House of the Golden Flower by Anu

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Part One

Written in 2003. Ten Chapters to Part One of Three.

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Chapter One:

I was but a child when my village was destroyed. I woke to flames and the smell of death and blood, and fleeing my bed, managed to safely evade the band of orcs raiding that night. I must truly have been watched over by the Valar, for I was not captured.

Into deepest dark forest I slipped away, hiding myself like an animal, peering out from the cover of night-darkened thicket, my silvery hair in my eyes. I couldn't have been more than twenty at the time, young for an elf.

When day came I searched the rubble and ashes. Everything was destroyed, even the remains of my fellow elves. We had settled here from the mountains, coming from the hidden city when I was a babe at the breast. I did not remember the name of where I was born, and after that night I retained very little of my former memory and intelligence. But I was still keen of wit and my survival instincts strong. I knew only that we had come from the mountains, and so that was where I fled.

It was a long journey to a valley between three mountains with a stream running through it. I stayed there because it was the first place I had not seen men or orcs. There were foul beasts through here from time to time, passing wargs and the like, but here I remained for many years, years that were little more than uncounted seasons.

Then he came. I had forgotten how to speak then, and had not done it in many years. I had still a voice, for I sang and mimicked the animals and gave hunting calls, often singing simply to amuse myself during long afternoons. In all this time, I had no companion, and was fast drawing near the time when I would come of age and not only my hungry mind but hungry body would draw me forth, seeking sation.

If I had, I would have surely been destroyed easily outside of my sheltered valley, for the lands around had become darker and I well knew it. It was summer, and I was keeping watch on the north range of the smaller mountainside, watching a party of eastern men pass by on their own mysterious business when the far-off rush of wind on wings spun me around.

A great eagle passed within a mile of my position in the bare rocks, and as swiftly I ducked in instinctive fear of the great bird, baring my teeth and crouching in the boulders, I knew that its lone rider had seen me.

I knew not what manner of creatures rode such birds, I had never seen either this closely before, and as the eagle wheeled around the pinnacle, returning for another look, I broke cover and fled down the steep mountain path, booted feet slipping on gravel, breechclout and unbraided fall of long blonde hair whipping behind me.

I was desperate to escape, uncaring that I'd been sighted. Going downhill I made very good speed toward the tree line where safety lay, but soon I felt a soft buffet of air from great wings and dove madly off a boulder into the trees below, rolling down the ravine and coming to a stop in the early spring's bushy growth. The eagle screeched its disappointment, sweeping over the treetops. After a bare moment to recover, I fled again, keeping cover.

Beneath the pines there were many clearings, and I raced toward the stream, knowing the thicker brush would hide me best from this brilliant new menace. As I broke cover again and fled for the nearest clump of heavy growth, the bird swooped low enough that I caught a glimpse of its talons, extended to snatch me, and baring my teeth in a hiss, keep my pace. My eyes darted to the rider, little more than fifty feet from me, and I caught sight of shimmering silvery hair, flowing fabric and keen silver eyes before I placed sheltering oaks and pines between us again.

My headlong dashes soon brought me to the safety of my waterside haunts and I cowered there, panting as the eagle wheeled and circled, searching uselessly for me. At dusk eagle and rider departed and I was left alone with my pounding heart and fears.

By dawn I had determined to remain even more hidden in my valley, for it truly was not safe to leave. The winged rider did not come that day, or the next, or anytime after, although I saw glimpses of them sometimes, far to the southwest.

I had begun to forget about him by winter, and spring found me sweating over a hide, tanning the leather to replace my boots when I heard the nightmarish echoing shriek. I fled, and remained hidden deep in an old mallorn for three days, not venturing out even to gather food for myself. When I did, he was gone again, and my leather was sorely ruined. I berated myself for fleeing so foolishly and took up my wooden spear to sharpen upon a rock and hunt some new leather.

He came again in the fall, at dawn, and flew leisurely over the valley all day, pausing in the late afternoon to alight where he had spotted me the first time. Hidden in the treetops, I watched him, noting from the landmarks where he stood that he was taller than I, and larger. From watching the passing east men, I had gathered that I was rather tall, and I stared at him fascinated, munching dried berries and sewing crudely to repair a tear in my winter fur, a task I had left for the long, slow days of summer.

When he took wing again, he circled a while longer, then left just before dusk. I slept well, despite my overpowering curiosity. I was jumpy and nervous all morning watching the skies for him. When he did not appear by noon, I slunk out and went up to where he had settled down. His smell was there, as well as that of the bird, windblown and fresh. I found three bent feathers, stowing them in my clout, and poked about, examining his footprints and trail.

He had searched uselessly for any trace of me, as I hadn't gone up there again since I was chased down, instead using a different lookout point. In the dirt where I had crouched beside the boulder that day, I spotted something shining brightly. I ducked into the shade of the boulder and brushed my hair back, picking up the object. It was a stone in a chain of silver, and I vaguely remembered that my mother, now just a foggy figure in memory, had worn something similar on her wrist. It had been a gift from my father, I recalled disjointedly. The stone was a brilliant blue-green, probably turquoise like the rocks in the bend of the stream near a she-bear's winter den.

I fingered it absently a moment, peering at the fading sky. It was a gift, left here in the outline of my body in the gravel, meant for me, obviously. Yet what would I give in return? I had no beautiful things. Rubbing the stone with my thumb, I gazed at it anew. It was large enough to slip about my neck without undoing the clasp, and so that is what I did. I took up my spear and went back down the mountain in the growing dusk, puzzling over my problem.

I lay awake that night in the soft, thick grass of the gentle incline of the riverbank, my chosen sleeping place for that night, staring up at the bright stars through the black tree limbs. A sudden thought occurred to me. Perhaps a leather belt decorated with bored bits of rock? I had made dozens of rough beads this summer to use on clothes this winter when I would have time to sew. An intricate pattern leapt at me, and with a surge of adrenaline I smiled, laughed aloud, and then turned over in the sweet smelling grass to sleep.

I spent the winter hunched over the long strip of leather, wishing I had measurement of the eagle rider's waist. In the end I simply measured it to my own slim hips at their widest point to be sure it would fit and braided what I did not bead. By spring it was finished, a glittering, smooth marvel of two season's steady work, and I hung it from the inside of the hollow tree that made up my winter home and beamed at it with pride every day. The gift had given me something to do, and I had made many new songs while working on it.

I was pleased, and that feeling did not fade over time, the ache in my shoulders a steady reminder of the thing I had created in my loneliness and search for approval. Eventually spring came and I waited eagerly for him to appear again, stroking the blue, black, white and gray beads every time I saw them, polishing them to a bright sheen. When summer came and he did not, I was nearly heartbroken, and quite disgusted with myself for all this silliness over a petty trinket.

Yet the comforting weight of the necklace against my bare chest was a gentle promise, daily bringing me hope that I was not, indeed, truly alone.

I sighted him in late fall, when snow was already beginning to gather heavily on the slopes. I wrapped myself in my winter furs and set out for the mountainside. I got there at midmorning, when a glance confirmed that the eagle was circling the other ridges near the river. I laid the belt lovingly in the same place, rubbing the necklace where it hung on my bare chest, shivering in the furs. I glanced up, and did not see the bird. Somewhat worried, I fled back to the shelter of the pines, making my way back to the river.

The lowlands were warm, but the wind held the first bite of cold. I dropped into my winter home and slept there, curled in the warmth. When I woke the heat of the old tree was nearly unbearable, but my clothes had dried of the snow I had gathered on them.

I dressed in them and set out again, first checking to be sure that the great eagle and its rider were nowhere nearby. When I arrived at the boulder, there was a neatly folded swath of cloth there. Curios, I picked it up and it unrolled to be a large, thick winter robe, perfectly fitted to my proportions. I held the fine heavy fabric a moment, breathing deeply of its pleasant scent, very like that of the one who had brought it here, the smell that pervaded the area where I was.

Tossing aside my winter furs, I bundled in it and wrapped my furs around it, grateful for the warmth the fine cloth offered. I was pleased, and laughed into the wind, not caring if it carried the musical sound far off. I looked again to see if there was anything else there, and a bit of leather-wrapped paper caught my eye. I sat on my haunches in the snowy gravel and peered at it sadly. For some reason beyond me, it was sad to know I had forgotten how to read, and I wept.

I saved the bit of paper, poring over it long winter days, but it held no meaning for me even unto the day when it finally was lost to me, destroyed by time and the elements. That summer there was a lot of Orc and men activity outside the valley and along its borders, and that fall a band of orcs passed through, scaring off the wildlife for weeks.

I built more spears and braved the danger of exploring a cave that I might have a safe place to hide in, just in case. More seasons, years, came and went as I watched helplessly, defending myself from detection, hiding as the orcs came and built a garrison in the east of my valley, polluting the creek there, tainting the river and the lands they settled.

I forget how long it had been, how many seasons before I woke up one day with the sudden realization that I hadn't seen the eagle and its rider in at least four summers. I worried, and watched. The orcs left after about two summers, and my valley was slow to recover, the lands the orcs had marred seeming heartbroken. Another winter and summer came, and I began to live in my cave more often during winters.

I really wasn't expecting the wargs, and the night they came down from the hills they caught me by surprise. Five of them, one of me, and I only had three spears. Taking what I could easily carry, I left my summer haunts along the stream and fled for my cave. It was folly to fight them, but I preferred to do it on open ground and not in the confines of my cave, where I wouldn't have a chance.

I gave up trying to outrun them and fought, and when the sun rose it found me skinning the third of them, fighting off the carrion eaters, brushing flies from my bound and bleeding right leg. I was stubborn, valuing the large, thick hides more than my health, and when I had dragged all five of them back to my cave, I was dizzy and ill already.

Alone, I lay in the dark on the floor of my cave crying out with fever delirium, sweating and shaking. I didn't know how long it was when I woke, but I managed to drag myself to water and drink. When I woke, I repeated the process. About the fourth or fifth time I woke I managed to bathe my wounds and eat healing herbs, applying what I had chewed but couldn't manage to swallow to my leg.

The next time I woke I felt so much stronger I was able to treat my leg, binding it tighter. There was a livid slice trailing up from my ankle, crossing over my calf and shin, ending below my knee. I had a series of gashes on my upper left arm that were probably from teeth, and the cut on my hip wasn't too serious, although deep.

When I felt well enough to, I walked, and when I was tired, I slept. I hunted when I felt capable, not begrudging myself a few failed efforts.

I attempted to tan the hides, and when winter came I was holed up in my cave, nearly as well as I had been before, and twice as vigilant. Every day I guarded the perimeter of my valley, ate, and slept. It became routine, and almost before I knew it, I began to roam restlessly with spring.

I gave myself release increasingly often, wandered without knowing what I sought and watched for the eagle rider in sheer desperate loneliness. My valley felt small and enclosing for the first time. Two more seasons brought me to the pit of despair. I lay awake at night, biting the back of my hand until blood flowed, screams of pure longing and need for someone, anyone of my shape and form making my throat hoarse.

By day I sat dejectedly in the rocks, watching over my valley. By summer I no longer held back the screams, and walked about at night, wailing in the shaming anguish of my need for intelligent companionship that dwarfed even my sexual desires. Inarticulate shouts welled in me day and night and I let them free, uncaring who heard.

Orcs came and I killed them, beasts came and I killed them, men came and I scared them off, until no one came anymore. Like an animal, I took out my rage on the trees, thrashing each sapling victim until the sight of broken branches scattered about appeased my lonely lust for destruction, my frustrated urges to give and take and please overwhelming.

I created things, weaving baskets and humming, until the finished creations accumulated and got in my way, and I tore them up and tossed them about, angry that nothing could bring me peace. Summer was miserable, long and hot. I began to wish for the end.

An unusually warm autumn day found me lying like a dead thing in the shade of the pines, surrounded by the evidence of my latest sapling foe. An eagle's screech pierced the air, and for once anger and loneliness overcame all other emotion, even desire to survive and fear, so I screamed back in full-voiced, gut-wrenching loneliness, all the pain of a hopeless, tortured soul.

The bird's cry came again, and I replied in kind, sitting up, my eyes tearing in hope and loss and need for companionship. I was near a large clearing, standing quietly, leaning against a pine, tears running down my face when the creature alighted. Its rider prowled about even as I watched, my voice hoarse, my limbs numb with long-desired hope. When he finally turned and sighted me there, he gave pause.

I knew I had grown taller, and I kept my hair roughly cropped at my hips, the robe long years reduced to the breechclout I wore on a slim leather belt like the one I had made him so very long ago. I waited quietly, motionless, eyes dull, for him to approach. He came forward slowly, half crouched, golden hair and silver eyes shining in the early afternoon sunlight. He approached slowly and stopped within four meters of me, standing at the edge of the brush line. He held out a long slim hand and waited, silver eyes searching me.

On an impulse, I stepped forward out of the deep shade into the dappled light. My eyes met his. His mouth twitched, and my loneliness welled again in my gut, and for a moment I thought I would surely howl louder than ever before and drop dead, but I did not, instead I surprised myself, leaping forward and crashing my body against him.

I wanted to hold the solid warmth of another form to my chest and neck, to give the other creature like me my weakness, and I buried my face in his neck, immersing myself in the scent of him even as my weight drove him backwards. I lay atop him; my body pressed against his heavy, solid figure, breathing in the smell of him that went long ways in reassuring me that I was not alone.

I wanted his weight atop me, to be crushed and weak and defenseless to the only one who had ever shown me love or care or even seen me for that matter, and when I rolled onto my back and pulled him atop me I let out a sigh. His weight alleviated the crushing loneliness and I laughed and cried at once in relief. He overcame his startlement and his silver eyes met mine, and I laughed joyously, tears flowing down my face into my hair, and I knew in that moment that I had found him, and with him, I had found myself at last.

Chapter Two:

After our initial meeting, he spoke to me and I was disappointed to have forgotten speech, but what he was able to make me understand was that I was and elf, just as he was, and that I should not live here alone. Hungry for him, I clung to him and agreed to leave my valley, which had grown so small and enclosive I was glad to leave it far behind and go with him to wherever he lived.

He pointed to the sun and to the sleeping eagle in the branches of a nearby tree, and motioned that we must leave. I kept his hand and allowed him to lead me to the bird, which acquiesced pleasantly to our boarding. I was nervous to sit atop the softly feathered predator, but the elf reassured me, sitting behind me with his arms about my bare waist.

Hungry for his touch I leaned back against him, but when the bird took off I reached back and gripped his thighs tightly in fear. He soothed me with gently spoken words so soft I nearly could not hear them, and I calmed for him.

The journey was not long over the hills and mountains; and I was awed by the sight and by the joy of having him with me. Why, I wondered, did I ever run away from him in the first place? I was but a child then, afraid, and I didn't know the power his touch placed on me. Starved for companionship as I was, I was deeply asleep, lulled by his warmth and similarity to myself by the time the bird landed. I woke with a start at not only the alien sound of voices and civilization, but at the suddenness of no longer being in the air.

He moved behind me, getting off the warm, feathered back and I whimpered, uncertain and afraid. He shushed me softly and helped me down, letting me hide against his strong form. The ground was sand under my soft boots, and a quick glance around revealed that we were in another valley, surrounded by brilliantly strange trees. More like us went casually by in the sunset light and I reached out uncertainly to touch the hair of a passing female, earning a giggle from her and small sound of amusement from the man beside me.

A tall four-legged creature the size of a warg walked by, snorting as the bird lifted off, and I immediately clung in fear, wishing for my spear. The elf did not seem alarmed, and began to walk on. I stayed with him, taking his hand and receiving comforting squeezes in response to my jolts of panic.

He took me to the biggest tree-thing and began to walk inside. I balked at the door, eyes wide in fear, feet scraping nervously on the stone underfoot. With a reassuring smile he put an arm around my waist and I leaned into him, willing to be led. He took me through a series of cave-like halls until he came to a room where he seemed to visibly relax. I looked around. The room smelled like him, I supposed this must be his winter home.

He released me and I let him, dropping to a crouch and slinking forward to carefully inspect a massive, strange looking object he had no fear of. When I poked it, it did not react. I wondered over this strange thing while he laughed. I turned to look at him and he pointed and said "Bed." I blinked, and then repeated the word. "Bed?" He pointed to it again, wordlessly. I looked at it. "Bed." I said disbelievingly.

He seemed genuinely amused by this, though I hadn't the faintest idea why.

A door opened, and in came another being. I watched amazed, as they talked together for a moment, looking at me. Then the female, I guessed it to be female, drawing on old memories of what was what from when I was young, left the room laughing softly to herself.

I crept around the room, similarly inspecting the furniture, learning new names for things, candle, bed, closet, fireplace, desk, chair, boots, clothes, and window. But I had yet to learn the name of the most important thing in the room. I turned to him and pointed. His amused smile widened to a grin. "Turgon." He said. "Turgon." I repeated, creeping closer to him, giving a mock impression of my inspection of everything else. "You've got a dramatic streak. Mischievous as all get out, too." He rumbled to himself, but I calmly ignored him, smiling a bit myself.

I touched his mouth with my finger, pointing. "Lips." He said, trying not to move them. I repeated after him, smiling at this new game and pointing to his nose. "Nose." He told me calmly. We went on and soon he was fighting to keep form laughing enough to speak. "Eyes." "Chin." "Ears." "Hair." "Tongue." "Teeth." Finally I spared him some mercy and quit with that game at "Neck.".

Then I asked another important one. I pointed at myself. A sadness came over his face, and he reached out and stroked my long hair absently. "Glorfindel." He named me. I waited. "Golden-haired." He said with finality. I smiled. "Glorfindel. Golden-haired." He pulled me close and I held him tight, savoring the solid warmth of his body. The female returned through the door a moment later, and he abruptly stopped leaning on me, and I nearly fell at the loss of balance.

The woman set a tray of food on the desk and left, and I followed Turgon to the food. There was meat, but it was overcooked and I made a face, which made Turgon laugh. I couldn't help a smile, and wiped my hands on my chest and picked up a smaller bit and tried it. He watched with amusement as I looked about for a place to spit it out.

I wiped my hands and tried some of the fruit-looking stuff, which surprisingly enough did turn out to be fruit. I gathered it all up and sat myself on the cold stone floor, eating happily. Turgon joined me, also eating with his hands. His attempts to teach me while eating failed miserably. When I finished, I wiped my hands on my chest again and smacked my lips.

He pointed to the scar that curved around my right calf and I struggled to describe the wargs with my insufficient vocabulary, and gave up with a sigh, leaning on him again. After a moment he finished eating and returned the gesture of trust, leaning against me with equal measure so that we held one another upright.

It began to grow very dark in the room and I began to feel drowsy. Turgon sat me up, and stood. I followed suit, watching curiously as he lit a fire in the fireplace. I had seen orcs and men with fire, and was awed by the warmth. He left me sitting on the hearth, impressed by the flickering heat and went into the adjoining room for a while. When he returned he motioned me to follow, and so I rose and did so.

The room was large, with a pool of water set into the floor. When I had looked in here earlier this pond had been empty. Now it was full of clear water. I knelt beside it and touched the water. It was pleasantly warm, like a ditch in summer. I tasted the water. Fresh, clear and pure. I looked over at Turgon curiously. "Bath." He said. I nodded and stood.

He began to get undressed, and so I followed suit, guessing the intent of the water. He got in first, easing down into a sitting position with a sigh. I stepped down into it, surprised to find it at mid-thigh. It hadn't looked this deep. I sat down beside him, scrubbing at my skin with my hands, having no sand on hand to aid me. Amused, he handed me a flat, slippery bar that smelled pleasant and tasted disgusting. "Soap." He said, laughing at my confusion.

"Soap?" I asked him. "Yes. Let me show you." He said, holding out his hand. I refused to relinquish the prize. He could just get another wherever he got this one. He sighed and took the soap, my hand still firmly attached and scrubbed and my chest, then at his own, rinsing it off and trailing my fingertips over the area. I was surprised to find the skin cleaned there. "Soap!" I said joyfully and started scrubbing at myself in earnest, then him. He allowed it, laughing too hard to refuse much. Only when I had used it all was I satisfied, and huddled down into the water, content.

He got out, wrapping his body in a towel and handing me one as well. I stepped out and took the towel, sighing softly as the entire day caught up with me all in one moment. My head hurt and I rubbed my eyes, yawning. He led me back into the room and tried to make me lay on the bed but I refused stubbornly, getting off it every time he turned and attempted to dress.

He sighed exasperatedly, jerking on a pair of sleep pants and laying down on the bed, pulling the covers over himself. "Nice. Good. See?" He patted the place beside him. Dubiously, I dropped the towel and clambered in, shivering at the coolness of the cloth and huddling against Turgon. If he minded, he didn't let on and I settled happily beside him.

I was asleep in five minutes, not missing the cool autumn night and the dried summer grass that would have made up my bed this night in favor of Turgon's warmth, smell, and closeness. For the first time in years, I slept, and as I dozed off, I puzzled a funny thing. I hadn't howled like an animal or felt the aching loneliness since that first touch beneath the pines. It was peace, this new sensation, and I was happy.

Chapter Three:

I woke at dawn, as was my long habit, and lay very still, surrounded by new sights, smells, and sounds, fearful for a moment. Then Turgon moved beside me in his sleep and I remembered the previous day's events. I looked at him contentedly, smiling at how his hair flowed about him in his sleep, how his fingers and lips twitched.

I bent down to press my lips to his neck just below his ear a moment, then rose and went to look out the window. It was day now, the sun just rising over the mountains. This valley was far larger than my own, and a veritable fortress of rock and sky. Among the strange tree-like things people moved, going about their daily occupations, singing and talking and laughing.

Curios, I halfway longed to join them.
Behind me, I heard the change in breathing that signaled Turgon was awake, and when I turned around to look at him, he was searching the bed desperately. He met my eyes and sighed in relief to see me there. I gave him a small secretive smile and turned back to the window, admiring the busy life below as much as the sun on my bare skin that I was currently basking in.

He came to stand behind me, looking out, seeing what I saw and trying to see it through my eyes. Considerately, he pointed things out to me and named them. I learned more words. House, elves, men, women, maidens, horses, market, singing, laughter, speech, talking, pigs, cattle, rooster. With a soft smile he turned me away from the window at last and pulled out pants, tunics and robes, and laid them on the unmade bed. He then pointed to them with a long thin finger.

"Clothes." He said, and there was a note of determination in his voice. I didn't quite understand, so he began to dress in another set of them, explaining items of clothing as I put them on. I learned pants, shirt, boots and robe. We then set out of the room together, hand in hand by way of encouragement. We were not five strides from the door before I grew tired of the hindering robe and took it off, throwing it back into the room.

Turgon seemed to be hiding a smile and I glared at him, fighting the high and tight collar on the shirt. His clothes were too big for me in some places, others not. The shirt was drawn tightly over my chest and shoulder and arms, but the waist of it fell loose and too long. The pants were a bit small in the thighs and buttocks, seeing how I was more muscular than he, if slightly shorter.

He led me to a large room where several people were gathered, apparently waiting for us to eat. They rose when he entered and I cowered behind him at the sudden movements, not understand honoraries yet. He motioned for everyone to be seated and dragged me, resisting mildly to the table, seating me beside a woman at his right hand. Everyone was staring at me, and feeling a defensive urge to bare my teeth and growl at them, I resisted it because I somehow got the feeling that Turgon would not appreciate it. These people talked to one another and to Turgon, and I dared glance up and met the silver eyes of an elf who smiled at me kindly before looking away.

The woman beside me was very beautiful and graceful, and openly curios about me, and thus I took care not to look at her directly. Midway through the rather simple midmorning meal of fruit and light meats and breads by choice Turgon noticed my shyness and how I kept my eyes averted and my body in a defiantly defensive stance.

He reached over and nudged my hand so that I looked at him, and pointed with his chin at the silver-haired elf across the table from me. "Ecthelion." He said. I dared look at the other elf then, repeating the name. "Ecthelion." He smiled on one side of his mouth at me, and Turgon nudged me again. I refrained from using my hands to point as I said my own name, the name Turgon had given me and called me. "Glorfindel." I said, careful to reproduce the word just as I had heard it.

The woman beside me turned halfway in her chair to look at me and despite myself my eyes darted up to hers. "Idril." She introduced herself, and then pointed gracefully at Turgon over her shoulder. "My Adar, Turgon." I remembered 'my', from the times that Turgon had said the word, and realized it claimed ownership. I did not understand her other word, but Turgon was mine, he had saved me long ago, the first time I saw him and he had brought to me the knowledge that other creatures like myself existed in the world.

I narrowed my eyes at her, and repeated the word with defiance and ownership lacing my voice. "My Turgon." It was childish and immature, but uneducated as I was; I was not stupid or childish. I truly believe, even to this day, that I was the first to recognize what we had.

Ecthelion, Turgon and Idril all laughed at that, a light cheery sound. I would have joined them had the circumstances been different, but I sat silent and still until they had finished their laughter. Idril turned to speak to me again and I rose and fled like the wild thing I was, unable to understand anything and very afraid of all the risky unknowing I felt around them all, the entire situation smacking of danger to me.

I fled to where the outside called strongest and found myself in a high-walled garden, and scrambled up an oak tree. No one came after me for quite a while, an hour I judged by the sun, and Ecthelion crept upon me so silently that I was sitting alone in the tree one moment, and the next looking into a gentle, noble pair of silver eyes.

Startled, I jumped up and swung my leg out at him with bone-crunching force, but he caught my ankle easily and hung me upside down and flailing from the tree. When I finally gave up fighting him and hung still, he lifted me back up and set me on the branch. I glared at him. He gazed coolly at me. "You're angry because you don't understand them, and because they don't understand you." He said flatly, stating the obvious.

I did not understand his words, but I knew his tone, even on that unfamiliar voice I picked out the honesty and understanding that he showed in the depths of his shining eyes. I nodded, the only sign of agreement I could give at all. He laid an arm over my shoulders and said no more, for I wouldn't have understood it. He was pleasant company, and I sat with him until the heat of the day reminded me of my hunger and that the tree was a very uncomfortable place to sit for so long.

I climbed down, and he followed me. I wandered the halls for hours, Ecthelion simply shadowing me, making sure I was left alone. By night I had mapped out the entire lower floor of the palace tower, and I turned to Ecthelion, tired. "Turgon." I said softly to the silver-haired one and he took my hand and led me back up the halls to Turgon's rooms, allowing me to see where we were going and to memorize the way.

When we reached the rooms, he knocked, and getting no answer, entered. Turgon was there, already in bed asleep. He woke when Ecthelion cleared his throat, standing at the foot of the bed. "Have you found him?" he asked, worried. I stepped into the light from the window and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the Valar for you, Ecthelion." Ecthelion nodded and I released his hand and took off the shirt and toed off my boots, crawling into bed beside Turgon with no hesitation whatsoever.

I lay there and listened to them speak, interested by the pitch and tone of their voices as much as the words, which I swiftly committed to memory, recognizing their tense and use from Turgon's having aided me already.

"Isn't he a little young for you, Turgon?" Ecthelion asked.

"He is of age, I'm sure of it. Thorondor's sons sighted him in that valley more than thirty years ago. Besides, I'm only teaching him to live on his own." Turgon defended himself.

"But he is as naïve and innocent as a child of ten. And he does not understand or speak, neither the forbidden language nor Sindarin. It is folly, Turgon."

"I will teach him. And I will not touch him until he comes to me as the man he is."

"Have I your promise?"

"You have it, and my word of honor is as good as your own."

With that Ecthelion left the room, closing the door behind him and Turgon looked over at me. I smiled sleepily at him and burrowed into the pillow. The whole bed smelled like him, and I found it most pleasant. He lay down after a moment and was asleep at nearly the same time as I was. This day had brought me Ecthelion, a man who was concerned for my honor as well as my emotional well-being.

Chapter Four:

Morning brought me Ecthelion again, just after dawn when Turgon and I had risen and were dressing. I would have worn the same clothes I had the previous day but for Turgon, who made me take them off and put on different ones. I really didn't see the point of the exercise, but I supposed I could wear clean clothes to satisfy him. I hadn't got the ones of the day before too dirty, and had partially restrained myself from wiping my hands on the chest of the white shirt repeatedly throughout the day.

Ecthelion tapped at the door and Turgon opened it, and they talked together for a moment while I was putting on my boots. When I rose and joined them at the door Turgon motioned that I was to go with Ecthelion. I did so, and we parted ways as we had before. Ecthelion allowed me to roam the halls with my eyes, familiarizing myself with the house as we went, but not allowing me to tarry.

He led me to a large room where cloth was stored and woven and spun, and elf maidens tittered at Ecthelion and I, much to my embarrassment. I was then measured by one of them for clothes, having to pull Turgon's clothing taut so she could get as accurate as possible without making me take them off. Turgon's shirt was so much smaller in the shoulders-not that he was small-that I had to remove it in the presence of the ogling maidens and Ecthelion.

Luckily enough, Turgon's legs and mine were much the same in length, although mine were far different in musculature. His pants were tight across my thighs down near the knee and loose in the seat. After the ordeal of being fitted for clothes, Ecthelion took me downstairs for the midmorning meal. Once again I was seated at Turgon's right hand beside the lady Idril and Ecthelion was a reassuring presence across from me.

We were pretty much the only ones there, seated all at one end of a massive banqueting table. There were a few people down at the end but I dared not glance at them. I was nervous with Idril beside me, but she ignored me calmly and I managed to survive the meal, even eating a little in the lady's dauntingly beautiful presence.

After we had eaten, Turgon and Ecthelion spoke to one another again and I strained to hear and understand what they said, but caught very little of it. Once again, I went with Ecthelion when we left the hall.

He took me upstairs then, and let me roam as I pleased, following me, aiding me the few times I got lost. By noon I had been over the entire palace tower and knew my way around, I had learned where Idril's rooms were, where Turgon's were, found Turgon in his study and gave him a smile in passing, explored the nooks of various rooms, and being hungry again, turned to Ecthelion, who had been keeping up a steady stream of naming-words all morning.

I touched my stomach through the loose shirt and he seemed to understand without further explanation. Quite possibly he was as hungry as was I. He touched his own belly. "Stomach." He explained. "Hungry, inside. Yes?" I grinned at him. "Yes. Very." He seemed surprised at the new word.

In truth, I was picking up language far more quickly than Ecthelion had anticipated, and when the mild shock wore off as we were walking down to the dining hall, he tried to see just how much I knew. When we reached the dining hall he seemed satisfied, and sat me down at the table where Turgon, Idril and the guests at the end of the table were already eating. He talked animatedly with Turgon while he ate, sharing glances with me. I pretended not to notice that I was being talked about, and tried some of the white meat one of the servers had put on my plate. It was better than anything I'd ever had before and I was allowed to have as much as I pleased.

Such indulgence was a new thing for me and I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes when I was full. "Good." I told Turgon with a lazy smile. He laughed at me and returned the smile. I risked a glance at Idril, and she was eating and talking to a woman beside her, ignoring me entirely. Ecthelion was digging into his food with the abandon of a dwarf, and I sighed and relaxed, quite happy and content to be thus entirely ignored.

After the meal I allowed Ecthelion to lead me to a library we had found earlier, suppressing a few yawns. I'd eaten more since I met Turgon than I often ate in a week back in my valley, where game and vegetation were scarce enough I had to be careful to mete them out, lest I destroy the entire supply. In the library Ecthelion picked out a book and draped himself over a sofa, and I joined him.

With the book propped on his bent knees and me leaning my back against his shins, we sat like that until the light grew poor at dusk. He read aloud, and I drowsed in the sound of his voice, absorbing the vast amount of words poured into me. When it began to grow dark he closed the book and tapped my shoulder to signal me to get up, and laying the book back on the shelf where he had gotten it, he took me back to Turgon's rooms.

I was asleep when Turgon crawled into bed beside me, and I rolled into his warmth and buried my face in his neck. We slept thus in one another's arms until dawn came, and with it, another day of learning.

Chapter Five:

The next day, Ecthelion did not come, and I did not see him until the midmorning meal. After we had eaten, Turgon and Ecthelion took me outside, past the stables where there were more of the menacing horse-things for me to shy away from, to an area set apart for weapons practice and the like.

Ecthelion and Turgon spoke a moment, then Ecthelion darted off and returned with a spear. He handed it to me, and I looked at Turgon, confused. He pointed at a target roughly the size of a deer a little ways off. I understood, and hefting the spear I found that it was lighter than the ones I had made and were used to and would probably fly further. I stepped back until I was a bit out of range to make up for the lightness of the weapon, aimed, and threw.

The spear sailed through the target and embedded itself in the ground at an angle, target attached. It was the way I had developed to hunt, spearing the animal and rooting it to the ground until I could creep up and finish it off.

Turgon and Ecthelion seemed impressed and I accepted a second spear from Ecthelion and drove it all the way through a twenty-year pine. Turgon gave me an unreadable look and pulled on the spear, trying to wrest it free. I joined him and he stepped away. I laid one foot on the trunk beside the spear and gave it a good pull. It slid free and I handed it to Ecthelion, still friction hot and polished smooth. He grinned at me.

Turgon then drew his bow and proceeded to impress me with is archery skills. Ecthelion and Turgon then drew practice swords and sparred while I watched admiringly. Their undertakings to teach me bow and sword were laughable, but by the time we quit for evening meal I had stopped using the bow backwards.

Turgon and Ecthelion led me to a nearby hot spring; apparently its purpose was to serve as a bath for those who had used the practice arena. As we left two more elves took our place there and began sparring after a bow and nod to Turgon. The bath was simple, little more than a roofless enclosure around the small spring that steamed in the fading afternoon's coolness.

Following their example I stripped and got in, easing down into the hot water and coming to sit beside Ecthelion on an underwater shelf. I turned and noted Turgon watching with...anger? He broke eye contact and got in, scrubbing himself swiftly, taking no time to relax and sprawl as Ecthelion was doing beside me, his hair trailing in the water, swirling and eddying with mine.

Turgon was angry. With me? With Ecthelion? Ecthelion seemed unconcerned and was apparently ignoring us both, washing himself. It had to be me then. What had I done? I sank down to my chin in the water, washing myself with the sand at the bottom, as did they. Turgon fairly leapt form the tub and hid himself in a towel. Warily I followed suit only to have a towel thrown at me. Ecthelion, still lounging in the tub got a face full of towel for not catching quickly enough.

Turgon dressed quickly and stomped off, and Ecthelion and I were rushed to keep up with him. He slowed as we neared the doors and Ecthelion laced his boots and I finished fastening my shirt. Our clothes weren't too dirty from the work, and at least we were clean. It would be good enough to race up to our rooms and change. The last I saw of Turgon before he vanished at the top of the steps were his booted feet, somehow carrying his anger and stomping ever so slightly.

I didn't see him again until dinner, for when I went up to his room, he wasn't there, a truly puzzling thing. I dressed myself in whatever would feel decently enough, dried and brushed out my hair, then went down to the dining hall, only getting lost twice on the way and finding my way there without help.

Ecthelion looked as pleased as I when I sat in my usual seat and gave him a grin that announced my triumph. Turgon kept his eyes to himself all evening, as if he were afraid of me...or just angry with me. Again, I wondered what I had done wrong.

Idril's palm brushed into my left hand that was resting on my thigh and for a moment it felt almost like a reassuring caress. I looked at her sharply out of the corner of my eye, but the act was not repeated and I could discern nothing, not even concern.

I went to bed that night wondering how I could ever have thought of life here as somewhat simple, to be explained away by a single word. Turgon. He lay away from me that night on the very edge of the bed, with a pillow over his head and the blankets arranged like a wall between us. If I weren't so daunted by his sudden change of attitude I would have worried about him falling off the bed. As it was, I wouldn't have minded if he had, maybe it could knock some sort of sense into him.

I restrained my foot all night, fairly itching to kick him off just to hear him go thump on the floor and maybe start acting like the person I knew again.Chapter Six:

By the time the first snows fell, it was I who was reading the book aloud and leaning on Ecthelion’s shins, while he braided my hair and helped me when I got stuck on some of the words. Even as I was learning to speak and to read from Ecthelion, as well as the virtues of friendship and honor; from Turgon I was learning statesmanship and horsemanship - the latter of which was much to my dislike.

When I had the words to tell them that I disliked horses because they reminded me of both men and wargs, Turgon seemed amazed that I had killed five of the beasts myself the year before he came for me. Ecthelion had his doubts, but I assured them it was true, and having learned honesty and truth from these two, they believed me in time.

Turgon also queried me endlessly over my oldest memories, those of my family. Beyond the hideous memory of burned buildings and dead silver eyes, there was enough quality memory left for him to determine that I may have been born in Gondolin during the time it was being built, or possibly in Dorthonion. He made guesses at my age, none of which I ever took to heart, saying ‘Turgon thinks me to be one hundred, so one hundred I am’. Thus I still consider myself as ageless, having grown up in a valley where there was no time or others.

Beyond the fact that he knew me to be an adult by how long ago I had been spotted by eagles less bold than the one who had borne him to my valley, we never pursued finding out anything solid of my past. It was enough that I was here, that I was alive, and that I was not alone.

I befriended Idril that fall, taking her out for walks and talking with her, and she allowed me to pursue her to get over my shyness. When the first frosts came we were the closest of friends, and it was with she that I shared my secret heart, and she shared hers with me. We were close friends, different from Ecthelion and I, for Ecthelion was Turgon’s friend before mine. It was she who taught me to understand familial relationships again, and without her kind patience I would never have understood. Somehow she knew how to tap into the long forgotten memories and call up the proper reactions and answers from me.

At the beginning of winter Turgon gave me my own set of rooms near Ecthelion’s, but I slept in his more often than not, despite his encouragements for me to get out and live on my own. At midwinter things came to a head when he stormed into the study where I was sitting alone, reading.

"Glorfindel."
"Yes?" I looked up from my book.

"You are to sleep in your own rooms from now on. People are beginning to talk. You are very beautiful, and it’s altogether too easy for rumors to spread that you are my consort."

I snorted softly, incredulous. "Mellon-nin, people would believe that? Of you?"
"Yes. I am not just a King, Glorfindel; I am a man as well. It would be entirely too easy to believe."

I hung my head. "I’m sorry." I apologized.

"Don’t be." He said, sitting next to me on another chair. "Perhaps it would help if you chose a lovely young man or maiden for company this winter? There are not many who would refuse you."

I just looked at him, confused.
"You don’t mean that...by the Valar Glorfindel, you really have no clue, do you?"
I kept up my steady gaze and raised a brow at his latest manifestation of odd behavior, genuinely ignorant.

He wrung his hands and got up. 'I’ll ask Ecthelion to...explain to you about...attractions and desires...all right?"

I stood as well. "What in Arda are you talking about, Turgon? I have no idea what you are referring to."

"Yes, well, um, ah, I know you don’t. That’s why Ecthelion is going to explain to you. As soon as I can find him." He replied, strangely edgy, and darted out the door before I could stop him. Shaking my head, I returned to my book and couch, concluding that Turgon was a genuinely strange man.

Ecthelion arrived within the hour, looking as dodgy as Turgon had. I felt like smacking him when he stuttered for the fifth time in a single sentence. I grabbed his arm and hauled him to Idril. If anyone could figure this out and explain it to me, she could. After patiently listening to Ecthelion’s stuttering version of what Turgon had asked, demanded and later ordered of him, she laughed.

Ecthelion fled and I was left in the capable hands of my closest friend to learn about the complexities of life. Needless to say, her explanation was thorough, brief and required no anatomical studies or demonstrations, and at the end of the hour I sat tied to a chair to keep from fleeing just as Turgon and Ecthelion had, quivering like a traumatized elfling.

"Why? Why?" I asked, near-sobbing. "That’s disgusting, why do they do it? Who would want to do such a thing?" Again she laughed, and gave me a discreet explanation of the pleasure involved in the act of reproduction, using my assumed self-releases as an example. Her explanation of same sex couplings was just as brief, and when she untied me from the chair to distract me with a brisk ride on horseback, I all but fled down to the stable, preferring my dreaded four-legged foes to ideas about simpering maidens.

By dinnertime I had forgotten most of the trauma of the afternoon, but at the meal both Turgon and Ecthelion avoided my eyes, embarrassed. Idril chattered to me about something mundane, like weaving or some such, but I was too busy picking at my food and trying not to think about the fact that Ecthelion and Turgon seemed as traumatized as I about the whole ordeal. I wondered briefly if Turgon minded his daughter having been the one to...explain things, but the look of relief on both their faces suggested otherwise.

As soon as the last course was done, I fled, as did the other two. Idril’s giggles chased us up the stairs, where we three fled in opposite directions, far less than dignified.

For a while the issue was carefully avoided, but Turgon was the one who brought it up again. We were out riding in the foothills when he said out of the blue "You know, if you get too lonely this winter you can always find yourself a companion." At my glare he said quickly "I’m just saying that because I want to be sure you know I have no claim over you."

I pulled even with him and looked at him out of the corner of my eyes as I said "What if I didn’t mind a claim over me by you?" He made no sign of having heard me, but I knew he had. He had been a good friend to me for a long time, and riding in the winter snow with him that day, I realized what I had meant in jest was really true. I wouldn’t mind in the least, anymore than that, I realized, I would like it. Probably too much.

I wondered vaguely if he returned my affections.
That winter I took no companion, and nor did he. It was as if we were testing one another, trying to guess at each other’s hearts without revealing our own. I spoke to Idril about it. As ever, she was full of good advice, which I took to heart. When the first buds appeared in spring, she suggested that I break the impasse.

I agreed, although it was against my better judgment, and for Idril’s sake I came to her on the day of the First of Spring and let her dress me for the feast. She trimmed my hair at the top of my hips; brushed and braided it out, then selected clothes for me of the extensive wardrobe her father had seen to that I owned. I asked her teasingly if she thought it was a bit strange that she was dressing up an elf much younger than herself to court her father. She hit me with the hairbrush and so I held my tongue.

I felt effeminate, having her dress me, but when she drug me in front of the mirror, I have to admit I looked good. My formal robe hung and fell just right, and I had finally gotten my new boots broken in. My hair shone in a long fall over my arms, and there was no trace of the wild clout-clad elfling left in the tall nobleman standing there in the mirror. I moved, and it was something of a shock to see myself as such a different person than I knew myself to be tucking his hair behind his ears, my habit even in wild years.

Idril appeared behind me, leaning on my shoulder. "You look wonderful. How can he not like you as you like him? Smile, Glorfindel, and you’ll have him." I looked uncertainly at her blue gray eyes in the mirror, apprehensive. She grinned. I worried.

Chapter Seven:

"No! Idril, I can’t go out there, please! The noble houses are there, and the people. I can’t!" I protested, hiding at the top of the stairs.

She scowled at me. "Get your ass out here Glorfindel, or I shall have to do something truly horrible to you in public with polite decorum."

I stepped forward, and hesitated. Hers was no simple threat; she both could and would do something horrible to me in public while smiling pleasantly and sipping wine, talking about this year’s harvests or about a new weaving pattern. "Now." Her tone was dark. Blushing, I leapt to her side and halfway hid behind her.

"You can’t escort me down the stairs hiding behind me, you fool." She teased, taking my hand. I straitened my shoulders and took her arm, leading her down the stairs with perfect grace that belied my emotional state. "You’ll be alright." She assured, petting my hand with hers. I calmed somewhat, and then we reached the apex of the stairs and everyone turned to stare. I clutched my friend’s hand very tightly and resisted the urge to close my eyes, growl savagely out of gritted teeth and flee back up to my rooms.

I focused on the act of simply breathing and fixed my eyes on an invisible spot above the heads of the semi-formally scattered nobles in the Great Hall. "Why do they stare so?" I whimpered out of clenched teeth. "Because we are very beautiful and graceful, and because you will win my father’s heart this night, that is why. Take no heed of them Glorfindel, I will be with you as long as you need me." She soothed softly for my ears alone as we reached the main floor.

Turgon was talking with a nobleman over by the fountain in the garden; I could see him through the opened doors. One look at his familiar profile and I relaxed. This was nothing more than an annual social event. Why then, was I so afraid? Perhaps because I’d spent most of my life living alone in complete and utter isolation? Yes, that must be it, I told myself sarcastically.

Idril poked me. "Stop being so rude to yourself." She said softly, amused. "How do you know I am?" I countered. She grinned and leaned close for ease in whispering. "You’re the only person I’ve ever met who talks to themselves, both in and out of their heads. Unfortunately, you also tend to beat yourself up, which I must intervene in, because you are far to good a friend to me to allow such debasement." She leaned away from me abruptly to greet a group of noblewomen who approached us, and I suffered their introductions and roving eyes, oddly comforted to have such a friend as to champion me from even myself.

I trusted her. If she’d protect me from myself, then she’d protect me from anybody, and if she said that her father returned my feelings but was just as constipated about showing them, then I believed her. If she thought it was a good idea for me to pursue him, then as far as I was concerned, it was. Idril had had my complete trust from the day she allowed me to seek her out as a friend instead of the opposite. Idril was wise. I was in awe of her.

"Well, hello then." The soft voice came from somewhere in the vicinity of my elbow, and looking down I saw it belonged to a slight maiden with a long train of golden waves. I looked at Idril nervously, for she was still attached to my arm but not paying much attention to me. "Hello." I managed to work out in a fairly normal voice. People who were able to sneak up on me were not high on my list of favorite things.

"I’m Adeline of the House of the Second Star. And you are?" She asked smoothly, her turquoise eyes roving my body.
"Glorfindel. Just Glorfindel." I told her.
"Oh. Well Glorfindel, are you the Lady Idril’s catamite? I wasn’t aware that she had taken one." There was insult in that, a barb at Idril’s purity and I noted it and held my tongue. "No, my good lady, I’m afraid I’m simply a guest of the King’s house."
"Ah." She replied, and began doing odd things with her tongue inside her mouth. I looked away, uncomfortable.

Idril eventually came around and rescued me from the overbearing presence of Adeline and a few of her companions. As she steered me into the massive formal dining hall for the feast, she whispered slyly "Don’t heed them. The House of the Second Star is full of pretty faces and empty minds." I took comfort in that, and led her to her seat.

I glanced over to see that Ecthelion was showing an avid interest in a particular young woman, and when he saw me looking at them he smiled and winked, before resuming his polite fawning at her feet. Turgon seemed distant again, as he had been lately. I worried for him. He didn’t look at me. I sent Idril a despairing look and she merely smiled enigmatically and resumed eating.

After the meal there was more socialization and dancing, which I stubbornly refused to join, by was pawed over anyway by the likes of Adeline and those of similar mind. Disgusted, I fled while Idril was claimed for a dance, having had enough of this ‘nobility’.

I was halfway up the main staircase when a hand on my upper arm brought me up short. I whirled with a glare that should have sent the person running. Turgon neither ran nor released my arm. "Glorfindel, where are you going?" He asked me. "Away." Was my surly reply.
"Why?"
"Them. They’re not nobility, they have hardly the restraint of animals." I fumed.
"Do not insult my guests." His tone was warning, but I could see by his eyes that he was amused. My mood softened. He laid his hand about my shoulders and I allowed the contact. "Come, or I fear you’ll disappoint all the young maidens, especially Adeline." He told me softly, conspiratorially.

"What a shame." I huffed. "Come now, she could give you one night of passion, if nothing else. I think it would do you good. You have become entirely too stodgy lately for my tastes." The nerve of him. I ripped loose of his hold. "I want nothing to do with that woman or any other. I see no point in raising their hopes for something they shall never have. Do you want to know the truth of it?" I asked angrily.
"Yes Glorfindel, I want the truth." His voice was intense.
"No you don’t." I said, and fled up the stairs, angry with the spectators gathered in the main room, watching the action on the stair.

He gave chase and slammed me into the wall just around the corner, out of sight in the shadows and pinned me there bodily. "Yes I do. I will have the truth from you, even if I have to beat it out of you." He threatened, voice blowing warm on me, his body tucked close. I leaned into him. "The truth is that I don’t want them. Any of them. I never did. There was only one I ever wanted, from the day he first flew overhead on an eagle’s wings, even in the years when I waited him to come every single day, the hope that he would fly over again all I lived for. When he asked me to come with him, I did, and now that I’m here with him I cant figure out if he’s angry with me or afraid, and I’m starting to think it’s more the latter. Now, I dare you to tell me the truth." I told him defiantly, and an unreadable expression came into his eyes.

"You don’t want me Glorfindel. You, who are beautiful and young and strong and so very, very innocent, how could you possibly ever want me? I have a daughter older than you. I’m the king of a realm I built in the mountains. I’m a coward, Glorfindel, hiding away here, and you want me? I sincerely doubt you know what you’re asking for." I caught his face between my hands. "I know what I want Turgon, and nothing shall ever stop me from it."

"Tell me, tell me what you want." He rasped, eyes searching mine desperately.
"You. You forever, for as long as I live. I give you my heart and my body, for I owe them all to you already." I told him, my lips hovering over his, my eyes searching the depths of his changeable, wondrous eyes. He pulled his arms around me, held me close. "As I want you, Glorfindel. But I fear, I fear for you, I fear that this will cost you your heart and body, this ridiculous pursuit of such a man as me." He warned, and then bent his head and touched his lips to mine, warm and soft. He pulled back, and looked at me. We held one another at arm’s length a long moment, regarding one another, and then he whispered "This will be highly unseemly of me, but I find I cannot resist taking you off to my bed, right now, this very instant." I laughed at him, even as he took my hand and dragged me off to his room with shared joy in our hearts.

Chapter Eight:

He took me to his bed and lay me down, lying full length atop me, his weight pressing on my ribs and hips pleasantly. I relaxed under him, and wrapped my arms about his waist, kneading the long lean muscles in his back, spreading my legs and letting his settle between them. I wasn’t exactly sure what to do, Idril’s descriptions were pleasantly brief and I was in no mood to think of the sheer horror involved with her course of education.

I wanted to kiss him again, the last one had been nice, and so I leaned up and did so. His hands stroked my face and neck and I kissed him gently, opening my mouth and daring to lick his lips. He opened for me, and I was surprised but plunged ahead, more curious than afraid. His mouth was warm and wet, tasting faintly of wine and dinner and something else, something as unique and soothing as his smell, as his body. I liked it. I wanted some more.

I kissed his upper lip, licked along it, all down his mouth and jaws, inching my way toward his ears as he did the same to whatever I gave him to reach. I worked my way down the thick strong cords of his neck when I came to his shirt collar, I nipped him and pushed it aside to taste the warm skin of his collarbones. He moaned above me and moved off, kneeling between my legs and pulling his robes off over his head. I watched in fascination as he began to fumble with the buttons.

Well, I wanted to see. He’d have to get another shirt. I sat up and grabbed hold of the lapels, ripping it off with a satisfying noise. I gave it another jerk and it parted all the way down the front. I ran my hands over his chest, playing with his nipples, surprised by the sounds he made when I did. I jerked off my robes and shirt, him helping, and tried my own, continuing to play with his. It didn’t work until he reached for me and did it, then my skin grew hot and hungry under his touch, as if what wasn’t being touched was jealous of what was.

I became suddenly aware that I was very hard. I reached down and checked to see if he was. He was hot in my hand through the fabric of his pants, thick and heavy like my own. I caressed him idly and he moaned. I replied in kind without thinking, and his hands slid off my bare chest to my aching member. I threw his shirt off him with my free hand, and then began work on his pants, tearing some of the fastenings. I wanted it, and I wanted it now. Time for slow and easy later.

He likewise made haste in removing mine, and when they were down and his hands were on me, I cried out loudly. Then it was his turn to yell as my hands found the hard, sleek upward curve of his erection. I looked at it in awe for a moment, and then began caressing his thighs with one hand, still holding my prize. He got the message and began rubbing my belly, reluctant to let me go to pull his pants off. We let go at the same time and jerked them off quickly, then returned to the bed and lay side by side. I reached for him again, cupping his balls in one hand and heat in the other. So much like my own, so very different. I loved him already, and it was natural that I decided that I liked this very much.

I began to pull in gliding strokes the same way I always had my own, and got the favor returned. With a soft gasp, I did to him my favorite tricks, and he did to me his. I learned that he liked it a little rough, and that he liked to be squeezed tight. I could have come just from him looking at me, but this was a much better way to do it. We both were ready and our mouths met as our hands sped up, until we were thrusting and bumping our knuckles together. I came in his hand, my shout lost as his brilliant tongue tangled with mine in the heat of our shared mouth.

He came next, sticky heat splashing my hand. He moaned long and loud into my mouth and I couldn’t resist the urge to laugh satedly. He smiled tiredly at me, and massaged my softening member with what was in his hand, rubbing my belly. I rubbed his thighs, feeling comforted. At last, I thought, at last.

I curled against his body to rest, lying awake in his scent and warmth that had suddenly taken new meaning. He held me close, and I rubbed his thighs and buttocks in slow circles until I fell asleep, my hand slack on his hip, sticky and comfortable.

Chapter Nine:

I woke to his eyes. I smiled. "Hello."
He smiled back tenderly. "Hi."
"It’s not morning, is it?"
"No."
"Oh."

I readjusted myself in his arms, and then looked at him again. "I want to do that again. It was wonderful."
"Me too. Want to try something more this time?"
I was awed. "There’s more than that?"
He laughed. "Of course, Glorfindel. Didn’t Idril explain it to you?"
"Umm...no, not really." I didn’t want to think about what she had taught me.
"May I touch you where I want for a moment?"
I shrugged. My body was all his, for him alone.

I felt his hand on my thigh shift to my buttocks. He watched my eyes carefully as he reached between them. I felt his fingertip come to rest on the opening there. "I would go inside you...there." He whispered softly, breath wafting sweetly over my skin. I thought about that for a moment.

"It would hurt a bit, I think. If it will fit, then let's try it." I suggested at last.
"It will hurt, but only a little. I’ll make good for you, I promise. There’s a place inside that feels wonderful when it is touched."
I was intrigued. "Really?"

"Yes. May I show you?" He was very sweet, asking me constantly. Ever curious, I agreed. He reached over to the bedside table and handed me a small bottle of oil. I looked at it a moment, then at him, questioning. "Oil. To make it easier." He explained. I gave it back to him, looking at him solemnly."I’ll never knowingly hurt you, Glorfindel, I swear it. Tell me if do?" He said, laying his palm against my jaw. I kissed his hand. "I trust you.' I replied, heartfelt. He looked as if he would cry for a moment, and kissed me gently, fiercely.

His finger left my cleft for a moment and when it returned it was slick and wet. He pressed gently, which didn’t feel too bad, or entirely exciting, just...different. His fingertip slipped inside and his eyes sought mine, brows furrowed. "Okay?" he asked. I nodded, focusing on the feel of him and the slight burn of the foreign object. He pressed deeper, and his finger stroked for a moment, questing. I sighed and became rock hard in an instant when his finger brushed over something absolutely incredible. "Nice. Oh yes, very good." I mumbled when I could speak again.

He chuckled and kissed me, stroking the spot and my cock simultaneously again. I whimpered, not wanting to leave him hard after I was spent. He got the message and stopped caressing me, withdrawing his finger. "I would like to be in you, but I’m not sure we’re ready for that. M’not sure you are." He said, kissing me. I leaned into the kiss. "I can do it. I wont stop loving you just because we do or don’t do this. It’s up to you."
He looked at me a long time, and I realized he was weighing himself, not me. "You do understand that once we do this that we are bound, in the common laws of marriage?"
"Yes. I know this. I am not afraid to bind to you. I do it willingly and knowingly."
He sighed heavily. "You honor me too much, nin ind. I accept."

I smiled sadly at him, touched, and reached up to caress his face with my hands. He answered by stroking my face, and I could feel his fear, he was so very, very afraid. I held him close a moment, his head on my chest, just holding him and loving him. And then I pulled his face up for a kiss. It was time, at last, to seal our hearts and make us one. A matched set. Two of a kind. A whole being.

I was the strong one that night, leading him. Shaking as he was, he met me halfway, and I met him wholeheartedly. He stretched me gently, taking his time, and I oiled the hard shaft that would so soon be inside me, kissing the tip close mouthed, lovingly. It was a gesture of acceptance and approval for everything involved in this deed.

We looked into one another’s eyes as he slid inside, the gray depths swallowing me up even as he filled me to overflowing. I knew it was right then, with him hilted in me, and although it hurt a little, I gave him the kiss that gave him power to seek his release. Gripping my hips and plunging hard and fast into the spot that felt like lightning now, he grunted and thrust, seeking his release without leaving my eyes.

I could feel when he was close, twitching and swelling, pounding relentlessly as he took my erection into his palm. We cried out together, and I felt warmth in me and on me, and then his weight was on my chest, his hair over my face and I fought to breathe, inhaling the scent of his hair with every breath.

When I could breathe and think again, slick with sweat, he lifted his head from my chest and looked at me. I smiled and said, "You have a cleft in your chin. I never noticed that before." Amusement lit up his eyes and he kissed me, sliding free of my body below. When our kiss broke, he laid his face along mine as he shifted to lay full length beside me, rolling over my left thigh to do so. I curled into his arms and kissed his neck, cuddling my body into my favorite place in Arda to sleep; his arms.

Chapter Ten:

Morning dawned bright and hot. I opened my eyes to sunshine on Turgon, a rather pleasant view. It highlighted the smooth contours of his arms and legs and flanks, curling around his navel and gracing his member with the lightest of kisses. His cheekbones were brightened, lashes shining white instead of silvery black. I stretched to let the sun claim more of my bare skin and kissed his lips lightly.

I lay simply looking at him for an hour before he woke. He kissed my neck, yawned and stretched, then returned his gaze to my eyes. "How do you feel?" he asked. I assessed myself. I was a bit sore, generally sleepy, warm and comfortable. "Good. Very good." I told him truthfully. He grinned, never a more mischievous sight. "Feel up to taking me this time?" he offered. I kissed him, and sat up. "Perhaps after I return." He looked at me curiously and I sighed exasperatedly at him. His face lit up in understanding a moment later when the demands of his bladder caught up with him as well, and he shot out of bed and fairly raced me to the bathroom. It wasn’t a problem to share, but it was very distracting and I finally gave up and slapped him on the shoulder to make him quit teasing me. I headed for the bedroom, swaggering my bare rear extra for his benefit, calling seductively "Come on, that’s enough."

He chased me into the bed and tackled me in the sheets.
We wrestled for a while, wrecking the bed even more, and then things grew serious, as kissing became sensual licks and nips. I learned about nipples, what incredible things they were, and that I could almost make Turgon come from playing with them alone.

Almost. He was very determined that I should spend my seed in him. I saw no reason not to oblige. His opening wasn’t as tight as mine, despite being similar in structure and purpose, and it stretched more quickly and needed less oil. He knelt on his hands and knees while I entered him. I pressed just inside and paused for him to adjust, drawing on my memories of last night. He surprised me entirely by pushing back so that suddenly there was no resistance and I slid home in one stroke. I shouted in bliss and worry and lust, and he moaned reassuringly in heady arousal.

I pulled back and began to stroke, my body adapting automatically to desire. He pushed back in encouragement, and ground out the words "Harder. Faster." in a breathless, throaty voice. I had no arguments and when I reached under him to be sure he reached his peak as well, my hand merely joined his. I came first, throwing my head back, my voice long gone from my conscious control by that point, rutting helplessly and grinding into him as he came, pushing his hips forward in the throes of climax and tightening on me nearly unbearably.

His knees and arms buckled beneath him and I stayed atop him, laying full length over his back, still inside his heat and sighed, licking his shoulder satedly before nuzzling into the nape of his neck and drifting into sleep.

When I woke, it was midafternoon and the heat of sunlight on the mounded blankets over me was slowly baking me alive. I was tempted to kick them off and sleep all day, but if Turgon was up and going about his kingly duties after all that, then the least I could do was go to the library and read for what was left of the day.

I got up and sighed at the heaviness in my limbs. I was tired...from sleeping. I bathed and dressed, brushing out the tangles in my long hair and glaring at my smug-looking self in the mirror. He looked arrogant and pleased, bearing an ‘I’ve just fucked the king’ look. I could have sworn he stuck his tongue out at me when I turned away. As a parting shot, I threw the hairbrush at him as I went out the door.

Despite feeling tired enough to sleep a few more hours, I hummed a cheery tune on my way to the library. Pausing at Turgon’s closed study door where he was undoubtedly busy, I decided to go see Idril, tell her the good news.

Breakfast first, my stomach reminded me. I went downstairs and not only wheedled a cook into feeding me, but had to sneak out to leave the massive platter unfinished, lest she tie me to the chair and force-feed me. I went back upstairs and head for Idril’s rooms.

She’d be thrilled, of course, and Ecthelion would likely give me one of his mysterious amused smiles when he found out. She was there, the door to her sitting room open. I walked inside to see her seated on the vanity in her bedroom, having her hair done by a maidservant.

"You people eat too much, too often." I complained, flopping onto Idril’s bed, taking liberties as I pleased, at ease with my closest friend. "You’ll make me fat!" I complained, eyeing my stomach.

She laughed airily and sailed over, the maiden braiding her hair following behind. Poking me in the stomach she teased "Somehow I doubt that you could ever be fat, Glorfindel. You just need to go horseback riding more often." I fell off the bed and sprawled on the floor in mock horror. "Oh no! Not the horses! Please!" she aimed a kick at me and I caught her ankle amid the flying skirts.

"Oh look, what is this?" I asked, inching my fingers up her ankle and calf, tickling mercilessly. "Why, I believe it's a celebrindal!" She laughed at me and thrust said foot in my face. "Kiss it and I’ll forgive you." she demanded, sounding very much like an older sister. I obliged and she fell across her bed in a mock faint, the servant girl giving up and letting the long hair fall. "Oh my! Such an achievement I have made today girls! I’ve gotten a kiss from the hot blonde one, and it was ever so romantic!" she fluttered her eyelashes in mockery of the girls who practically threw themselves at me.

I looked at her a moment, silent, and then we both burst into laughter. The exasperated handmaiden stomped off to wait by Idril’s dressing table, scolding "That boy is a bad influence on you my Lady, if I may say so." Idril laughed harder, and pointed at me. I rolled to my knees and stood, sauntering out all the while swinging my rear exaggeratedly at her as I walked out...and froze in the doorway.

For there stood Turgon, a silly smirk on his face that plainly said 'if you’re not on or near our bed in one minute, I’ll fuck you where you stand'. With a sheepish grin, I ran past him and he followed me much more dignifiedly to the bedroom.

Another wild round left us panting, sprawled atop the mussed covers of the unmade bed, laughing even as the sweat of passion dried on our skin. It was a happy time, that first day of seventy years of blissful paradise with him, and we laughed. Together.