The Flower and The Fountain

Golden One
Summary: Ecthelion’s point-of-view as he contemplates his relationship with Glorfindel whilst watching the other Elf spar.

I do not see your reasoning behind calling me ‘fair.’ I sit here quietly on a white stone bench, watching you as you go through the elements of swordplay with the younger members of your household. And all I can think about is what I did to deserve someone like you. The members of my own household are scattered about my feet, their eyes transfixed on your person as you teach them the finer points of combat. We’ve come a long way together, you and I. And, I believe, we will travel farther in each other’s company.

Glorfindel, my golden one. Maidens and lads alike fall prey to your charms, your dazzling smile and fair golden hair. If one didn’t know any better, they would think you were a true Vanya, come here to live among us Noldor and Sindar rather than remaining in Valinor. But you are only half-Vanya on your father’s side, and yet you possess the fair beauty and grace of that race. You say you are lucky to have me for a lover. I say you are wrong, for I am the lucky one. Who else can boast about having such a beautiful lover? Certainly I can, but I choose not to for I wish to keep you to myself. A selfish way of thinking, I realize, but those are the thoughts of my heart.

Was that a stumble? Did you actually lose your footing and almost fall into my lap? The elflings about me draw in sharp breaths, but I smile instead as your antics draw me out of my thoughts. You tripped yourself on purpose, I can see it in your eyes as they twinkle in the sunlight. You’ll do anything to find some excuse to be near me. I laugh inwardly at your antics as you go about pretending nothing happened, grinning sheepishly like a little child caught doing somethforbforbidden.

Your lighthearted and merry way of life brightens a lot of people’s lives. Did you know that, malthener? Even in darkest and dire of times, you have always found ways to warm people’s hearts and convince them to see the lighter side of things. Such as after the crossing of Helcaraxë, when Elenwë passed you tried to lighten Idril’s heart by telling her child’s stories. She was past her majority then, but I believe she greatly appreciated your efforts. And when my parents passed over the ice, you again were there to keep me going, refusing to give up on me. I don’t believe I can ever thank you enough for that, melme.

Ah, there you go, sparring another young lad, this one from my house. He looks rather frightened of you, but, again, I know better. You are soft-hearted and would never dream of hurting another of your kindred. I remember Alqualondë very clearly; it is a memory I do not wish to recall, but at times I do. I remember the look on your face then upon seeing the fallen Noldor, and especially the Teleri. You mourned for them then, just as you probably do to this day. You and I were onethe the few of Fingolfinost ost who dared not to raise a hand against the Elves who loved the sea. I remember your vow, ‘never shall I raise my sword against another of my kind be they seek ill on me or nay.’ You don’t know how much that meant to me after my cousin died.

The Kinslayings mellowed you, but then again you never were one to give into your anger and fury easily. You are revered by many, and feared by some though I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because you intimidate them by your supposed loftiness. But you are not lofty, just thoughtful. You seem merry and at ease at all times, but I know you. There are times when your heart is heavy, when your eyes are clouded and the light of them dimmed. You frighten me during those times for I fear I would lose you to some dark brooding. That is never the case, however, and I should learn to know better.

“Ecthelion.” I lift my gaze to meet yours and find you smiling down at me; the afternoon sun is behind you, and sets your hair into a fiery glow. “Spar with me,” you say with a slight teasing tone in your voice. “Let us show these elflings how proper combat is to be done.”

“As you wish, meldir,” I respond as I stand and shrug off my cloak. I can feel you smile as I stretch out the muscles of my neck and shoulders, work the tension out of my joints. All eyes are turned to us in awe and whispers fly through the crowd. Ah, there is Rog, Egalmoth and Penlod with the lads of their houses; curiosity is written all over the lads’ faces as our fellow captains laugh heartily amongst themselves. We shall put on quite a show for them, malthener.

“Come now, Ecthelion,” you tease as you rest your sword against your shoulder in a lazy fashion. “Do not endeavor to keep me waiting all day. My patience is growing quite thin with the passing moments.”

“Patience is a virtue you have never truly mastered,” I quip good-naturedly. Behind me Rog burst into laughter, and Egalmoth and Penlod conceal grins and giggles whilst the lads remain oblivious to our banter. There! Your classic pout, but you’ve used it so often on me that it is no longer effective in causing me to crumble under pressure.

“I’m hurt. Does this mean you no longere mee me?”

“I’m sorry. When did I ever say I loved you?” Before you have time to react, I have drawn my twin knives from my thigh sheaths and given the first ak. k. There is a clang of steel against steel as you parry my block. Our bodies are close, separated only by the blades between us.

“Lost in memories today, vanimaer?” you whisper so that only my ears can hear. I smile faintly before you push me back and throw your own attack, to which I easily defend.

“They are not all pleasant memories,” I whisper back, shinshing in your closeness. Whether in the throes of passion or in the heat of battle, I always endeavor to become close to you. Your presence gives me strength, and dismisses all clouds from my mind.

“I shall have to remedy that, vanimaer.”

“I hope you do, malthener.” You smile a warm smile meant only for me, and it warms my heart.

We keep up the pretence of sparring, though I daresay our fellow captaand and friends can guess at what they do not hear. The lads, on the other hand, are oblivious, mesmerized by the display of combat we are putting on for them. Your fair grace with the sword is nearly unmatched in Gondolin; my choices are the twin knives and the spear. But we both are more adept at music than combat. Should our calling in life had been different, we might have made a fine pairminsminstrels in the King’s court rather than captains of his guard. I frown slightly at the thought but quickly push it away. There is no sense in dwelling on things that may never come to pass.

“Is the afternoon sun hampering your movements?” you ask, taking up our banter again. “You are slowing down, mellon-nîn.”

“You only wish,” I bite back before launching another attack at you. Smiles, brilliant and dazzling, cross both of our faces as again and again we parry, thrust, block, swipe and do it all over again. Egalmoth and the others are laughing in merriment at us, whilst the lads pale and their eyes grow large as they place their complete focus on us. Our hair mingles in dark and light wisps, the colors of our leggings and tunics blur into silver and gold streaks as we move faster. And, all the while, the elflings keep their focus on us, eyes darting to follow each little movement.

Whether they are learning anything from our sparring or are merely entranced by the combat I am not sure, nor do I entirely care. For me, there is only you. All I see are the dancing blue of your eyes and the gentle touch of your hair as it brushes against my face in our hurried movements. I love you, Glorfindel. With all my heart and soul I love you. No one else could ever take your place in my heart.

Together we end, and at nearly the same moment. The edge of your sword rests against my throat just as the tip of both of my blades gently prick your abdomen. We are standing back to frontestsests heaving in unison after our sparring. I can feel your breath whisper across my cheek, your warmth pressed against my back. I do not want to remove myself from the enfolding circle of your arms, but I know I must. I remain, though, for a moment longer, perhaps longer than I should but I do not care.

“There will be more time for this later, melethron,” you whisper into my ear. “Just be a little more patience. The lesson for the day must be completed.” I nod, and being to reluctantly remove myself. You lay a gentle, promising kiss upon my hair, unnoticed by the others, as we pull apart and clasp hands in a friendly manner.

“I have been undone,” you say aloud. I fight down a smirk at your implication as Rog bursts into another fit of laughter. The elflings are confused and turn to Egalmoth and Penlod for an explanation should they give one; the captains, however, are too busy trying to calm down Rog whilst hiding their own amentment.

“Your relentless assault has tired me considerably,” you continue. “Pes ons on the next round, I shall be there victor.” Really, malthener, poor Rog will burst from laughter if you keep egging me on like this.

“Perhaps, meldir,” I respond with a slight smirk. “Or perhaps the next time I shall best you again. Then, I suppose you will have to declare me your superior and worship the ground I walk upon.”

“Then I must tread carefully and in stealth else I will be beaten before I have been able to release the fury of my sword.” Oh this is too much! The scene we make is utterly priceless! Here we are making witty banter between ourselves whilst poor Rog is dying from his laughter with Egalmoth and Penlod no better, and the young lads completely confused. Ah, what a pair we are, melme. Quite a pair.

“Come!” you say whilst taking my arm after we have sheathed our weapons. “I owe the victor a prize this day. Perchance I may reclaim my prize should next we meet.”

“Perhaps.” I smile as you dismiss both of our houses with a wave of your hand. As we walay, ay, towards your chambers I am assuming, I can hear Rog’s mirth slowly waning as murmurs of astonishment and excitement flitter amongst the lads. “You have undone me, malthener.” A hearty laugh you give at my small jest. I smile at the sound which is music to my ears as you lead us into your private chambers, shutting and locking the door so that we may have our privacy until the evening meal.

My love, my life, my golden one. No one can compare to your beauty, your grace and your compassion for others. I give myself to you freely. I am yours, Glorfindel. Forever yours.

TBC...