Joined by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

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Glorfindel was dreaming of Aistalar, a dream so clear he hardly knew when he awoke, for Aistalar was astride him, riding him, taking him deep inside, with head thrown back and hoarse breath gasping through parted lips. Glorfindel, through the storm of arousal, looked in surprise at his beloved, who had seemed to live only to please him. It was their third day at Beech Ridge, and they had risen from happiness to joy, and from joy to bliss, as though to some intensity of union in which they would become indivisible, would become one.
   But as he watched his lover lifting himself, to fall onto Glorfindel, to impale himself on Glorfindel, it came to the thought of Glorfindel that he had never considered the pleasure of Aistalar to be real, as his was real. There was no victory in being taken, there was no pride of possession, there was no power. He frowned, for a moment he had a cold sense that power might not be a worthy aim, power for itself, to merely gloat... 

   But Aistalar, the naked elf, was riding faster, the mind of Glorfindel was drowned in desire, and he lay still, feeling the strong hands of Aistalar grip his waist, and seeing the dark hair lash back and forth as Aistalar moved, and burning from the heat of his body and his passion. Aistalar cried softly 'Ah, ah yes...' and became rigid for a moment, then heaved a great sigh, and for the first time, looked into the eyes of Glorfindel. 
   'Aistalar... I... Wait...'
Aistalar smiled, and lifted himself up, then lay beside Glorfindel, still gasping for breath       'Here I am.'
   Glorfindel smiled and turned onto him, running his hand over the conquered territory of his lover, then parted his thighs and slid into him. Aistalar looked sleepily up and smiled. Glorfindel, through the clouds of desire, could feel thoughts, cold thoughts, clamour for his attention, but his need drove him, deeper into the naked elf, and with swift thrusts he found the path to escstasy, and cried out his triumph, then sighed, and stooped over to kiss his beloved, who raised parted lips to greet him. 
   They lay silent for a time, kissing, stroking warm flesh, their breath and their bodies mingled on the great bed, as the full Light of the Two trees bathed them in its glory.

   But Glorfindel raised his head and looked down at Aistalar 'Do you truly relish being taken ?'
   Aistalar blinked at him, then saw that he was serious and gaped at him. 'Do you think my pleasure is counterfeit ? Do you call me false ?'
   Glorfindel kissed him hurriedly, then passionately. There was another long silence, but the busy silence of lovers reassuring each other of their feelings. At last Aistalar spoke softly 'I do not understand your thought.'
   'Nor I... I am... We are so young...'
   'People marry younger than we are. But yes, we are young.'
   'Well... I suppose I understand how it is between males and females, but with two, with us... I had thought, deep inside, I suppose, that only I truly find bliss in our... our love, and that you... Well, I did not truly think this, you see, but it must have been in my mind. I thought that you, well, you enjoyed my pleasure, because you love me.'
Aistalar looked at him with round astonished eyes 'What ? Truly ? You must think that I adore you as a Vala !' he sniffed 'Perhaps I do. But have you never, in all your time with Erestor, let him take you ?'
   'No, of course not ! I do not love him ! I told him so !' 
Aistalar laughed 'You told all Tirion, just to be certain ! But Glorfindel, there was the actor, Melairë, I suppose you took him too ?'
Glorfindel nodded silently, uncomfortable with the path of his thought, feeling that he had missed something important, as though he had only ever seen Laurelin, and missed the blinding beauty of Telperion, that while all around him basked in the Light, yet he himself was half in shadow. Aistalar stroked his cheek tenderly. 'My darling Glorfindel, do you think that the actor fell instantly in love with you, and offered himself for your pleasure alone ?' he watched the golden face crease with thought 'Oh Glorfindel, he took his pleasure from you, as I have just done, though you slept long under me !'
   'I was dreaming of you !'
   'The dream was real. As is my pleasure ! And that of Melairë, and Erestor ! Come, when we are rested, you shall lie still, and I shall show you the melting bliss of submission.'
   But Glorfindel threw him off and leapt from the bed 'No ! No ! It is not for me ! Even Ingwë ! He read my thought, he sees through our thought like clear water, he saw what I would do to him, and still he spoke of the desire between us. No ! There is none, none at all to whom could I submit !'
   'Least of all me ?' said Aistalar softly, watching Glorfindel bite back the swift agreement.

   They froze, Glorfindel, magnificent and filling the room, his mane of golden hair moving like bright flame in the full Light, he towered over the bed and the naked elf. But Aistalar reached out a hand, and Glorfindel, having asserted himself, took the hand, and lay beside his lover and looked into his eyes 'I have much to learn, it seems.' he said gruffly. 
   Aistalar sighed 'Why did you undress me, beautiful Glorfindel ? Am I the flag, to carry before the armies you will lead ?'
   Glorfindel looked at him in astonishment 'What armies ? Against what foe ? The Enemy is beyond the reach of elven swords !'
   'Oh, I do not know, I speak metaphorically. But you truly are a creature from the old world, there is wildness in you, wilderness even... I think these great lords see that wilderness, see what you could become, and wish to plant their own crops. But Glorfindel, I am your naked elf, your lover, Aistalar son of Brethil, not a great lord. I do not seek power, how can you think it ? You cannot ! But I would show you a realm of pleasure that you have, it seems, never even imagined to exist.'
   Glorfindel sighed and buried his face in Aistalar's throat, and licked him, thinking hard. His teeth clenched as he recalled Celegorm attacking his sister. He found the anger scarcely faded, and wondered if it ever would. But that had nothing to do with Aistalar; he knew he was avoiding the thought. 
   He found himself afraid; behind all his protests, he was afraid. He feared that Aistalar would gloat over him, as he himself had gloated triumphantly over those he had taken. He could not imagine a future in which they took turns on each other, his mind recoiled. His dream was dispersing like smoke in the wind. He lifted his head, and looked into the eyes of Aistalar 'I cannot.' he said simply. 
   Aistalar smiled 'I am no Ingwë, but I see a little of your heart. You need not fear, I do not seek power, neither over you, nor over others. I am content to take each day, singing beneath the Trees as we have ever done. Perhaps you are more of a Noldor than even I, for all my dark hair ! 
   But I think you are wrong about the place of power in love. I think it has no place at all, there is only love.'
   'But I do love you !'
   'Yes. But you did not take me to Ezellohar. You love me, but you are not in love with me. I think, deep in your heart, you seek a perfect love, that will cause you to forget yourself altogether. It is that abandonment of self that marks love out from desire. Of course, we abandon ourselves to desire, or to wine... But desire, like wine, is fleeting, and love, true love, lasts.'
   Glorfindel pondered the words of his love. 'Do you say that I must prove my love by submitting to you ?'
   Aistalar laughed delightedly 'Ha ! Would you ? I almost think you would. No. You will not understand.' he sighed 'Listen, listen carefully. If you love someone, you feel no apartness from them. Their pain is your pain, their pleasure is your pleasure. So, that is what you thought, with part of your mind, seeing my pleasure in you. But you do not consider my experience, nor that of Erestor, nor Melairë. Believe us, Glorfindel, the pleasure is not because of your pleasure, though love enhances it ! The pleasure is within, in the fire of my own flesh. That is why I rode you while you slept, impaling myself, with ecstasy ! I thought that you would awaken at once, and turn me over, but no, you lay staring with half-closed eyes at the Light on the ceiling, and I... Thankyou for letting me finish what I had started.'
   'I have not let you finish. You are right. But all my being recoils from...'
   Aistalar smiled softly 'You were patient with me. And you have learned much, toying with poor Erestor. These lessons you have taught to my naked flesh, and now I would have you reap the fruits of your labours. For up until now, your power has been only that of the horse, which carries the rider but knows naught of his purpose. But we can speak, neither as horse nor rider, nor even elves, but with our bodies, in the language of love, and Glorfindel, I fear that up until now you have sung alone, like Eru, rather than together as the Valar do. Listen now, with your body, and I will sing of my love, in the language you know best.'
   Glorfindel lay silent in his arms. Aistalar raised himself on one elbow and looked down into his eyes. They were filled with tears, though his frown was stern. Finally he looked up into the eyes of the naked elf.
   'I know' he said hoarsely, and cleared his throat 'I know that your words are wise, and true, yet still I... Let me... Give me time... I must think. You spoke of patience, you must be patient with me.'
   'We do not have time.'
   'What ? What do you mean ?'
   'You are taking me to Tirion tomorrow.'

   Glorfindel gaped at him, the time seemed not to pass at Beech Ridge, only the Light, waxing and waning, silver and golden, changed in the stillness of the trees. They had drifted through the rooms, floated in the pool, stood yelling beneath the icy fountain in the great bedchamber, and fed each other on dainties from the hamper that Glorfindel had brought.    And by the fire, with every appetite sated, they had smiled into each other’s eyes and sung together, in the molten harmony of love. There could be no interruption of their idyll; he frowned at the thought of intruders, and his mind turned to Ingwë. This was his doing, if not for Ingwë they would be wed, there would have been such bliss at Ezellohar that this awful awkward conversation would never have...
   'Curse that interfering elf ! Guards ? The scholars have been here forever, yet no trouble has reached them here !'
   'That may be because there was nothing here to bring trouble.'
   'Well, we brought no treasures !'
   Aistalar was silent, but his pale cheeks burned red. Glorfindel closed his eyes briefly, seeing vividly the ecstasy of release in the lovely face as Taeril took him on the side of the road. Aistalar himself was the treasure here, Glorfindel did not consider himself as part of the treasure, nor wonder at the interest of Ingwë. He took love for granted, for all who met him had been charmed, or at worst polite. 
   'Oh Aistalar, you are the treasure ! I... already I take you for granted.'
   'You took me for granted.' Aistalar smiled warmly at him, and they remembered the garden of the house of Brethil. 
   'I...' Glorfindel found himself in a storm, the winds blew icily around the furnace of his passion, his heart yearned to offer himself to the lovely Aistalar, but still, cold within him, he could not endure Aistalar to have power over him. 'I cannot give you power over me.' he said dully.
   'Power ? What are you talking about ? I have the power to stroke your flesh, this gives you pleasure. Does that make you feel 'taken' or 'overpowered' ?'
   'Sometimes' said Glorfindel with a lover’s smile 'Sometimes when you touch me I feel I shall ignite.'
   Aistalar smiled 'It is only touching. It is all touching. What goes where, that is not important. Shall I tell you a secret ? I love it best when you play with my feet.'
   'Your feet ?'
   'Yes, it is strange, they are most sensitive, and when your hands... Well, the touch is very intense. But what of it ? If I stood over you, and you knelt before me, touching my feet, who would have the power ? I, standing tall over you ? Or you, affecting me deeply with the touch of your hands.'
   'Oh Aistalar you are hurting my mind ! All these difficult questions, I cannot think !'
   Aistalar looked at him, appalled 'We have not broken our fast ! We are hungry ! Come, let us eat, and when you are rested...'
   Glorfindel seized him, pinned him down and kissed him firmly 'When we are rested, I shall still desire only to take you.'
   'And when you are sated, I shall seduce you.'

 

   But their meal was interrupted by the sound of a horn gaily blowing. They looked at each other in surprise, then Glorfindel hurried into some clothes, and to the door. A herald of Finwë was there, with letters.
   'Stars shine upon you Glorfindel, I shall not stay, for others also dwell in the wild, and the mail must move !'
   'Valar guide your steps !' cried Glorfindel, but with a dazzling smile the messenger was gone, and as the soft thud of hooves faded away, Glorfindel looked down at the letters in his hand. There were three for him, and two for Aistalar.
   They read as they ate, Olórin wanted them to dine at his house, Erestor wished them joy, and his sister conveyed love from his parents and many good wishes from friends and neighbours. But her own news had him rise to his feet, and Aistalar gazed up at him in concern, his own letters forgotten.
   'Grim tidings ?' 
   'Why no, my sister is betrothed ! To a wandering bard, a Vanyar, she says' he looked at the letter and sat down, turning the pages 'yes, she says that he found his skills wasted singing to the Valar, and has come down from Taniquetil to carry the echoes of the Music to all the elves.' he looked into the eyes of Aistalar who smiled.
   'Naturally you wish to meet him.'

   There was a long silence. Glorfindel lowered his eyes, his cheeks burning. But Aistalar put out a hand and laid it upon his. They gripped each other tightly and Aistalar said 'Go then, and convey my gratitude to your parents, and my best wishes to your sister.'
   But Glorfindel drew in a great breath 'She asks for the help of my friends and I to build the new wing for her and Nandaro. It will take time. You must come ! But you need have no fear ! My father, as you know, was at Cuiviénen, and my mother loves him. He may... he might... I... he never speaks of it, you see. I wonder, I wonder if seeing you will loosen his tongue... I cannot say. 
   But we live in the country, it is quiet, and you who have looked into the eyes of Ingwë before Ezellohar need fear no blush. Oh, by the stars of Varda ! I have it ! That is why he came ! The worst has already happened, do you see ? Who now shall cause you to blush ?'
   Aistalar rose to his feet and gazed towards the Trees, seeing again the shining eyes of Ingwë 'Do you truly think so ?'
   Glorfindel rose and embraced him 'Who can say ? Such minds are beyond us, he is old, wise, subtle, learned, things that we barely grasp the meaning of. But it is so, he came to you, so, on the road to Ezellohar. He... he showed you your danger, in the kindest way, but he did not forbid you, us...
   Yes. We shall go to Little Gold Tree, we shall help my sister build her home, and you shall hear my father in joy, for finally he has found a musician to accompany him as he sings.'
   'Do we not go to Tirion ?'
   'Yes, we shall set out when Telperion waxes. But soon we shall go home, and my family will agree that you are perfect' he paused to kiss Aistalar 'and it may be that some of those we meet in Tirion will choose to accompany us. I... Should I invite Erestor ? Ecthelion ? Roka ?'
   'Glorfindel, it is a Building ! You must invite everyone you have ever met, and it will be over in hours, and your new family member will sing the Building Song. There will be no time for formalities or social follies ! Have you never been to a Building ?'
   'No, no, we live in the country, there has been nothing built as far as the eye can see.'
   'I helped to build the house of my brother. The joy is unfathomable, truly, and when you see his home, full of light and music, laughter and dancing, and you know that you helped to make it so, then your heart warms as never before !'
   Glorfindel looked at him in silence 'I am a fool. I have thought only of weapons for so long that I have forgotten their purpose.'
   'Yet the eagles of Manwë have mighty talons.'
   'What is the talon without the heart that moves it, or the spirit that directs it ? Let us go to Olórin, let us go now, at once ! He is a wise one, that one, for see, just when I feel most foolish, here is his letter, like a steadying hand on my shoulder.' 
   He rose swiftly to his feet and held out a hand for Aistalar, who looked with regret at their uneaten meal, and thought with regret of their unfinished conversation. Olórin, Tirion and Little Gold Tree; he looked slowly around at the Light through the beeches, listening to the peaceful murmur of the spring and the birds, and sighed for the gentle sweetness of the mountain air.

 

   It was a long ride to the House of Olórin, but they were young and vigorous, and sang as they rode down the steep hillside, through groves of ancient trees dripping with mosses, and open glades where saplings sprang eagerly towards the Light and flowers swiftly bloomed, bright and fleeting til the canopy shrouded them in shadows of deep green. But the Light grew as they drew nearer, and flowers were everywhere, large and gaudy, or fine delicate frills falling like fountains over tree and rock, and host to wheeling, cheeping flocks of many coloured birds and butterflies. Bees danced from bloom to bloom, humming contentedly, and Aistalar looked around him with a smile. 'Oh Glorfindel, Beech Ridge is so beautiful, but here among Yavanna's bounty, well...'
   'I know, but it may be as the dark of Alqualondë, and only when we have been at Beech Ridge among the gentle flowers of the mountain do we see the true richness of the valley.'
   'I am sure you are right. But oh, I am afraid to face Olórin, in any state, much less like this.'
Glorfindel held him tightly for a moment 'He is a Maia, to him, the body is a costume. He would be no more troubled by your skin than he would be by a hound. My fear is how well he sees my naked spirit ! I think he will rebuke me.'
   'No ! I shall forbid it.'

 

   Ecthelion was there, sipping Nectar of Ingwë with a serious elf, as Olórin showed them in, and introduced them. Glorfindel was honoured to meet the famous crafter Curunaco, and tried to express his thought. But Curunaco waved aside his words of praise 'I have designed a new form of joint, I would test it in the building of your sister. It is more complicated than the traditional joint, which suffers from' 
   But Olórin held up his hands 'Please ! We shall speak of such matters as we dine. For now, let us take our ease, for we await another. Faramir the artist comes to draw the perfect elf.'
   They turned to look at Aistalar who blushed, and stammered 'F..Faramir himself ? I... Me ?'

 

   The artist was more grave even than the crafter, setting up his easel and his palette on a side table, with jars filled with bright colours. He ushered Aistalar onto a couch and arranged his limbs, one arm bent on the cushion, the other laid along his hip. 
   'Are you quite, quite comfortable ? You will not fidget ?'
   Aistalar nodded silently, in awe of the famous artist, who smiled at him 'All of Tirion clamoured at my door to see this picture. Do you but sit still and your beauty will be known to all.'
   But Aistalar swallowed and turned to Glorfindel, who smiled at him 'Actors work naked at times, you have seen "The Awakening", it is only flesh, we are all made this way.'
   'No.' said Ecthelion 'No other elf is so perfect. Oh, they say Fëanor, but his neck is thick with bulging muscles, he has forsaken grace, and harmony, without which there is no music.'
   There was a silence. The city was divided, Fëanor inspired a fey loyalty that would brook no counsel, and they were strangers gathered. But Olórin laughed gaily 'Fëanor ! Would that he were here ! There was a time when he would have hastened to be here, in such company; the great artist, the crafter with the inspired new notion for a joint, Ecthelion the scholar, Glorfindel the athlete, and the perfect elf, the muse of the moment.' he sighed 'He would have come, once. But now, it seems, his mind is full with his own schemes, and none shall know aught til he has completed his task. But yes, grace... it is long since he laid aside grace.'
   They were silent, eating the fine delicacies, and watching the artist, who sat and stared at Aistalar for long minutes, then suddenly the charcoal came to life in his hand, and the form of the naked elf appeared, graceful and perfect.

   Glorfindel ate too many of the spicy fritters, the plate was empty when Ecthelion turned to it, but Olórin saw the dismay on Glorfindel's face and uncovered another steaming dish of the golden brown fritters with a triumphant flourish.
   'I have seen you eat these before, young Glorfindel, when you were still clutching at your father’s robe !' 
   'These are as good as my sister makes.'
   'Yes, it is her recipe. And are we here to count among your friends ? For here we are, as supplicants bearing tribute; Ecthelion the engineer, Faramir the artist, Curunaco offering his invention, and I, well, I shall bring spiced fritters ! You look surprised, my dear elf, but why ? Ingwë himself has told you, you are the talk of Tirion, and beyond ! We would aid you in your Building, for it is all anyone will talk of this season, and we would be there ! Besides, I, and Ecthelion, are fond of you, and would wish to aid you though we laboured alone.'
Glorfindel felt his throat close, but he looked around at the friendly eyes smiling at him and smiled, a little tremor wavering his lip for a moment 'I... Thankyou Olórin, thankyou all, I welcome you all, as friends, or as building enthusiasts, or for whatever reason moves you ! The more, the swifter, as the song goes, and how we shall sing !'
   'Will you really let me try the new joint in your building ? I was explaining to Ecthelion' 
Ecthelion nodded and turned to Glorfindel 'May I tell you in simple terms ? The full details... 
Yes ? Well, the joint we use is as a... as the organ of a male, and the opening of a female, and one part fits into the other so. But Curunaco proposes we consider the way the fingers interlock, and cut wood into teeth, or even fans, as the tails of birds. In truth, I must see these joints before I fully grasp them myself, but the principle is sound, and Curumo himself has approved the trial.'
   'Interlocking fingers' said Glorfindel 'Why, it seems so obvious now that you have explained it, I marvel that it was not done long before.'
   Olórin clapped his hands together 'Ah, I can explain that, I think, that the notion was there, but we did not yet have the tools, or the skills to carry out the scheme. Then we settled in our way, and the other way was forgotten. But here are the children’s children of those early crafters, full of questions, and with new ways to answer them. But alas, it will not be until the house of your sister outlasts all other buildings made now that those set in their ways will even consider that your idea might have merit !' he laughed 'But there, we have time, yet.'
   Glorfindel leaned forward and looked at Curunaco 'With new armour, we test it by trying to destroy it, we mimic the attacks of fell beasts, and dint holes if we can. Surely we can mimic the action of time itself, of the wind and the rain, by attacking your joint, and thus show forth its strength ?'
   Ecthelion sat up 'Oh yes ! We could build, for instance, a box, and challenge them to build one, and Glorfindel shall attempt to destroy them both.'
   'No, no, no, not Glorfindel, he would merely stamp on them, it would not be... No, I myself shall test them, here in my courtyard, at the time of your choosing.'