Nedrui Peth: Teith na Tûr ar Tegi (Part
Nine: Marks to Guard
and
Guide)
The fire whispers softly a song of warmth and light,
and amid the coals bright tongues dancing mesmerise my sombre
soul.
Shifting shades of amber and ochre, lulling tones in gentle
timbre,
yield visions of summer's favoured hours under sounds recalling
autumn's showers.
Entranced, the spirit spies naught but this final burst of red and
orange gloze,
remembering dew, unnumbered drops of air's breath coating leaf and
limb,
feeling earth between the tangled strands of rooted toes
and the surge of sap through timber in the spring.
Bark creaking and stretching in the stormy wind, reduced to radiant
embers,
gives voice to the last stanzas of the fallen tree's chorus,
I sing a subdued, sullen note of long dark nights before us
and the sleep of endless pale Decembers.
A shiver and a deep sigh worked through Legolas' body where he sat upon
the hearth staring intently into the undulating gleam of translucent
flame, his thoughts drifting there within the curling currents of
swirling heat and fire. Absorbed in the last gift of the maple, he
received the fragments of consciousness freed from the tree's dry dead
branches by the consuming blaze even as his weary body soaked up
the effulgent warmth. He spared a swift glance into Galdor's face and
found the mild brown eyes observing him just as studiously but with far
greater concentration and something akin to appreciation.
"That is both sad and beautiful," said the elder elf and smiled at the
young archer's expression of confusion and surprise. "Aye, you sang the
tree's last lament just now. Did you not know?" He could see this was
so and Legolas' quick shake of the head confirmed it.
"I do not recall singing," Legolas was uncomfortably doubtful and
worried for such a thing to happen. He was not wont to lose himself in
song or any other form of contemplation, and failing to remark his own
voice was not something that had ever occurred before.
"Do not be overly concerned; it is not so unusual to act strangely at
such times. Your bond with the woods is strong and other bonds have
been violently severed. The feä reaches for what comfort it may
find under such strain; yours found the remnant essence of the tree
from whence the fuel originated."
"Mayhap it is the drink," murmured the messenger, swallowing down the
rest of the concoction in two eager gulps. He held out the cup. "Is
there more of it?"
"There is, yet you have nothing solid in your stomach to dilute it."
Galdor considered carefully the downcast disappointment on Cuthenin's
features, then took the cup and arose with a nod. "I suppose it can do
no harm as long as I watch over you."
"I am not a child," the belligerent words got loose before Legolas
could
quite comprehend it and his eyes grew huge as his ears figured out what
his tongue had just uttered. "Ai, Sadron! I did not mean to be
disrespectful, forgive me!"
But Galdor was smiling, pleased that the tonic was working well enough
to remove some of the Wood Elf's inhibitions. There could be none
between them; Legolas must trust him completely. "Be at ease, I
understand the source of those thoughts and thus you are free to voice
them. You are free to speak anything your heart needs to reveal." He
returned with a second, somewhat smaller serving of the doctored
miruvor and sat beside Legolas.
Legolas accepted the drink but not the elder's suggestion. He cold not
do as Galdor said, how could he?
I do not even know this elf.
I cannot bear my heart to him. Yet somehow he must if he
would allow the noble Sadron to become his Tirn'wador.
And
why am I so eager for a replacement? I do not need a
Tirn'wador.
Instantly his mind called forth a vivid memory, a time when he was
young and rebellious, envious of the elves his age who had no Watcher
to
whom they must answer. Arms crossed before him and a
deep scowl marring his features, eyes fierce and bright, he had uttered
the same sentence to Calarlim.
'I do not need a Guardian. Henceforth, you may be my Naneth Edwen
but
nothing more. Tûovor (Strength Abundant - Thranduil's first born)
and Tûrdangannen (Mastery Confirmed - Thranduil's second born) do
not have Guardians.'
'That is true but then again both of them have bond-mates and families
now, do they not? When you are so bound, you will not need Tirn'wathel
then.' Calarlim answered with calm reason, fighting her smile at the
sight of her contentious son, for in her heart Legolas was nothing
less. How she mourned the passing of his elfling days while rejoicing
in the youth's development as this new spirit of independence sought to
grow and emerge.
'True.' This reluctant capitulation was followed by a short silence as
Legolas sought a counter argument. 'Yet they did not have Tirn'wedyr
(Guardians) ever, for they are not marked with the signs of
Pâd-en-Tawar. They are whole and strong and Hiren Adar is proud
of them, yet never had they any Guardian to interfere in their
actions,' he reiterated emphatically, certain such logic was
indisputable.
'You are correct, your brothers are not bŷr (followers). Nothing can be
done
about this, for it is not the way in your father's House. However, each
of them
had other minders through their young years; ask and they will
tell you. And those minders were simply paid to serve the King's
wife-mate, not devoted and bound to his
children by holy rites and sacred oaths. In fact, many
governors and tutors came and went within your
father's household, for few elves could abide for long the constant
uproar following your two brothers' every move.'
'But Tirn'wathel, this year I shall celebrate my thirty-fifth begetting
day! (equal to about age 10) That is too old to have you following
after me always. The others mock me for bringing along my nurse-maid to
the training field!'
'Very well, mayhap your thirty-fifth year deserves some recognition.
Yet with the privilege of freedom comes the responsibility,' Calarlim
decided to compromise, hastening to temper her son's joyous response so
that he would hear her words completely. 'My trust in you is absolute
and I expect it never to be broken, even as you know with surety that I
will never betray yours. Such is the pact between us.
'You may go unattended to your weapons practice and to lessons with the
scholars, yet you shall return to me at the appointed time before you
make other plans for your remaining hours. You will not be late for
Eneg Egleriad. (Six Praises - a cycle of contemplation and prayer for
followers of Pâd-en-Tawar) Now will the strength of your
convictions be tested, for if
you believe the other elves will cease teasing you because I am not
present, you are soon to be disillusioned.'
She had been right, of course. Without her at his back, his
contemporaries had felt free to say things he had never heard before.
The first day on his own he had been sent back to her in disgrace for
starting a brawl over the insults and slurs aimed at his deceased
mother and his status in the community. Prior to that day, he had not
known it was shameful to be created as his parents had made him, for no
one would speak such words with Calarlim the fearsome protector ever
armed and by his side.
By the end of the week, he had realised how much he relied upon
his Guardian and wished he could return to the days when she was always
beside him, a shield against hurts he had not imagined, even as she had
predicted. There was no going back, however, and as the years brought
him closer to maturity, he was even more grateful for her dedicated
vigilance and unfailing support. He had come to feel as an alien in his
own lands, an outsider amid his people, and but for her aid he would
not have both accepted and mastered his nature. Without her, the
internal sense of exclusion would have bloomed into reality.
There was a similarity in his present situation. He truly was in a
foreign land among folk split between those who could not fully
understand him even did they wish friendship and those openly scornful
and derisive. He needed someone to guide him through the events about
to transpire and provide a bulwark against the mounting sorrow and
impending disgrace. Even more, he required a mentor to teach him how to
navigate among these new customs and the unexpected invitation he
seemed to sense regarding expression of his darkest needs. He had many
questions and a Guardian would be bound to answer them.
Yet the trust between them was not one-sided. As Tirn'wador, Galdor
would defend Legolas even unto death, counsel him, console him in time
of need, and most importantly act as a chaperon during courting.
Tirn'wador would have the final say in whether or not a match was
favoured; even an elf's parents could not gainsay the Guardian's
decision.
In return Legolas must reveal his inner heart or chance nullifying his
Tirn'wador's efforts. There could be
no holding back, no farce or pretense of allegiance; he must either
grant to Lord Galdor the same place held in his life by Calarlim or
forego the entire procedure and struggle on alone.
"It is not so easy, is it?" Galdor guessed the turmoil in his
companion's thoughts and its source. "Just saying it is the will of
Tawar does not make the situation more endurable. Worry not; once
Úcaul Annaur (Unburdening by Fire) is completed you will find
this less taxing, for Calarlim does not wish you to suffer and hopes
for this transition to ease your spirit. For now, the marking will be a
beginning for you. As soon as the first puncture is made, you will feel
her protection ebb even as the red dye seeps into your skin, even as my
protection surrounds you."
Legolas shuddered again, hastily downed the rest of the drugged
liqueur, and set the glass aside. "I am ready," he said for the second
time and perhaps, due in part to the miruvor's effects, this
declaration was more truthful than the first. He began to unfasten the
closures to his borrowed tunic and slipped it over his head. As he
worked on the shirt he watched Sadron remove and ready the devices
required to ink the new marks and modify the old ones.
The piercing tool was a simple and efficient design carved from oak
wood consisting of a slender handled stylus elegantly adorned with
engraved blessings and potent prayers. The end of the handle was fitted
with a tight array of three fine needles sharp and gleaming a bright
white silver as if cast from mithril, which they were. Legolas had not
seen any piercing quill composed from metal, and such a precious one at
that. In Greenwood, the puncturing implement was generally a bone
splinter, a shard of jasper, or the thorns from acacia trees. Calarlim
had favoured thorns, for there was an ever-ready supply of fresh,
unblunted points to harvest.
A set of brushes with thick soft boar bristles, similar to those used
in painting a canvas, a vial of rust-coloured liquid and one of sooty
indigo, and a container of clear liquid used to cleanse the skin and
the implements before and during the work. To make a design, the brush
was
soaked in pigment and held between the fingers of one hand, which also
pressed and held the skin taut. The needled end of the piercing tool
was then dabbed into the saturated bristles and jabbed repeatedly into
the dermis with the other hand.
Galdor set out everything neatly on the stone hearth and waited as
Legolas removed his shirt.
Cuthenin did so and then held his arms out, fists curled tight with
thumbs up-facing, for the elder elf's inspection.
Galdor took one rigid knot of folded digits and carefully massaged the
throbbing vein at the arm's juncture, murmuring a prayer for peace of
mind and strength of will, until the archer relaxed and the hand
opened. Setting this one down upon Legolas' knee, he repeated the
procedure with its twin until both arms were loose and pliant to his
manipulation. Only then did Sadron allow himself to trace the long
lines of text up from the crease at the wrist to the the joint of the
elbow. He and Legolas quietly spoke the words of the prayers together.
Not stopping there, Galdor also ran his index finger lightly around
the spiral over the archer's heart. He smiled, finding Calarlim's name
in no less than three locations: on each forearm and within the
delicate spiral.
The place of the Guardian is still one of high
prestige,
then.
All of those signs relating to her would now be altered. On Cuthenin's
arms, her name would be struck through with a livid slash of vibrant
crimson to signify her loss by violent death. A new line of text would
then be inked in blue, proclaiming Galdor's place as Tirn'wador and
Legolas' acceptance of the change.
The heart-spiral was more difficult to alter, for the symmetry of the
design must be preserved. Not only were the words important but
the
image itself represented a powerful emblem of protection. This mark was
the first begun on an initiate's body and its centre was inked on the
twelfth day after birth. Thereafter, it was added to every year,
embellished as the child grew, through the fifth year. From thence to
the fiftieth year, the spiral was increased every sixth year and then
never again until bonding occurred. The marks given then would be the
last ever added to the heart-spiral.
Barring a tragedy such as Legolas has experienced.
Calarlim's name could not simply be crossed out, but would have to be
outlined in red instead, a much more painstaking procedure, before the
elder could add his name. Galdor decided the best way to achieve both
goals was to create a sort of trailing back whorl on each of the three
arms, so that there would be an inner and outer spiral, one interlaced
within the other, one growing from and superseding the other, yet
perpetually linked in an endless loop.
Yet Galdor was not through with his observations and lifted questioning
eyes to Legolas. A bright smile and a swift move to bring all the
golden hair to the front was his answer and the Noldo turned his new
charge slightly to better view the exquisite work on the archer's back.
"Remarkable," he whispered. "Who did the design for you?"
"Tirn'wathel."
"Of course, I should have realised." The elder's fingers trailed along
one outspread wing and he heard Legolas whisper the incantation
contained
within the feathers as he touched them. This emblem, absolutely unique
to Legolas, would have also been gradually built over his lifetime,
with the small points
of the constellation and a single feathered prayer inked on the first
begetting day anniversary. The full image could not be finished until
physical growth was complete and traditionally this was an event that
happened
on Coll o Gweth (Coming of Age) in the fiftieth year.
Galdor let his touch fall upon the delicate spray of vines and flowers
and here his attention froze. This was a design he had seen before and
his brows rose in surprise, wondering if the meaning was still the same.
"Tirn'wathel protected me," said Legolas quietly, knowing where his new
Guardian's eyes were focused. "Will you do the same?"
"I will, if it is within my power. Legolas, you have said there is no
one to stand as your Faer Hebron (Soul Keeper), yet this mark is
reserved for an elf betrothed. Such a design was surely chosen by your
intended mate. Tell me, where is this elf?" Galdor turned from his
scrutiny of the vivid rendering and sought Cuthenin's eyes.
But Legolas kept his face averted, staring again into the flames, and
licked his lips, trying to ready them for the work of speaking
something that had only been voiced aloud by Calarlim before.
"There was no one. It was all a ruse. Calarlim took me on a visit to
her cousins in the northern regions of the Greenwood in my forty-third
year, for Hiren Adar expressed concern that I had not sought permission
to court anyone for bonding. He supposed there was no one of interest
to me close to home and suggested we travel among the various parts of
the Greenwood that I might meet other eligible ellyth (female elves) of
my age. Calarlim told me he really believed none among the folk near
the stronghold would countenance my troth because of the stigma
cast upon me as the product of illicit union.
"We stayed a good while in my mother's country, nearly the whole year.
When we returned, Calarlim put it forth that I was betrothed to a
warrior maiden from that region and marked me thus. Hiren Adar was
pleased and professed the desire to meet my intended and her kin.
Tirn'wathel had to delay the event three times, using excuses of all
sorts. Another year later, word reached the fortress that the elleth
had perished in a skirmish with spiders. In truth, this maiden never
existed at all."
"Why would your Tirn'wathel do this? Would your father have attempted
to force a match for you to someone you could not abide, beyond your
country's borders, for political reasons perhaps?"
"Nay, Hiren Adar said I might bond with any elleth in Greenwood that my
heart would wish, whatever her House or rank. I am not of high enough
station to provide a strategic alliance, even if Hiren Adar wished for
an external allegiance of that nature, which he does not. My two
brothers fulfil the duty of cementing internal coalitions of strength
and are bonded to ellyth from two of the most powerful among the
Greenwood's noble Houses, ones that trace back to Neldoreth and Doriath
in Beleriand."
"Then what is it?"
"I would never knowingly shame my family in any way. Yet if I seek
a mate such that my heart truly desires, then I could not help but do
so, for I long for that which is anathema among our culture."
"Ah, this is regrettable," Galdor sighed, for he realised what Legolas
was trying to tell him. "Your interest does not include females, and
customs scorn a bond between same-sex mates?"
"More than scorn, such is forbidden in my country. If anyone finds out,
my father's House will be held up to ridicule. Thranduil's efficacy as
a ruler will be questioned because he would present as weak for
producing such an aberration within our people. Indeed, the fact of my
existence, even lacking any immoral tendency, is enough reason for some
detractors' aims. He would lose the
respect of the most loyal among the leaders of the other Houses in the
realm.
"Some would say it is a perversion introduced by the Sindarin
bloodlines, a weakness to be purged. My brothers and their offspring
would be scrutinised for any example of the detested behaviour. I have
three great nephews who have not reached Coll o Gweth and they would
come under the taint of my…preference. Finally, I would be judged and
banished from my home, never to see my family again this side of the
Sundering Sea."
All of this poured out from Legolas in a bitter stream of hurt and
anguish, for while he dreaded anyone learning the truth, he felt
wronged. Why must he be forced to display a false front for the rest of
his life, ever denied a true bond-mate and the fulfilment such a union
would bring?
"Ai, can it become more complicated, young one?" Galdor wrapped an arm
around the bare shoulders and pulled the youth close, sickened in his
soul to hear this tale.
In Gondolin, and now in Imladris and Mithlond,
tolerance was a given and the choice for one's bonding-mate was not a
cause for being ostracised from the community, much less banished from
the country entirely. Lorien was more conservative, with same-sex
pairings frowned upon but not prohibited by law or custom. The
Greenwood's mores seemed too unforgiving and he wondered why this
should be so, for the Pâd-en-Tawar did not list any restrictions
regarding courting and bonding one way or the other.
"The little farce prevented all of these things. Additionally, I have
been exempted from further attempts at seeking a mate on the pretext
that my heart is broken and I am barely fighting off fading," Legolas
continued morosely.
"So you preserve the family honour at the sacrifice of your own
well-being.
I deem it accurate to say that grief has been your companion
even before the recent loss of your dear friends, though your
intended never died. It is the same, to be sundered by death and to be
held apart by rigourous laws too strict to endure. The soul cannot
abide alone if it longs for union with another, and to force such a
division is severely detrimental. We must remedy this, Legolas, or you
will indeed be in danger of fading."
"There is nothing to be done; the laws will not be changed to
accommodate me."
"We shall see. For now, let me proceed with the marking and then we
will continue the discussion. I need time to think. We will begin." So
saying Galdor
took up the piercing stylus and Legolas' left arm.
Into the red ink the brush dipped and drank deeply, emerging full and
swollen with the blood coloured die. Galdor swept the needles through
the bristles and stabed the points down into the sign for Calarlim's
name.
"Boe Leitho hene in dangen uin gwist pain." (It is necessary to release
she who is slain from all oaths.) Sadron intoned.
"Sin endaith úhêb Calarlim sí." (These marks will
not keep Calarlim here.) Legolas responded steadily, determined to be
strong throughout the procedure in honour of his Naneth Edwen. "Eru,
edra Mandos na Tirn'wathelen vell." (Eru, open Mandos to my dear
Guardian.)
Thus, the Noldo Lord set to work and with skill and precision made the
changes necessary on
the Wood Elf's body. Each time the needle was dipped into the ink and
pushed beneath the Wood Elf's skin, the two stated the same simple
sentences. When each mark of her name was overprinted in the red dye,
Galdor began to ink the oath of his guardianship.
Because the artistic script was delicate and detailed, this
required several hours and annûn was approaching before the
application was completed. He had thus been provided ample time to
consider what action might be taken to circumvent the Greenwood's
taboo, yet no reasonable option had as yet revealed itself. Galdor gave
a final inspection to the heart-spiral and nodded approvingly.
"It is done. You are under my care until the day you are bound in
soul-union to your life-mate," he declared.
"I shall heed your counsel in all matters, Tirn'wador," Legolas gave
the proper response with a heavy heart.
Sadron had spoken truly, at the first puncture he had felt Calarlim's
presence departing and it hurt more than he had expected, for this pain
of the soul had taken root in his spirit upon her death and he had
thought it terrible enough before. Listlessly he reached for his shirt
but Galdor stayed his hand.
"Will you not even look upon my handiwork?" he queried gently and
stood, pulling Legolas to his feet as well. A hand on either shoulder,
Galdor half-pushed, half-led the archer to the bedroom where a long
silvered glass was fixed within a carved wooden stand braced upon the
floor.
"Oh!" Legolas could not help the exclamation of surprise for he had
never seen a mirror so large, nor viewed his full body thus from an
exterior perspective. Tentatively he lifted his hand to trace out the
new additions on the heart-spiral, where the bright red outline forever
highlighted that which he had lost.
"See, Calarlim will always remain close to your heart, no matter the
distance death has forced upon you," said Galdor and met the tear
bright eyes in the mirror with an encouraging smile.
Legolas tried to smile back and gave a brief nod, but dropped his eyes
as he fought to contain another surge of sorrow.
"Go and dress while I put away the tools and straighten up the room,"
instructed Galdor and with another quick dip of his head Legolas
hurried back to
the hearth.
The flames were nothing more than shimmering spots of incandescent
orange among the white fluff of ashes and broken chunks of black
charcoal, but the last bits of the tree continued to give off heat.
Legolas gratefully sat upon the fire-warmed stone and lifted his shirt,
dressing quickly as Galdor put everything away. A soft chime repeated
three times and drifted through the house, making Legolas look up in
curiosity to see if Tirn'wador would explain.
"Tea time is thus announced," chuckled Galdor.
"Ah, I have promised to take tea with Sam and Frodo and their kinsmen.
How shall I find them? I never thought to ask where they would like to
meet," Legolas felt a bit foolish upon realising this.
"We shall go together, for I will not release you from my side until we
have discussed your troubles further. Also, I promised a strengthening
ritual for the council tomorrow and we must plan for Úcaul
Annaur," answered the elder elf.
"As you say, Tirn'wador," Legolas rose and followed him from the room.
They found the Hobbits in their private chambers, a huge apartment
meant to accommodate a family with children along and thus providing an
extra
bedroom and a larger sitting room. If the small folk were surprised or
disgruntled to have an uninvited guest they did not show it, warmly
welcoming Galdor, whom Legolas introduced as his Guardian.
Meeting
Merry and Pippin was a joy and the two soon had Legolas' thoughts
diverted from his sorrows as they told a series of rather embarrassing
stories concerning Frodo's antics while growing up. That prompted Sam
and Frodo to retaliate in kind, and before the end of the simple repast
the Wood Elf was close to tears again but this time from laughter
rather than woe.
For his part, Galdor was glad to see his new ward lighter in spirit and
partaking, albeit sparingly, of sustenance again. They stayed with the
Hobbits for two hours and then returned to the noble Lord's suite.
At once Legolas moved to the sofa and took up the warm cloak still
draped over the seat, wrapping it tight about him as he curled up
against the ample cushions.
"Still cold?" Galdor asked and did not wait for the answer
before going to the fireplace and stirring up the embers. In minutes he
had the blaze renewed and added sufficient fuel to maintain
the fire for some time. That done he prepared another of the miruvor
mixtures and presented it to Legolas. "Drink and we shall speak of
Glorfindel."
Legolas physically jumped at the abrupt introduction of this topic and
nearly spilled the glass as he took it, feeling his ears grow warm with
Tirn'wador's eyes upon him. He simultaneously yearned and dreaded to
explore the subject of the Balrog Slayer. He took a deep draught and
steeled himself to meet Galdor's kindly, expectant gaze. "As you say,
Tirn'wador." Legolas had never been so grateful for the set and proper
phrases before this night.
And for this tonic. This
being the third portion of it in a relatively short time, the woodland
messenger felt its effects begin almost immediately.
"He is a worthy suitor." Galdor began as he sat beside the woodland
archer.
"He cannot be my suitor nor can I become his; he is male."
"A technicality only applicable in Greenwood. Here in Imladris and my
home in Mithlond, that is an irrelevant factor."
"But I live in Greenwood."
"Glorfindel lives here."
"There, even without the law's strictures against it the match is
doomed."
"I do not see why. You have already said you are not expected to
provide any sort of official duty of state in Greenwood. Could you not
spend much of your time away from the trees?"
"Nay! I am needed; every archer is vitally important. I could never
abandon my trees, my people. You cannot know what it is like; the
Shadow tries to rob Greenwood of its very soul while the Orcs from Dol
Guldur seek to eliminate every elf in the forest. Shall I go away when
such trials accost my country?"
"Then the match itself is not undesirable to you, only the estrangement
from your home holds you back?"
"I…that is…he is worthy, I am sure. Yet I do not know him well, nor
even if he desires such a thing."
"It is better not to withhold your thoughts, for I know Glorfindel well
and can best determine if he would make a fitting mate for you. Over
both his life-times I have observed that ellon, Legolas, and I perceive
that he hungers for you. The question disturbing me is whether there is
anything more than that, and yet in your current dilemma that may be
all we have to build upon. You do find him appealing, yes?"
A long silence followed, broken by a nervous gulp of the restorative
liquid and then, "Aye," the assent, barely audible, was given.
"What underlies this attraction?"
"I do not know, he is just…superb," Legolas felt his cheeks must be on
fire so difficult was this to say and yet somehow the word had simply
just escaped. He took another swallow and did not object when Galdor
pulled him closer and began to gently rub his back and shoulders.
"Define that." These words were clearly spoken through a large grin.
"What about him is so exemplary in comparison to any other elf you have
met?" Galdor pushed, increasing the rhythmic massage down the silvan's
back and arms. A light sigh and a sudden easing of tension informed him
the elf was fully under the influence of the drug and he smiled again.
"He stood up for me," Legolas answered, feeling more at ease with the
ancient elf, grateful for the physical contact as much as for the
non-judgemental acceptance of his desire for a male elf. He shivered
and sighed again; it was so good to let go of all the worry and allow
his Guardian to manage things for a time. Legolas' head dropped back to
rest upon the Noldo's shoulder.
"At the borders?"
"Aye, and at the pools. He intervened in Erestor's plans to defame me."
"This is a quality you admire then, his proclivity to defend you even
against his fellows and friends."
Another brief nod confirmed this
statement.
"Even more, he respects me. He did not laugh or scorn my words, nor
allow the other warriors to do so uncontested."
"And at the baths, what happened there?"
"Erestor said some rather indecent things about me and boldly stated
that Glorfindel had chosen me as his next lover."
"He said this in your presence?" Galdor's tone was shocked.
"In Quenya. He does not know, no one does, except Glorfindel, that I
speak it well." In a less-fuzzy section of his brain Legolas regarded
himself in amazed dismay, for he had just revealed something he most
certainly should not. He vaguely wondered why he did not feel alarmed
at this sudden loosening of his tongue, attributed it correctly to the
drugged wine, and blithely let the idea vanish from his thoughts.
"That is interesting!" announced Galdor with a short laugh as he
watched the silvan slip deeper into a state of mellow inebriation
courtesy of the potent drug, his inhibitions falling away one by one.
"Remember, all that you share with me remains between us. Fear not, for
I will not betray your confidence. You told Glorfindel of this talent?"
It was this that the ancient elf found truly intriguing. "What made you
trust him so?"
"Was it a mistake?" Legolas tried to focus on his Guardian but found
his head too heavy to lift from its present placement upon the elder's
shoulder. He had a clear view of the noble elf's strong chin and jaw
and smiled, for he could tell Sadron was also still grinning widely.
"Nay, not at all. Never has he betrayed a secret to my knowledge. He
seems disposed to take your part. If he had divulged anything to
Elrond, I would have been told at once, for I represent Mithlond, a
strong ally to Imladris. I assure you I found this information quite
unexpected.
"You decided quickly to encourage Glorfindel's interest. You
had ample opportunity to observe him closely at the baths, is that why?
What is it about him that stirs your blood?"
"It is as I have said. He is…superb." this last word emerged more as a
throaty purr of pure desire than a simple word of descriptive praise
and
Legolas sighed again after uttering it. Behind him Galdor's low chuckle
rumbled through him and incited a light giggle from the archer.
"So you would have him for your lover." The only response to this was a
lazy lolling nod of the golden head. "And how shall it be between you,
then. What would you have for your first encounter?"
That brought the colour back to the Wood Elf's face instantly and
chased the smile away, replacing it with a wide-eyed look of stricken
embarrassment. The elder noted this and started rubbing the archer's
arms soothingly as the silence stretched into minutes.
"I do not know anything about…joining…between males," Legolas managed
at last and hastily drank the remainder of the tonic, wishing there was
more. He did not even feel it when Galdor removed the glass from his
hand and set it aside. "I understand about male and female and the
making of children. None of that applies; does it?"
"Some of it does, for your body will respond as any male's. The
question I believe you are asking me is how to accommodate that state
of arousal. None of this was discussed between you and Calarlim?"
"Nay, for there was no notion of fulfilling such a desire. Her counsel
was on how to deal with such urges privately."
"You are completely untouched by any but your own hands." Galdor's tone
grew gentler then and he smiled at the short nod of acknowledgement
this provoked. "What do you imagine when you handle this specific
problem?"
"That it is another touching me," he began awkwardly, "another's hands
and lips caressing my ears and my neck, my chest and…my…arousal."
Legolas was silent for several heartbeats but Galdor gave no reaction
to this scandalous statement at all other than an encouraging nod of
his head.
"Tirn'wador, I have never been kissed,
not with desire and need. I wish to be kissed and to kiss back," he
announced quietly.
And I would have Glorfindel be the
one. "I want to touchthe same way; I want to give pleasure and see
that this is so. Glorfindel would welcome this?"
"Aye, but he is not a fantasy under your control, Legolas. He is a real
being, not merely a mythical hero from a child's story book. He is a
vital and viral male and would make a most demanding lover," Galdor
cautioned and felt Legolas tremble under his hands. The Wood Elf
shifted uncomfortably and the Noldo Lord had no doubts as to the cause.
"Not a dream, real," Legolas whispered, and shivered again. He sought
to reorient his body, hoping to ease the discomfort in his groin as
this talk stimulated his libido. "I would have that be so, Tirn'wador.
You can arrange this? He will become my Faer Hebron."
"Perhaps. Yet what of your fears of banishment Greenwood? Your
desire has quickly overwhelmed your dread of censure."
"They do not need to know about it. You will not tell them; Glorfindel
need never go there. I can remain Athedrainyn between Greenwood and
Imladris, spend time in both places."
"What of your duty as a warrior? Do not cast off your just concerns for
one experience of passion's fulfilment."
"Then I will go home afterwards and Glorfindel will stay here. I
suppose we shall not meet again very often until we cross to Eldamar."
"That hardly seems fair to either of you. Is that all you wish for,
then? To experience this joining and then depart?"
"Nay. I would have him love me. I want to be loved and to love in
return. I want a life-mate, Tirn'wador. Why can I not have this be
Glorfindel? He is perfect."
Galdor could not suppress a light laugh at this naive demand and bold
assessment of Glorfindel's qualities."He is not flawless for no elf is.
Everyone has faults and Glorfindel is no exception. Remember what I
said: he is flesh and blood, more than a legend in a book. And he has
had some rather bad experiences regarding pairing up with other elves.
As in all cases, the problems were not entirely due to his partner's
failings alone.
"You find him appealing and he has already made his interest in you
plain. But these are often not the same thing, Legolas: desire and
love. You crave his touch, he longs to claim you. That is a purely
physical attraction. You have only met him this morn; whether there can
be more between you is a serious consideration." The ancient elder's
lecture ceased as the silvan warrior emitted a groan of discontented
irritation.
"Why can I not have both these things? I would love him and please him
also."
"Would you now? Are you so ready to commit your soul to this one elf?
If that is true, could you leave him so easily?"
"Nay, you are right. I could not bear to be parted, if he loves me and
I him. Yet I could never bring him to my home. Thus I am to be banished
after all." Legolas nearly sobbed to utter this, his greatest fear,
aloud.
"Hold, Cuthenin, for you have leaped far ahead of the present! You
cannot declare love to one you do not yet know. Nor do we have any
notions of Glorfindel's thoughts on seeking a life-mate. Thus, it is
premature to sentence yourself to exile." Yet in his heart Galdor felt
that Legolas' prediction would prove accurate, for there was in the
Wood Elf's voice a note of acceptance, as if his heart had recognised
to whom it belonged and felt both at peace and torn in two.
"You will see to it then. He must complete Faras-Uin-Ind first.
(Hunting of the Heart - formal courtship) Then we can think of some
means to conceal the bond from my people."
Galdor considered silently for several minutes, worried now that he had
raised the youth's hopes beyond reasonable expectation, for Glorfindel
had not seemed overly eager about assuming any role that brought him
into contact with Legolas' soul.
His body, yes, Glorfindel
will gladly lay claim to that. As for the Wood Elf's heart, the Vanya
is unlikely to be open to such a gift. I must make discreet inquiries
and seek another. Legolas will be bound to agree to his Tirn'wador's
choice. He sighed and squeezed the archer's shoulders
consolingly.
"I shall speak with him; no more can I promise. If I decide this union
would do greater harm to your spirit then you must accept my
evaluation. Yet I will seek for you a Faer Hebron, for Úcaul
Annaur must be achieved as soon as may be possible. For now, I will
escort you back to the talan, for you are restless over a problem you
must work out on your own." So saying, Galdor got up and offered a hand
to Legolas, who was very red of face over this allusion to his state of
arousal, which had not subsided but rather grown more frustratingly
intractable.
TBC
NOTE: My continued gratitude to those who are reading and especially
those reviewing! I appreciate every comment given. This story can also
be found on FanFiction.net and LotRfanfiction.net.
Here is another chapter. The first paragraph is a
poem I wrote and I hope that does not bother anyone. There is a quick
glimpse into Legolas' childhood here and a new Guardian is chosen.
Galdor takes his job seriously and so he is trying to help Legolas
through the transition, that is why he 'slips him a mickey' so to
speak. That is also why heasks such specific questions; he does not
know Legolas well and needs to learn quickly. He is not going to do
anything to harm Legolas; others shall work on that goal.
Remember in this story that Legolas is both very young and has been
raised in a closed, highly conservative culture. If he seems not to
know much about how to go about engaging in a physical act of love with
another male, that is not so surprising. In American culture, still
very oppressive in may ways, a young person feeling the stirring of
sexual yearning is often forced to attempt to learn these things
covertly. Think of your own youth and the misinformation that
surrounded such a touchy subject as sexuality.
For someone interested in the same gender, it is far worse, for
sometimes they cannot even openly question friends for fear of being
shunned, or revealed and punished. In Legolas' case, the additional
stigma of his parents not being bonded adds to the fear of garnering
greater shame.
Next chapter, Glorfindel undergoes a similar inquisition by the ancient
Sadron to determine his fitness to become Cuthenin's soul-keeper, and
the death ritual is detailed.
Cheers,
Fred
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