Beech Ridge by hennethgalad

Chapter 4

Read Chapter 4

    The clearing echoed from the presence of Ingwë, both elves looked carefully at the trees around them, without letting the other know their thought, but when their eyes met, Glorfindel exclaimed wordlessly and drew Aistalar into his arms. 'But Glorfindel' said Aistalar 'What did you wish to show me ?'
   And Glorfindel looked at the ivied rocks, and the overgrown fountain, and wondered what he had seen here, or felt, or known. But there were only dead stones, and the quiet hum of the life of the forest, and the Light in the empty glade.
   'I... I cannot say, it... There are fish in the fountain.'
   Aistalar looked up at him as though he had stated that the leaves were green. 'My dearest love, let us away, let us ride now to Beech Ridge, away from... Away from everything !'

 

   There were no paths to Beech Ridge, for each one who climbed that tumbling hill chose their own way, seeing in every gleam of light between the trees the promise of another magnificent view. And on the high shoulders of the Pelori, they were rewarded. Beech Ridge perched like an eyrie on a shelf of rock, sheltered by cliffs two fathoms high, and nestled among the ancient trees which towered up to meet the first pines of the mountain heights.
   They had ridden in silence, but Glorfindel, whether through habit, or because he could not help himself, toyed endlessly with the warm bare flesh of the elf in his arms. But as Asfaloth tired, even the insatiable appetite of Glorfindel began to flag, and in the stillness the song of the birds became loud about them. Finally, as Telperion waned to dimness and the shadows darkened about them, a light gleamed down from the hillside, the light of an elven lantern, the light of home.
   'At last !' cried Glorfindel, and Asfaloth lifted his whole self, it seemed, his ears, his mane, his head, his feet and his pace. The rolling hill had exasperated them all, each summit, they thought, their last... But always the upwards climb had been the longer, and now, on their left, bright beams of Light began to shine through, as they rose above the shadows of the valley and Telperion, at wane, shone yet, brighter than a host of elven lights.
Asfaloth hurried towards the lantern light, and the faint sound of singing drifted down to them. At last, in a leafy clearing, they saw a scholar, with muddy robes, holding up a lantern and smiling as he sang the Song of Welcome.

   Glorfindel laughed and leapt down, swinging Aistalar behind him, and greeted the scholar, who handed him the lamp 'Forgive my hurrying away, but we thought you should be welcomed, though we are very busy, and I have brought you some supper, just heat it on the fire.' he frowned briefly at Glorfindel 'You at least have been here before ? Then you know where we are, we are pleased to offer any help, or hospitality to our new neighbours. I... Look, I really must go, you are later than we were told, and there is much work... So, farewell, for this time, and stars shine upon you !'
   

   He bowed and hurried away, and Aistalar looked around the clearing in astonishment, it was as empty as the ruin at Ezellohar, more so, since the scholar had left none of the echo that the thunderous presence of Ingwë had created, still rippling through the spirits of the two young elves.
   'But Glorfindel, there is nothing here !'
   'Hush, listen, what do you hear ?'
   Aistalar was silent, and around him the small sounds grew louder. The scholar hurrying away, impatiently kicking leaves aside, muttering his scholarly thoughts, the newcomers already forgotten. There were badgers nearby, a fox prowling, deer in a nearby hollow tearing at grass, and the sound of owls hunting above. The still air rustled the leaves faintly, but amidst the endless ocean of the trees, a sharper note, a melody of turmoil. 'A stream, a stream, tumbling down the hill !'
   Glorfindel smiled through hooded eyes 'And now taste the air.'
   They breathed in together, searching each other’s shining eyes. Aistalar smelt the deep earth, and the crumbling soil, the dry leaves and rotten, the fresh falls, fluttering down around them, and the heady breath of the living trees above. The scents of the creatures of the wood threaded through the air and the earth, and faint on the breeze, whispering of the icy heights above, the smell of snow and the high pines. But closer, and stronger, the scent of the stream, and of a fire, and something more, something a little sour 'Oh ! The hot spring ! I smell the hot spring of Beech Ridge !' Glorfindel grinned triumphantly, as proud as though he had discovered the spring himself. Aistalar laughed 'Oh Glorfindel, it is marvellous, but where is it ? I can see nothing but the trees !'
   Glorfindel smiled again and kissed him tenderly 'It is hidden, as your beauty was hidden until I uncovered you. Now, if I can find the door, I shall uncover Beech Ridge for you !'

   Glorfindel strode across the clearing to where thick tendrils of ivy reached grasping fingers out in search of holds. He held up the lantern but the shadows did not fade, there was a wall, covered in ivy, hidden from all but those who knew the secret. Glorfindel looked up at the tree beside him, then took three paces west and stepped forwards. He thrust a hand into the ivy and there he found the handle, turned the latch and pushed open the low door in the wall. He turned to Aistalar with a merry grin 'I have it ! Follow me !'
   Aistalar looked uncertaintly at the dark doorway 'But what of Asfaloth ?'
   'Asfaloth has been here before, but we shall tend him ere we dine ! Come, it is very different inside !'
   Aistalar sighed, then stooped to enter the mysterious Beech Ridge.

 

   Glorfindel had hurried forwards and was lighting lanterns, while Aistalar stood gaping at the splendour of the abandoned Vanyar house. The outer walls were curved around the edge of the shelf of rock, fronted by a porch of many arches, each twined with the honeysuckle, which hung its heady golden flowers from the roof, until the whole seemed merely a frame for the greater glory of honeysuckle.
   Within the porch, tall windows echoed the arches, and the growing light of the numerous lanterns shone through into the fine, simple rooms, furnished in the Vanyar style, plain pieces, but perfectly made. And beyond the crescent of fine rooms, high in the branches of the beech trees, the real home of the Vanyar who had lived here long before, the talans of the old country, with awnings draped between the high branches and a hall only for the fire.
   But Glorfindel seized his hand and dragged him back to the low door, gesturing excitedly        'Look ! Isn’t it glorious ! And nobody lives here ! Oh, people come here at times, to have long meetings or such, but nobody lives here !'
   Aistalar frowned 'What of our host ?'
   'Host ? The scholar ? No, they work down the hill, there is a cave, and a few houses. They have studied there for a very long time !'
   'What do they study ?'
   Glorfindel frowned and sighed 'I am not certain, the roots of mushrooms, I think.'
   'The roots of mushrooms ?' Aistalar asked incredulously.
   'Well... Well I know, but Erestor was trying to explain... It seems that mushrooms are to their roots as blossom is to the mighty tree, that is, important, but a mere fragment of a vast whole...'
   'Yes, I know that, but what is it that they study ?'
   Glorfindel looked sombre 'I think they would speak with it, with the creature that brings forth the mushrooms. But first, Oromë and Yavanna are agreed, first they must listen. But of course, Erestor and his people were here to discuss what is meant by 'listening' in such a task.'
   'What ?'
   Glorfindel laughed 'Do you ask me the results of their enquiries ? Ha, Erestor is considering yet his first response ! You must read his conclusions when they are put before Tirion.'

 

   They walked hand in hand through the empty rooms, lit by the lanterns on the porch, and by the growing silver Light of Telperion. There were kitchens and artrooms, libraries, music rooms, and rooms with nothing but a single fine sculpture, or jewelled windows. But Glorfindel hurried Aistalar around the long sweep of the old Vanyar house and up a stone stair, carved into the grey rock of the Pelori. It led out into a wide chamber, as large as three rooms. Behind a painted screen, a spring fell from a golden hemlock flower-head, each small flower the source of a rivulet steadier than rain, which fell tinkling into an unseen basin. On the left, where the light was brightest, a small hearth, table and shelves spoke of the kitchen to Aistalar, and beside them were a dining table and chairs, and three couches.       But in the centre of the room, curved to fit into the curve of the hill, stood a great bed carven of the very wood of Beech Ridge. It was hung with pale green, as the sheets, but the blanket was deep green, the green of pines, cold on the heights. The room was a marvel of beauty and simplicity, Aistalar gripped the hand of Glorfindel and said wonderingly 'But who lived here ?'
   Glorfindel kissed him softly 'I know, I asked that, and the scholar said "What do their names matter ? They were happy here, that is their story. All of it." And I think that we can be happy here, as they were. But look, do you sit now on the bed.'

   Glorfindel darted to the windows and began to pull aside the pale green curtains. The Light flooded in, the whole wall was glass, the room seemed a part of the forest, up among the branches like the talans. But he paused, gazing at the hall of fire in the centre of the courtyard, then turned to the rapturous Aistalar, who rose to his feet, gazing at Glorfindel with awe 'How did you... This place is so perfect, so... how did you, how did we ?'
   Glorfindel looked at the elf, he was wringing his hands, one hand bent backwards, his whole body looked set to writhe; he was startled and fearful, beneath his happiness, and Glorfindel, in his eagerness, had rushed on heedlessly... He paused and clenched his fists, it had been days, mere days, since first he had seen Aistalar, and now they were alone, in the forest...
   Glorfindel took Aistalar in his arms and stroked his hair 'Hush, forgive me, my dearest, I have behaved terribly, and you, in your kindness have let me get away with it. How is it with you ? Are you, may I offer you wine ? Some miruvor perhaps ?'
Aistalar looked up at him distractedly 'All those gems in the window, but none anywhere else'
   Glorfindel laughed 'Yes, my mother is of the Vanyar. Indeed it is a long road from Tirion ! But have you never been to Valmar ?'
   'No, my brother advised me to wait until I am older, and then I will appreciate them properly.'
   'So ? My mother was eight hundred when she left them, and I am certain that she properly appreciated them ! But not enough to stay !'
   'Yes, but you did not stay at Little Gold Tree, and now you are in a house of the Vanyar, singing their praises.'
    Glorfindel laughed 'Erestor said that you were dull like him, and I see that he is right !'
   Aistalar laughed with him 'Oh Glorfindel, I think I would like some miruvor, and then some wine !'

 

   They drank and kissed and talked of nothing for a time, until Aistalar began to look about himself, and said 'Did not the scholar speak of fire, and supper ?' They looked at the hearth, a fire was laid, but not lit, there was no sign of food.

   Glorfindel leapt to his feet 'Asfaloth ! My weary steed, standing in his sweat while we take our ease ! Forgive me, I shall be swift.'
   He darted away, but Aistalar leaped after him, hurrying down the curved stone stair, along the curved hallway into the main hall, and through into the garden.
   Asfaloth was drinking from the fountain, he blew noisily at Glorfindel, who hurried to ease the great white horse, unpacking his bags and rubbing the sweat from his back. Asfaloth snorted at first, but Glorfindel coaxed him round, and led him down to the lower pool by the orchard, to feast on the windfalls. Asfaloth nudged Aistalar fondly as they bade farewell, but had only a sniff for Glorfindel.
   'Oh Aistalar, I was worried for you, moving house like this, but it was I who failed in my first duty, neglecting my helpless steed.'
   'Poor Glorfindel, you would live his life, and my life, and your own life ! But you need not fear, for Asfaloth is not helpless, nor indeed am I, I can cast a spear with deadly force ! Though I am a mediocre fighter, alas... But helpless ? No. Only as helpless as pleases you, my love.'
   Glorfindel rubbed the frown from his forehead, he could not think clearly; suddenly he snapped his fingers 'Food !' he cried 'I cannot think for hunger ! And when we have dined, I shall show you the hot springs and we shall watch the Light of Laurelin wax.

 

   They found their supper in the hall of fire, in a pot with a lid, set on the great flagstone beneath the low brazier. Glorfindel lifted the pot onto the hook and put another handful of kindling on the fire, which flared into life and licked eagerly at the base of the pot. Aistalar looked around, it was a plain empty room, there were two branches polished for sitting, and nothing else.
   'Why do we eat here ? Why not in that lovely room ?'
   Glorfindel looked up with a sly smile 'You have not read Finarfin on "Comparative Cultural Practices in Fire Usage and Application." ?'
   'What ? No !' Aistalar looked down at Glorfindel, who was holding in a laugh 'No more have you ! Whatever are you talking about ?'
   Glorfindel gestured around at the empty room 'It is the tradition that the newcomer eat their first meal here, at the hearth of the hall of fire. That respect is paid to the builders of this fine house, and the spirit of welcome they have engendered.'
   'Oh oh, wait, Comparative Cultural... You are talking about the schisms, and how this meal, here, shows that we know that this is a house of the Vanyar, who build fires only at need. Yet still, the wood elves will have none of them, for setting flame to wood. And then the Noldor, extravagantly lighting fires for amusement or curiosity, drove away the Vanyar...'
   'Well, I am certain that Finarfin wrote it more eloquently, but yes, that is what Erestor told me. What do you think ?'
   Aistalar, naked, disoriented, and hungry in more than one sense, looked incredulously at Glorfindel 'Think ? I cannot think ! You must care for this steed now, for I know you will soon wish to ride...'
   Glorfindel looked up at the secretive smile on the beautiful face, then scooped Aistalar into his arms 'You must take care what you wish for, or it may be granted !'

   They embraced while the fire crackled and the stew bubbled, then Glorfindel unhooked the pot and set it steaming on the flagstone. He unfolded a cloth and there was a loaf of fresh bread, and two apples. They ate hungrily, it had been a long ride, down Túna and up the first of the Pelori, but he smiled to himself, for the stew was worth the wait, and the best was yet to come.
   As Aistalar bit into his apple, Glorfindel held out his hand. Aistalar looked puzzled for a moment, then laid his hand in Glorfindel's and they stood.
    'Come now' said Glorfindel 'Laurelin waxes, now is the time to see the hot spring !'

 

   Within the curve of the trees was an open garden, sloping down to the orchard in the west, but narrowing in the east to a small gorge down which a busy stream tumbled over mossy rocks and cascaded into the tiny valley below. The Vanyar had built a pool, with lilies and reeds and a sandy floor, and the stream flowed through, and out past the orchard. But nestled higher among the rocks was the hot spring which had brought the Vanyar to this place to build their talans, and their house.
   The pool was natural, but the Vanyar, who were happy to nudge the natural order, had lain a pipe from the stream to double the size of the hot spring, and render it pleasant to elven skin. Aistalar gripped Glorfindel's hand 'Oh ! Oh thankyou for choosing me ! Thankyou for bringing me here ! I... Thankyou !'
   But Glorfindel kissed him slowly and said softly 'Wait.'

   They sat in the pool on benches carved in the rock, and Aistalar finally understood what Glorfindel would have him see. The bench was at the perfect height, the trees were tall about them, rustling with life, and the calling of birds. The water was warm as a lover’s embrace, from the hall of fire a faint wisp of smoke rose against the bright southern sky. For Laurelin waxed golden, and the dazzling beams rose through the trees of Beech Ridge, lighting up each leaf, gilding bare branches, turning every twig to gold, until Aistalar felt himself melt away into the beauty of the Music.

 

   They watched the Light in silence, letting their senses become accustomed to the new place, and to each other. Glorfindel became increasingly aware of the breathing of Aistalar, how even and steady it had grown, and he smiled to himself. This was no union in the fierce Light of Ezellohar, this was two young elves, who had found each other in the crowd, and come away to be alone, to be together.
   But Aistalar suddenly jerked to full alertness, and turned to Glorfindel 'Ingwë sends guards here ?'
   Glorfindel sighed and leaned his head back against the rock 'Alas... Well, it will not be so bad, there will be Taeril and Erelas, whom you know already, and the others you may choose yourself.'
   'Taeril ! Oh no ! It cannot be...'
   'But my dear, you were there when we spoke of this, in three days we shall ride to Tirion to fetch them.'
   'There when... do you speak of the road by Ezellohar ? There ? Where I...' he bowed his head 'Where I, instead of waiting a little time for my love, let myself be taken at the whim of a passing stranger !'
   'Oh Aistalar, we have spoken of this ! It is my fault, you trusted me, and I left you at the mercy of...' he frowned, and his tone became stern 'Ingwë did this, coldly and deliberately, to come between us. You know this !
   But though he were Manwë, or Erú Ilúvatar himself, he cannot command our hearts !    Listen now, there will be guards, what of it ? We shall forbid them our room, there are many other rooms, they will not suffer. We need not see them, save here in the pool. The scholars use the pool from time to time, but truly, when last I came here, I wallowed alone in this pool for, well, days !'
   Aistalar shook his head 'No, I do not fear their eyes, but I grieve for the hurt that my weakness has caused you.'
   Glorfindel looked thoughtfully at him 'You do not speak of Erestor, does he trouble you so little ? We were lovers, Erestor and I, for two years.'
   'You have told me that you did not love him. I believe you.'
   'And so, I ask you, do you love Taeril ?'
   'No ! Of course not !'
   'Of course not. Yet he is handsome, a celebrated athlete, high in the favour of Ingwë, and you admired him as a child.'
   'You are all of those things and more ! And you... You came to me, you found me, in a way that I think no other could have. If you had not come, I think I would have slept forever, dreaming away my life in obscurity like my mother and father, never truly living, never doing anything interesting, never imagining coming here !'
   Glorfindel lifted his goblet and toasted Aistalar, who drank with him, and smiled.
   'It had been my intention to take you first here, in the pool, but now that I have seen you pale against those dark green covers, I would take you to our room, and light the fire, for I am only half a Vanyar, and I love a Noldor.'

 

 

   There were stone seats carved into the walls on either side of the hearth, for the mountain air was cool after the heat of the valley. They sat drying their hair, Glorfindel had stayed bare, and their limbs glowed in the light of the fire. But there was a shyness to both of them that made Glorfindel think of miruvor. Yet he frowned, wondering what had become of the gripping passion that had driven him here. But he looked around at the room he had shared with Erestor, and remembered laughing with him over breakfast at the table, and suddenly he knew.
   'We must eat here ! Come, sit, I shall find something, be it only lembas and water !'
   'Lembas ? I have not tasted it since scouting lessons as a child. Do you eat it often ?'
   'Not I ! I am far too greedy to ever forget to pack food ! Lembas !' he snorted and laughed as he opened jars and pots, then finally cried out joyfully, and lifted a cake from a large crock 'Hunter’s Treat !' he exclaimed, and Aistalar rose to his feet with a smile. It was the cake of the forager, there were no fixed recipes, only flour, nuts, fruit, a little miruvor, and a sprinkle of bakers salts to lighten it. Glorfindel laid a plate on the table, then reverently placed the Hunter’s Treat on it. Aistalar felt his mouth water as Glorfindel cut into the moist dark cake, then hurriedly took up two plates for them. The cake gleamed in the firelight, true treasure, that brings life and strength, comfort and pleasure. They sat at the table and ate the cake in their new home, smiling at each other, and at the beauty of the room, and the fading light of Laurelin through the Beeches.

   But as Aistalar lifted the last of his slice to his mouth, he was astonished to find his throat closing, and his eyes filling with tears. Meeting Glorfindel had taken him so far from his life that he had been lost, utterly lost. But eating familiar cake, at a beautiful table in a fine house, he suddenly felt his life spring into focus around him; but he was naked, he had been naked for a long time, and there was a stranger watching him with predatory eyes. But Glorfindel saw the distress and leapt to his feet.
   'Oh Aistalar ! I am so sorry ! Of course you are upset, it is all difficult and distressing, change always is. But this is change for the better ! Come, you know that we shall be happy here ! But now you are tired and must rest. I will hold you while you sleep.'
   Aistalar looked up at him, remembering being held by him, and swallowed, then rose to his feet and slid his arms around the waist of Glorfindel, who drew him close and stroked his hair 'My lovely Aistalar' he murmured 'My naked elf.'

 

   There were no more obstacles, the naked elf was in his arms, they were at Beech Ridge, alone. Asfaloth was contented, the fire was lit, they had eaten, they had bathed, in the hot spring and in the Light of Laurelin. Aistalar seemed almost to purr in his arms. He kissed the fine dark hair and smiled to himself. Smoothly he scooped Aistalar into his arms and laid him on the bed, and tenderly kissed him. Aistalar looked up at him with darkened eyes 'I am no longer tired, is there anything that you wish ?'
Glorfindel raised his head and looked down into the shining eyes, savouring his moment of triumph, feeling that although mere days had passed, he had been pursuing the fleeing Aistalar for an age. He frowned for a moment, then shook away his doubts, and stooped to kiss the waiting lips of his beloved.
   The skin was salt beneath his tongue, he explored the planes and valleys, he tasted the sweat of passion, he moved down, and brought up his hands, and parted the long slim legs, to reach the tender flesh between. There was moaning, but he did not heed it, his eyes closed, he fed like the lion, as his living prey writhed beneath his touch. His tongue probed the small crevasse, and his prey arched in his hands, and he lifted his head and looked with pride at his domain, ripe for conquest.

   The first thrust almost finished him, he had waited too long, it seemed. But the serene beauty of the naked elf cooled him like water, he blinked, and breathed deeply, and began to move, slowly sliding deeper into the heat of his prey, until the dark eyes looked up at him and closed, as the tender lips parted, and he stooped to feed again.
   And the final obstacle stood before him, sheer and impassable to his frenzied mind. He must bring release to his lover before he himself at last attained that ecstasy he had glimpsed when first he had seen Aistalar. He sucked in air and thought of Meditation, but his mind was filled with the memories of his hasty courtship. He thought of the first sight of him naked, of their first kiss, of his sudden decision to take him to Beech Ridge, of Ingwë...
Aistalar's breath came loud and ragged, swift and shallow. He was thrusting against Glorfindel, opening himself deeper as Glorfindel felt his own flesh begin to bolt; moving faster than his own will could push it, his body hammered into the naked elf, gasping, their faces side by side, scarcely aware of each other or themselves, caught in the convulsions of the animal, until with a shocking suddenness the obstacle was rent asunder, and Aistalar, the naked elf, was groaning, and kissing his face, and his lips, and Glorfindel smiled proudly at him, and then at last he felt the liquid heat of bliss as he claimed his victory.