Come Morning
Chapter One

The time was after the midnight hour, and few were about in the High King's halls. One lone Elf was still occupied with work, despite the late hour. The only others awake were not involved in such a worthy pursuit as honest work. The High King was drinking in celebration. It didn't seem to matter that the reason for the celebration had occurred a few months prior. Almost every night since that momentous event had been spent in joyous drinking. Glorfindel, the returned famous Balrog slayer, was the cause for the High King's merry mood. His arrival and subsequent joining of the High King's service had set the royal household on its ear. He and Gil-galad had become fast friends. Glorfindel had rode into Lindon and no one would be the same. He quickly seduced his way through ellith and ellyn alike. He also put a healthy dent in the King's storehouse of fine spirits. The two were currently occupied in the great hall drinking each other under the table.

Gil-galad stumbled to his feet, Glorfindel's shoulder preventing any meetings with the floor. The High King weaved on unsteady legs, but to his mind, it was the floor that was unstable. "Well, meldir, I'm off to the comfort of my Peredhel's bed. What of you, oh fair one? Who is the lucky Elf this evening?"

Glorfindel chuckled as the King sought to steady himself by once again holding onto Glorfindel's shoulder. "Haven't decided who the lucky Elf is yet," he said.

Gil-galad snorted. "I'm sure you won't be alone for long. It is a good thing you are my friend, what with the way you have broken a string of hearts." With that statement, Glorfindel was left alone in the great hall.

Glorfindel stared somberly into his wine cup. He did not intend to spend one single night of his resurrected life sleeping alone. Being alone was a good way for the nightmares to sneak upon you. Glorfindel had no need to sleep and remember burning flesh, fire, and falling. His death haunted him during every waking hour. Only through losing himself in the flesh of another was he able to reach any clarity of emotion. Glorfindel left behind the half-empty wine cup as he exited the room. Warm skin and willing arms were much better medicine anyway. The halls were dark and quiet. No lights peeked from under closed doors. That is, until he came upon the library. The door was slightly ajar and a single candle glowed. Glorfindel stepped quietly inside. He observed the single Elf still engrossed in work despite the late hour. Must be some eager squire, he thought. He is a pretty little thing. Glorfindel allowed his eyes to travel over midnight-hued tresses, down to a pert bottom that was currently bent over retrieving a parchment from the floor. He whistled silently to himself. Nice.

Erestor rose hastily as he heard a faint sound behind him. He whirled and came face-to face with an amused Glorfindel. Erestor stared at the intruder. Incredible. He had no idea Glorfindel even knew there was a library in Lindon. He had to admit, the Elda was beautiful. Glorfindel's face was graced with the light of the two trees themselves, with eyes as blue as the waters of the Havens, full pink lips, all framed by masses of golden hair. The Elf-lord's hair, from which came his name, was sun-kissed, unbraided and fell in waves to the small of his back. For one moment, Erestor let himself imagine what it would be like to bury his hands in that rich offering. But for only a moment, before he gave himself a quick mental shake. No, he had no desire to become a notch on Glorfindel's bed!

Glorfindel enjoyed the surprised look on the face of the dark haired Elf. This little squire was beautiful. Why hadn't he seen this one before? His hair was dark, the flames casting red highlights upon it, eyes just as dark and upturned, exotically so. Full red lips, a pert nose, and snow-pale skin completed the image. Glorfindel could well imagine how pretty that mouth would look wrapped around a certain part of his anatomy. Glorfindel watched in amusement as the startled Elf tried to regain his composure.

"Hir nīn, may I help you find something?" Erestor said.

"No pen velui, I think I have found just what I need. Tell me, dark one, why are you working so late? Does not some lover eagerly await your presence?" Glorfindel moved closer to the squire as he spoke.

Erestor drew himself up, displaying some of that early hauteur that would serve him so well in the future. "Hir nīn, I do not believe that is any of your concern. If you must know, I am finishing some translations for Lord Elrond. He wanted them done by the first of the morning."

Glorfindel cupped one of the squire's pale cheeks and allowed his thumb to briefly brush across a full lower lip. "I do not think, lovely one, that your Lord Elrond will be wanting anything first of the morning, except perhaps a hot bath," he said.

Erestor frowned at the hand on his face, but also at the confusing words Glorfindel uttered. Erestor attempted to back away from the intimacy of being close to the famed Glorfindel. But his path was halted by the bookshelves he had worked from just a short while ago. Glorfindel did not allow the minuscule retreat. He followed, his larger frame pinning the squire firmly to prevent any possible escape. He decided this dark clerk would share his bed this night.

Erestor pushed at his captor unsuccessfully, attempting to insert some distance between their bodies. "My Lord, what are you doing?"

"I think that should be obvious, pen velui." That said, Glorfindel claimed those full red lips with his own. He used the element of surprise to thrust his tongue inside. The Elda groaned at the sweet taste he found within. He firmly pulled the councilor closer, molding their forms tight from chest to thigh. Glorfindel rubbed his hips in small circles against the darkly robed form. He drew back with a howl when his tongue was suddenly bitten. Hard. He looked down into the furious eyes which glared back at him. Glorfindel was confused. Why was the little clerk fighting this? No one resisted the returned Elda. All were very grateful when he honored them with his attentions. "What did you do that for?" he demanded. Glorfindel let out a roar of surprise as he was pushed forcible back. He raised a hand to his suddenly stinging cheek. The little fool had slapped him!

Erestor's chest rose and fell rapidly. He glared at the stunned Elda. "How dare you! I gave you no leave to maul me. I assure you, Lord Glorfindel, if it is bed sport you are seeking, you picked the wrong Elf," he said, fist clenched. Erestor whirled away, black hair flying behind him, as he made good on escape.

Glorfindel stared at the empty library. Incredible! The little nobody had refused him. He, Glorfindel, the famed Balrog slayer. It was not to be borne. He sped out and followed the unsuspecting councilor. No one turned away Glorfindel. His anger rose, as he followed the faint footsteps of the squire, Glorfindel finally spied him entering a room on one of the lower levels of the hall. He quickly placed a booted foot in the door, preventing Erestor from closing it. Erestor stumbled back from the door as it was wrenched from his grasp. He watched, fear beginning to form, as the Elda entered and closed the door behind him. Erestor took a step back. The room was faintly lit by moonlight through the open curtains. It was small, containing only a bed, wardrobe, and a writing desk. He eyed Glorfindel nervously as the blond stalked towards him. Erestor refused to back up and stood his ground. "Are you insane?" he demanded. "Get out of my room," he ordered.

Glorfindel caught the hands that rose to ward him off. He pulled the struggling figure flat against him. "Now, now, Councilor, none of that. You and I are going to finish what we started in the library." Glorfindel began pressing kisses on the squirming face. "You will enjoy this, I promise." Glorfindel captured the hands in one of his and pushed Erestor back towards his bed.

Erestor's panic rose. He intensified his struggles, trying to pull free from the warrior's hold. He was so strong! Erestor opened his lips to cry out, but all he emitted was a whimper as his mouth was claimed. Erestor's lungs grew desperate for air. He could not breathe as his mouth was ravished over and over again. The backs of his knees hit the mattress and he was falling. What little breath remained in his lungs whooshed out as Glorfindel's heavier body pinned him to the bed. He tried to call out to plead for the Elf lord to stop, but his mouth was not released and his hands were brought over his head. He struggled weakly against the one handed hold. His body bucked, trying to throw off the heavy Elf.

Glorfindel groaned in hunger at the smaller Elf's sweat taste. He could not get enough of his red lips. He sucked strongly on Erestor's tongue. As his ardor rose, he was oblivious to the Councilor's bids for freedom. All that filled his mind was the feel of Erestor under him. With his free hand, he began releasing buttons on the Councilor's robes. Those that proved stubborn were torn off. Glorfindel's desire for bare flesh rode him. His arousal was full, heavy and leaking in excitement. His mouth finally left that of the helpless one under him, only to travel to a satiny throat, which he marked with bruise after bruise. He was deaf to the pleas that fell from the swollen lips. Glorfindel's hand pinched one red nipple as his lips discovered its mate. He bit down, once again marking the pale flesh. He brought Erestor's arms down and pinned them across his abused chest. Glorfindel's mouth traveled down Erestor's body, his tongue briefly dipping into Erestor's navel. Glorfindel nuzzled against the dark curls surrounding Erestor's shaft. He was too far-gone with lust to notice the unaroused state of his captive. Glorfindel roughly used his shoulders to push Erestor's legs apart. His tongue lapped at Erestor's flesh, bathing his globes, before journeying to the small-untouched opening.

Erestor reared up and finally freed his hands. He shoved desperately at the figure between his legs. Never had another touched him in such a matter! Erestor's body shuddered at the unknown intimacy. His body was untried, untouched. Erestor cried out as Glorfindel thrust a finger in his unprepared opening. He could not get away from the hands that held his legs open, exposing him so lewdly. Erestor began fighting in earnest. He did not want this! This was not how he had ever imagined his first time to be. Not some drunken surrender to a Lord who would not remember his name come morning.

Glorfindel growled at the blows that fell upon his shoulders. Enough, he thought. He slid up, once again capturing Erestor's hands. He kept his body between Erestor's legs and forced them open wide. He pinned the fighting Elf down with his full weight and swallowed Erestor's cries with his lips. Desire burned through him. Glorfindel shifted, his heavy arousal finding Erestor's tiny pink opening. With no thought to preparation, he pushed. He drew back in puzzlement and eyed the figure now crying below him. Glorfindel frowned in annoyance. He pushed harder, ignoring the sharp cry as the head of his shaft pushed past the untried ring of muscle. Glorfindel shuddered at the tightness as he slid all the way inside, not stopping until he rested fully upon the now still form that now lay still under him.

Erestor cried silently. Never had he expected such pain. The burning feeling did not subside once Glorfindel was still.

Glorfindel's wine-induced haze cleared for a moment, allowing him to see the councilor's distress. Why is he crying? Glorfindel had never had a lover cry on him before. Drunken tenderness replaced drunken hunger, and he began to coo words of solace to his unwilling lover. He tenderly kissed the wet face and his hands stroked the body beneath his softly. Glorfindel kept still and sought to entice the stiff body under his to respond. Where once teeth left harsh marks, lips gently suckled and a tongue bathed abused flesh.

Erestor's sobs grew quiet. He moaned with the beginning of desire as his mouth was drawn into a gentle kiss. Erestor's body gradually relaxed. His nipples peeked and hardened in response to delicate caresses. Again, Erestor moaned as his body arched up seeking Glorfindel's touches. Glorfindel's wandering hands softly fondled Erestor's shaft and tickled across his globes. Erestor couldn't prevent the shudder that tore through his body as a thumb was drawn across the head of his awakening arousal. Erestor cried out at the first thrust from Glorfindel's hips. His passage relaxed, allowing him to eagerly accept the gentle rhythm Glorfindel set. Erestor's hips began to slowly move under Glorfindel's, and he gasped as his arousal was stroked firmly. The blond increased his tempo. Erestor's hips rose and fell repeatedly, thrusting his length into Glorfindel's fist and impaling himself again and again on the hard length filling him. Arms that once sought to push away now drew the Elda tight. Erestor's nails bit sharply into Glorfindel's shoulders, a subtle insistence of more.

Glorfindel began thrusting heavily. Arousal burned deep in his belly and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. He pumped the councilor's length faster as he slammed into Erestor's body, faster and faster. Erestor's breath hitched. He became frightened. Erestor could feel his belly draw tight and breathing in and out became difficult. He did not understand what was happening to him. He clung harder to Glorfindel's sweat-slicked shoulders. Suddenly Erestor cried out, his body arched high off the bed and his seed shot across his stomach some hitting his chest. Glorfindel quickly followed, his groan of completion draining him. He slumped heavily upon the trembling body of Erestor. Both were still as they regained their breath. Finally Glorfindel gave a groan and rolled off Erestor. No words were exchanged and as the wine finally caught up with Glorfindel, he passed out.

Erestor quickly moved away from the Elda. His thoughts were jumbled and his mind in a whirl. What just happened? Erestor could not control the pained whimper that left his lips as he stepped from the bed. He looked back at Glorfindel, but the Elda did not move. His body protested as Erestor moved to the washbasin. He looked at his image reflected in the mirror on the dresser. Bites and bruises decorated his chest and neck, but other than that, he did not look any different. Erestor thought, surely something showed? Some evidence of what had transpired. He looked back once gain at the unconscious figure in his bed and did not attempt to stop his tears. Why? He thought? Why had Glorfindel done it?

He could have handled being forced, but his body's traitorous actions confused him. How could he have found pleasure in so unfeeling an act? He knew the Elda had raped him; at least it started out that way. But something in Erestor must be weak to allow his body to respond to those types of caresses, those types of kisses. Erestor sobbed as he sought to wash away Glorfindel's scent and touch. He wanted to leave, flee from the sleeping Elf, but he had nowhere to run. He was not the type who made close friends he could tell of this tale. Who could he turn to? Who would believe him? Who would believe him, a lowly scribe, over the beloved Elf in his bed, the famed Balrog slayer returned from the Halls of Waiting? No one. Erestor knew this and with a heavy heart he sat in the room's only chair. The rest of the night, Erestor watched the sleeping figure, unable to prevent his fear of what the morning would bring.

To be continued...