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zhieJust an untitled... something. Banter between Erestor and Glorfindel. Borders between PG13 and R, I think. Mentions of both het and slash, really. Anyhow... if someone has a title, let me know...
Happens middle of the third age, I guess.
Snow blanketed Imladris, providing just the right atmosphere for the festivities of the day. The advantage of being a gathering place for those of different races, cultures, and religions meant that practically every holiday manageable was celebrated at the Last Homely House. This included the Yuletide celebration. For ‘the sake of the children’ (who were now aged in the quadruple digits), Elrond made sure that a suitable tree was set up in the sitting room of the master suite. The tree was one that had been slated to be taken down in the spring for fear it was too close to the foundation of the house, but nonetheless it was secreted into the house three weeks ago in the dead of night so as not to upset some of the Elven residents.
At the moment, the master and his family were outdoors, while the tree was in. The presents had been opened, and wrappings and gifts were scattered about the floor. Through the window, Glorfindel watched with a smile as Arwen threw a snowball at Elladan, and then ducked behind her father as Elrohir retaliated. Celebrian stood within the gazebo, shouting encouragement to both teams. “I suppose we should not have resisted their pleas for us to join them.”
There was a minute of silence before Erestor replied with, “Are you hoping that I agree with that?” He was lounging on the couch, flipping through a book of maps that Elrond kept in his quarters. “Because going outside means being cold and coming back in damp and sniffly.”
“I just meant that they look very happy out there.” Glorfindel moved back to the couch and sat down on the small portion that Erestor’s legs did not reach. “Elladan seemed very pleased with his gifts.”
“He usually is. Elrohir is more difficult to find things for. You would think it to be Arwen,” added Erestor as he set the book aside, “but even the most practical items have the ability to excite her.”
Glorfindel nodded and looked at the small pile of things that Celebrian had amassed during the gift opening. Most of them had been from her husband, and she had grinned each time she lifted the lid from a box. “The lady certainly likes shoes.”
Erestor lifted himself up from the couch and gave Glorfindel a sideways look. “You know why, right?” He did not wait for Glorfindel to answer as he walked to the adjoining dining room to fill a goblet of wild berry wine and pick over the remaining baked goods that had been spread out over the table. There had been many more guests invited for refreshments and singing, but the ceremonious gift giving had occurred only after all but the family and Elrond’s two most trusted councilors (whom he thought of more as brothers than employees) remained.
“Is this one of those ‘she gets it from her mother’ things?” wondered Glorfindel. He shifted and made himself more comfortable with Erestor gone from the couch. A small box, left semi-forgotten, brushed against his foot. He reached down and picked it up from the floor and tucked it behind his back just before Erestor turned and walked back.
“No.” Erestor settled back down, and carefully placed his goblet upon the floor beside the couch. His shoes had been removed at the door, so his bare feet stretched out only just so, though slowly they encroached upon Glorfindel’s territory, until they were eventually lifted up by the golden elf and left to rest upon his thigh. “She gets it from her husband.”
Glorfindel thought about this for a moment, then asked, “Is this one of your infamous riddles?” Erestor had brought back with him an assortment of goodies, and Glorfindel took it upon himself to lessen the pile by one chocolate dipped butter cookie. “Or, do you just mean that whatever he gets her pleases her?”
“Although they might please her,” said Erestor as he waved a hand toward the pile of shoes and bit into a raspberry pastry, “they please him as well.”
The blond blinked. “He wears her shoes?”
“No!” Erestor erupted into a fit of powdered sugar spewing giggles and coughs. “No, no, that was not what I meant!”
“Well, maybe you should say what you mean instead of meaning to say what you mean but saying something else that has another meaning!” scolded Glorfindel, though he was not very harsh and was himself smirking at the image he had created. “Tell me, then, Erestor, what is his purpose for giving her shoes?”
“He has an obsession with her feet. Probably with the feet of most females, really, but she is the one stuck with him so she gets to deal with it.” Erestor brushed the sugar from his chest and plucked another pastry from the bounty he had gathered. “He likes to have relations with her when she wears pretty shoes, and sometimes, he just strokes and kisses her feet when she wears them.”
“How do you know this?” questioned Glorfindel before he could think better about asking such a thing.
Erestor smiled, hardly innocent. “It is amazing what you can learn by looking through a keyhole.”
“You were spying on them?!”
“Not I,” corrected Erestor. “But did you know, Thranduil has a sort of... inclination to watch and listen to other couples coupling?”
“Remind me to stuff a handkerchief in the keyhole of my door,” mumbled Glorfindel.
“Oh, he is harmless. Besides, I am doubtful his tastes would lead him to look through your keyhole.” Erestor finished the final cookie, then sat up and picked up the goblet of wine. “Besides, everyone has a fetish or two.”
“Really? What is yours, then?”
Erestor drained the full goblet. “Beg pardon?”
“What is your sexual obsession?”
“I have none,” answered Erestor quickly.
Glorfindel shook his head with a smug look on his face. “You said everyone has a fetish or two.”
“I was speaking in generalities.”
“I like to incorporate food,” said Glorfindel before he could stop himself. He always seemed to have that trouble when he was around Erestor. “Usually, desserts, if they are available.”
“I did not need to do that. I mean, know that. I did not need to know that,” corrected a slightly wide-eyed Erestor.
“So?”
Erestor shook his head.
“Come on. You know mine – for that matter, you seem to know everyone’s,” mused Glorfindel.
“I really do not have anything,” said Erestor, but he had to avert his eyes. Even so, his lie was evident to Glorfindel.
Glorfindel grinned. “Suuuure...”
For a second, Erestor glanced up at Glorfindel, and then swung his legs over the side of the couch in an attempt to get away and change the topic. Glorfindel, not often easily dissuaded, practically leaped forward and had Erestor pinned down in a moment. “Tell me, or I will not let you go! Oh, and I think I saw the others head inside – what a position to find us in when they get up here!”
“Glorfindel, let go of me,” hissed Erestor. He twisted his arms in an attempt to free his wrists from Glorfindel’s grasp.
“Not until you tell me—“ Glorfindel scrambled back in shock, and stared down at what had abruptly poked him in the stomach. “What the—“
Erestor sat up and grabbed a pillow he had been propped against. It was unceremoniously tossed into his lap as a blush spread furiously across his cheeks. He slapped away Glorfindel’s hand when the blond reached for the pillow.
“So you...”
Erestor glared.
“Should I have gifted you with a coil of rope and a length of chain this Yuletide instead of the ornate desk set and quills?” wondered Glorfindel out loud.
Erestor narrowed his eyes into thin slits.
Glorfindel then remembered the box he still had kept hidden, and he pulled it out now, uncertain of how much longer they would be alone. “I forgot to give this to you earlier.” He held it out, and when Erestor did not take it right away, plopped it on top of the pillow. “Well? Are you going to open it?”
“Not sure.” He picked it up and looked at it from all angles. “Do I need to open it now?”
“You could wait, but then you will need to explain to the others why you are smuggling one gift back to your rooms, and you know Arwen would never let you open one without her present.”
Erestor was already tearing the paper and ribbon off. He held the unwrapped box for a moment, and then yanked off the box and looked inside. “Well, I know what your other obsession is.”
“What is it? What did you get?” asked Glorfindel, pretending not to know as he peered into the box as well. “Oh! Mistletoe! And look at that, you have it held right above your—“
Erestor snatched the box away from his lap and held it aloft, but over to the side so that it was not over his head. “I swear you do this to me every year.”
“Not every year. I only spend one in ten here, so you get nine off.” Glorfindel practically crawled up over Erestor and grabbed the mistletoe from the box. He wiggled it over Erestor’s head. “Please?”
“Is this really a present for me, or for you?” Both of them practically jumped where they were upon hearing the sound of laughter outside of the door.
Glorfindel took the opportunity to give Erestor a quick peck on the cheek. It was better than nothing. He took hold of the gift box and wrappings and tossed them under the tree with the rest while Erestor tucked the mistletoe into his pocket.
They were both sitting on the couch, looking relaxed, when the door opened and the family bustled in. All outer clothing had been left down by the door when they came in, but there was still some snow that was brushed out of hair and off of shoulders as they settled down. “Thank you both for staying and seeing to things here,” said Celebrian, for the candles had been left to burn on the tree, and the fireplace still crackled.
“No problem.” Erestor stood up, a pillow sliding to the floor, unneeded now. “But I should be going,” he said. “I expect to have much work to do come morning.”
As Erestor moved around the room, he said his farewells with hugs to all and kisses on the cheeks of the ladies. When he reached Glorfindel, still sitting on the couch, he crouched down to give him a hug. As they embraced, he pressed his cheek to Glorfindel’s so that he could discretely whisper into his ear. “Aye, bondage is my weakness, but usually I am the one doing the tying up, not the other way around.”
Erestor’s departure gave Glorfindel enough cover and time to retrieve the pillow from the floor and plop it into his own lap.
Happens middle of the third age, I guess.
Snow blanketed Imladris, providing just the right atmosphere for the festivities of the day. The advantage of being a gathering place for those of different races, cultures, and religions meant that practically every holiday manageable was celebrated at the Last Homely House. This included the Yuletide celebration. For ‘the sake of the children’ (who were now aged in the quadruple digits), Elrond made sure that a suitable tree was set up in the sitting room of the master suite. The tree was one that had been slated to be taken down in the spring for fear it was too close to the foundation of the house, but nonetheless it was secreted into the house three weeks ago in the dead of night so as not to upset some of the Elven residents.
At the moment, the master and his family were outdoors, while the tree was in. The presents had been opened, and wrappings and gifts were scattered about the floor. Through the window, Glorfindel watched with a smile as Arwen threw a snowball at Elladan, and then ducked behind her father as Elrohir retaliated. Celebrian stood within the gazebo, shouting encouragement to both teams. “I suppose we should not have resisted their pleas for us to join them.”
There was a minute of silence before Erestor replied with, “Are you hoping that I agree with that?” He was lounging on the couch, flipping through a book of maps that Elrond kept in his quarters. “Because going outside means being cold and coming back in damp and sniffly.”
“I just meant that they look very happy out there.” Glorfindel moved back to the couch and sat down on the small portion that Erestor’s legs did not reach. “Elladan seemed very pleased with his gifts.”
“He usually is. Elrohir is more difficult to find things for. You would think it to be Arwen,” added Erestor as he set the book aside, “but even the most practical items have the ability to excite her.”
Glorfindel nodded and looked at the small pile of things that Celebrian had amassed during the gift opening. Most of them had been from her husband, and she had grinned each time she lifted the lid from a box. “The lady certainly likes shoes.”
Erestor lifted himself up from the couch and gave Glorfindel a sideways look. “You know why, right?” He did not wait for Glorfindel to answer as he walked to the adjoining dining room to fill a goblet of wild berry wine and pick over the remaining baked goods that had been spread out over the table. There had been many more guests invited for refreshments and singing, but the ceremonious gift giving had occurred only after all but the family and Elrond’s two most trusted councilors (whom he thought of more as brothers than employees) remained.
“Is this one of those ‘she gets it from her mother’ things?” wondered Glorfindel. He shifted and made himself more comfortable with Erestor gone from the couch. A small box, left semi-forgotten, brushed against his foot. He reached down and picked it up from the floor and tucked it behind his back just before Erestor turned and walked back.
“No.” Erestor settled back down, and carefully placed his goblet upon the floor beside the couch. His shoes had been removed at the door, so his bare feet stretched out only just so, though slowly they encroached upon Glorfindel’s territory, until they were eventually lifted up by the golden elf and left to rest upon his thigh. “She gets it from her husband.”
Glorfindel thought about this for a moment, then asked, “Is this one of your infamous riddles?” Erestor had brought back with him an assortment of goodies, and Glorfindel took it upon himself to lessen the pile by one chocolate dipped butter cookie. “Or, do you just mean that whatever he gets her pleases her?”
“Although they might please her,” said Erestor as he waved a hand toward the pile of shoes and bit into a raspberry pastry, “they please him as well.”
The blond blinked. “He wears her shoes?”
“No!” Erestor erupted into a fit of powdered sugar spewing giggles and coughs. “No, no, that was not what I meant!”
“Well, maybe you should say what you mean instead of meaning to say what you mean but saying something else that has another meaning!” scolded Glorfindel, though he was not very harsh and was himself smirking at the image he had created. “Tell me, then, Erestor, what is his purpose for giving her shoes?”
“He has an obsession with her feet. Probably with the feet of most females, really, but she is the one stuck with him so she gets to deal with it.” Erestor brushed the sugar from his chest and plucked another pastry from the bounty he had gathered. “He likes to have relations with her when she wears pretty shoes, and sometimes, he just strokes and kisses her feet when she wears them.”
“How do you know this?” questioned Glorfindel before he could think better about asking such a thing.
Erestor smiled, hardly innocent. “It is amazing what you can learn by looking through a keyhole.”
“You were spying on them?!”
“Not I,” corrected Erestor. “But did you know, Thranduil has a sort of... inclination to watch and listen to other couples coupling?”
“Remind me to stuff a handkerchief in the keyhole of my door,” mumbled Glorfindel.
“Oh, he is harmless. Besides, I am doubtful his tastes would lead him to look through your keyhole.” Erestor finished the final cookie, then sat up and picked up the goblet of wine. “Besides, everyone has a fetish or two.”
“Really? What is yours, then?”
Erestor drained the full goblet. “Beg pardon?”
“What is your sexual obsession?”
“I have none,” answered Erestor quickly.
Glorfindel shook his head with a smug look on his face. “You said everyone has a fetish or two.”
“I was speaking in generalities.”
“I like to incorporate food,” said Glorfindel before he could stop himself. He always seemed to have that trouble when he was around Erestor. “Usually, desserts, if they are available.”
“I did not need to do that. I mean, know that. I did not need to know that,” corrected a slightly wide-eyed Erestor.
“So?”
Erestor shook his head.
“Come on. You know mine – for that matter, you seem to know everyone’s,” mused Glorfindel.
“I really do not have anything,” said Erestor, but he had to avert his eyes. Even so, his lie was evident to Glorfindel.
Glorfindel grinned. “Suuuure...”
For a second, Erestor glanced up at Glorfindel, and then swung his legs over the side of the couch in an attempt to get away and change the topic. Glorfindel, not often easily dissuaded, practically leaped forward and had Erestor pinned down in a moment. “Tell me, or I will not let you go! Oh, and I think I saw the others head inside – what a position to find us in when they get up here!”
“Glorfindel, let go of me,” hissed Erestor. He twisted his arms in an attempt to free his wrists from Glorfindel’s grasp.
“Not until you tell me—“ Glorfindel scrambled back in shock, and stared down at what had abruptly poked him in the stomach. “What the—“
Erestor sat up and grabbed a pillow he had been propped against. It was unceremoniously tossed into his lap as a blush spread furiously across his cheeks. He slapped away Glorfindel’s hand when the blond reached for the pillow.
“So you...”
Erestor glared.
“Should I have gifted you with a coil of rope and a length of chain this Yuletide instead of the ornate desk set and quills?” wondered Glorfindel out loud.
Erestor narrowed his eyes into thin slits.
Glorfindel then remembered the box he still had kept hidden, and he pulled it out now, uncertain of how much longer they would be alone. “I forgot to give this to you earlier.” He held it out, and when Erestor did not take it right away, plopped it on top of the pillow. “Well? Are you going to open it?”
“Not sure.” He picked it up and looked at it from all angles. “Do I need to open it now?”
“You could wait, but then you will need to explain to the others why you are smuggling one gift back to your rooms, and you know Arwen would never let you open one without her present.”
Erestor was already tearing the paper and ribbon off. He held the unwrapped box for a moment, and then yanked off the box and looked inside. “Well, I know what your other obsession is.”
“What is it? What did you get?” asked Glorfindel, pretending not to know as he peered into the box as well. “Oh! Mistletoe! And look at that, you have it held right above your—“
Erestor snatched the box away from his lap and held it aloft, but over to the side so that it was not over his head. “I swear you do this to me every year.”
“Not every year. I only spend one in ten here, so you get nine off.” Glorfindel practically crawled up over Erestor and grabbed the mistletoe from the box. He wiggled it over Erestor’s head. “Please?”
“Is this really a present for me, or for you?” Both of them practically jumped where they were upon hearing the sound of laughter outside of the door.
Glorfindel took the opportunity to give Erestor a quick peck on the cheek. It was better than nothing. He took hold of the gift box and wrappings and tossed them under the tree with the rest while Erestor tucked the mistletoe into his pocket.
They were both sitting on the couch, looking relaxed, when the door opened and the family bustled in. All outer clothing had been left down by the door when they came in, but there was still some snow that was brushed out of hair and off of shoulders as they settled down. “Thank you both for staying and seeing to things here,” said Celebrian, for the candles had been left to burn on the tree, and the fireplace still crackled.
“No problem.” Erestor stood up, a pillow sliding to the floor, unneeded now. “But I should be going,” he said. “I expect to have much work to do come morning.”
As Erestor moved around the room, he said his farewells with hugs to all and kisses on the cheeks of the ladies. When he reached Glorfindel, still sitting on the couch, he crouched down to give him a hug. As they embraced, he pressed his cheek to Glorfindel’s so that he could discretely whisper into his ear. “Aye, bondage is my weakness, but usually I am the one doing the tying up, not the other way around.”
Erestor’s departure gave Glorfindel enough cover and time to retrieve the pillow from the floor and plop it into his own lap.
