Golden Hair. by hennethgalad

Chapter 3

Read Chapter 3

 

 

    The wind which raised the branches of the Trees blew his hair around his face, he shook his head to free himself and felt his heart halt and the breath choke in his throat. The brightness of Ezellohar was marred by a cloud of bats, snarling and hissing, flying close to his face and screaming with bared fangs. He screamed, and the vision cleared, the world shrank down to two small figures on a horse, by a hill. But the bats were all around him, he shrank from them, and saw the figure on the horse shrink, and clutch at its brow. And he understood that there were no bats, that these were his thoughts, his darkest thoughts, thwarting his path to Ezellohar. 

  

  Asfaloth had halted, stamping once with concern. Aistalar was speaking to him but Glorfindel could not answer. He did not dare to move; his own thoughts were riddled with darkness, he was unworthy. He could not take such a spirit, such a heart, to Laurelin. They must go back, he would apologize...

 

   He breathed carefully and thought of his mother, but it was another face, another voice that calmed his spirit. In Meditation, their instructor had been a Vanyar of great dignity, with a voice of such sweetness that it was joked that she could say the same word forever and still enchant you with it. She had told them of the many forms of fear the chameleon, the tireless soldier whose armies spread silently and without end, requiring ceaseless vigilance to keep at bay. But there was also anger, and Glorfindel knew those fangs and their needle bite. And their wings were his restless soaring ambition, and their warm bodies were his voracious needs, and their snarling faces were the ruthlessness within him that would not count the cost.

   And her voice had reached him, as the Meditation found him sweating, sick with horror at what he himself was capable of, at the monster he could become. "Turn away your eyes or they will take your face." 

    And her voice had reached him through the venomous snarling, and his eyes had refocused, and he was sitting on the mat at Meditation, and people were looking anxiously at him, but she had smiled, and he had breathed calmly again, and the class had continued. But afterwards he had thanked her, and she had smiled "Welcome to the battle, young Glorfindel. Never forget how vast the army is, and all of us fighting together."

  "Will it never end ?"

   "Alas, the Valar tell us that Arda is marred. It may be that we can repair a little of the damage. It is certain that we must not make it worse !" 

   "What does it mean, 'Turn away your eyes or they will take your face.' ?"

   "Turn from the monsters inside you, or they will become you. You are seeing the thing in yourself that you fear, the thing that could overpower your will. But if you did not find them in Meditation, we would be very concerned. Very concerned indeed. Have no fear, my young friend, for your will is strong, and your spirit is kindly. You will prevail."

 

    But the screaming, snarling bats were thick about him. He closed his eyes and covered his face but their screeching turned to mockery and he thought of Aistalar and some of the thoughts he had had while stroking the warm, helpless flesh, and was frozen with terror that he might become a monster like the Enemy, and be cruel to Aistalar. He slid to the ground, and to his knees, and looked up at Aistalar, who slid down to kneel anxiously before him, clutching his hands.

  'You should leave me. You should go home, while you still can. My thoughts are... my thoughts are abominations, I cannot bring them, I cannot stand before Laurelin and Telperion, as marred as I am.'

  Aistalar was very still for a time. Glorfindel blinked at him, he hardly knew him, he could not read him at all, he could scarcely see past the frenzy of his own desire, and when he did, there was the face of an idealised Ainu, and his thought shattered against it like glass on rock. What would he do ? Idly, Glorfindel found himself wondering if he would take Asfaloth, and how long the road was back to... But his mind was exhausted. He had been watching over Aistalar for days, he needed rest, he needed to close his eyes...

   'Oh Glorfindel, my dearest love, you are worn out ! Look ! Here I am, you have captured your prey, mighty hunter, victory is yours !' Aistalar had smiled his sparkling smile, and Glorfindel had grinned with half his face.

  'I thought you were leaving. I was wondering how to get home, then wondering where home was any more...'

   'Your home is with me. Leaving ! Why in the void would I be leaving ? I'm getting married to my true love, I did not know such happiness could be.' He froze, then looked at Glorfindel in horror 'But do you doubt... Do you regret your hasty words ? Do you wish me to leave ?'

 

   They gazed at each other, strangers kneeling on the road to the Trees, clutching each other’s hands for comfort in the vastness of Ea. But Glorfindel had turned from his demons, Laurelin waxed and the golden Light glowed in the fine dark hair of Aistalar.

   'My beautiful love, my Aistalar, I know that I am unworthy of your truth and your honesty. There are many thoughts that I have concealed from you, thoughts so dark that you would turn from me in disgust and horror should I reveal them. But I fight them back, and strive to keep their... their talons from my judgement. If you can know this about me, yet love me still, then I would wed you, beautiful Aistalar, here, and now.'

   'Oh Glorfindel, is that all ? Of course you have dark thoughts, everyone has dark thoughts. What matters is what you do, or say. Dark thoughts... You would not be an elf if you did not. I have them all the time ! 

   Indeed, talking of dark thoughts, are those two guards still behind us ? I'm sure they are simply going the same way as us, but I couldn’t help noticing them, one of them is so handsome.'

  Glorfindel turned, there was Taeril, the garlanded spear-caster, and another face he knew from the exercise fields. But these were guards of Ingwë, bearing his colours. Before he spoke, Aistalar had flushed like an apple.

  'Oh Glorfindel, it is Taeril, I cannot let him see me like this !'

  'Oh ? You cared nothing for the thoughts of the people of Tirion.'

  'You do not understand, when I was young, while only a student, I had a great... admiration for Taeril and I... I stood cheering him, many times, enough that he would nod at me, from time to time. He will know my face, and I will be...'

  Glorfindel laughed 'Do you think he will notice your face, while you are like this ?' he gestured to Aistalar, and perceived his arousal 'My poor darling, he will ride past, averting his gaze, he is a courtly Vanyar, high in the favour of Ingwë, he will not mock you !' He took Aistalar in his arms and faced the guards of Ingwë.

 

   But Taeril and his companion did not ride past, they halted, and leaped lightly to the ground, and Taeril bowed to Glorfindel with hand on heart. 

   'Stars shine upon you, Glorfindel the fleet ! Will you stand aside with me awhile, for I must speak with you.'

   'Walk in the Light, Taeril the strong, is aught amiss ?' He tightened his grip on Aistalar, then walked a little distance away with Taeril, still watching the blushing Aistalar greeting the other athlete, Erenas, who could run further than any elf alive. Glorfindel turned to Taeril 'What brings two such exalted athletes to Ezellohar ?'

   But Taeril smiled mysteriously and gestured to the narrowest path, scarcely seen beneath the busy green fingers of Yavanna. Glorfindel hestiated, expecting Taeril to lead the way, but Taeril merely nodded with his eyes. Glorfindel sighed and parted the thick growth of ivy and honeysuckle, and sharper things, and struggled through to a clearing in the midst of the thicket. There were two overgrown stumps of once mighty trees, on either side of a fountain, so covered in ivy, and so thick with waterlilies, that Glorfindel had taken the sound of the falling water for a natural spring. A slim figure, hooded and cloaked, sat on the rim of the fountain, one hand on the marble basin, the other trailing in the water. Without looking up, or turning, and as though speaking to himself, Ingwë spoke 'Who has put fish in my fountain ? How did they come here else ? Someone has carried them here, look !' 

 

   Glorfindel laughed, but felt a storm of emotions. Ingwë, the high king of all the elves, favoured of Manwë and of Varda Elbereth, lady of the stars ! The fountain, that Glorfindel had neither seen nor heard tell of, so old, lost and forgotten that some   jesting elf had put fish in it. Ingwë himself, sitting so small on the stone rim, had built this ruin. The water dripped onto the flat leaves, and the woods were silent in the heat of Laurelin. The terrible age of Ingwë crushed the heart of Glorfindel, who bowed and said softly 'How may I serve you, my king ?'

   Ingwë stood and smiled 'Look, do look at the fish !'

   Glorfindel leaned over the basin and peered into the shadowy water. There, glinting in and out of the spears of light, were small silvery fish. As he smiled, Ingwë moved, twisting Glorfindel's arm up behind his back and bending him backwards until he could not move.

 

   'What game are you playing, farm boy ? Why is Aistalar the fair standing naked in the road ? There is a crowd at my gate, already, all of whom have ridden at speed upon the instant you were seen, to howl for retribution.' He sighed 'Retribution... 

   I had to see for myself. He has turned into a rare beauty, it was perceptive of you to find him. When I asked you in the House of Curumo to scout for us, this was not what I expected you to find ! 

   But it is your pleasure to surprise, I can see. We were surprised to hear of your liaison with the actor, less surprised that you turned to Erestor, but very surprised indeed that you did not venture forth into the busy social life of the great city. And you have utterly neglected to report to me. But since there has been no mention of you in anyone else’s reports, I have been right, I think, in concluding that you had nothing to tell ?' He paused, and Glorfindel nodded silently, cautiously shifting one foot to ease a straining muscle in his back. The sinewy strength of Ingwë was not to be underestimated. 'So. Until now, when you have surprised us all again, snatching up the helpless Aistalar, of whom no one had the least expectation, and parading him naked through the streets. What is your stratagem, Glorfindel ?'

   'Sire, bind me if it please you, but release me from this painful posture lest my legs buckle beneath me.'

   Ingwë snorted and released him, and Glorfindel stood up carefully, stretching his shoulders and twisting himself straight. Ingwë folded his arms and frowned at Glorfindel, who blushed and bowed his head.

   'Sire... I... We are leaving the city, at once, we shall live at Beech Ridge, far from any who might be troubled by such beauty.'

 

   Ingwë sighed and looked away, then moved towards Glorfindel, smoothly throwing his cloak back over his shoulders. His tunic was undyed, faded by washing to the colour of pale skin, and woven of a fabric so fine and light that it seemed made of mist or smoke. In the heat it clung to the damp skin of the elf like the first frost on the slopes of Oiolossë. Glorfindel, already driven into frenzy by his passion for Aistalar, found his mind sliding into molten rock. Desire and peril were all around him, he could scarcely breathe. Ingwë looked intently into his eyes and spoke in a low voice of cold command.

   'Lay your hand upon my throat Glorfindel.'

   Glorfindel blinked, then looked at the low neck of the sheer tunic, and up at the golden throat. As obediently as Aistalar, and with less thought, he laid his hand gently across the throat of the high king.

   'I am listening.' said Ingwë.

 

   But the world had changed for Glorfindel. He was aware of the presence of Ingwë as intensely as he was aware of the Trees at his back. The heat of the golden skin, the faint slide of his hand against the sheen of sweat, the beating of his heart, the heart of the High King ! Glorfindel found his mind at once clouded with desire and yet  through the clouds, rising above the mist, a forest of golden trees, trees of Light, grew in brightness around them until even the two ivied stumps rose once more and flourished into a vision of radiant beauty. Glorfindel gazed about him in awe.

   'What is it ? What are you showing me ?'

   'What do you see ?'

   'A forest, but every tree is golden light, glowing through the mist, as far as I can see.'

   Ingwë nodded gravely 'The trees, yes, many see the trees. For others... well, if you had paid any heed to your studies, you would know. But come, what do you think you truly see ?'

  Glorfindel shrank back a little, ashamed of his neglect. He was blundering through Tirion like a fool, ignorant of the most basic things, a squalling child... 'Sire... I... forgive my... I cannot say, indeed, except perhaps, as I look, the trees seem to move, as though lightning played beneath deep water, moving slowly as ripples. I... but what that may signify, I cannot say.'

   'No. Nor can any other. The Ainu have sung to us at length, but we do not have the wit to grasp the world as they perceive it. But here, where now the silver fish swim, the Light of the Trees has strong resonance with the minds of the Eldar, and here I built a fountain, when first we came here, and here our finest sculptors rendered the Trees in imperishable stone. But a seer among us, Hendumaica, bade us leave the site to time, even in this imperishable land, to serve as a warning to us of our own fading. 'As we fade, so shall the trees brighten.' So said the seer.'

   'And do they brighten ? What are they ? What do you think they are, sire ?'

   'No, they do not brighten, not yet ! As to what they are... It may be that they are all leaves of one mighty tree, or flames of one mighty fire, the flame imperishable. But there are those who say it is the lives of each of us, passing through time, turning from the vigour of motion and awareness to the peace of oblivion as part of the completed work of the world, woven into time by Vairë, each in place.' He smiled, and Glorfindel felt the depth of memory of the long Ages in his kind blue eyes, raised under the stars, long before the Trees were ever heard of. He could picture the swift Ingwë, silent in the forest, more fell than aught that walked Arda, save Oromë, and the Enemy. 'But in all their debates and discussions, there are ever two tendencies, there are those who see motion, and those who see stillness. I... for me there is motion, how not ?' He sighed, and his eyes pierced the spirit of Glorfindel, intensely blue, focused and sharp as an attacking eagle.

   

   'Still I listen, Glorfindel. What is your purpose ? Why is Aistalar naked in the road ?'

   Glorfindel swallowed, he had forgotten Aistalar. He turned to the road but could see and hear nothing. Laurelin was blinding, they had missed the moment. He understood then that Ingwë had intercepted him, them, deliberately. He hung his head, and felt his hand move slightly on the throat of Ingwë. He could not grasp what was happening to him, it was like being held under water, he wanted to thrash, and flee.

 

  Finally he gathered his spirit about him like a tattered cloak and slowly raised his head. The blue eyes were darker, Ingwë seemed less remote, more like an elf than the dread servant of Manwë who had scoured his mind.

  'Sire... I have no purpose, I seek no... nothing. I... I had to. I had to uncover him. I cannot say why. Until... Until you showed the trees to me, he filled my mind, there was no doubt in me, until we approached Ezellohar, and then they came for me like bats...' he winced and fell silent. Ingwë looked thoughtful.

  'Bats ? There are few who see wings. I must face serpents, they coil around the trees, and my limbs and... Yes. Each of us is marred. 

  But you, Glorfindel, are held to be less marred, by some who are considered wise in such lore, and are being watched with interest, and hope. And all was well, our expectations were surpassed, you took up with Erestor, and Turgon, and Ecthelion, a most promising youth. But no, you have confounded us again. Who stripped Aistalar, Glorfindel ? Was it you, or was it a... a bat ?'

 

   Glorfindel gaped at the High King. He felt that every part of him had been separated from every other part and was laid out on a bench while Ingwë critically examined each separate piece. 

   'Do you read my thought ?' he asked.

   Ingwë shook his head 'I could, but I want you to tell me. You will understand yourself more clearly when you have tried to explain the truth of your deeds.'

   'I... No, it was I. I thought of Beech Ridge almost at once. I knew he would be made unhappy to be dragged around naked, and I could not bear to see him covered. I hesitated, for I did not wish to leave the life of the city so soon, but then I recalled the peace, and the sweet air of the country, and it seemed a little thing to give up. But whether or no, I could do no other than seek him out, and once in his presence I must uncover him, and once he was naked under my eyes, I must have my hand on him...'

 

   He stopped, and looked in fascination at his hand, around the throat of the High King. The silence roared with possibility, Glorfindel saw himself throwing Ingwë over the rim of the fountain, tearing off that flimsy tunic and... 

   But then he remembered his own arm bent behind his back, and the voice of Ingwë in his ear, the deadly menace, as thinly veiled as the body of Ingwë, warm beneath his hand. His skin tingled, he wanted to flee again, not in fear but in mortification at his own raging, and all too visible desire. But as he struggled to breathe, the clarity of Meditation returned to him, and he understood the terrible power of Ingwë, and why he was High King, as though for the first time. He thought of Finwë, sharp witted and clever, bustling and energetic, and he could see that the two Elves would respect each other, but prefer to keep at arms length. He wanted to laugh, but could not say why. Suddenly Ingwë smiled happily.

 

   'Oh Glorfindel, forgive me ! I grow suspicious of my own shadow. The seers are anxious, Glorfindel; the ill will between the brethren in Tirion has everyone on edge, and Manwë has shown us things his eagles have seen, things to chill the blood. But here I am, suspicious of you ! You who would no more do harm than you would spout flame from your mouth, for it is not in you.

   Play your games, Glorfindel, sport in the innocence of the childhood of the Eldar. But remember, that though your father awoke there: for the elves, there is no returning to Cuiviénen. This does not mean merely that we can never find the place again, for it has been unmade, it means that we can never again become the awoken. We were all born in blood and pain, we know too much about the world, and about ourselves, to sport naked in the fountains like the silver fish.'

   'I feel... My spirit feels as naked to your eyes as the flesh of Aistalar is to mine.'

   Ingwë smiled 'But as Aistalar has naught that he would conceal or withold from you, so for you, there is naught that you would conceal or withold from me.' 

 

   The silence grew between them, Glorfindel fought to lift the great weight that crushed his chest, and drew in a gasping breath. Ingwë nodded 'There is great desire between us. I had suspected it, for you have been much on my mind since you caught the sword.

   Listen to me now, Glorfindel, my golden flower, for I have need of you.' He smiled slowly, his eyelashes lowering slightly, before sweeping up to dazzle Glorfindel with the bright blue of his eyes. Glorfindel struggled to keep his hand still, he longed to grip the smooth throat, and... He could feel the blood quicken in the veins of the High King, he wondered if Ingwë had intended to bring this about, or if he were merely being tested, and the swiftly beating heart of Ingwë signified merely the heightened awareness of the hunter.

   But Ingwë spoke softly 'Listen closely Glorfindel. Change is upon us. None can say the form it may take, but it will come. This strife in the House of Finwë is seen as a sign, a track in the forest, of the wider problem, the work of the Enemy sowing division among the Eldar. 

   We need you, Glorfindel. We need your... your golden hair, and your overpowering charm. We need you in the city, listening carefully. And Glorfindel, I am minded to add to your burden. You have... You have demonstrated your power, whether that was your intention or no, in the naked elf you marched through Tirion. Those who had dismissed you will now be alerted to you. You must learn caution, you can never again act with such reckless disregard for, well, for everything !' he laughed 'Oh Glorfindel, it is such a delight to my heart to see you again ! Why have you never visited me ?'

   'Sire...I am nobody, I did not presume...'

   'I am certain that at the House of Curumo, you were not only invited but encouraged to report to us.'

   'Sire, I have noticed nothing ! I could tell you at length about the fitness of the various athletes, and advise you on wagers at the next event, but I see nothing of the  sons of Finwë, save only for Turgon, to whom I have pledged my arms.'

   Ingwë nodded. 'Very well. You may take your trophy to Beech Ridge. But you shall be guarded, for as you have shown, it is all to easy to overpower an unguarded elf. Two of my own guards will accompany you, you may select others from among your... friends.' His mouth twitched as he suppressed a smile, and suddenly he was close against Glorfindel, his pale lips a breath away 'I wish I could come' he whispered, then stepped back and spun the cloak through the air until it swirled neatly around him, covering him completely. He drew up the hood 'But when you have spent your first passion, leave him in the hands of the guards from time to time and return alone to Tirion. Befriend those who speak loudest of hatred. Soothe their wrath, make them smile, or better yet laugh, and encourage them to look kindly on those they would despise.'

   Glorfindel sighed, but looked at him with round eyes 'Just me, alone ?'

   Ingwë smiled at him thoughtfully 'I think you need not fear being alone. For who could withstand you ? I cannot.'

   He turned and was gone, as suddenly as though a curtain had been thrown over him, as though Yavanna herself had cloaked him in the living green of the forest. 

 

  Glorfindel looked down at his hand, dazed by the touch and the stunning intensity of Ingwë, his beauty, his wisdom, his unimaginable age... The stillness of the clearing seemed to tremble, as though a great fall of rocks had shaken the ground, but the tremors were all within himself. He breathed carefully and looked around, wondering that no song had ever mentioned this place, remembered that Ingwë had not told him the name then wondered if he had ever been listening properly. He sighed, and slowly his curiosity rose through the turmoil of his thought.

   Glorfindel stepped over to the ivy covered stump, as thick as his outstretched arms, and lifted aside the green veil. Beneath was crumbling marble, the base of a mighty tree of stone, that the newly arrived Elves had built in their innocent awe at the Trees. Glorfindel imagined the monument as a thing made of light, and time as a shadow moving slowly over the light, not consuming it, but merely causing it to cease to be. He felt a deep regret for the lost past, for those slain by the Enemy, who had never had the chance to see Valinor, for the lost past of Ingwë, which he would never see, for Ingwë, eager and proud, directing the builders, lending a hand, wielding a mallet with the masons, covered in glittering dust, wiping his brow with the back of his hand and laughing. 

   The ivy dropped into place as Glorfindel covered his face with his hands and peered about him through his fingers at the fountain, swallowed almost whole by the myriad tendrils of the forest. But at his feet, on the very spot where Ingwë had stood, a stone flag of ancient floor was visible, only a few dead stalks crawled brokenly across its surface. And the surface was carved, there were letters graven in the stone, Glorfindel stooped to read them, brushing aside the dirt and dead leaves. Each letter had been skilfully carved to resemble the imprint in clay of a living twig. Glorfindel wondered if here was an echo of ancient art, as ancient to Ingwë as this stone was to him, made in tribute to those few among the host who remembered a time when clay had been central to their lives, on the shores of Cuiviénen. If only his father would speak ! But no, Glorfindel must study books and learn from scholars, not from one who had seen it himself. And he wondered if Ingwë had brought him here to encourage him to question his father, to press him for answers. He looked down at the graven letters, which spelled out one word

   "Listening"

   He knew then that even should his father tell him everything, still he would not understand. For their experience of life was too different; the gulf of time, the change of worlds, truly, there was no returning to Cuiviénen. And amidst the ruins of the monument, the childish copy of the Trees, he felt again that deep gulf of time between himself and Ingwë, and between Ingwë and his father, and knew that the only way he could cross that abyss would be with the help of others, like Ingwë, building bridges of understanding, each one a little further into the unreachable past, until a little of the Music could be heard echoing down to them, a faded image of a lost moment.

 

  Aistalar... He sprang fully awake, he had been gone for an age, and Aistalar, who had been fainting with desire as they approached Ezellohar, was naked in the road, alone with the handsome guards of Ingwë. Glorfindel smote his own brow, and understood the full purpose of Ingwë, and marvelled at the cold efficiency which had used Ingwë's own desire as a weapon to further arouse Glorfindel and weaken his resistance. Ingwë needed him in Tirion, watching the Noldor. Glorfindel could not keep Aistalar in Tirion, and he could not be induced to cover him. So Ingwë had sent one he knew had already won the heart of Aistalar, the hero of his youth, to lure him away from Glorfindel, while Ingwë himself, Ingwë himself, thought Glorfindel, savouring the memory of the touch of the warm golden skin, had been the bait to lure Glorfindel. As he shouldered his way through the undergrowth, he gritted his teeth and hoped that Aistalar had been stronger than he himself. For he had known from the moment he saw Ingwë that High King or stable hand, he longed to lay him down and take him til he moaned.

 

 

 

   Aistalar was bent backwards, Taeril was taking him. Glorfindel opened his mouth to shout but Erenas lifted a finger in the gesture of stillness from the hunt. Glorfindel froze from habit, but looked with fury upon Erenas, who pursed his lips with helpless sympathy. Glorfindel felt the weight of his exhaustion fall on him like a tree, and leaned back against a nearby trunk to catch his breath, while the lover he had so thoroughly and carefully prepared was taken by another.

   Aistalar was moaning frantically, oblivious to the arrival of Glorfindel, as Taeril moved faster, gripping the hands of Aistalar behind his back and holding him by the hip as he thrust into the writhing elf. They found bliss almost together, Taeril lifted his head and groaned with immense satisfaction as Aistalar gasped and shook. Taeril stooped to kiss him briefly then caught sight of Glorfindel.

   'There you are. I've kept him warm for you.' Still holding the hands of Aistalar behind his back, he ran his other hand over the bare stomach with a smug smile.

   Glorfindel stood swiftly 'This is not the behaviour I would expect from the guards of Ingwë. How dare you !'

   Taeril smiled knowingly 'He did not give himself to you then ?'

   Glorfindel flushed with rage and embarrassment 'What do you mean ?'

   'Oh come on, you have been gone for an age, hiding in the bushes alone with Ingwë. But we could tell at once that he had not given himself to you. He came over here, ran a hand across Aistalar's chest, then took him by the... took him and played with him for a moment. Poor Aistalar was rigid with... well, excitement, shall we say. Then Ingwë looked at me and said 'Yes, take him.' So I did. Aistalar did not object.' 

   Glorfindel looked at Aistalar, whose eyes filled with tears 'Forgive me, Glorfindel. I... I did not... I could not think... I was so...'

 

   But Glorfindel thought of the cold mind of Ingwë, moving them all like pieces on the Stratagem board, and bowed his head. 

   'No, Aistalar, it is not you who are to be forgiven, but I, for dragging you naked through the streets. Thus am I punished for my arrogance, and you for your folly.' 

   He looked coldly at Taeril. 'The High King wants Aistalar guarded. He thinks, mistakenly, that I know many suitable people. But I have a notion, do you two ride now to Ilwarin the tailor, and tell him what is needed, and that Aistalar and I will be at his House in four days, to speak with any who wish to serve with us.'

   Taeril stood up straight, and released Aistalar, who sagged slightly, but Glorfindel dashed forwards and scooped him up and kissed him as though they had been apart for a year. He wiped the tears from the eyes of his beloved, and was vaguely aware of Taeril and Erenas mounting their horses. But Erenas spoke again.

  'What of these guards, sir, what do you seek ?'

  Glorfindel stood up straight and looked at him, holding Aistalar close 'It is simple. Aistalar is broken, he cannot defend himself. He is beautiful, it is difficult to resist the touch of his skin. I do not blame you for yielding to the temptation. But there is no one, not even the High King, who can be trusted to keep their hands off him. The guards must be those whose touch would not trouble him'

  Erenas looked sidelong at Taeril, who bowed his head 'Look Glorfindel... I mean... I am sorry, you know... But I...' he fell silent. Erenas shook his head and looked seriously at Glorfindel 'We shall be at Beech Ridge by nightfall, sir. Is there aught else we can do for you in Tirion ?'

   But Glorfindel, who had bid farewell to the weeping Erestor, shook his head. Erenas nodded and they rode away.

 

  When they had passed beyond sight, Glorfindel sagged, then sat down, pulling Aistalar onto his lap and kissing him for a while, until he felt his shoulders loosen, and the hurt and anger faded to the back of his mind. He stroked the hair from the smooth brow of Aistalar. 'What now, my dearest ? Shall we journey on to Ezellohar ?'

   But Aistalar looked up at him with round eyes 'Am I truly broken ?'

   Glorfindel put a hand over his eyes and pulled it down his face 'I do not know. I do not know what that means, in truth. Are you obedient ? I suspect that you always were. Erestor, in his jealousy, called you dull, by which I think he meant that you will not cause trouble. And you have not. This is the... we are... It was Ingwë himself who did this, my dearest, not you. But broken... No, Ingwë thinks we merely sport as children, and he is old and very wise. I am sure that all will be well.' He paused, and a deeper understanding came to him, of the harm he was doing to the helpless Aistalar. The pain of guilt stabbed his heart. 'Shall I take you home ? In time you will recover, and find love in the usual way, and be happy in Tirion, with your family about you.'

   But Aistalar jerked upright in alarm 'Oh no ! No, please do not send me away ! I am so sorry about Taeril, but he was my first... my first... the first person I...'

   Glorfindel laughed sadly 'I cannot send you away. You must choose to leave me. But if you are broken, how will we ever know what you would choose ?'

   Aistalar settled back in his arms, his eyes closing 'By the void, the thought of life without you was a... a darkness. But come, I have been, ah, satisfied, by Taeril. But you, who have been so patient, are still feverish with desire. Will you not make love to me under Ezellohar, as we had meant ?'

   Glorfindel ran a hand down the flesh he had come to know so well 'Feverish... You speak wisely, Aistalar, for Ingwë toyed with us both. Come, I shall show you where we met, and tell you of what passed between us. And then, when I have cleared him from my thought, I shall turn my full attention to you. Besides, you are satisfied. I would taste your hunger...' he smiled from the sides of his eyes and Aistalar shivered and smiled 'Oh Glorfindel ! How differently things have turned out, how strangely...'

   'We were ambushed. It will be... It will take all our strength to remain together against those who would drive us apart. Let me show you.'