had to endure endless years in his halls, but it functioned, and how! When Glorfindel finally slid into Namo´s now pliant body, the Vala was rock-hard again, pale skin covered with sweat, clawing fingers almost shredding the cool silken bed sheets. Imladris´ captain did not hold back, because Namo was far ahead, already at the edge of orgasm. It was over too soon, both of them reaching their pinnacle at the same time, Namo voicing his enthusiasm into Glorfindel´s mouth, because the fair captain had been mindful of such an exclamation of pure joy, after Namo having spent millenniums without exchange of bodily fluids. He grabbed his nightshirt to wipe away strands of semen coating Namo´s heaving chest, all the while burning the Vala´s beautiful face into his mind, completely relaxed after such a sweat-inducing exercise, because there was no way Vaire would tolerate this stunt a second time.
“I dare say she won´t be thrilled about our trifle, if she ever makes out the truth.” “If she ever...Namo, you are practically glowing! Maybe you better should introduce her to bodily delights, too!” Glorfindel fell silent, becoming aware of the fact that this would signify the end of their tryst, and he would be left to twist in the wind. A gentle hand cupped his now pensive face. “I cannot promise you to come to you as often as you´ll need it, but I have foreseen someone out there waiting for you.” Glorfindel shook his head. “Is one of my old buddies about to be reborn? Because I have scoured whole Imladris and Lothlorien for a fitting lover, to no avail!” Namo stretched himself, pondering Glorfindel´s question. “Reborn? Not that I know of, and theoretically I am to know all that will come to pass! Maybe you should seek elsewhere?” The blonde warrior huffed indignantly, plumping down beside his former host. “You won´t propose dreaded Mirkwood, will you? Because Thranduil will have my head if I ever try to seduce one of his precious wood elves, or, even worse, his praised son, who many a time shared bed with my Lord´s son without his father knowing about it!” Something in Namo´s eyes told Glorfindel he had come near to the truth. Please don´t let it be Mirkwood, he prayed. The woodland king was one of the most irritating regents Imladris´ captain had ever gotten to know. Haughty, stubborn and absolutely breathtaking. Breathtaking! Now where did this come from! Glorfindel felt a firm hand sliding down his body, pausing at his flaccid shaft, gently beginning to pump it. “Maybe he only needs to get laid more regularly?” Namo suggested, spreading Glorfindel´s legs wide to settle between them, a triumphant grin in his violet eyes.
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