A Sense of History: Straight Road
The next in a series of articles about ships passing to and from the West, Simon uses "The Fall of Númenor" to attempt to arrive at Tolkien's reading of the exordium to "Beowulf."
Written for Day 9 of the Back to Middle-earth Month.
Glorfindel angrily recoiled when Celegorm relaxed beneath him, laughing at him with his lips twisted into an arrogant sneer.
"So it is like that, is it?" he drawled, and Glorfindel jumped back, hating how lately, his body seemed to continuously betray him. This was the very reason he had eschewed sparring with his own people, even braved the company of the over-proud and much disliked son of Fëanor, distant cousins though they were... Even his infamous arrogance had seemed easier to bear than the look on Forokal's face, whom he had thought his friend and beloved. Yet now Forokal thought him a brute and a monster.
Glorfindel scowled at the memory. It was not as if he had wanted to hurt him. He did not know what had come over him all of a sudden when they had tussled, laughing, kissing, that something had stirred inside him when Forokal for a moment lay helplessly beneath him. He had tightened his hands around his friend's wrists then - hard enough to leave bruises before the playful mood had vanished and Forokal had pushed him off with a look so cold it had destroyed what was left of the dark desires he had felt.
To feel that same kind of sick arousal when he had Celegorm beneath him, whom he loathed - he did not want him, he could not want him, and he did not know what had changed that his body suddenly shamed him with such horrifying lusts.
"It is not like anything," Glorfindel said coldly, and Celegorm sniggered.
"That, little cousin, is not nothing," he pointed out with a look towards Glorfindel's groin. "But if you ask me nicely, I could lead you to someone who knows more about such a thing and would only be too happy to explain - if you can bring yourself to ask me for it."
Glorfindel scowled again. "If you think I believe you, you are mistaken! I will not be made a mockery of by your brothers!"
"Ah, but the question is whether you can truly afford not to believe me?" Celegorm stretched out on the grass with a smirk, and Glorfindel furiously turned to leave - only to turn back again after one step, his eyes grim with angry resolve.
"Damn you! Please!" he ground out, ready to jump at the maddening son of Fëanor once more should he dare to mock him now, but Celegorm stood with another grin then and nodded towards where a few of the family's horses stood tied to the fence.
"Come on then - if you dare!"