The Hammock of Finrod by hennethgalad

Chapter f

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The Hammock of Finrod hennethgaladSummary:

more of Laurëlot

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The Hammock of Finrod

Glorfindel watched the sunlight glowing through the dancing leaves of the birch trees; they lay entwined on the silver hammock, Finrod's pale gold hair spilling across Glorfindel's chest, rising and falling as they caught their breath. The roar of the cheering crowds of excited elves, the cloud of thrown flowers, the close press of thousands of bodies, it had reminded them both, at an unspoken level, of their times in battle, and even though the faces had been joyous and welcoming, it had been troubling merely to cross the short distance from the Pavilion of Fingolfin. Fingolfin had granted them an escort of his guards, which had made Glorfindel sneer to himself, until he had led Finrod out into the bright sunlight and the storm of elven voices; the avenue between the large pavilions was a colourful sea of faces, Glorfindel had been stunned, Finrod had backed into him, and their hands had gripped each other as though in a turbulent river.
Finrod stirred slowly in his arms, he leaned forward to kiss his head and noticed a flower tangled in the shining hair; he smiled and let it be, it was all the decoration Finrod needed. His heart seemed to overflow with joy, he had been content when he had arrived at Mereth Aderthad, but now, with his heart's desire warm and breathing in his arms, he was almost bewildered by the ecstasy leading the charge of emotions which surged through his tingling body. A deep happiness seemed to surround them, rising like a great tide, but in the depths the hint of the shadow of loss, that such joy bore a risk of great pain, that one day they might be separated. His pride of possession made him clench his teeth, he crushed Finrod against himself, as though he would enfold him, consume him, absorb him altogether. Finrod laughed softly and licked the golden brown skin
'Poor Glorfindel; unable to say 'I love you', you are forced to break my bones '
Glorfindel looked down at Finrod, anxious for a moment, but the smooth skin of his face was stretched into a drowsy smile, his eyelids lowered, the dark lashes casting faint shadows on the pale golden skin of his cheek. Glorfindel sighed happily and stroked the soft flesh, feeling the bones of cheek and jaw solid under his fingers, his hand slowly moving down to enclose the throat of Finrod
'You are mine' he said hoarsely 'I can never let you go.'
Finrod smiled, Glorfindel felt the muscles moving against his chest 'You may attempt to leave me, but I am a good scout, I shall pursue you into the uttermost east, should you flee. '
Glorfindel laughed 'Would you really leave all this to follow me ?' he gestured around at the private garden in the midst of the rows of tents, at the couches and statues and rich tapestries.
Finrod raised his head and glanced at the familiar belongings, many of them had been gifts from members of his enormous family, his sister had given him the statues
'No, I would bring the statues, They were a gift from Galadriel, and I treasure them. ' he paused and looked at the statues, then peered narrowly at Glorfindel.
'What is it ? What troubles you Finrod ?' said Glorfindel, relishing merely speaking the name of his love.
'I... it is not trouble, but it seems to me that you resemble the statues, or perhaps they resemble you ? Do you know the artist ?'
Glorfindel blushed, and Finrod laughed delightedly 'Tell me !' he cried
Glorfindel closed his eyes 'The art school asked me to pose for them. I did not mind. But they kept my goblet full of fine wine, they worked in silence, and in boredom I drank heavily. They drew me while I slept, and though they did nothing to disturb me, the thought that I was so... so abandoned...'
Finrod looked at him in astonishment 'There are paintings of you ? I have seen none !'
Glorfindel blushed again 'No, all the artists painted me asleep, and unclothed. They were bought by collectors and not shown at exhibitions attended by people...'
'People like me ?' Finrod finished for him gently. His eyes warmed into a smile, he moved his shoulders slightly and Glorfindel felt again the great surging thrill of ownership of his heart's desire; Finrod, fairest of the House of Finwë, king of Beleriand, lay naked and in chains in the arms of Glorfindel the soldier, adoring him, and eager to please.
To Glorfindel's surprise Finrod looked away and called for Gildor, who appeared at the pearl curtain
'Gildor, it seems there are some paintings of Glorfindel that I have never seen. Please find as many as you can, and discover if any are for sale. '
Gildor bowed and melted back into the pavilion, Glorfindel watched the curtain ripple slowly into stillness. 
'But why do you wish for images of me when I am here in person ?'
Finrod smiled 'Do you not wish for an image of me ?' Glorfindel looked at him in astonished delight, the idea had not yet occurred to him 'An image of you ! Oh, I do, I shall ask my favourite artist, she will be delighted to paint you !'
'So, you do understand ! I am blinded by your beauty, I would see you as others have seen you, and I would...' he paused, a bee alighted on Glorfindel's chest, it took a few slow steps forward, its antennae twitching back and forth, its multi-faceted eyes seeming to consider them thoughtfully for a moment, as Glorfindel held his breath. The transparent wings trembled, and with elven speed vanished into a blur of motion, the bee lifted off and was gone.
'There is a flower in your hair still, I could not remove it, it looked so right.'
Finrod smiled at him 'I think the bee was wondering if we were flowers, with our yellow hair... Yours in particular, your hair is so golden it is almost gaudy. Almost...' he ended softly. Glorfindel leaned forwards to kiss him, and they flowed together into the indissoluble alloy of elven love, shining like fallen petals of the Trees.

Gildor interrupted them 'My lord, dispatches from Turgon, orders for Glorfindel.'
Glorfindel tried to sit up, frowning 'Has something happened ? Surely we are at Festival, there are no orders...'
Gildor silently handed him the scroll. Glorfindel took it, it bore the seal of Turgon, his high commander, his king. He looked anxiously at Finrod, whose face was serenely expressionless; Glorfindel had a sudden vision of Finrod working at diplomacy, his face set in just such an expression, listening with the patience of a gardener to the raging of his turbulent relations. Finrod was looking at the scroll; Glorfindel braced himself and broke the decorated wax seal.

"From Turgon son of Fingolfin to Glorfindel of the First Heavy Cavalry, greetings.
You are hereby notified of a transfer of command from the First Heavy Cavalry of the House of Turgon to the army of our most beloved cousin the lord Finrod son of Finarfin, King of Beleriand, these orders to be enacted forthwith and immediately. 
May the Valar favour you ! "

Glorfindel jerked upright, Finrod tumbled helplessly, curled around behind Glorfindel's back. He struggled to right himself and set the hammock swaying violently and began to laugh, but as his eyes caught the rage in those of Glorfindel, he fell silent, and still. The hammock swayed from side to side as they gazed at each other across the abyss between them. That morning they had floated easily across, overwhelmed by love and desire. Now the shadows of the world fell across them, and they searched each other's eyes, seeking the vital clue.
Glorfindel's heart burned within him, the thought that his lover would also be his commanding officer was intolerable to him, he wanted to storm into the pavilion of Turgon and demand to have these orders retracted. But here was Finrod, gazing in anguish, guiltless of everything save being born. If he refused, Finrod would be hurt, yet how could he endure it, he would be a joke, a mascot, his very name would evoke laughter, it was his oldest fear, to be considered only as a pretty object, rather than as a person in his own right. He looked helplessly at Finrod, who pursed his lips briefly
'My love, I would have some wine, but without spilling it. Would you consider leaving this hammock for now ?'
'Wine, yes, we should drink wine...' Glorfindel looked down at the swaying hammock then slid carefully over the side, and in the same smooth motion lifted Finrod into his arms.
Finrod looked up at him in surprise 'You have done that before.' 
'I have.' said Glorfindel, but made no other sign as he bore Finrod into the pavilion. 

They lounged on the green couch, with its legs of silvered branches shining in golden afternoon sunshine. Finrod watched the dust dancing in the pillars of light as Glorfindel poured the wine and held the goblet to Finrod's lips, then drank himself. Finrod looked thoughtfully at Glorfindel 
'As I understand it, you will not take orders from me since I am your lover ?'
Glorfindel sighed, then looked intently at Finrod 'You are more beautiful than I, Finrod, you must know that there are those who see nothing beyond the face ?' He paused thoughtfully 'Or does your rank blind you to the difference in the way people treat each other because of their appearance ? You know that I loathe the idea of being seen as your plaything, though for you it is an amusing frolic to be chained up and caressed by the lovely Glorfindel '
Finrod smiled to himself, there was a song called 'Lovely Glorfindel', and he had heard two versions, one with the kind of lyrics that could not be sung to parents...

But Glorfindel was sitting upright, tense with embarrassment, he too had heard the song, and could not endure the mocking of Finrod.
'You snigger at me even now ! I told you we could not be together ! By the void, I shall leave the Noldor altogether and go to Doriath' he paused and groaned 'No, even they are your kin, I shall ford the seven streams and join the wild wood elves, and be recognised as my own person !'
There was a brief silence, Finrod seemed to quiver briefly in his arms, he suddenly became aware that he had not slackened his grip on Finrod in any way. Finrod looked into his eyes with simple adoration
'I beg you to take me with you, wherever you travel.'

Glorfindel, once more stunned into silence by the beauty of Finrod, and the completeness of his gift of love, abandoned the search for words and kissed Finrod. His heart seemed to be injured, pain stabbed through him, but vanished as morning mist in the golden warmth of the presence of Finrod, and the joyous passion within him. He had not imagined the scale of the changes his love would wreak upon him; the world shrank away like the withered shell of a rose, he cared nothing for the laughter of others, it seemed to him as remote and meaningless as birdsong, only the precious living presence of his beloved was real. He laughed at himself, he could not endure to lift his hands from the skin of Finrod, it was unimaginable that he could ever drag himself away. Or permit Finrod to leave his side. He lifted his head, Finrod slowly opened his eyes, he seemed blinded with desire, a soft sound came on a breath, Glorfindel knew that the truth was between them, a private thing, that no watcher could ever taste, let alone capture, and that the laughter of others would never touch them, simply because it was not there, there was nothing between them at all for the laughter to reach, for they were one.

His customary arrogance had been transfigured by love, the shadow of fear of losing Finrod intensified the joy in his heart, the utter faith that Finrod had placed in him seemed a solid thing to Glorfindel, he believed in himself in a way that had been merely provisional until their meeting by the mountain pool. His confidence began to rest on certainty, and he touched Finrod with his strong clever hands, already familiar with the shape and desires of Finrod's lithe, golden body, and when he took Finrod, the cry of ecstasy uttered by Finrod in his moment of release brought an anxious Gildor to cast a patch of darkness on the curtain of pearl and silver. But Glorfindel's eyes soon returned to the glowing eyes of his lover, still trembling in his arms.

Finrod spoke after their long rapturous silence 'We cannot part. You will neither follow me, nor leave. Do you desire to remain a soldier all your life ?'
Glorfindel looked at him in astonishment 'Naturally not, slaying anything is abhorrent to me ! But I will defend our people from the Enemy until either he is defeated or I perish in the 
attempt. '
Finrod looked down 'My apologies, Glorfindel, do not think I underestimate your valour in any way. All agree that you are the finest athlete and the best soldier in all the armies of the elves. But Turgon and I must help to order those armies, and to find the best places for our friends the soldiers. But I think I see a way in which we can resolve this puzzle. ' he smiled at Glorfindel
'Speak, then, I beg you, tell me of your plan.'
'You shall remain in the service of Turgon, but be the military liaison between his high command and mine. I fear you will not relish the diplomatic aspects of this work, which will consist of watching my every move closely...' his voice tailed off suggestively, Glorfindel stared at him for a moment, unsure whether he was in earnest or in jest, then finally understanding that both were true. He pulled Finrod close to himself and kissed all over his face, speechless with delight and joy. But doubts crept into his mind, he was being given a privileged, ceremonial position, he would still be a joke, another useless statue at the court of Finrod. Finrod felt the arguments squirming through Glorfindel, but could only lie helpless in Glorfindel's arms as the winds of contrary emotions battered them. Finally Glorfindel raised his head and moaned despairingly 
'But it is precisely that ornamental, ceremonial role that I most want to avoid.'
Finrod frowned, and adopted a tone that Glorfindel had never heard from him before, cool, curt and commanding
'Hear my words, soldier, and heed them. We are at war, our Enemy is so much more powerful than we are that we cannot comprehend the scale of his might, nor guess at the extent of his corruption of our fellow soldiers. We cannot win, we cannot return, either to Valinor, or Cuiviénen. We shall therefore be spending the rest of our lives fortifying and defending the little kingdoms we shall build here, in pitiful mockery of the splendours of Valinor, or of Tirion. Eventually, one or both of us will be slain by the Enemy, for we are both soldiers, my love.
But I cannot live without you now, I must have you with me, and I know that you share my feelings. But your fear is a fear from Valinor and we are not there now, in the peaceful land of ritual, formality and festivity; we are here, this is Middle-Earth, we are at siege, you will be expected to attend my councils, and write full reports for Turgon, and advise us of his views, should the need arise. Furthermore, my realm is barely established, there will be many years of reconnaissance as sites are chosen, then I must oversee the building of fortifications, villages and towns; I shall be travelling through largely unknown countryside for years to come. I would have the best soldier in the army by my side, guarding me from the unknown dangers ahead. Will you come with me, Glorfindel, and serve the elves, the high king, Turgon, and I, to defend our civilisation from destruction at the hands of the enemy ?'

Glorfindel blinked and bowed his head, his exhausted mind sagging under the weight of new and unexpected emotions. He felt as one pulling up a carrot from the ground who finds its roots wrapped around a vast chest of treasure, while around him gathered faceless foes, eager to sieze the plunder. He could not speak, he was overwhelmed that the exquisite lover he had found bathing in the woods was also a powerful king, a military commander and a seasoned leader. He shook his head, and felt Finrod's sharp inhalation of breath. 
'Oh Glorfindel ! I love you more than all of Arda combined, you know I would leave it all for you ! Without hesitation. But if you would have me remain, then this is the task appointed to me, this is the work I have trained for, this is what I must do. How could I endure my own company if I retired to a palace and left everything to others ? You would not act in this way were my father a smith, and I trained at the anvil.'
'Your uncle is a smith, the most famous smith of all.'
'Indeed' said Finrod slowly 'But he was an execrable leader.'