Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana
Author's Email:
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairings for this part; Elrond/Celebrían, Erestor/Glorfindel, Lómion/Ereinion, Melpomaen/Legolas and Elladan/Lindir.
Overall rating: NC-17
Summary: Lómion and Ereinion experience homely bliss and make several, welcome
discoveries. In Imladris, the twins have become adults and Elladan wonders what
to do about his attraction to Lindir. Elrohir finds interesting items all over
the Last Homely House and only Erestor knows who could have put them there!
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s.
Warning: AU of course!
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This story has the timeline from Hell, so you are warned! Additional note; Ereinion and Maeglin/Lómion were never an intended pairing, but I developed a soft spot for them!
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I couldn’t have written this story without your help!
All remaining mistakes are mine.
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 12
Lómion’s fingers swiftly braided his lover’s thick, dark hair. He had been doing this for several days now and Ereinion seemed to enjoy these moments. By looking in the mirror, Lómion saw that the former King had closed his eyes and that a peaceful smile had appeared on his lover’s face.
Many things had changed since Estë’s visit that day. The changes had happened unnoticed at first. He had begun to touch Ereinion more often, offered to help cook, even began to read the books Lórien had left around the house, and he no longer felt intimidated when it was time to go to bed. Once or twice, he had turned the tables and had spooned up behind Ereinion, whilst it was normally his lover holding him instead.
Once he had grown aware of these changes, he had observed Ereinion to find out if these changes pleased his lover or not. But Ereinion hardly seemed to notice, and if he did, his lover welcomed them, for annoyance never showed in the dark eyes.
“Done,” announced Lómion, regretting that he had to stop caressing his lover’s silken hair. It was amazing, but the need to touch Ereinion was still growing stronger.
“Thank you,” replied Ereinion, who had kept a close eye on Lómion. His lover had changed; had become more open and affectionate and they felt both more secure in their relationship. “Let us greet the day then!” He got to his feet and gathered his lover’s hands in his. They had started to run each morning and it was quickly becoming a routine. Dressed in boots, leggings and loose-fitting shirts they left the cottage and began to run. The gardens were a marvelous thing to behold and he felt blessed to be allowed to stay here.
They ran for little over an hour and then removed their clothes to take their daily swim. Lómion no longer needed any encouragement to fool around with him in the water and was trying to pull him under. Happy laughter echoed through the gardens and it seemed the birds sang an even sweeter song hearing it.
After their swim, they returned to the cottage, finding new food items on the table. Each morning they would find a basket filled with bread, fruits, cheese and even occasionally some dry meat. They sat in companionable silence, smiling at each other.
After the
“Would you sing for me?” asked Ereinion, realizing he had never heart his lover sing before.
“My voice is not suitable for singing,” whispered Lómion, feeling nervous.
Ereinion raised an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe. All Elves are gifted in that way. Won’t you at least try?” He ignored the pleading look Lómion gave him and picked up the flute to play a song they had composed. Whilst he had written the music, Lómion had composed the text.
Lómion felt cornered. He didn’t want to disappoint Ereinion, but he truly believed he couldn’t sing. But then the moment came for him to start singing and he did so because of the pleading look Ereinion gave him.
Ereinion’s jaw practically hit the floor, hearing Lómion sing. He had heard many minstrels in his time perform, but not even Lindir or Ecthelion’s voice was as sweet as Lómion’s. Once they had finished, he leaned in closer to kiss his lover. “You sing even more sweetly than Ecthelion, meleth1.”
Lómion blushed. “You do not have to lie.”
“It is the truth.”
A warm smile graced Lómion’s features. “You are speaking the truth?”
“Aye.” Ereinion returned the smile. The old Lómion would never have believed him, would never have accepted such a compliment, but the new Lómion did – with a little encouragement.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night, when Ereinion stepped into their bedroom to join his lover in bed, he found Lómion moving awkwardly beneath the sheet. “What is a… Oh…”
Lómion bit his bottom lip. He was aroused and had hoped to bring himself to orgasm before Ereinion joined him. Although he felt more comfortable in most areas of their relationship, this aspect still worried him. He just didn’t want to impose on Ereinion for such banal needs.
Lómion’s face was an open book to Ereinion, who removed his shirt and leggings on his way over to the bed. Naked, he sat down on the side of the bed and reached for Lómion’s face. He buried his hand in the dark locks and gave his lover a patient smile. “I would like to do that for you, if you would permit it?”
Lómion squirmed. “I do not want to impose on you…”
“I do not see this as imposing,” whispered Ereinion, stretching beside his lover and drawing him close. His fingers curled around the slippery flesh and he stroked firmly. In the meantime, his lips found Lómion’s, and whilst maintaining eye-contact, he slowly but determinedly brought his lover to orgasm. Lómion trembled against him and a contended, sated look appeared in the brown eyes. The act, however, had made him hard as well and his erection pressed against Lómion.
“Let me return the favor,” whispered Lómion, who was still taken aback each time Ereinion touched him intimately.
Ereinion moistened his lips, deciding to take a risk. “Maybe you could bring me to orgasm in a different way than just using your hand?” He shifted on the bed until he was on his back and Lómion straddling his hips. His lover’s dark, long hair cascaded down his back and shoulders and the tips of the silken strands caressed his skin.
Lómion’s gaze darkened. “I tried,” he said, defeated. “But I failed.” He had tried bringing Ereinion to orgasm orally, but the experience had left him shaken. It was the one act that still triggered his fear and memories. The Dark Elf had often made him perform that act and each time he had felt like suffocating, having to swallow Eöl’s seed.
“I did not mean ‘that way’,” said Ereinion, whilst caressing his lover’s face. “I would like to feel you inside of me.” Involuntarily, he sucked in his breath, seeing his lover’s eyes widen. “But only if you wish for that too.”
“I do not know,” replied Lómion in a wavering voice. “I do not know if I can do that to you.”
“Why don’t we find out?” Ereinion threw caution to the wind
then and risked it all. “You have no idea how much I want to feel you move
inside of me. I have wanted this for a long time and you are the only one who
can give me that. Please, meleth,
won’t you try? I will guide you through it.” Gently, he caressed Lómion’s face.
Lómion still wavered. “What if I cause you pain?” He refused to hurt his beloved in that way!
“I will tell you and should you want to stop, you can.” Ereinion realized that it was important for Lómion to be in control. “But there won’t be any pain because you will go slow and prepare me properly.”
“I…” Lómion still felt undecided, but then, he took heart, realizing he would have to take this step eventually. “Guide me then.” The way Ereinion’s eyes sparkled with pleasure at hearing those words, took Lómion aback. Did Ereinion want this so badly then?
“Spoon behind me!” Ereinion rolled onto his side and sighed happily, feeling his lover press close. During their conversation his lover’s arousal had weakened, but now the flesh was growing hard again.
“What do I do now?”
“What would you like to do?” Ereinion closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy this moment in time. His lover’s soft lips pressed kisses against the nape of his neck and an exploring hand moved down his chest and toward his groin. Lómion’s touches were light and caring and it wasn’t long before Ereinion was panting and pressing back against his lover’s erection. “There is a vial of oil under the pillow.”
Lómion raised an eyebrow. “Did you plan this?”
“Nay, but I fervently hoped that this day would come.” Ereinion smiled and rubbed his backside against his lover’s member. “I always enjoyed being on the receiving end, meleth.”
Ereinion had hinted at that before, but it was the first time his lover stated it that clearly. Lómion had taken hold of the vial and removed the stopper. “Ereinion?”
Ereinion sighed, happily, and pulled his knees closer toward his chest. “Coat a finger with oil and then massage the entrance to my body.” He knew it sounded a bit clinical, but Lómion needed these instructions. Once his lover felt more confident in making love to him, the mechanics would change.
Still biting his bottom lip, Lómion did as he was told. Using one hand, he spread the globes and placed his oily finger at the ring of muscle. Massaging the guardian ring, his mind began to drift off – the Dark Elf had never prepared him. Maybe he would have been in less pain if Eöl had. But no, that was in the past and he didn’t want to bring those dark memories into their bed tonight! Unexpectedly, Ereinion pressed back and the tip of his finger slid inside his lover’s body.
“Oh, yes…” Ereinion purred in delight. “Try to inch in deeper.”
Lómion complied, wondering how this could be pleasurable for Ereinion. But his lover quivered against him in delight and seemed eager for more.
“Now, explore a bit. You are searching for a nub of flesh inside my passage.” Ereinion closed his eyes, waiting for Lómion to find the gland that would start his pleasure.
Lómion explored, timidly. The tight glove around his finger made him wary – how was he supposed to take his lover without hurting him? His fingertip suddenly encountered the nub Ereinion had mentioned, drawing a series of moans from his lover. “Is this it?”
“Aye… oh, stop now!” He was too close to finding completion and squeezed at the base of his erection. “You almost made me come!”
In spite of his nervousness, Lómion grinned. “I did?”
“Oh yes… once you are inside of me, I want you to thrust in such a way that you rub that place inside of me.”
Lómion was beginning to realize that being on top wouldn’t be as easy as he had thought. “What do I do now?”
“Add more oil and return with two fingers.” Ereinion felt fuller this time, and tried to impale himself on his lover’s fingers when Lómion took his time penetrating him. “Now move them about.”
Raising an eyebrow at those instructions, Lómion did. “Why am I doing this?”
“You are stretching me, so I can accommodate you later.” Ereinion looked at his lover from over his shoulder. “That is why there won’t be any pain.”
“I see.” Lómion continued to stretch his lover, making sure his fingertips brushed his lover’s prostrate every so often. “What is the next step?”
Ereinion felt relaxed and more than ready to receive his lover. “Coat your member with the oil.”
This was it, realized Lómion. Could he do it?
“Please, meleth? I need you.”
Ereinion’s plea made Lómion comply. He used plenty of oil to coat his shaft and then drew in a deep breath. “I am ready… I think.”
“Good.” Ereinion smiled, looking forward to the pleasure he would experience shortly. “Now slide inside.”
Lómion hesitated. “You will tell me if you are in pain?”
“I will,” replied Ereinion, growing impatient. “Please take me, meleth.” He wiggled his backside, hoping for Lómion to finally take him.
Lómion drew in a deep breath and took himself into hand. He positioned himself at the entrance to his lover’s body and watched in surprise how his hard flesh easily glided inside.
“Oh…” Ereinion’s eyes opened and his fingers clawed at the sheets. “That feels…” Normally he wouldn’t talk much during such an intimate moment but he knew how important it was for Lómion to know that he was doing everything right. “Please, more… deeper.”
Curling up around Ereinion, Lómion buried himself to the hilt in his lover’s welcoming passage. He had expected Ereinion to tell him to stop because it hurt, but it looked like his lover wasn’t in any pain at all. “Like this?”
“Aye, like that.” Ereinion purred, closed his eyes and savored the feeling. Lómion filled him nicely. “How does it feel for you?”
Lómion licked his lips. “I never felt anything like it before. Are you sure you are comfortable?” It felt amazing, being inside of Ereinion and his body was urging him to thrust and bring them to orgasm.
“Comfortable?” Ereinion grinned. “I will feel more comfortable once you start thrusting, meleth.”
Lómion thrust and stars exploded behind his closed eyelids. The sensation was divine and he nuzzled Ereinion’s neck, deeply inhaling his lover’s scent. “I did not think it would be like this.”
“You can think later – move now!” Ereinion pressed back, desperate for his lover to pick up pace.
Lómion caught on and delivered another deep stroke, rubbing his lover’s prostrate in the process.
“Aye, like that… again!” Ereinion guided his lover and they set a slow, but devouring pace, with deep strokes that almost drove Ereinion insane with the need to come. He wrapped his fingers around his neglected arousal and stroked firmly.
Lómion let go of his fears and the strokes became faster – deeper. Ereinion pushed back and it wasn’t long before Ereinion tumbled over the edge. Warm cream dripped from the slit and onto his hand. His body, which had been tense a moment ago, relaxed.
Not expecting the sensation of Ereinion’s inner muscle contracting around his length, Lómion stilled and submitted to the unexpected feeling. He climaxed a moment later and buried his face in his lover’s long hair. Trembling over his entire body, he clung to Ereinion for support.
Ereinion’s eyes opened and he looked at his lover from over his shoulder. He waited for Lómion to come down from the sensual high and then said, “Pull out now – but do it slowly.”
Lómion obeyed, removing himself from his lover’s body. His first look was at his lover’s backside. He separated the mounds of flesh to check for blood.
“You did not hurt me,” said Ereinion, allowing the probing. He gave Lómion a moment to convince himself that he was fine and then turned onto his other side, so they were face to face. “I told you before – there does not have to be any pain.”
Lómion looked, thoughtfully, at his lover. The whole experience had baffled him and his body still reeled with release. “I…” The words wouldn’t come to him and he stared at Ereinion.
“Did you enjoy making love? I certainly did.” Another soft purr left his lips and he licked his lover’s throat, enjoying the slightly salty taste.
“I did,” replied Lómion in a shaky voice. “But you seemed to enjoy it too, which is…” He had never felt any pleasure when the Dark Elf had taken him.
“We made love, meleth,” said Ereinion, trying to explain something important to Lómion. “You did not take me against my will and you prepared me. We made love -- you did not force yourself upon me. There is a huge difference.”
Lómion nodded; that realization had finally reached him as well. “You would like to do this again, then?”
“Aye,” said Ereinion, nodding his head. “Often.”
His lover’s words made him blush. “I might feel more at ease the next time we… we make love.”
Ereinion smiled and buried Lómion in a hug. His lover finally understood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lindir cringed; how many times had Elladan tried to get the melody right? Had tried and failed, he should add. “Again!” Lindir wondered why Elladan continued to come to him to study music. His student had no talent for it! Elladan was a born warrior and many guards would rather not spar with the powerful half-Elf.
Elladan sighed, drew in a deep breath, and played the melody on his flute once more.
Lindir’s ears hurt by the time Elladan was halfway through the song. “Please stop,” he begged.
Disappointed with himself, Elladan placed the flute aside. “I am trying,” he whispered, wishing he would do better. Looking at the minstrel, he wondered if he would ever get over the attraction, which had started at a young age, and had grown stronger after reaching majority. He was a hundred and twenty years old now and nine years ago, his little sister had been born. Arwen had completed the family and had made her parents very happy. But the only one who could ever make Elladan truly happy was Lindir. Unfortunately, the minstrel didn’t return his feelings.
“Elladan? Are you even listening?” Irate, Lindir gave Elladan a stern look. He loved the twin dearly and they shared a special relationship, but Elladan seemed always so scatterbrained around him! Lindir wondered why. Elladan had sought him out since the twin had learned to crawl and had even sneaked into his bed on occasion, eager to be held. Once Elladan had grown older, that had stopped, but the twin still enjoyed his company and had asked to be trained in the art of music. Lindir had reluctantly accepted, knowing that Elladan had little talent for it, but he in turn enjoyed Elladan’s company too.
“I am…” Elladan looked at Lindir and once again his stomach radiated the most intense feelings, which traveled upward, carrying the sensation high into his throat where he threatened to choke up.
Lindir picked up the flute and looked, thoughtfully, at Elladan, who also rose from the floor. “Maybe you should go to the training grounds and work out? That would force you to concentrate.”
Elladan hung his head in defeat, realizing he was being dismissed. He felt terrible for disappointing Lindir! “I am sorry. The next time, I will try harder.”
Lindir raised a hand and rested it on the twin’s shoulder. The Elfling of old had long ago become a grown adult. Elladan had reached his majority many decades ago and it was time for him to take a mate. He probably hadn’t done so because Elrohir hadn’t found a suitable partner yet and would stay behind alone. The twins were too close to allow for that happen. “Go to Glorfindel and spar with him.”
Elladan nodded and wanted to mouth another apology, but didn’t. He had made a fool out himself already, no need to add to that. “May I return later?”
Lindir squeezed his pupil’s shoulder. “We will talk during dinner, Elladan. And now, go.”
Being dismissed in that way hurt and Elladan left, eager to lick his wounds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Elladan? What is amiss?” Elrohir stopped sparring, seeing his twin approaching the training grounds with a defeated expression in the gray eyes. He walked toward his twin and probed the distressed eyes. “What did Lindir say this time?” He wrapped an arm around his twin’s shoulder and guided him to an old beech, where they sat down on the grass. He had been the first and only one to learn that Elladan had feelings for their former mentor. Hearing it had caused feelings of insecurity inside him, as he had been afraid that he would lose his twin to the minstrel. But as time passed by, he grew worried, seeing Elladan making no progress in winning Lindir’s heart. The minstrel had never noticed the twin’s attraction – or blatantly ignored it.
“I do not know what else to do,” whispered Elladan, feeling miserable. He leaned heavily against his twin and savored the sensation of Elrohir holding him close. “I spend as much time as possible with him. I try so hard to be a good musician, but…”
“Your talent is not with music and you know that,” said Elrohir in a soft voice. “I understand why you keep trying though; you want him to be proud of you, but you are trying to be someone you are not. You are not a musician or a poet – you are a warrior.”
“But I do not want to be one! I want to be able to spend time with Lindir and the one thing he cares about the most is his music. It is the only way to reach him!”
“I am so sorry, tôr2. But maybe you are trying too hard to impress him? You are trying to beat him at what he is best. You are doomed to fail.” During the last few years, he had often comforted Elladan and he was beginning to give up hope that the minstrel would ever return Elladan’s feelings. At first, he had hoped that Lindir wasn’t interested in his twin, for then Elladan would remain his, but now, he felt sorry for Elladan, who hurt so badly due to this unrequited love.
“What do I do? How do I reach his heart?” Elladan lifted pleading eyes and stared at his twin. “I know that he lost his lover in the past, but one would think that he would be ready to love again. After all, more than a century has passed by!”
Elrohir inclined his head. “Lindir and Ereinion shared a deep love; at least that is what our father told us. It might be that he is just not interested in taking another lover.”
“Then my love is doomed!” Crestfallen and utterly discouraged, Elladan stared blankly ahead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Erestor raised an eyebrow at hearing such news. He had been standing close and had overheard the twins’ conversation. Elladan was in love with Lindir? Aye, the twin had always preferred Lindir’s presence above all others, even when he had only been a child, but to learn that this preference had matured into love surprised him.
It also left him conflicted. Elladan was a good person. The twin had become a proud warrior, adept at fighting off his enemies. He also had a heart of gold. Elladan would make a good mate for Lindir, but… Elrohir’s words rang true to him. Lindir had loved Ereinion and had never shown interest to take a new lover.
“Such a mess,” whispered the Chief Advisor. What should he do?
“If you want my advice, Lord Councilor, I would advise you to get them together.”
Erestor drew in a deep breath. “Good afternoon, Ada3.” Námo, invisible to all others, gestured to follow him, which Erestor did. The twins were still whispering, but he had heard enough. He knew what he needed to know. “It has been a while since I saw you last.”
Námo inclined his head. “I have been here more often than you know. Sometimes, you cannot see me either.”
That was rather alarming news! “What are you up to?”
Námo schooled his features in complete innocence. “I? Up to? Nothing, Erestor. You know me.”
“Aye, I know you – that is why I am asking.” Erestor fell into step with his father and studied him. “I have missed you. Do you bring news from the Halls of Waiting?”
“If you want to hear news, I can give you news,” said Námo, teasingly. They had reached the rose gardens and Námo sat down on a bench, plucking a rose and admiring its coloration. “Do you remember your old friend Maeglin?”
“Friend? I would hardly call him that. We met once, in Gondolin.” Reluctantly, Erestor sat down as well and watched his father pluck the rose’s petals one by one.
“What did you sense when you met him?”
“A tormented soul. I pitied him.”
“You were right… Maeglin has redeemed himself. The child of twilight now dwells in Lórien’s gardens and has even found a lover – Ereinion.” Námo carefully monitored Erestor’s reaction. “The Last High-King’s heart has been claimed, Erestor. Ereinion and Lindir will never be lovers again.”
Everything fell into place for Erestor. “And that is why you want me to encourage a relationship between Elladan and Lindir?”
“That is one reason, aye.” Námo had plucked the rose empty and let the remains drop to the ground. “It would also help if Elladan had a lover when Elrohir dies.”
Erestor’s eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. “Nay, I won’t allow it! Elrohir is so gentle, so full of life! You cannot claim him yet! He is too young!”
Námo gave his son a look filled with compassion. “I know that, Erestor. But Eru’s will must be done.”
“His parents will be devastated! How can you do this to them?”
“It is not my decision that Elrohir must die. It is part of Eru’s song.” Námo straightened out the folds of his robes. “Erestor, even you cannot stop this. You are only an Elf, remember?”
Erestor trembled. “I faced such a decision once before…” he said, realizing the terrible truth.
“Aye, and back then you chose Glorfindel. You refused to leave his side until after he had died. He never quite forgave you for choosing him over Gondolin. It is a good thing that those memories are locked away from him.” Námo understood his son’s terror, but could do nothing to take it away. “There will come a time when you have to make a similar choice.”
Erestor’s tremors worsened and he stared into his father’s eyes. “Will I lose Glorfindel again?”
“I cannot tell you the answer to that question.” Námo caressed his son’s face and wiped away the single tear that descended down Erestor’s face. “You still have some time left before Elrohir’s soul will travel to the Halls of Waiting.”
“How long?” Erestor was afraid to hear the answer. “Centuries? Decades?” Seeing his father shake his head, his heart raced with fear. “Years?”
“Nay, months…” Námo wished he could change the future, but everything had been laid out in Eru’s song. “Do not waste any time in getting Lindir to accept Elladan as his lover. Once Elrohir dies, Elladan will want to follow him. Elladan might try to take his own life or choose to fade. Lindir will be the only one to hold him on Arda.”
“Oh,
Námo leaned in closer and wrapped his son in a fatherly hug. “I know that my words offer you little comfort, but you could try to trust in me.”
Erestor shook his head. “There won’t be a happy ending to this story, will there?”
Námo remained quiet; he wished he could tell his son the outcome, but this knowledge was to be kept from Erestor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night, Glorfindel wondered why Erestor lay trembling in his arms. They had made love – slowly and passionately – as Erestor had practically begged him to take him. He had obliged his lover, feeling the need inside Erestor to make love and he had hoped that his lover’s depressed mood would disappear after being intimate. But it seemed to have worsened. “What is on your mind, melethron4? Will you share your troubled thoughts with me?” He lay spooned behind Erestor and it vexed him that he couldn’t see his lover’s expression.
“I had a dream,” whispered Erestor, closing his eyes. He pressed back against Glorfindel, desperate to feel his lover as close as possible.
“What happened in that dream to upset you?” Glorfindel stroked his lover’s raven hair and pressed tender kisses against the nape of Erestor’s neck. “Please confide in me.”
Should he? He couldn’t keep it inside for long. Glorfindel would be persistent and in the end, he would tell him at any rate. “I dreamt you hated me.”
Glorfindel’s heart sped up. “I… what?” How could Erestor possibly dream such a thing? “I love you!”
“In my dream you hated me. You no longer wanted anything to do with me and rejected me. I never felt lonelier.” Erestor fought back his tears at the memory of Glorfindel rejecting him in the Halls of Waiting. The blond Elf had been furious with him and that rejection had broken his heart. How could he ever bear it a second time?
“I will never hate you!” said Glorfindel, determinedly. “I love you! How could I hate you? You are my life! I was nothing without you! I only felt alive after you found me!” Feeling Erestor tremble, Glorfindel rolled Erestor onto his back and stretched beside his lover, who he pulled close again. Now, he saw the swimming dark eyes. “Oh, Erestor, it was only a dream! And dreams never come true.” Fear suddenly coursed through him. “It was only a dream and not a vision?” And even if it had been a vision, he would make certain that it would never become true!
“I did not see it in the form of a vision,” admitted Erestor, slowly turning onto his side. Face to face with Glorfindel, he saw the shock in the azure eyes. /You hated me once, Glorfindel. If you remembered the truth, you would hate me still. Was what I did wrong? Should I have insisted my father returned those memories to you? But I cannot live without you!/
“I do not like the way you look at me,” whispered Glorfindel, sensing his lover’s troubled thoughts. The expression in Erestor’s eyes spoke of fear and hurt.
“I do not want to lose your love, Glorfindel.”
“You never will. I will always love you.” Erestor still trembled against him and Glorfindel was eager to do away with his beloved’s fear. “I vow to always love you, Erestor. I will never turn my back on you or hate you.”
“Do not make such a promise,” whispered Erestor, quite upset because he knew that Glorfindel was capable of hating him and would go back to hating him once the warrior recalled the truth.
Shocked, Glorfindel asked, “Why? Are you afraid I will break it?”
Erestor remained quiet, as he was unable to voice his fears in detail. “Just hold me – please.”
Glorfindel obliged at once and held his distressed lover. /No matter what will happen in the future, I will never hate you! Never!/
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feeling drained, Elrohir pushed the door open to his rooms. Until now, he had kept Elladan company, comforting his brother, who had remained upset for the rest of the evening – even during dinner when Lindir had joined them. /I wish there was something I could do, tôr. I do not like seeing you so unhappy./ But there was so little he could do! What *was* he supposed to do, then? Go to Lindir and beg the minstrel to finally notice his twin? Elladan’s pride would not have that!
He stripped, folded his clothes, and draped them over the back of the chair before heading toward the bed. What he needed was a good night’s sleep! But then, his guilty conscience attacked him; shouldn’t he have stayed with Elladan? Have sat with his brother through the night? But no, he needed rest! He had just returned from a two-week patrol and was tired to the bone!
What was that? He didn’t remember leaving a book on his bed! Curious, in spite of his fatigue, he picked up the book – which looked brittle and smelled of ages gone by. He knew an antiquity when he held one in his hands. This book was old! But how had it found its way into his room? Puzzled, Elrohir sat down and opened it.
Turning the pages, he realized the book mostly held poetry. Elrohir didn’t recognize the handwriting and searched for a name, which would lead him to the poet and owner.
On the last page he found what he had been looking for – a name. But a name, which he had never expected to find.
“Ecthelion, Captain of the House of the Fountain?” Could that be? Had he come across some poetry the fabled warrior had written? “How did this get into my room?” Or should he be asking how it had gotten into Imladris? Elrohir was a bookworm, much like Erestor and he and his father had spent much time in the library, familiarizing himself with the volumes there. He knew with certainty that his father’s library held no poetry written by Ecthelion!
Leafing through it, he was surprised to notice the depressed tone the poetry radiated. Ecthelion wrote of love never found, family and friends lost, and this overwhelming desire to finally know love.
Gloomy shores, empty
and forgotten
Stained with blood
Full of remnants of
past glory
Black sand keeping
time
Passing
Life into death
Shadows glimmer in the
water
Remains of souls long
gone
Eternal feelings of
loneliness
Almost lost…
The sound of the flute
wakes my heart
Pain claims it
Making my heart
Forever lost
Shivers ran down Elrohir’s spine. Glorfindel and his father had taught him about Gondolin’s history and the blond Captain’s voice had always been warm and caring when mentioning Ecthelion. Once or twice, Elrohir had thought he had even heard some old hero-worship echo in Glorfindel’s voice. In Glorfindel’s tales, Ecthelion was a bright light, warm and loving. But reading these poems gave him a different view of the Captain of the Fountain. A lost soul, trying to find love – some sort of connection with his loved ones. “Do all his poems breathe such dark loneliness?” he wondered.
Tonight
Love is alive
Burning deeply
The skin touched by
you burns
It seems like we are a
million years apart
Though in reality we
are one
Equal love
Oh, my beloved
Open your eyes
See the truth
Find me!
The second poem woke even more questions in Elrohir, who thoughtfully closed the book and placed it on the nightstand next to his bed. /I must speak with Glorfindel. He will know where this book came from./ But that wasn’t the most important question on his mind – he wanted to learn more of Ecthelion and hear the things Glorfindel hadn’t told him before!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Why did you do that?” In the Halls of Waiting, Ecthelion gave Námo a resentful look. “That book was never meant for his eyes – for anyone’s eyes! It burned to cinder! It cannot exist again!”
Námo shrugged. “Remaking a book is an easy feat.”
Ecthelion’s eyes widened. “You remade it? Why?” His gaze traveled back to Vairë’s latest tapestry, showing him Elrohir closing the book and lying down to rest. “I wrote that when I thought I would never find love! Erestor and Glorfindel had just bonded and I felt lonely! Elrohir will think me…”
“Lonely? In need of love?” Námo shrugged a second time. “And isn’t that the truth?”
Ecthelion growled. “You had no right to do that!”
“Oh, but I need to prepare him for you!” Námo gave Ecthelion a conspiring look.
“Nay, you do not! Elrohir won’t die! I will find a way to prevent it!”
“Are you getting cold feet, my Lord?” teased Námo.
“You…You are… You enrage me!” Ecthelion turned on his heel and marched away, leaving behind a chuckling Námo.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Erestor failed to concentrate on his correspondence. Melpomaen had written him a long letter, which breathed contentment and fulfillment. Life in Mirkwood was different these days. Thranduil was happily married to Elluin, making Legolas the legal heir to Mirkwood’s throne. Melpomaen and Legolas had long bonded and were living their love. And by the looks of this letter, even Thranduil’s subjects had felt the change, as some of them requested to visit Imladris to strengthen relations between the realms.
One of the Woodland Elves requesting permission to visit was Landiant, and Erestor had already sent word back that the Captain was welcome. He had even bit down the hints of jealousy he had felt when writing that reply, as he still remembered how well Glorfindel and Landiant had gotten along during Thranduil’s visit.
“You aren’t concentrating,” whispered Glorfindel into his lover’s ear. “Shouldn’t you be replying to our dear Melpomaen?”
“I approved Landiant’s request to visit Imladris,” said Erestor, feeling the need to unburden his heart.
Glorfindel arched an eyebrow. After the Mirkwood party had left, Erestor had admitted to feeling jealous of the Mirkwood Captain, and hearing that had utterly stunned Glorfindel. “I love only you, Erestor.”
Erestor sighed. “Glorfindel, I do not know why I am jealous. I never felt jealous before.” It had worsened after his father’s visit, during which Námo had told him of his impending choice. He was so afraid of losing Glorfindel that he tried to hold on to his lover as tightly as he could.
Glorfindel cocked his head to capture Erestor’s gaze and smiled. “I love you, Erestor. Not some Mirkwood Elf. We have been together for a long time and maybe it is understandable that you are feeling insecure. But I can only repeat my vow – I will always love you. Always.”
/I wish I could believe that./ Erestor bowed his head and allowed Glorfindel to pull him to his feet. Once he stood, his lover’s arms came up behind him and he pressed close against the warrior’s body. /Oh, I need you so much. I love you so much!/ Should Glorfindel reject him again, he would not survive having to go on without the other half of his soul.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Lindir? May I have a word with you?” Erestor had carefully thought this over – at least he hoped so. In the end, he had reached the conclusion that he had to talk to his old friend. His father would never lie to him, and Námo *had* said that Elrohir would die. He would never doubt his father’s words. If Elrohir’s death was a fact, he had to take precautions now and ensure that they didn’t lose Elladan as well. “It is a personal matter.”
Lindir placed his lyre aside and gestured for Erestor to seat himself close to the fire place. “You can always talk to me, meldir5.”
Erestor sat cross-legged and wondered how to introduce Elladan to their conversation. He decided on a detour. “I was wondering how you fare, Lindir. It has been over a century since you lost Ereinion and I wonder if you truly dealt with his death.”
Lindir’s expression grew sad. “Ereinion… I loved him with every ounce of my being.”
Erestor reached for Lindir’s right hand and covered it with his own. “Have you dealt with the loss?”
“I believe so,” said Lindir, after carefully considering Erestor’s question. “I found peace of mind whilst staying with Círdan. We talked for nights and I sang to Ereinion – saying my goodbyes.”
Erestor nodded once. “I had hoped so.”
Lindir cocked his head. “Why bring this up now, meldir?” He hadn’t spoken about Ereinion for so long! Why would Erestor address this now?
“Because I have learned that someone is in love with you.” Erestor monitored Lindir’s reaction and sensed his friend’s surprise. “You did not notice?”
“In love? With me?” Lindir felt shocked. “But who… and how do you know…?”
“I overheard him confess his love for you.” Erestor smiled, seductively. “This one truly loves you – has loved you for many years.”
“It is a male Elf then?” He still didn’t know what to make of this development!
“Aye, it is a he.” Erestor leaned in closer and he whispered his next words. “I believe him worthy of you, meldir.”
“Who is it?” asked Lindir, wondering who in Elbereth’s name would fall in love with him.
“It is a delicate matter,” said Erestor. “And I would prefer not to reveal his name yet.”
“What do you wish to know?” asked Lindir, knowing Erestor well enough to realize his old friend was after specific information and would only divulge the name after receiving those answers.
“Is your heart open? Would you welcome such interest? His love? Or has your heart closed and do you still cling to memories? Please understand. I need to know this first, for your suitor is precious to me.”
Those last words puzzled Lindir. Not many Elves were that close to the Chief Advisor!
“Please search your feelings and answer me truthfully,” requested Erestor.
Lindir nodded once and searched inside. What were his feelings in this matter? “Your words surprised me, Erestor. I never thought someone would be interested in me in that way ever again.”
“I understand that it is a surprise,” said Erestor, stroking the back of Lindir’s hand. “But would you welcome it?”
Lindir cocked his head. “It would be nice to have someone to come home to. Someone to hold at night. Someone to love, but…”
“Do you worry that you might betray Ereinion?” asked Erestor, sensing what was holding Lindir back.
“In a way, aye,” admitted Lindir. “But he is in the Halls of Waiting and I am alive. And it does not look like I will die shortly. He would want me to focus on the living.”
Erestor nodded again. “You would welcome his interest then?”
“I might…” whispered Lindir. Letting down his guard, he added, “I do feel lonely and I miss having a love in my life. But what if I do not return his feelings? What if I cannot love him?”
Erestor smiled, reassuringly. “You already love him, meldir.” Over the years, he had seen the affection and love, which Lindir held for Elladan, grow. Aye, the minstrel adored both twins, but Elladan had always had a special place in his heart. Maybe it had started out as friendship on Lindir’s part – trying to befriend an Elfling – but Erestor knew it had always been more on Elladan’s part. Elladan had been in love with Lindir forever. Childhood adoration was only one step away from falling in love.
“I do? Would you give me his name then?” Lindir inched closer.
“Lindir… Who has been following you around ever since he was born? Who looks at you with large, adoring eyes? Who tries so hard to please you whilst he is doomed to fail as a musician?”
Lindir’s heart missed a beat, as he knew exactly who Erestor was referring to. “It cannot be Elladan!”
Erestor gave his friend a blinding smile. “Elladan is in love with you. That is why he asked you to train him in the art of music, whilst he has no talent for it. It is his way to spend time with you. Did you really not realize this?”
Lindir shook his head. “It never crossed my mind that he could be in love with me!”
“So, what are your feelings in this matter? Will you give him a chance to win your love?”
Stunned, Lindir blinked. “Erestor, I… I do not know… I never thought… By the Grace of the Valar, what am I supposed to do? He is a child!”
Erestor chuckled. “Elladan came of age over half a century ago. He is an adult and it is time for him to take a mate. Stop looking at him as that Elfling who crawled after you!”
“How can you say that?” Lindir’s white hair danced furiously against the small of his back, as he rose from the floor and began to pace. “He is Elrond’s son! What do you think Elrond will do when he realizes his son is in love with me? I am his teacher!”
“You used to be his teacher, Lindir. The child has grown up and is an adult.” Erestor grinned, imaging Elrond’s reaction. “I believe he would be stunned, much like you. But once the shock wore down, he would approve. Lindir, Elladan and you are well-suited for each other!”
“I do not know what to think,” whispered Lindir, feeling quite lost. “I will never be able to keep this from Elladan the next time we meet. I will treat him differently, unwillingly.”
Erestor rose from the floor and walked over to his friend. “Lindir, stop pacing and look at me.” Reluctantly, the minstrel complied and Erestor probed the large blue eyes. “Look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing for him!”
“I cannot do that,” mumbled Lindir, bowing his head in embarrassment. “I do not know what I feel for him, but there is something.”
“Then give Elladan his chance!” Erestor lightly shook Lindir, forcing the minstrel to rebuild eye-contact. “You know how precious love is and how swiftly it can be taken away from you. Do not waste precious time, meldir. Open your eyes and admit to yourself that not only does Elladan love you, but that you return his feelings.”
Lindir swallowed, nervously. “He is so young, Erestor…”
“Age does not count as an excuse not to love, Lindir.”
Lindir sighed, deeply troubled. “I need to give this matter some thought.”
“Do not waste too much time,” said Erestor, walking toward the doorway. “Take hold of love when it finds you. Do not dismiss it!” He closed the door behind him and rested his back against the wall. “That is done – I hope.”
“You did well,” commented Námo, grinning widely.
Erestor muttered beneath his breath and glared at his father. “Your visits are becoming more frequent.”
“I wanted to tell you that you did the right thing.” Námo brushed his son’s face with a tender touch and then walked down the corridor. “You will be seeing me more often, Erestor.”
“Where are you going now?” said Erestor, groaning, as he realized that his father had more hidden agendas than he had ever thought possible!
“That does not concern you, my son!” Námo looked over his shoulder, gave Erestor a wink and then disappeared from view. He had another present to deliver to Elrohir’s rooms!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Glorfindel? Can I ask you something? Something personal?” Elrohir had located him in the Captain’s office, where he was slaving over this month’s duty rosters.
“Are you here to steal my duty rosters again?” asked Glorfindel, goodheartedly. He was happy Elrohir was here to distract him for working out the assignments was driving him mad! He smiled at the fond memories of Elrohir stealing the rosters from him and hiding beneath the desk. Ah, the twins had grown up too quickly, but luckily there was a new Elfling to dote upon.
“Nay, not this time.” Elrohir seated himself opposite the Captain and fumbled with the corner of his sleeve.
Realizing that something was wrong, Glorfindel sobered and stopped teasing the twin. “What brings you here today?” It was more often Elladan than Elrohir who sought him out. Although both were accomplished sword’s men, it was Elladan who excelled at weapon’s skill. Elrohir was more like his father and had the makings of a scholar and a healer.
“I wondered if you had ever seen this book before.” Elrohir placed Ecthelion’s book of poetry on the desk in front of Glorfindel.
Glorfindel picked it up and looked at it, critically. “I cannot say I have.” Opening it, his gaze was instantly drawn to the name on the last page. “Ecthelion?” He frowned; he had never known his friend wrote poetry. “How did you come by it?” Glorfindel read some of the poems and recalled his friend’s, often somber, moods.
“I found it in my room. I never put it there.” Elrohir closely watched his former tutor. “You always spoke of Ecthelion fondly and described him as an energetic person, with a lust for life. I have read most of those poems by now and they breathe a different mood.”
Glorfindel nodded once. “Ecthelion avoided speaking about his loneliness. I sensed he was not happy, but he would not confide in me. Only once, did he slip, and mention missing having a love in his life. Maybe his moods became even more depressed after I bonded with Erestor.”
“Who is the real Ecthelion, then? The valiant warrior you painted in your stories or the lonely soul who wrote these lines?”
“He was a combination of both.” Glorfindel closed the book and placed it back onto his desk. “Ecthelion was a complex Elf, Elrohir. I cannot describe his character in a few words. He was a valiant warrior. He took out more Balrogs than I did.” Glorfindel closed his eyes. “I witnessed his death, Elrohir. He died a hero – more so than I ever did. He died defending Tuor. He literally sacrificed his life to save him.”
Elrohir took hold of the book and his fingertips caressed the withered leather. “Do you wish to keep it? You have ties with Ecthelion, I do not. It seems more fitting that you should have it.”
But Glorfindel shook his head. “You found it. You keep it. I do not know who put it in your rooms, but I believe there is a reason why you found it.” Glorfindel smiled, weakly. “Knowing Ecthelion, he hoped no one would ever read it and that it had been burned in Gondolin. It is a miracle that it survived the fire.”
Elrohir rose, pressing the book against his chest. “I will keep it then. Glorfindel, thank you for discussing Ecthelion with me. I know that could not have been easy. I still sense pain when you mention him.”
“He was a good friend, Elrohir. I trusted only two Elves with my life in those times and they were Ecthelion and Erestor.”
Elrohir nodded once. “You can always borrow it, if you change your mind and want to read it.”
“Thank you. That is very kind.” He would always remember Ecthelion fondly, but also with pain in his heart, for his trusted friend had died too young and without having known a lover’s embrace.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Why are you doing this?” Ecthelion was trying hard to remain in control of his raging emotions. One moment he had been wandering the endless corridors of the Halls of Waiting, and the next, he found himself standing beside Námo in Glorfindel’s office, overhearing their conversation. “Why did you take me here? Aren’t you breaking any rules by allowing me to witness this?”
Námo shrugged his shoulders. Within the blink of an eye, he transported them back to the Halls of Waiting. He had taken Ecthelion to his private Hall, where souls seldom came. He sat down and studied Ecthelion. “Elrohir’s death is approaching.”
“How will he die?” Maybe if he knew, he could find a way to prevent it!
Námo sensed those thoughts, but didn’t respond to them. It was folly of Ecthelion to think he could change Eru’s song. “The twins will leave on patrol and will have a run in with Orcs. Normally, they would easily take them out, but Elladan will be distracted, as Lindir will have accepted his love. Elladan will let his guard down and the Orcs will take advantage of his open back. Elrohir will take the lethal blow, meant for his twin, and die.”
“Oh, no,” whispered Ecthelion, shocked. “I thought he would not die for many more centuries!”
“Nay,” replied Námo in a compassionate tone. “He will die before reaching his next begetting day.”
“Eru is cruel.”
“Nay, that is not true. In time, you will see the wisdom to his song.” Námo felt sorry for Ecthelion, who only saw death – and not the chance at love the two souls would be given. “When the day of his death comes, I will take you with me.” The first face he wanted Elrohir to see in death was Ecthelion’s.
“Why?”
“Because you will be able to soothe him in a way I can not. Because you already love him.” Námo rose from his chair and stood in front of the soul. “Ecthelion, you cannot stop Eru’s song from becoming reality, but you can be there to lessen Elrohir’s pain.” And Elrohir, in turn, would soothe Ecthelion’s.
“I will be there,” promised Ecthelion, but his heart felt heavy, as he simply didn’t want Elrohir to join the dead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What is this? Another ‘gift’?” Elrohir felt wary, finding a delicately sculpted mithril flute on his bed. Whoever had placed it here had made a mistake. It was Elladan who aspired to be a musician!
Elrohir cautiously approached his bed. The flute looked innocent enough, but its mere presence meant someone had been inside his rooms whilst he had talked to Glorfindel. This ‘visitor’ could have left other surprises as well!
Elrohir extended his arm and picked up the flute. It had been crafted by a true master and the design was astounding – and it was old…
“Elladan? Are you in there?” Lindir knocked on the door. He had long contemplated his next step and had realized that he needed to talk to the twin. Hearing some muttering inside the room, he pushed down the door handle and entered. Finding one twin in the room Elladan and Elrohir shared, a quick look told him that he was dealing with the younger twin and not Elladan. “I am sorry… I should not have entered like that.” Lindir wanted to turn about and leave when he caught sight of the magnificent instrument in Elrohir’s hand. Entranced, he walked toward the younger twin. “May I?”
“Did you leave it here? For Elladan?” asked Elrohir, placing the flute in Lindir’s hand.
“I do not possess a flute made from mithril.” Lindir sucked in his breath, finding delicate writing on one side of the flute. “Look here.”
“What does it say?” Elrohir tried, but couldn’t decipher the writing.
“I know what it says,” whispered Lindir. “Some of the bards, who resided in Gondolin used this script to name their instruments.”
“Gondolin?” Elrohir grew suspicious; was this flute somehow connected to Ecthelion? “What does it say?”
“The silver wind breathes my name… Ecthelion.” Lindir grew pallid, remembering his friend of old. “I have seen him play this flute. Oh, he was a true master, Elrohir. I never came close to mirroring his talent for the flute.”
“This flute belonged to Ecthelion?” Elrohir blinked. What has happening to him? Why was he suddenly finding objects that had belonged to Ecthelion in his rooms?
“He allowed me to play it once,” said Lindir. His pallor slowly faded and a fond smile appeared now that the initial shock had worn of. “Her sound is unrivaled.”
“Maybe you should keep it then,” suggested Elrohir, feeling ill at ease, receiving these valuable gifts.
“Oh no, I never could.” Reverently, Lindir handed the flute back to Elrohir. “You said you found it here?”
“It was lying on my bed. I do not know who placed it there.”
“I cannot answer that question either,” said Lindir, feeling thoughtful. “As far as I know Ecthelion’s belongings were burned in the great fire that devastated Gondolin.” Lindir looked into Elrohir’s eyes and saw the questions there. “Ecthelion was a master-minstrel, Elrohir. I do not even begin to compare to him. He was blessed with music. Melody and words flowed through his very veins.” Lindir nodded once, and then headed for the doorway. “If you happen to see your brother, please ask him to seek me out for I need to talk to him.”
“I will,” replied Elrohir, absentmindedly. He couldn’t stop staring at the flute in his hands. First, he had found that book and now Ecthelion’s flute. Just what *was* happening?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You found these in your rooms?” asked Erestor.
Elrohir nodded once. He would have preferred to talk to his father, but his parents had taken Arwen for her first visit to the Golden Wood and wouldn’t return for another fortnight. So he had gone to Erestor instead. “I do not know what this means. Glorfindel and Lindir told me that they thought Ecthelion’s belongings had been burned in the great fire.”
“And yet you found them in your room. They appeared out of nowhere, so to speak?” Erestor recognized his father’s touch.
“Aye, and I offered the book to Glorfindel and the flute to Lindir, but both of them told me I should keep them.”
Remembering Elrohir’s fate was bound to Ecthelion’s, Erestor asked, “Would you like to keep them?”
Elrohir nodded, timidly. “I find I like his poetry more than I at first thought. I read all the poems and not all of them are dark and speak of longing.”
“And the flute?”
Elrohir searched for words. “I am no minstrel – not even a gifted musician, but I wonder what such a magnificent instrument would sound like.”
“Why don’t you find out?” Erestor handed Elrohir the flute. “Play me a melody, pen neth6.”
Elrohir felt nervous, placing the mouth piece against his lips. “Do you think the last one to play this flute was Ecthelion?”
“I do,” replied Erestor, leaning back in his chair. He had heard Ecthelion play and even if Elrohir was only half the musician Ecthelion had been, the sound of that flute would be enchanting.
Elrohir closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and played a simple song. But the music that came out of the flute was nothing like he had thought it would be. It was magical and he felt heavily entranced by the time he finished the melody.
Erestor’s eyes opened and searched Elrohir’s features. There was no denying that his father’s words would come true – he knew it that instant. Elrohir would die and find Ecthelion’s soul in the Halls of Waiting. “Aye, you should keep the book and the flute. Read the poems and play the flute as often as you like. They belong to you now – I truly believe Ecthelion would want that.”
Elrohir nodded. “I will take them back to my room with me. But what if I find more of these kinds of items? Items that belonged to Ecthelion and suddenly appear in my room?”
“Then you accept them,” said Erestor in a calming tone, realizing fate was about to change the lives of many Elves in Imladris.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Is *that* Maeglin?” Idril looked on in surprise, seeing her former suitor seated on the grass, close to the stream. Bright butterflies had found a temporary home in the long hair and lady bugs were flying around the Elf’s fingers.
“Not Maeglin,” said Lórien. “This is Lómion. Remember, I explained this to you.”
Next to Idril, Tuor snorted. “He might have changed his name, but he remains the same.”
But Idril shook her head. “I am not so sure about that.” Lómion, as Lórien called him now, was smiling, and quite enchanted with the lady bug dancing between his fingers. One butterfly stirred and climbed up the dark hair, whilst a caterpillar nestled near the neck, cocooning and getting ready to shed his old skin – and life – and transform into a beautiful butterfly. “But I would like to get a bit closer before I make up my mind.”
“By all means, do.” Lórien stepped aside and watched as Idril approached Lómion, who was still unaware of her.
“I should go with her.”
But the Valar shook his head. “Stay here, Tuor. This is between Idril and Lómion for now.” Tuor was the more resentful one of the two and Lórien knew the Man would lash out at Lómion, only seeing Maeglin. But Idril was different. Idril would see the change. She had always seen more than others – had had visions.
Idril came to a halt beside Lómion. So focused was the Elf on those butterflies that he didn’t notice her presence. And when Lómion began to sing softly, Idril’s lips formed a smile. Lórien had been right. Her husband might never admit that this was a changed Elf, but she could. Her conversation with the Vala returned and she recalled why she had come here in the first place. “Lómion?”
“Estë?” The only female voice he ever heard here in the gardens was hers and he looked up, smiling brightly at her. But then the smile cracked and terror appeared in his eyes. The butterflies clung to his hair, disturbed, as he jumped to his feet.
“Stay! Do not run!” She reached out a hand, trying to catch his sleeve, but he was faster and Lómion turned to run. Unfortunately for Lómion, he chose the wrong direction to flee in and found himself facing Lórien and Tuor.
Panicking, Lómion turned on his heel and found Idril standing close to him. Choosing the lesser of two evils, he faced Idril.
“Please calm yourself,” said Idril, softly. The serenity, which she had seen in his eyes just moments earlier, was gone and fear had replaced it. One by one the butterflies let go and flew away from them. “I regret disturbing your peace, but Lórien asked me to talk to you.”
Where was Ereinion? Where was his lover? Frantically, he looked over at the cottage, but there was no sight of his beloved! Did he really have to face Idril and Tuor alone? He wrapped his arms around his waist, trying to make himself feel a bit protected and lowered his eyes to stare at the grass.
“I do not think we have been introduced. I am Idril, and this is my husband, Tuor.” Tuor gave her a look full of annoyance, but Idril ignored it. “What is your name?”
Lómion felt terribly confused. “You know my name,” he said, in a tiny voice.
When Lórien had first visited with her, she had thought the Vala had lost his mind. How did he dare ask her to forgive Maeglin for his dark deeds? But Lórien had revealed Maeglin’s past to them, had described the abuse in detail and her heart had softened. In the end, she had accepted Lórien’s suggestion to visit and talk with Lómion, so she could see the difference herself. And now, she also understood why Lórien had felt it was so important for her to forgive him. “Will you not reveal your name then?”
Lómion shuffled his feet. There was only one thing for him to say. “I am so sorry for what I did. For harassing you. For coveting you. I do not expect you to understand, but I thought you were my salvation.” There was something else he had to apologize for and he did so whilst staring at her feet as he felt too intimidated to look her in the eye. “I regret trying to end your son’s life. My behavior was inexcusable. I should never have touched him.”
Tuor sucked in his breath. A part of him still wanted to attack the dark-haired Elf and beat him into submission. He would never forget seeing Maeglin drag Idril by the hair and threaten to murder their son. But there was something in the voice – some sort of sentiment – that calmed his rage. After all, it had been several millennia since Gondolin had fallen, and Idril and Eärendil had survived.
Smiling a rueful smile, Idril took a step toward Lómion, who instantly backed away from her. “Will you look at me?”
“Nay, I can not do that.” Lómion let his dark hair fall in front of his face and hid behind the dark curtain.
“Lómion? Look at me.” Idril noticed the tremors running through his body at hearing her address him in that way. Lómion didn’t react, which forced her to act. She took another step closer to him, placed a finger beneath his chin, and lifted his head, forcing him to look at her. Dark, panicking eyes met hers and she smiled, showing understanding. “Tell me your name.”
“It is…” He felt lost then, knowing what name he should say, but there was another name that now pushed toward the surface. /Nay, that is in the past! I am not he any more!/
“Tell her your name,” said Lórien, firmly.
“Lómion,” said he, obeying the Vala.
“You were called Maeglin once,” said Idril.
Lómion nodded. “He was a part of me, but he is no more. I have put him to rest.”
“Is there something you need from me, Lómion?” Idril realized Lórien had been right; Lómion needed her forgiveness for what Maeglin had done, and she was strong enough to face him and to grant it to him. “You may ask for it freely.”
Did he need something from her? Aye, but… Tuor was present as well and the Man was giving him probing looks. One wrong move and Tuor would be upon him. “I do not deserve your forgiveness, my Lady. My deeds were too horrid to ever receive it.”
Idril felt at peace, hearing those words. She realized that by forgiving him she could finally put an end to the memories that haunted her as well. After all, she had warned Turgon, but he had not listened to her. To some extent, she blamed herself for Gondolin’s fall.
“Lómion?” She smiled, seeing his nervous expression. “I forgive you. You deserve a new chance at life. Lórien explained everything to us. At first, I was shocked that he would allow you to dwell here, but the gardens cannot harbor evil and that was when I realized that something must have changed. Looking into your eyes now I see a stranger. Not Maeglin. And therefore I can forgive you.”
Tears swam in Lómion’s eyes. “You do?” Unable to believe he was being forgiven, his eyes sought out Tuor’s.
Lórien elbowed the Man in his side. “You know what to say!”
Tuor cursed beneath his breath. “I forgive you too.”
Lómion’s tears now flowed freely down his cheeks and he reverently kissed the back of Idril’s hand. “Thank you.”
Until now, she hadn’t realized the power of forgiveness. By forgiving him, she had found peace herself. “Be happy here.”
“Lómion! Lómion!” Ereinion ran toward the gathering of Elves and quickly pulled his beloved close to him. Seeing tears drip from Lómion’s eyes, he grew protective of him and he glared at Lórien and the strangers. “What happened here?”
“Peace, Ereinion,” said the Vala. “This had to be done!”
“He is right, meleth,” soothed Lómion. “All is well now.”
Ereinion remained unconvinced and watched carefully as Lórien and the two strangers departed. Once it was only the two of them again, he looked toward Lómion for answers. “Who are they?”
“I have been forgiven,” said Lómion with a blissful smile on his face. “Idril and Tuor forgave me for wanting to kill them and their son.”
“That was Idril? And Tuor?” He cursed Lórien for bringing them here, for upsetting his lover. “We will return to the cottage, meleth. You are shaking all over.”
Lómion allowed Ereinion to guide his steps and leaned in closer when his lover wrapped an arm around him.
The caterpillar, nestled deeply into the dark hair, broke free from its cocoon and the butterfly stretched its wings, flying toward the sun.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Elladan? Lindir wants to talk to you. He asked me to tell you to seek him out.” Elrohir sat cross-legged on bed, trying to center his mind and to meditate. He had placed the book inside the nightstand and the flute rested beneath his pillow. For some reason, he preferred not to show them to Elladan yet. Maybe it was because they were twins and seldom had something to call their own. Everything belonged to *them*.
Elladan grew pallid at hearing that news. “Oh no… What mood was he in? Do you think I displeased him?”
“He looked calm – not upset – if that is what you are asking.”
“Do you think he figured it out?” Why else would Lindir come to his rooms?
Realizing there wouldn’t be any calm and peace until Elladan had left, Elrohir left the bed and went to stand in front of his twin. “Tôr, tell him. I really think you should.”
But Elladan shook his head. “What if he rejects me? I would never be able to look him in the eye again. I would feel awkward each time we met!”
“What if he accepts you?” Elrohir took his brother’s clammy hands in his. The mere thought that Lindir might know about this attraction was enough to send shivers of apprehension through his brother. “Go to the Hall of Fire. Lindir is usually there alone around this time of the day. The other minstrels will have left by now. Tell him.”
Elladan bowed his head. “That is easy for you to say! You do not begin to shake when standing close to the one you love!” Elladan immediately regretted his words. “I am sorry, tôr; that was uncalled for.” He knew it weighed heavily on his twin’s mind that he hadn’t found someone to love yet.
Elrohir forced a smile onto his face. “You always react too rashly, Elladan. Think before you say something.” He released his brother’s hands and returned to the bed. “Go now.”
Elladan obeyed and slowly shuffled toward the doorway. He didn’t want to hear Lindir reject him, but Elrohir was correct – the time had come to face his feelings.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You wanted to talk to me?” Elladan entered the great hall, keeping his eyes lowered and fidgeting nervously with his hands.
Lindir placed aside his lyre and rose from the rug he was sitting on. “Thank you for seeking me out this quickly.” Aye, now that he looked closer, he saw the signs of love on Elladan. “Will you sit with me?” He walked toward a pair of comfortable chairs close to the fireplace and sat down.
Elladan followed and seated himself. Unable to start this conversation himself, he waited for the elder Elf to take control of the situation.
Lindir coughed, clearing his throat, and wondered what to say. How to let down Elladan -- gently? The last thing he wanted was to hurt the half-Elf. “How do you fare today, meldir?”
“I do not feel that good,” mumbled Elladan, peeking a first time at Lindir and what he saw in the Elf’s face discouraged him.
“You seem distracted lately,” said Lindir, trying to steer their conversation in the desired direction. “Has something been on your mind?”
/He knows,/ realized Elladan. A horrible sensation built in his throat, almost making it impossible for him to reply. “Aye -- you.”
“It is true then? You feel attracted to me?” Lindir reached for Elladan’s hand, but for some reason the half-Elf pulled away. “Have you fallen in love with me?” A short nod from Elladan was his only answer. By Elbereth, he didn’t want to hurt the young one! “We all fall in love a first time, pen neth. And sometimes the object of our desire does not return our feelings.”
Elladan’s heart broke, hearing the crushing words. “You do
not love me?”
Lindir cringed at hearing the dead tone. “Elladan, you must understand. You are a child!”
“I am no child!” Elladan’s temper exploded and he jumped to his feet. “I reached my majority decades ago! I am an adult and I make my own decisions. Do not call me a child!”
“But Elladan, that is the way I see you, as an Elfling who crawled after me and sneaked into my bed to hear another bed time story or to be held. Loving you would feel wrong. I have been your teacher and…”
“Do not say such things!” Elladan glared at Lindir. “The only question I want answered is; do you love me in return?”
“It is not that simple, pen neth.”
“Stop calling me that, Lindir. I have a name and I am no longer an Elfling.” Elladan cringed at the way that sounded, but he had to convince Lindir that the minstrel's view of him was flawed. “I am a warrior! I lead patrols and fight our enemies. Aye, I might only be one hundred and twenty years old, which is probably nothing compared to your millennia, but that does not make me unsuitable as your lover!”
Elladan’s passion to prove his point surprised Lindir, who forced himself to remain seated and not accept the challenge Elladan was throwing at him.
“You still did not answer my question,” said Elladan, his eyes narrowing. “Do you return my feelings? Or not? If not, tell me and I will leave. I will never mention my love to you again!”
Oh, he couldn’t lie to Elladan! Lindir shook his head. “As I said before it is not that simple. Even if I *were* interested in you I would not act upon my feelings before your parents had returned.”
“My parents?” Elladan blinked. “What have my parents to do with any of this?”
“Oh, that question just shows how young and naive you are!” Lindir lost the battle to remain seated and jumped to his feet. “Aye, you are an adult, but that does not change the fact that I cared for you when you were an Elfling! Your parents trust me with you! I cannot simply abuse that trust and take their son to my bed!” Oops, that was more than he had wanted Elladan to know! Had he revealed his real feelings?
Elladan’s eyes widened. “You *do* have feelings for me!”
Lindir moaned, his shoulders slumped, and he sagged down onto his chair again.
Seeing the minstrel so defeated caused heartbreak in Elladan’s chest. He knelt at Lindir’s feet and gathered the trembling hands in his. “Do you love me?”
Lindir peeked at Elladan’s face. “You must understand that this is hard on me. You were my pupil once… I feel like I am betraying your parents’ trust by harboring these feelings for you.”
Elladan felt relieved. “This has nothing to do with Ereinion then?” Oh, the moment he said those words he could have slapped himself for saying them!
Lindir shook his head – he should have expected for Elladan to bring his former lover up. “Nay, it has nothing to do with him.”
“Do you still love him? Is it keeping you from loving me?”
Elladan’s big, gray eyes revealed the half-Elf’s innermost feelings and Lindir wondered about the younger Elf. Elladan had a temper, could act dramatically at times, but underneath it all was a very kind, very loving person with a heart of gold. “I said my goodbyes to him, Elladan. Ereinion will always hold a special place in my heart, but I have let him go.”
Relieved, Elladan smiled and rubbed the minstrel’s long and elegant fingers between his. “There is still hope left for me?”
“Elladan, I have to talk to your parents first. I cannot simply accept you as my lover. You must understand that.”
“I think I do,” said Elladan. “But please, never scare me like that again! For one horrible moment I thought you would reject me!”
“I had every intention of rejecting you,” admitted Lindir. “You *are* very young, Elladan. And you are Elrond’s firstborn. I do not think he will be pleased with your choice of a mate.”
“Why would that be?” Carefully, Elladan guided the trembling hands to his lips and he pressed a chaste kiss onto the back of them.
“You are his heir, Elladan. Elrond might have hoped for you to take a wife and sire children.”
Elladan shrugged, dismissing Lindir’s words. “Elrohir can sire heirs. I want *you*.”
Lindir laughed. It was so delightfully easy for a young half-Elf like Elladan to think like that! Sometimes, he wished he still possessed such innocence!
“I like hearing you laugh,” said Elladan. “You do not laugh often enough.” That would change, though. He would see to it. “After you've talked to my parents, may I court you then?”
Lindir’s smile remained, impressed by Elladan’s determination. “If your parents permit it. Aye.”
Elladan had never felt happier before. There was no doubt in his mind that his parents would welcome Lindir as his lover with open arms!
1 meleth –- love (Sindarin, noun)
2 tôr (sing.) –- brother (Sindarin, noun)
3
4 melethron –- (male) lover (Sindarin, noun)
5 meldir (sing.) –-“male” friend (Sindarin, noun) mell + dir
6 pen-neth (sing.) –- young one (Sindarin, noun, pronoun)
From the Council of Elrond Quenyan and Sindarin dictionary
Definition of OC names:
Elluin – blue star
Landiant – broad bridge