Breathless by elfscribe

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Chapter 5 - The Roof of the World

Revelations.

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At breakfast, Limíriel introduced Glorfindel to her eight-year-old twin girls, Elufir and Fanael, who regarded him shyly, as they hid behind their mother, and peeped out at him with bright eyes.  But when Ecthelion came into the room, they emerged, and bounded up to him. “Uncle Ecthelion, Uncle Ecthelion,” they cried. “Come play with us!”

Ecthelion scooped them both up in his arms and kissed each of them with a resounding smack on the cheek. They squealed excitedly.

Glorfindel smiled. Ecthelion should have been a father.  What a tragedy that Gondolin had no room for more children.

After breakfast, Voronwë, Limíriel, and their girls stood outside the cottage in the bright sunlight to see them off.  

“I thank you for your hospitality,” Glorfindel said to them with a little bow.

“We like to have visitors,” Voronwë said. “It does get isolated out here.”

Limíriel beamed at him. “Both you and Ecthelion are welcome to stay the night again on your way back down.  It’s always good to enjoy a haven away from prying eyes.”

Glorfindel hesitated and saw Ecthelion’s amused expression.  He started to say she had the wrong idea, but then recalled his predicament that morning.  

“You’re blushing!” Limíriel laughed.  Her girls giggled and Fanael began doing cartwheels.

“Perhaps we will accept your offer,” Ecthelion said with a sideways glance at Glorfindel. “We’ll have to see how late we are getting down.” He bowed to Limíriel and shook Voronwë’s hand. “Now Anor is rapidly rising, and we’d best get on with our walk or we won’t reach the peak today.”   

“If life becomes too constricting in Gondolin, you could always join us,” Limiriel said.

“Aye, come live with us, Uncle Ecthelion,” Elufir cried.

“And you can come too, Uncle Glorfindel,” said Fanael. 

“Oh ho, so now you’ve earned a title too,” Limíriel said to Glorfindel.  “We’ll look for you to return this evening.”

“Until then,” Ecthelion said. 

Glorfindel and Ecthelion headed off down the path, which followed the course of the stream.  Glorfindel turned to see the twins waving at them.

“Uncle Ecthelion,” Glorfindel chuckled. “I never would have guessed that you got along so well with children.”

“They just sense my natural fun-loving nature,” Ecthelion replied.   

“Or the fact that you’ve never grown up,” Glorfindel said. They entered a small copse of trees. Glorfindel remembered the knowing look on Limíriel’s face. “Why do I have the feeling that you’ve brought someone there before?”

“Because I have,” Ecthelion said.

“Oh,” Glorfindel replied. He began to ask who, and then stopped.  A thread of jealousy entered his heart and he brushed it aside. What right had he to feel jealous?

Ecthelion said, “It was several years ago, and is over. He was sent out to guard the silver gate.”

“How did I not know?” 

“We kept it quiet. You didn’t tell me about you and the King. Although I had guessed. Come, let us talk about other things. I can see this troubles you, when it need not.”  

 

Their path grew steeper. On their left-hand, the stream leapt and clattered down the hillside. Above them, ever nearer, rose the intimidating heights of the Encircling Mountains with their bare jagged sides and bright snow-capped peaks. The morning sun was burning off the mists that had accumulated in the hollows and the day was growing clear and bright. Glorfindel found himself delighting in the presence of occasional copses of trees, which were rare enough in the rest of the Tumladen these days. As they climbed, the trees changed from leafy green deciduous to pine. The village of Thoronsîr could now be seen far below as a motley collection of tiny thatched roofs nearly hidden by a bend in the path.  Already the briskness of their uphill pace was making Glorfindel feel a bit winded.

“I’ve never had occasion to travel up to Cirith Thoronath,” he said, as he paused for breath.

“I’ve come up here a handful of times in the last hundred years,” Ecthelion replied. “I find it a good place to gain perspective. Since that’s what you appear to need, it seemed a fitting journey. We’ve about half a day’s hard labor to ascend to the top, but there’s quite a view at the end. Hopefully, that will make it worth your while.”

“Is it true you can see the eyries of Thorondor and his people?”

“Aye, you can. Magnificent! Wait until you view them for yourself.”

The path wound out of sight of the village and climbed along the top of a ridge for a long distance, then dropped down for a while before climbing again. Now it rose even more steeply and hugged the side of the mountain. In places, it had clearly been chiseled from the rock. 

They left behind the evergreens, which were still visible in dark green swaths, for the bleak expanse of grey rock, here and there softened by orange lichens, and patches of blue and white wildflowers. On their left, the chattering stream had gouged a ravine that grew in depth as they trudged up the path until the water disappeared from sight into a vast gorge. For no discernible reason, Glorfindel began to feel uneasy as if something was lurking nearby.

Striding ahead of him, Ecthelion called, “Come, this is one of the sights I wanted to show you. Look!”

They rounded a corner and there across the gorge the stream poured from a wide crack in the rock and with a musical roar, plunged down into the abyss. Spray plumed upward like smoke.  It was truly a spectacular sight.  Ahead of them an immense boulder lay partly on the path, looking for all the world as if a giant troll had tossed it there.  The top of it was flat and smaller boulders lead up to it almost like stepping stones. 

“Isn’t it amazing!” Ecthelion said enthusiastically. “We can get a better view of the waterfall from atop the rock there.”  Like a mountain goat, he leapt from rock to rock, ascending to the top of the boulder.

Something bad was going to happen! Glorfindel felt it in his bones, along with an overwhelming urge to shield Ecthelion from whatever it was. “Nay! Don’t go up there!” he cried in panic.

High above him, Ecthelion paused, silhouetted against the sun, which cast a fiery halo about his head.  He turned back to stare inquisitively down at Glorfindel.

Glorfindel set his foot on the lowest rock prepared to climb after him. His blood roared in his ears. Where were his weapons?  The shadow of the mountain seemed like vast wings stretching towards him.  He looked over the edge of the precipice. The valley floor, far below was covered with a myriad of slender rocks that stabbed upward like spears.  The height made the pit of his stomach drop. Overcome with an intense feeling of vertigo, Glorfindel stumbled, and fell to his knees. Blackness came over his vision.  He grabbed part of the boulder and held on, as a feeling of evil overwhelmed him so intensely he felt nauseated. 

“Glorfindel! What’s wrong?” he heard Ecthelion call from somewhere above him.  A light patter of footfalls sounded, then a rattle of small stones slid down the slope and Glorfindel heard a thump as Ecthelion landed near him.  He felt a hand on his shoulder.  “Are you well, friend?”

“Dizzy,” Glorfindel gasped. “Something is very wrong here. Very dark. I don’t know what it is. I can’t see.”

“Perhaps it’s the altitude,” Ecthelion said. “It can make you lightheaded if you’re not used to it. Come, let’s away from this drop.  I’ll help you up, lean on me.”

Glorfindel allowed Ecthelion to raise him up and then guide him with one arm about his waist.  By now, Glorfindel’s sight had returned but his vision still swam with black specks like bats. They had to go single file past the boulder and then negotiate the rock-strewn path beyond it. Still feeling ill, Glorfindel followed Ecthelion’s lead. They climbed another long stretch past the vertiginous drop.  Rock walls rose on either side of the path, shutting off the view of the precipice. The sound of the plunging waterfall dimmed.

Glorfindel felt better and his vision cleared.  “Just a patch of vertigo,” he said.  “I can walk on my own now.” 

Ecthelion’s brows were knit together.  “Most peculiar,” he said.  He held onto Glorfindel’s arm.

“I’m fine,” Glorfindel said. “No need to coddle me.  It was just a brief turn.”

“Perhaps we should rest and eat something,” Ecthelion said. “There is a good place a little farther.  Follow me.”

They continued climbing and eventually emerged into a high meadow. Bare patches of rough, rocky ground were interspersed with a light blanket of snow. The mountain peaks rose in craggy glory on one side and on the other, the vale of Tumladen was visible. Gondolin appeared tiny as a child’s toy, white walls and towers perched on top of the shiny black rock, surrounded by broad fields of varying hues of green and yellow. The sunlight was pleasant, and Glorfindel, warm from the climb, welcomed the cool breeze blowing from the north. 

“It’s beautiful!’ he pronounced.          

Ecthelion took off his pack and sat down on a boulder that was bare of snow.  “Faring better now?”  He drank some water from his canteen.

“Aye.” Glorfindel sat down next to him.

“I think it’s time for the brandy,” Ecthelion said.  He took the horn off his shoulder and passed it to Glorfindel.  “This should help relax you.”

Glorfindel lifted the horn, uncapped the end, and took a swallow.  The liquor burned pleasantly down his throat and felt warm in his stomach.  He took another one. “That’s just the thing,” he said. He passed the horn back to Ecthelion, who drank several gulps.  “It was so strange,” Glorfindel said. “Have you ever had a feeling that you’ve been somewhere before when you know you haven’t?”

Ecthelion nodded as he drank some more. “I’ve had that happen. I always wondered if I was remembering a past life, but then I don’t think I’ve ever been reborn.  Or if I have, no one has told me.” He rummaged about in his pack, brought out a packet of biscuits that Limíriel had given him, and offered one to Glorfindel.  

“Well, this was similar but not the same—a very strong feeling,” Glorfindel said as he brushed Ecthelion’s warm fingers in the process of taking the biscuit. It set off a tingle in his nether regions.

“A premonition, perhaps?” Ecthelion said. 

“I don’t know.”

“Let us hope it’s nothing more than hard exercise in thin air,” Ecthelion said.  “I fear we’ll have to go back the same way.”

“Perhaps I’ll be used to the thin air by then.” Glorfindel bit into the biscuit and savored the flaky texture with a buttery taste and hint of honey. It seemed to mix well with the brandy. “Hmmm. I’ll be fine. How much farther is it?”

“There it is, Thôraegas.” Ecthelion gestured at the massive snow-clad spur of the mountain looming over them. “We have to leave the path to ascend to the top. It’s not far, as the eagle flies, but a bit longer as the elf walks.  I’d say we’ll reach it in another couple of hours.  That is, if you’re up to it.”

Glorfindel grinned at him. “You forget who won the race around the city last year.”

“I’d hardly forget that, since I came in second,” Ecthelion said.  “Lost my wager too. Curse you.” He laughed and offered the horn again.

Glorfindel took another swallow.  He was starting to feel calmer after whatever had happened to him earlier. “Seems strange to have snow at our feet, after leaving sweltering Gondolin. I’d surely love to send this down to my team members.  At this moment, under Lord Duilin’s exacting hand, no doubt they are sweating and cursing me.”

“Let them curse.  Will do them good. It’s a long time since we were sparring partners,” Ecthelion said. “I think I could still beat you if we were matched up.” He held out his hand for the horn.

“Do you?” Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. “Well, certainly you don’t lack for confidence.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Ecthelion said.  He drank some more and looked moodily off towards Gondolin.

There was that unspoken tension again between them.

“I think we should carry on,” Glorfindel said, rising.  “Pardon me for a moment.  Nature calls.”

He headed off a discreet distance and opened his breeches. He’d just finished and was tucking himself back into his braes when he felt a sudden impact in the middle of his back.  He whipped around and there was Ecthelion laughing and brushing snow off his hands. “Got you,” he called. “Easy target.”

“Fox!” Glorfindel growled.  He scooped up some snow, pressed it into a ball, then let it fly.  It hit Ecthelion squarely on the chest with a satisfying splat and a spray.

“Oh!” Ecthelion combed some snow out of his hair. “That’s done it! Now it’s a war!” he declared happily.  He pulled some gloves from his belt and tugged them on, then ducked behind a boulder.  Glorfindel ran to his pack and donned his own gloves.  Ecthelion popped up and hurled another missile, which Glorfindel eluded and it struck the rocks behind him.  A cat and mouse game ensued through the scattered boulders in the meadow, punctuated by wet sounds of splatting snowballs and laughter.

Glorfindel sneaked up on Ecthelion with a big handful of snow, then just as he turned, Glorfindel pounced and shoved it down the neck of his shirt. “Bastard!” Ecthelion was laughing. “By the door of night, that’s cold.” He lunged at Glorfindel’s legs and brought him down. They rolled in the snow as Ecthelion attempted to retaliate by putting snow down Glorfindel’s breeches.

“Are you impugning my mother?” Glorfindel laughed, as he twisted underneath Ecthelion.

“And your father and all your wretched ancestors,” Ecthelion replied.  He rolled on top of Glorfindel, sat on his waist, and pinned down his wrists. 

Breathless with laughter, Glorfindel raised his hips trying to throw him off, but Ecthelion merely sank his weight down and held him. His black hair was loose and hanging about his face, his cheeks red with the cold, his eyes bright with laughter. His mouth was close and looked so . . . kissable. 

There was a beat, a moment where they stared into each other’s eyes.  Ecthelion stopped laughing.  He leaned down and his lips brushed Glorfindel’s.

And then they were kissing, deeply, madly, passionately, as if the floodgates had opened. Glorfindel tasted the brandy in Ecthelion’s mouth. He explored further with his tongue, ravished Ecthelion’s lips. Ecthelion moaned and ground his loins against him.  Glorfindel rolled Ecthelion over and finding no resistance at all, kissed him some more, then bit his cheek and down his neck.  Ecthelion was panting.  “Valar, you don’t know how long . . . how long I’ve wanted, needed . . . . in bed with you this morning, such torture.”

“Torture, I agree.  Cursed be our lot to discover this in the wet snow,” Glorfindel said.  He was achingly hard and desperate for release. Rubbing against Ecthelion, he could feel the ridge at his friend’s groin. He went back to devouring Ecthelion’s mouth as he held his friend’s head in his hands, relishing Ecthelion’s moans.

“Stop,” Ecthelion gasped.  “Here, I’ll do something about this.  Roll on your back.” 

Glorfindel obliged.  Ecthelion moved down and fumbled with the buttons on Glorfindel’s breeches, reached in, closed his gloved hand about Glorfindel’s straining cock and pulled him out into the cold air. That sensation lasted mere seconds before Ecthelion’s hot mouth had descended upon him, and Glorfindel threw his head back in ecstasy.  He gasped and groaned until within a few moments, he had scaled the peak of sensation and stood hovering on the edge of the abyss. Then he erupted and felt he was soaring. Ecthelion swallowed all around him and Glorfindel still pulsing and throbbing in that relentless heat, cried out.  For several long moments, Glorfindel lay still, tingling and happy.  He opened his eyes.

Ecthelion grinned at him, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You taste good,” he said.

Glorfindel sat up and then pushed him over.  “Your turn,” he said.  He pulled off his gloves, unbuttoned Ecthelion’s breeches, untied his braes, and reached in.  Ecthelion’s cock fairly leapt into his hand, already pulsing, blue-veined, large and beautiful. Glorfindel’s mouth watered. “Up here,” Glorfindel said, tugging him up to sit on the flat-topped rock by their packs.  Then Glorfindel got on his knees, put one hand on Ecthelion’s cock and the other on the small of his back, and ravished him with mouth and tongue.  He heard Ecthelion’s joyful cries, felt him writhing under his hands, tasted and inhaled his warm, spicy scent. He opened his mouth wide and took him all in, slid back up, and then down again. Faster, harder. 

“By the Valar,” Ecthelion panted, “that’s so . . . unh, so good.”  He moaned and his seed surged into Glorfindel’s mouth. Glorfindel swallowed and swallowed, and sucked some more, enjoying the feel of Ecthelion filling his mouth, the taste on his tongue, until Ecthelion put a gentle hand on his head. “I’m undone,” he said.  “It was miraculous.”

Glorfindel sat up.  Ecthelion’s eyes were closed in bliss.  He opened them with that flash of fathomless blue and then they both grinned at each other—Ecthelion’s dimple showed.

“I can see why the King won’t let you go,” Ecthelion said. “Not with a mouth like that.”

With a pang of heart, Glorfindel sat back on his haunches.  He looked across the meadow back towards the tiny city, fair and remote in the distance.

“Forgive me,” Ecthelion said. “That was thoughtless.”  They were quiet for a moment.  Somewhere a little bird cheeped among the rocks. Ecthelion leaned forward, smoothed Glorfindel’s golden hair away from his face.  “Thank you, my friend.  I can’t tell you how long I’ve dreamed of that. I love you.  Have loved you for a long time, but there was always an impediment, a wall between us, and only yesterday did I truly learn what it was.”

Glorfindel sat down next to him, took Ecthelion’s hands in his. “It is not in me to be faithless,” he said.

“How well I know that!” Ecthelion said. “You forget how long we’ve known each other. You are the most loyal, stubborn, and selfless man I know. To the detriment of your own happiness.  Do you not love me as well?”

Ecthelion was regarding him, with a furrowed brow.  Glorfindel leaned over and kissed him gently on the mouth.  “I think we should continue our journey,” he said. “Lead the way, dear friend.”

It took three hours of hard climbing over snow fields and wind-swept rock to reach the summit. Several times Glorfindel paused, trying to catch his breath in the thin air, wondering at his friend’s obstinate insistence on this trek.  Occasionally, Ecthelion turned to look back, solemn for once, and then continued climbing. Glorfindel’s thoughts fluttered about in his mind. What should I do? How do I confess what I’ve just done to Túrukáno? Should I finally break with him? What do I truly want?

After a particularly hard vertical climb, accomplished by finding hand and footholds in cracks in the hard granite, they finally emerged onto the summit.  It was flat, not much bigger than the cottage at Thoronsîr and covered in snow.  The rockface dropped away sheer and vertiginous on all sides except the one they’d scrambled up. 

Ecthelion had been right. The view took his breath!  All around him rose the majesty of jagged peaks and long ridges of bare rock, with patches of snow, white in the afternoon sun. Glorfindel turned around slowly, taking it in.  He breathed deeply of the crisp bright air.  On a nearby ridge, he could discern huge ragged nests.

“Look, eagle nests,” he said.  “But I don’t see any eagles.”

“They must be out hunting,” Ecthelion replied.  “Look, there’s the Sirion.” He pointed westward at the long, glittering thread of silver that ran through the green valley along the length of the mountains. 

“And the vale of Nan Dungortheb to the south,” Glorfindel said, indicating the dark mist-riven forest. “Brrr, I hope never to go there again.”

“You have my hearty agreement on that score,” Ecthelion said.  The chill breeze fluttered his cape and locks of his hair rippled about his face like an inky banner. He hunched a bit, pulling the cape about himself. “Notice the tree-line all about the Valley.  Every time I come up here it appears to recede like a balding old Adan.”

“We’re using up the wood at a faster rate than it grows.” Glorfindel frowned.

“Aye, there is another small valley down there, rich with trees. We might be able to go there.”

“How long until we’ve denuded the entire mountains?”

“We must be careful,” Ecthelion replied.  “I think if we explored a bit more, we might find more resources for Gondolin.”

“You can see another small valley within the mountains hereabouts.  I think if we explored a bit more, we might find more resources for Gondolin.”

“You may be right,” Glorfindel said. “It’s worth a try.”

“I’ll get permission from Turgon to organize an expedition when we get back,” Ecthelion said.

“Look, you can just discern the Orfalch Echor. It appears as if Eru split the mountain with an axe.”  

“Aye, and I can see at least one of the mighty gates, insignificant from this height.” Glorfindel turned east. “And there’s our home.”

Nestled like a little green jewel in the midst of the savage expanse of sharp rock lay the civilized fields of the Tumladen, and even tinier in the center of the valley, he could descry a speck of white in the midst of the black hill—fair Gondolin.  Now so far away. “It looks so fragile and vulnerable from up here.”

“It does,” Ecthelion agreed. “That tiny marvel is what we’re protecting, Glorfindel. From that.”  He swiveled about and pointed north.

Past the encircling mountain ranges, on the very edge of sight, amidst a line of mountains, three black cones rose ominously, each belching a thin line of smoke. The black land about them seemed to resist the very sunlight. Glorfindel squinted at them. From here they appeared tiny, but Glorfindel knew they were massive and filled with foes who desired nothing more than to eradicate their very existence. His heart misgave him with the same sense of dread that he’d experienced in the pass below. “Now I know why you brought me up here,” he said.

“Now you know. It makes all our troubles seem petty in comparison,” Ecthelion said. He pressed his lips together.  

“It’s worth all the sacrifice,” Glorfindel said.  “Perhaps everyone in Gondolin should come and see this for themselves, to understand anew what we are doing.”

“I believe it’s only a matter of time until He spies us out,” Ecthelion said. “And then we’ll be fighting for our lives. In the meantime, we should not be holding our breaths waiting and cringing as if we’re already dead inside.  Instead, I think we should inhale the sweet air— and follow our hearts.  What does yours say?”

Glorfindel looked out over the sun glittering on the snow-covered heights and felt a shift of understanding in his heart, a revelation. He smiled, took his lover’s hands in his own. “It tells me that all along I had what I wanted, and was too blind to see.  I love you, too.”

Standing upon the roof of the world, they kissed, lips warm and vital, their love as proof against the hatred and despair that glowered at them from afar. 

“Your face is cold,” Ecthelion said. “I think perhaps we should go someplace with a fire—and a bed.”

“That sounds rightly ordered,” Glorfindel replied, stroking his fine dark hair.  He looked up and saw a brown speck high in the heavens.  As he watched, it descended in large, circular sweeps.

“Look, Ecthelion,” he cried, “An eagle!  An eagle is coming!” **

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Chapter End Notes

*Adan (S) - Man, as in the race of Men

Elufir (S) - fair blue

Fanael(S) - floating cloud lake

Thôraegas(S)- eagle peak

**Since this is a Tolkien fic, it seems a fitting tribute to include a gratuitous rescue by eagle.  I imagine that Thorondor might be kind enough to transport them off the mountain top so they can get into bed quicker.  Don’t you?