House of the Golden Flower

This chapter is for Siobhan, please continue Birth of a Star!

Turgon and I talked of many things during our years together. We talked of his brother, of his past, of his childhood. We spoke of his wife, Elenwe, who perished during the crossing of Helecaraxe after the Kinslaying in Aqualonde, of his daughter as a child. But there was always a sorrow in his heart I couldn’t reach, a sadness closely related to me that he would not allow me to know. For a very long time, I did not press him, and he did not tell me of his sister and her unknown fate. When he did, I knew the name of that certain sorrow, and it was Aredhel; inexplicably tied to me.

Over the years we gradually came to the point where we spoke of children, heirs to his throne. I released him to wed another and sire a son in a woman’s arms with my blessing and forgiveness, but he refused my offer graciously by denying all those who sought to court and woo him.

I was somewhat upset that these noblewomen would offer their lives to a man already bound to me, for we did not attempt to hide it and everyone that looked into our eyes, either his or mine, knew the truth of the matter.

When we were together fifteen years, Turgon named Ecthelion a nobleman, and Ecthelion called himself simply Ecthelion of the Fountain, taking the honor as humbly as ever. I knew that Turgon hoped he would marry and have a son that he could name as regent and heir, but alas, Ecthelion did not wed, and my king never said anything to him of it.

When we were together thirty years, he called for one of the sons of Thorondor. Riding with him behind me, the wind blowing my hair back onto him, I was reminded of when he had brought me to the White City, to Ondolinde, to Gondolin. I recognized my valley at once and we alighted near the stream I had never named.

We spent the entire afternoon there, and I showed him my old haunts. The mallorn where I had hidden after the first time he came, my winter home in the old oak, the thicket where I slept in summer, my cave that was now long empty, and the place where I had battled the wargs.

We laid in the grass for a time, my head on his chest while his hands idly plucked through my golden mane. "I sometimes think there might be Vanyar in you, Glorfindel." He commented. I nodded, gazing at a bit of cloud floating through the blue sky beyond the shady boughs of the trees we lay under. What could I say? I didn’t know. I leaned on my lover and tried to find the lonliness that had been my companion here. It was gone, all of it, not even an echo remained. Turgon’s love shielded my heart from it like Echoriath spared Gondolin the bitter winds of winter.

But the trouble still remained, that we had no heir for the Hidden Kingdom, and that I could not give my love one. My love desired an heir, but I was enough for him that he did not want to until he was able to do so in love. Neither of us would sentence a woman to come between us, be party to our love affair for the sake of a child. So we did not.

I rose after the heat of the day had passed and he woke and looked up at me from the ground. He was beautiful laying there, like a suckling fawn in the grass. I pushed my hair back from my face, feeling sticky with sweat all over. "I’m going to have a wash. Care to go with me?" I offered. It was far too hot to lay in the shade any longer. He joined me, and we stripped and laid our clothes in a hollow tree I had used before to store winter caches of food like a squirrel.

Then we went into the water, I led him as he tiptoed cautiously into the semi-warm waters. I laughed at him. He looked at me, pausing in one of his mincing, dainty steps. I mimicked him, pretending to hold up skirts and repeating his delicate bottom-waggling motions. He blushed when he realized he’d been doing that and splashed water at me in recompense. I glared for a moment, my hair wet and sticking to my back and arms. Then I pointed my finger at him and waggled it in warning, trying to think of some way to pay him back for that.

He began backing out of the stream. "You wouldn’t dare assault your king, now would you?" I arched a brow at his pulling of rank. "You seem to be a bit short on guards, sire." I noted, stalking him menacingly, a clump of river mud hidden in my hand. He tripped over something unseen and fell spluttering. I was there when he stood up and nailed him with the mud ball. He gaped and blinked at me a moment, and then got the mischievous grin I hadn’t seen in a while.

That was my only warning before he dove at me, wrestling me underwater. We rolled around and fought like that for a while, until our skin began to burn from the sun. I called it quits and let him dunk me and rub my face in sand cupped in his hand, then rinsed off and got out, leading him upriver.

I brought him to the waterfall just below the spring, a slowly pounding gust of water that fell from an outcropping of boulders that made up the riverbed. The water crested over the rocks into a deep pool here, and it was always cold in summer. Hot from the walk upstream, I took a running leap from the bank and dove in with a shout. Turgon shrugged and followed suit, but the instant he plunged into the deep water he went rigid and when he surfaced he was shouting, and not from sheer joy on this lovely day, but because the water was cold.

Unfortunately, he was shouting at me, blaming me for not warning him how cold it was. Despite being shrunken in a few places he was okay, so I just arched my brows at his teasing tone and let him work off the first shock of the chill by yelling at me. When he finally shut up, I swam over and kissed him, then went and climbed up on the rocks to let the water pour down over me. The sun was warm, the water was cool and I was in bliss having it pour over my face and heat and body in slick clear streams. I sang in happiness, the sound echoing eerily off the rocks and water as if we were in a great stone hall.

My song was tuneless and wordless, made up on the spur of the moment in joy for the lush summer day. My voice followed the heat of the sun, the twining of the water, and the beauty of the light playing on Turgon’s bare chest and his face, tilted to one side in deep thought. It meant nothing, other than to sound pretty and fill the air. I sighed and leaned into the flow of water. Turgon joined me a moment later on the rock, and I couldn’t possibly sing anymore, at least not with his tongue in my mouth.