Eithel Ivrin by hennethgalad

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Fanwork Notes

although the tumblr halloween challenge ended, the characters seem to have taken on lives of their own. so i'll do some more. i may write some more of this in which case it will not be possible for some people to read all of whatever emerges. fyi.

Fanwork Information

Summary:

Finrod meets Glorfindel. Swimming. There are golden flowers.

I just want to point out that Finrod had a badge bearing a crown of golden flowers. In my view the flower is gorse, also known as whin, often found in dells. 

Major Characters: Finrod Felagund, Glorfindel

Major Relationships:

Artwork Type: No artwork type listed

Genre: Romance

Challenges:

Rating: Teens

Warnings: Sexual Content (Mild)

This fanwork belongs to the series

Chapters: 2 Word Count: 5, 272
Posted on 4 November 2016 Updated on 26 November 2016

This fanwork is complete.

Chapter 1

Read Chapter 1

Eithel Ivrin. - 

   Finrod had finally stepped out of the dim, smoke-filled tent into the brightness of the thousand fires of Mereth Aderthad. The wisps of cloud lingered, thinning, in the east, but dawn would not diminish the myriad stars for some time. His eyes were drawn to the dark silhouette of the nearest of the Ered Wethrin, the mountain from which flowed all the springs of Ivrin. He grinned; he would climb the mountain and see the whole of Mereth Aderthad like a glowing lake at the feet of the mountain range. 

   He moved slowly, affected by the excellent, free-flowing wine. But as the fires became hidden by the trees, his head began to clear, and with the sky brightening slowly behind him, he came upon a pool from which the stream he had been following descended in a cascade of little waterfalls, overhung with fern and mossy branches. The first bird sent a flourish of sparkling notes into the air; Finrod, delighted, wished he had brought his harp, in order to pay tribute to such fine musicianship.

  As the chorus entered, Finrod looked at the clear pool, deep enough for a swim; the swaying, green water-plants had a few fawn-brown fish flickering amongst them, or nosing the sand, but otherwise the waters were empty and inviting. He followed the crumbling sandy bank, holding aside the branches reaching out over or into the smooth water, and turned into the other half of the curved pool, where a sandy beach no wider than a horse at gallop lay scattered with fallen leaves. A gorse bush had strewn its golden flowers like a long cloak about its feet. Finrod sighed happily and looked about him; high above, the sunlight was already upon the peak of the mountain, below among the trees the shadow retreated. Finrod threw off all his clothes and ran laughing into the water, but like all who had crossed the ice, he did not enjoy the cold and soon swam ashore, spread his cloak under the gorse and lay down to rest.

 

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He was awoken from his daydream a little later by a splashing, and a golden head appeared at the curve of the pool, golden arms flashing through the water. Finrod hoped it was someone he knew, but the figure who rose naked from the water, shaking his golden hair and filling the air with flashing jewels of droplets, though familiar-looking, was a stranger. Finrod froze for a moment, a memory, old and almost forgotten, hovered in his mind, the beauty of the stranger was heart-stopping, but there was something more, almost musical, a sense of harmony. He knew he had stared too long, but knew also that the stranger must be accustomed to such a reaction. Summoning all the years of training and practice in good manners at his disposal, he stood

  'Welcome to the pool of the golden flowers' he said, smiling and holding out a hand.

  The stranger, reaching out to take his hand, looked down, froze, then siezed Finrod's hand and held it tightly. In a soft voice, with a hint of hoarseness that raised Finrod's hair, the stranger said

   'Is that what it is called ?' and looked down, then up again into Finrod's eyes. Finrod could only be appalled at his own reluctance to release the stranger's hand. He glanced down at himself, and blushed as he realized how very pleased he blatantly was to see the stranger, and found his eyes had already observed a similar reaction.

  Finrod's eyes met the shining blue eyes, which seemed to blind him, the features were so beautiful they created a dazzle. Finrod's body and will were paralyzed as his heart studied the stranger intently. But he could not move his hand, he could not even wish to move his hand. It was if he had, after despairing at the end of a long and withering quest, finally attained his goal

   'Better than a silmaril.' he uttered, before his mind could prevent it. The stranger smiled, the long lashes were drying, the long eyes sparkled, the irises complex meshes of gold, grey and vivid blue, his very skin shone.

  'Me ? Or the golden flower ?' he said, the tremor of laughter floating through his words.

  Finrod blushed and lowered his eyes, but not his hand. The stranger lifted his other hand and laid it gently on the back of Finrod's hand

   'Please forgive me, it is my way to jest, when any sensible person would know it to be unfitting. Your surmise is correct, I think, that something has happened here with us today, and it was no illusion of the Enemy, for he loathes the light, it will not be his plaything.'

   He shook himself and looked down at Finrod's cloak 'It is for the host to offer seating to the guest. Or we could retire by yonder tree where my own cloak lies ?'

   Finrod swallowed, and gestured to his cloak 'Forgive me, I am seldom robbed of speech, nor of my manners. Please sit at ease.'

  The stranger threw himself full-length on the cloak, crossed his legs and put his arms behind his head. He was so magnificent that Finrod wanted to polish him like a fine piece of furniture. He blushed again and sat cross-legged facing the stranger. There was a long silence. Finrod found his mind in turmoil, his upbringing demanded formalities, pleasantries, introductions...

  But another part of his mind was urging stillness, silence, there was something of the hunt in the sensation, in their minds, between them. Here lay the stranger, in the pose of surrender and of submission, yet Finrod knew himself to be utterly at a loss, without the experience of either the physical or the emotional to guide him. The stranger lay at ease, like a pile of smooth timber, coated in honey.

   Finrod felt dizzy, overwhelmed. He turned his eyes to the stranger's and said quietly

  'Tell me what is happening. Please.'

  The stranger smiled up at the sky and looked at Finrod out of the corners of his eyes. He frowned briefly. Then he sat up, crossed his legs and looked curiously at Finrod

   'Do you not know ? ' he said softly. They were silent again, exploring each other's eyes, and the flickers of colour and expression as they learned the contours of each other's faces.

   After a time, the stranger smiled 'It is love, beautiful stranger, and I pardon your ignorance, for though I have had much physical pleasure, and shed many tears, I have never understood the tale of Thingol and Melian, until this happened.'

  He put out his right hand, but Finrod put his left hand out and held it, and the tears sprang in his eyes. The stranger looked thoughtful for a moment, then at the gorse, then back to Finrod 'Have patience, I will be swift.'

  The stranger smiled and stood up, Finrod felt his throat, his whole body, tighten as he watched him reach up to tear strands of ivy from the tall tree behind the gorse, morning sunlight polished his honey-gold skin. The stranger deftly twisted a garland of ivy, plucking gorse flowers and winding them in among the strands. He smilingly placed it on Finrod's head, then, even more swiftly, shaped another for himself. The golden flowers seemed to blend with the golden hair of the stranger, now drying in the spring sunshine. The garland seemed a part, a living part of the stranger, for it moved as he breathed, and seemed always to have been there, golden as the rest of him.

  Finrod felt his hand being taken again, but did not look away. There was silence again, Finrod, still grasping after the memory of politeness, said

  'Thankyou.'

   The stranger gave a slow smile, and in a soft, delicately amused tone said 'You are welcome. ' They were silent again. Finrod was at a loss, he could find nothing within himself but the pressing desire to put his hands upon the stranger's smooth golden skin, and taste the salt of him. The stranger leaned forwards until his face was almost up against Finrod's. Finrod moved forward.

 

 

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Chapter End Notes

tune in next time...  

 

second version.

Chapter 2

NSFW ADULT THEMES SEXUAL CONTENT

Read Chapter 2

NSFW 
Eithel Ivrin ii. -
Glorfindel found his mind ablaze, adding heat to the conflagration in his body. He could scarcely breathe. At the back of his mind, the hunter stirred restlessly, but his heart would brook no dispute. The hunt was over, this dazzling beauty was his heart's desire; he understood the stranger's words, his first words, and admired the swiftness of perception. There could be no question, they were in love, and would remain so until the end of the world. The kiss drowned him, not in cool waters but in molten rock, his skin, his muscles, his bones seemed to melt and flow, the light of the stranger reached around him and filled him, he moved his arm, he did not know whether he sought to protect himself or to reach for the stranger's flesh. The fire burned furnace-hot, his heart was wrung with exquisite joy and in a blinding moment of ecstasy he felt himself and the stranger melt together, into one.
As his eyes cleared, he smiled blissfully at the beautiful stranger. The stranger gazed at him in rapture 'I love you' said the stranger 'that was wonderful !' 
Glorfindel blushed and looked down 'We have not done anything yet' he said softly 'We may have taken up our bows, or indeed, each other's,'; the stranger blushed now, and lifted his hand to Glorfindel's shoulder, which he began to stroke. Glorfindel stroked the stranger's cheek with the back of one finger 'I'm afraid we merely fired straight into the ground. In my defence, I must point out that love makes novices of us all...'
The stranger looked at him with wide eyes and said in a slightly charged voice 'Do you... are you... do you suggest that love... that it gets better than that ?' 
Glorfindel smiled and swiftly kissed him 'Strangely no, that was the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I know that we shall both treasure the memory forever. But the arts of love-making form a field of study all of their own, and I have merely glanced at a few scrolls, as it were. ' He looked thoughtfully at the stranger, the face was somehow familiar, yet how could a beauty like this be unknown to him ? Elusive as smoke, a memory floated through his flustered mind, he knew this stranger, he should know... He shook his mind clear, the stranger was regarding him appraisingly from the cool, grey-blue eyes. Glorfindel suppressed a smile, the stranger was clearly accustomed to having his wishes granted; the power shone through him, his physical confidence verged on certainty, Glorfindel wondered where he had found it. The stranger's body was smaller than Glorfindel's own, but not by much, the beauty of Lorien rather than Orome. But Glorfindel was more aware of the mind of the stranger, who had percieved the truth of what had happened, and the value... before Glorfindel had had the wit to speak at all. 
Glorfindel put his whole hand on the stranger's face and lightly pressed him down, and lay facing him. They looked long at each other in silence, Glorfindel smiled happily, basking in the glow of his own love and the love he could see in the stranger's eyes. He had always sought this perfection, he had known that it would be like this or nothing at all. He could imagine no other love that would content him, that could even inspire him. For since they had met, the whole of Arda had become as a child's toy, tiny and remote, whilst here, glowing palely like a full moon, was the whole purpose and meaning of his life, this wise-eyed stranger, charming him into bliss. He smiled again, and the stranger smiled with him, Glorfindel's heart danced in his breast, he lifted his hand and stroked the fine fair hair back from the stranger's face. The skin was smooth, pale golden, the cheekbones wide, the jaw square, the mouth looked subtle, but there was no malice in the features; the word 'charm' returned to Glorfindel's mind. He laughed at himself and kissed the coral lips. The stranger's hands were in an instant running down Glorfindel' body, he found himself trembling, almost overcome. He drew back and looked at the stranger, who looked back, with a slight, anxious frown 'What is it ? Did I do it wrong again ?' he asked. Glorfindel leaned his forehead agaist the stranger's, then looked straight into his eyes 'No, my love, you have done nothing wrong. ' He sighed 'The intensity of the passion threatens to drown me at your every touch, that is all. But I would show you some of the pleasures of love before you overwhelm me...' The stranger nodded, then kissed Glorfindel 'I shall remain still, my beloved, while you instruct my body.' Glorfindel swallowed, his head was reeling, his heart pounding, breathing was an effort, it was like swimming in honey. He moved his weight and leaned on one elbow, looking down on the lithe body of the stranger, now lying on his back. The stranger smiled mischievously and put his hands behind his head. Glorfindel laughed but raised an eyebrow, then leaned forward to kiss the stranger, and run his hands over the soft warm skin. When the stranger began to make small noises, Glorfindel ran his hands up the stranger's side's, but the stranger reached out blindly and took Glorfindel's penis in his long fingers. Glorfindel gasped, and the stranger said 'I apologise. I will remain still.' Glorfindel gave a shuddering sigh and tried to focus on the worried eyes, so close to his own. 'Be at ease, my beloved, there is nothing to fear.' he said softly 'Lie still.' And he took the stranger's arms in one hand, and held his wrists together above his head, while with his leg he pinned down the stranger's legs. When the stranger was helpless, Glorfindel felt an appalling surge of power and lust, he looked into the stranger's eyes, they were darkening, the pupil filling the iris with blackness. But the light of his spirit embraced Glorfindel in its radiance; love sang in his heart, too full of joy to smile or utter words. He leaned over the stranger, his golden hair fell in drying tresses around the stranger's upturned face, casting icicle shadows on the fine bones. Glorfindel traced the soft lips with one finger, then ran his hand down to the base of the stranger's throat and rested it there while he kissed him again. The stranger's breath was hoarse now, his body began to feel hot rather than warm, Glorfindel stroked the muscles of the ribs, and the flat hard stomach. The stranger's arm jerked slightly but Glorfindel had him firmly in his grip. He lifted his head 'I am sorry, should I release you ?' he asked, making no attempt to do so. The stranger looked steadily at him, with clenched jaw, but face blushing vivid with embarrassment. Glorfindel was astonished when, instead of insisting he be released at once, the stranger said, in a voice that had taken immense effort to keep level 'If you tied me up, you would be able to use both... you could use both hands...' his voice faded to a whisper 'to touch me with...' Glorfindel, who had heard of such things, but never thought to try them himself, felt dizzy. But the logic of the stranger could not be faulted. Here, between the two of them, the lewd sniggers seemed to belong to that remote toy-town Arda where other elves dwelt. Here, under the golden flowers, anything seemed possible, and here was his beloved, anxious and embarrassed, and utterly helpless. Glorfindel kissed him softly and tried to think, shreds of his mind were concerned, but he could discern no harm in the proposal; he could not hurt his beloved, he would only be adding to his pleasure. His mind made up, he groped blindly for the belt he had noticed on the pile of the stranger's clothes. It was heavier than it looked, solid gold; a cool warning breeze blew through his mind as he ran the links through his fingers, his lover was very wealthy indeed. Some of the arrogance now seemed accounted for, if arrogance it was. Glorfindel smiled and sat up. The chain was sufficient to bind the stranger's hands and fasten him securely to a branch from the ivy-covered tree which grew low to the ground at the edge of the stranger's cloak. Glorfindel leaned back to appreciate the effect, and, he confessed to himself, to gloat. The long lean body quivered, Glorfindel found his hands moving of their own volition, part of his mind wailed at being deprived of the sight of his beloved, stretched out, helpless, breathless with anticipation and desire. But now his mouth was descending to kiss the pale golden flesh, and his hands to explore the shape and build of the body he would come to know the best in all the world.


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