King Thingol's Codpiece by elfscribe

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Chapter 5 - Blowing in the Wind

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“Because it is my desire, it that not enough?”
Sherlock Holmes in The Adventure of the Dying Detective

 

“Queen Melian! Perfect!”  Finrod cried, leaping out of the closet. She stepped back in astonishment.  He bowed quickly and then bobbed back up.  “You are the solution to our problem!”

“I am?  It appears to me that you are creating the problem, by nicking my Girdle.”

“As you well know, dear lady, appearances are deceiving.  What we are doing is saving Doriath. Oropher and I have discovered where the Codpiece is. We must unite it with the Girdle as quickly as may be before Menegroth is overrun. As we speak Ka, the King’s messenger is waiting by the gates to guide us to it.”

“Even if I believed you, which I am not sure I do,” she said. “What solution are you proposing?”

“I need you to help me smuggle the Girdle past your guards.”

“And how would you suggest I do that?”

“By wearing it.”

Melian blinked and then laughed. “Cleverness runs in your family.  Many a night has your sister entertained me with her witty stories,” she said. “Clearly this is a tale that I must hear.” She reached up, set her hands on either side of Finrod’s head, and closed her eyes.  A long moment passed and then Melian said, “Fortunately for you, dear Findaráto, I can sense your sincerity and the depth of your loyalty to the King. It is imperative that you find the Codpiece quickly. The forest is crying.” She shook her head, staring at something far in the distance. Then she smiled. “Come out of there, Oropher. You’ll singe the roof of my cabinet with that torch.” 

Oropher stepped over the lip of the closet.

“Now then,” Melian said, “kindly take my Girdle out of your leggings and hand it over.  I must say, that is not the most effective hiding place. I’ve never seen a codpiece sporting quite so many strange lumps.”  Her lips trembled in suppressed laughter.

Sheepishly, Oropher eased the heavy belt, medallion by exquisite medallion, out of his crotch.  Already missing the buzz it was giving him, he rather reluctantly handed it to the Queen.  She clipped it about her waist. “There now, hiding in plain sight.  Shall we go?”

**********

The underground fortress was crawling like a beehive.  In the great hall, just inside the main gates, the wardens readied for battle. Weapons clanged, elves shouted, horses whinnied.  But just as Finrod had planned, the citizens of Menegroth parted before the Queen like waves about the prow of a ship.  None of the guards challenged them. In the midst of the confusion, Finrod found a stablehand holding his horse ready.

“Where is the one for Oropher?” he asked.

“We have a shortage of horses, all are needed for the ride north,” the groom said.  “Here is your beast.”  He stroked his neck, then handed over the reins.

“Do you wish me to order another horse?” the Queen asked.

Finrod thought a moment. “No, Thindroch is strong enough to bear us both, and I’ll need Oropher to keep his eyes on the raven, while I steer.”

Queen Melian accompanied them through the gates.  She paused on the other side of the rushing river, unclasped the Girdle, and held it out to Oropher. “Keep this safe,” she said.  “I am sure you understand the nature of this trust. If anything were to happen to it, we will all pay the price.”

“You may rely on us, my Queen,” Oropher said stoutly. He kissed her hand, took the glittering belt reverently, pulled up his tunic and buckled it about his waist, collapsing the long chain and stowing it in his leggings.

“Never fear, Milady,” Finrod said. “Oropher and I shall restore to you both the Codpiece and the Girdle.” 
  
Melian gazed into the air with that strange unfocussed look of hers. “Rich shall be your reward,” she replied. “But only if you remember the key to making the Codpiece work.” She gave them a warm smile that caused funny feelings to dance about within Oropher’s loins.  The Girdle vibrated in response. Oropher wondered how he was going to sit pressed up behind Finrod for hours without exploding.

Ka flapped to the ground. He bobbed his head to Melian.  “My Queen,” he acknowledged.

“Guide them well, Ka,” Melian said. “I will hold you responsible.”

Finrod and Oropher bade the Queen farewell, mounted Thindroch, and were soon galloping west alongside the Esgalduin.  Sitting behind Finrod, Oropher kept his eyes trained on the bird soaring high above.  For a long time, they continued on a straight course but then Oropher noticed that the bird had deviated. “Finrod, he’s turned away from the path and has crossed over the river!”   
                                              
“Curse it! The bridge isn’t for miles,” Finrod said. “Try to keep him in sight!”

Oropher strained his eyes as they hastened forward.  The raven circled back towards them, then turned north again.  He dwindled into a black speck and disappeared.

“Oromë’s horn! That is just great,” Oropher exclaimed in disgust. “Now what?”

“We’ll cross when we can,” Finrod said.

The sun climbed to its zenith before they reached the bridge over the river into Neldoreth. Thindroch’s hooves made a hollow clunking sound on the wooden planks, while Oropher craned his neck looking for the maddening bird. As they passed through the leafless groves of trees, the air seemed warmer. Oropher noticed a faint tinge of green at the tips of the branches. “Look, Finrod,” he cried.

“Yes, I see. Fangorn must be employing the Codpiece,” Finrod said.  “Good.  All we need do is follow the budding trees.”  He squeezed his legs and Thindroch broke into a slow canter.

Sure enough, all around them, the leaves seemed to be growing at an accelerated rate.

Finally, Ka reappeared, circling about.  “Rawk! Much too slow,” he called.  “Come along, then.  It’s not far.”

They entered a vast orchard filled with rows of fruit trees, cherry, then pear, and finally apple.

“Oh look, Finrod,” Oropher exclaimed as tiny white and pale pink buds suddenly sprouted at the tips of the branches.

“Beautiful!” Finrod agreed.  “We’re getting closer.”

At length they came to a clearing covered in ploughed fields. On the far side stood a tall lodge with sides thatched in shredded bark. A thin plume of smoke rose from a tall stone chimney. From inside the lodge, Oropher heard hear a faint hoom, hom, humba hom, hubba hubba hoom mixed in with a higher voice singing  lal-o-wow-a-lally-wowsa-hoooom de yaaaaaaay!

“Um, Finrod.  They seem to be occupied,” Oropher said.

“They do at that,” Finrod laughed. “By Manwë’s breath, look at the fields!”  A green shimmer had appeared among the ploughed hummocks.  It grew into tiny plants that stretched and reached skyward before their very eyes.

“It’s working!” Oropher cried.

Ka flapped down and fluffed his feathers. “The home of the Tree Shepherds is here. Did I not guide you well?”  He began snatching at some bugs in the ploughed earth.

Oropher said, “No, you did not guide us well.”

Finrod set a hand on his thigh, which, although meant to calm, had rather the opposite effect. In point of fact, Oropher considered grabbing that hand and plastering it to his crotch. It was only the raven’s presence that restrained him.

“Thank you, Ka,” Finrod said. “Please go and call down the chimney to alert our friends that we are coming.”

“Aye,” the bird said and flew off.

“And now, Oropher, we need to get within one hundred feet of the house to trigger Doriath's enchanted fences.”  Finrod clicked to his horse and they continued on towards the lodge.  The noises from within grew louder and the sides puffed in and out like a bellows.

The strange tingling sensation produced by Melian’s Girdle suddenly increased markedly in intensity.  Oropher gasped.  “Finrod, something is happening!”

“We must be close enough,” Finrod replied.  “Stars above, I can feel it, Oropher!”  He turned his head to look at Oropher over his shoulder and smiled so beautifully that Oropher leaned forward, pursing his lips for a kiss. But Finrod’s attention was drawn by Ka settling on the roof of the house and raucously squawking and flapping about.  Finrod chuckled.

There was sudden silence from within the lodge. Then a cautious voice called, “Hoom, hello?”

Finrod yelled, “Fangorn, it is Oropher and I, Finrod, bringing a message from King Thingol. Are you in a position to come out and speak with us?”

There was a long period of silence, then shuffling, whispers, and some booming hooms and homs. Eventually, the door creaked open and Fangorn’s lumpy face with its bristly beard peeked out.  “This,” he rumbled, “is not a good time.”

Then, from the hut they heard a voice, cool and soft like wind rustling through branches. “Messengers from the Elven King? Fangorn, we must let them in.”  The door opened wider and a tall, willowy figure with long arms and even longer fingers, pushed past Fangorn and came out into the sun. Her hair was a rich brown, falling over her shoulders like mistletoe, her cheeks were rosy as apples, and, like Fangorn, she was wearing a wrapper made of plaited rushes.  Her eyes sparkled like a brook in sunlight. She was indeed lovely, for an Ent.

“Fimbrethil, I presume,” Finrod said, and bowed.

Fimbrethil leaned against Fangorn’s shoulder and smiled widely at Finrod and Oropher.  “What a marvelous surprise,” she said.  “Fangorn dear, we never have visitors. We must invite them in for tea.”

“Must we?” asked Fangorn and Fimbrethil gave him a look. “Ah hoom, yes, we must,” Fangorn said.

***********
It was a strange group that gathered for tea and honeycakes around a low table in Fangorn’s home: two ents, two elves and one ravenous raven.  Fangorn lowered himself awkwardly onto a divan, where he could reach his tea cup. The elves and raven sat upon pillows.  Fimbrethil, bustled about at first preparing the tea, and then when all was set, being somewhat more bendable than Fangorn, she sat leaning back in a short-legged chair. Ka greedily pecked at the food scattering crumbs hither and yon.  

With just slightly more decorum, Oropher munched down cakes and tried to ignore the heat buzzing in his loins, while Finrod described the whole misadventure, to much surprised shaking of the Ents’ heads.

“Well, at least, hom, hum, we now understand all the strange goings on in Doriath,” Fangorn said. “And I gather we have you to thank for solving the mystery?” 

“It was nothing,” Finrod said, with a wave of his hand. “Merely the keen observation of details and the application of logic.”

“And Oropher, are you planning to become an apprentice of this new method? You appear much enamored of it,” Fimbrethil asked with a sly wink.

Oropher tore his eyes away from Finrod. “Um,” he said. “I had not planned on it, as such.  My father wants me to be a healer in Nivrim.”

“Oropher has been most helpful to this investigation. I think he shows great promise,” Finrod affirmed.  He turned to Oropher. “Perhaps you would like to come serve me in Nargothrond?” He smiled and Oropher felt a sudden warmth throughout his whole being. The Codpiece seemed to be singing a seductive song to the Girdle wrapped about his waist. He could hardly think straight.

Fidgeting, Oropher wondered how Finrod’s keen sense of observation could have missed his difficulty.  He was most definitely not going to serve as Finrod's assistant with no hope of satisfaction. Finrod seemed terribly resistant to his blandishments. Well, by the stars, he was going to find out!  “It is an enticing offer, worthy of consideration,” he said, while under the table, he casually set a hand on Finrod’s thigh.

Finrod showed no emotion but merely sipped his tea.  “I notice, my good Fimbrethil,” he said, “that the peat in the hearth is nearly burnt out. I want to assure you and Fangorn that now that the Girdle and Codpiece are reunited, there will be plenty of wood in your house once again.”

“Oh, hmmm, we do not burn woo . . . oh,” Fangorn said.  His bushy eyebrows rose. “Well, that is good to know.”

Wood indeed, Oropher snickered and his hand slid further up Finrod’s thigh. Finrod sucked in a quick breath.“Well, this has been most pleasant,” he said. “But we had better be hurrying back to Menegroth to report to the King and Queen. Don’t you think, Oropher?”

“Yes, definitely.  We should go. . . now,” Oropher said.  

“We were delighted to have you visit and bring us the news,” Fangorn rumbled. “I am sorry we did not know we were dealing in hoom stolen goods.”

Ka had the good grace to stop attacking a honeycake and look embarrassed. Fangorn slowly levered himself out of the divan. “Allow me to retrieve the object that has caused so much trouble,” he said.  “It will be a few moments.  Excuse me.”

Fangorn retreated behind a curtain at the back of the lodge and there began a series of grunts and groans and shufflings and stampings.  “Um, my dear,” he called. “This is um, hum, rather tricky. Could you please help?”

Fimbrethil rose and disappeared behind the curtain.  Fangorn’s heavy breathing grew even more labored.  “Having a little difficulty,” he called out cheerfully.  “Don’t be hasty now. That’s what I say.  Just a few more uhhh moments.”
                                               
“We will just wait outside then, shall we?” Finrod said.  “Come Oropher.”

“What’s the problem?” Oropher asked, when they stood outside, listening to the creaking and groaning within.

“Did you ever try to undo leather thongs without bending in the middle?” Finrod chuckled.

“No, perhaps we should try it,” Oropher said. “Can you untie a knot with your teeth, Lord Finrod?”  He looked right at Finrod and ran his tongue over his lips.

Finrod stared back hungrily.  Oropher wanted to leap on him.   

“Hoom, yes, so there we are,” Fangorn wheezed as he came out of the door holding the leather contraption in his hands.  “I must say I hate to turn this over to the King.  It was hoom very good for marital harmony, it was, even if it made things hom, hoom, a little hasty.” Fangorn winked at Finrod and handed him the famous Codpiece.

“So here, Oropher, is the cause of all the trouble,” Finrod said. “Don't you think it's pretty?”

It was indeed pleasing to the eye, a flexible leather pouch covered with glittering diamonds.  It tied on with thongs. Finrod bowed low to Fangorn.  “Thank you. Enjoy the spring and your lovely wife.”

“Come back soon. Farewell,” Fangorn boomed, and then rather hastily, for an Ent, retreated into his house.

The raven, who was waddling along behind, eyed the Codpiece greedily.

“Take this, Oropher,” Finrod said, handing him the dazzling object.

It was overwhelming to actually hold it in his hands. Oropher could feel the power emanating from it, buzzing like a beehive, just as Ka had said.  He could see why both Celeborn and the raven had been tempted.  Carefully, he tied it on.

“Now then, Ka,” Finrod said. “The fences of Doriath should be working once again and you have one more task before your debt is fulfilled. Take news to King Thingol about the success of our venture and tell him we shall be returning to Menegroth tonight. Here, as token of our goodwill is the clasp I promised you.” And he removed it from his hair and held it out.

“I will do as you bid,” Ka replied. “‘Twas an honor to meet you, Lord Finrod. You have earned the friendship of my people.”  He bobbed his head, took the clasp, and launched himself heavily into the air.  Soon, he was naught but a black spot in the bright blue sky.

Oropher shifted the Codpiece back and forth causing a cascade of tiny rainbows to flicker across Finrod’s face and chest.  His golden hair, freed from all confines, blew gently in the breeze. He smiled and Oropher thought he’d never seen anything quite so beautiful.

Finrod shook his head a little as if in a trance. “We must be going. Where is Thindroch?”   He put his fingers to his lips and whistled.  A whinny came from the direction of the orchard.

“Shall we take that walk you wanted last night?” Finrod asked.

Oropher nodded, breathlessly. They passed through the greening fields into the orchards, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun, the breeze, and the burgeoning green smell in the air. Overhead the trees sighed.  Finrod began softly singing:

A vision, too, I had of old
That thou a mortar wert of gold
Then cou'd I but the pestle be
How I wou'd pound
Oh! How I wou'd pound my spice in thee
 
Oropher burned with desire. He’d never felt anything quite like it. It boiled his blood, crawled up his legs, hungered his belly, licked his balls, and unfurled his cock into an uncommonly huge stiffie, bent into an uncomfortable angle within the codpiece.  He was having difficulty walking.

They reached the grove of cherry trees and Finrod looked up into the lacy branches.  “These are my favorites,” he said.  “They remind me of springtime in Valinor.”  Then he frowned.  “But something is not right, Oropher, they have stopped blooming again!”

It was true.  The pale pink buds swayed on the ends of the twigs, frozen and tightly furled, as if waiting for something.

Suddenly Oropher figured it out and he laughed at its simplicity. “Finrod,” he exclaimed. “You, with all your cleverness, why can’t you see the answer to this riddle?  Are you made of stone?”

“We have both the Codpiece and the Girdle,” Finrod mused. “It should be working. Where is that dratted horse? We must return immediately so the King and Queen can make the magic.”

“Stop thinking and start feeling, Finrod.” Oropher cried. “Put it on! For rut’s sake, put it on!”  Frantically, he unstrapped the Codpiece, then kneeling before Finrod, pushed up his tunic, and tied the Codpiece in place over his leggings. “There!” he cried, looking up at Finrod’s face.

The Noldo’s expression contorted and his mouth dropped open in a gasp. He turned his head to the side, leaned forward and placed his hands on Oropher’s shoulders.  “By Námo’s flaming nut sack!” he cried.

“Intense, huh?” Oropher grinned roguishly.

“Valar, y-yes,” Finrod stammered.

“You have missed the most important piece of the puzzle, Finrod.”

“What have I missed?” Finrod moaned. “I never miss anything.”  He pressed a hand against his crotch and shuddered. His eyes rolled upwards and he sank to his knees.

Oropher laughed. “You forgot the key ingredient required to quicken spring.  Love. That is the solution to the mystery. Open your heart and love me, you bastard!”

With that, Oropher seized the back of Finrod’s neck and took his mouth in a sizzling, toe-curling, tongue-numbing, honey and spice flavored kiss.  Oh, but it was marvelous to finally, finally taste him. Overhead, a flock of larks burst into song.

Finrod responded like sugar melting.  He wrapped Oropher in his arms, burying his tongue in his mouth. The kiss seemed to go on forever, deeper, more erotic until Oropher saw stars in broad daylight and the seam in the front of his codpiece burst.  As they kissed, their hands roamed and squeezed, bodies pressed together so tightly, Oropher thought they might merge.

When they finally drew apart, they were both panting with desire.  “My most clever and beautiful assistant,” Finrod exclaimed.  He ran his hand possessively over the back of Oropher’s head. “You are right. I did not see. How can I deny it any longer? I'm afraid the King will just have to wear that soup tureen for another night.”

They both laughed and then Finrod claimed Oropher’s mouth again. They sank down to the ground, wrestling off clothes, including the Girdle and Codpiece, and flinging them wherever they landed, until they were as joyously naked as the birds and the beasts.

All about them, plants burgeoned into life, making up for lost time. The ferns pushed free of the earth, unfolded their tender heads and tapped music into the breeze. A riot of color erupted from the forest floor, fields of bluebell, wild rose, celandine, primrose, and foxglove. Sap surged upwards through the vascular pathways of the tree trunks and flowed like warm syrup into the branches, pulsing into the veins of the expanding leaves. Tight little cherry buds opened their knees, and then spread wide, ripe for the taking, casting forth their heavenly aroma to lure wanderers with their offering of sweet nectar. The bees came to thrust their curling tongues into those alluring pink recesses, gathering up the pollen and spreading it onto their thighs. Birds madly warbled and darted after each other in great swoops of ardent glee.

A pale pink petal dropped, and then another, until there was a gentle rain of blossoms blown by the breeze into drifts on the greening forest floor.

And lying twined and enraptured on their flowery bed, two elves kissed and sucked and licked and writhed and gasped and cried, and throbbed and pulsed and thrust and thrust and thrust, conjuring the ancient magic over and again in an ecstasy born of love newly discovered.

And thus did Spring come at last to Doriath.

The End