True Bow (Cuthenin)

Cuthenin (True-Bow)


by F.E.Morton

unbeta'd

italics = thoughts

(elvish translation)

\|:|/ text words text /|:|\ designates beginning and ending of recalled
events

Disclaimer: just borrowing, the characters and settings are Tolkien's,

the words here are mine. No money earned.

Summary: A look at what might happen if Legolas was just known as a

messenger and not as Thranduil's son. The setting is just before the

Council of Elrond. Features Glorfindel/Legolas
pairing.

Note: Here at last the sordid details of Erestor and Glorfindel's
broken bond. Hopefully everyone sees it is not all Erestor's fault,
though he has not dealt with his pain in a healthy way. Glorfindel's
sterling character acquires a bit of tarnish. This chapter is presented
after all of that is resolved and the tale is told in retrospect from
Legolas and Glorfindel's memories while the Úcaul Annaur ensues.
So there are time shifts.

Everything written between these two symbols: \|:|/ and /|:|\ happened
earlier in the day. Hope that is not too confusing.

As for the ancient history of the two elves from Gondolin, again I have
taken
liberties, this being AU. The Úcaul Annaur is explained,
hopefully enough to make it understandable but not so graphically as to
be sickening.  Such things are not unheard of in many human
cultures, even modern ones. There will be further enlightenment in an
upcoming chapter, for there are several things that have not been
addressed. I promise I am not going to gloss over how Glorfindel
convinced Legolas to go through with the death rites with him. The
chapter just is impossibly long as it is and I can reveal this later in
a better way. I have also not forgotten about the shoes!

My heartfelt thanks to everyone reading and especially to those
reviewing! As always, check the other site to read individual replies
to these wonderful comments. People reading this fandom are just
fantastic and I appreciate the support very much!

Min-ar-Paenui Peth: Úcaul Annaur (Part Eleven:
Unburdening by Fire)

A more perfect example of autumn weather could not have been provided
had Elrond commanded it through the power of Vilya. The light of Anor
was rich in hues of gold and burgundy streaked across the pale blue
western sky, dappling the ground beneath the grove of oaks in the dell
behind Glorfindel's house. The bright daubs of gleam danced with the
shadows cast as the breath of Manwë swayed the upper limbs of the
ever-leaved hardwoods. The soft shirring of branch and twig
complimented the solitary song of an Olive Warbler perched somewhere
amid the needles of a fir high on the steep stony walls of the
surrounding cliffs. The trilling song drifted through the briskly
boreal air in regular intervals and it almost seemed the distant
avian's lilting rhythm determined the timing of the other sounds within
the sheltered glade.

Low and muted, the crackle and hiss of a small, contained blaze, its
flames peeking through the slots in the iron brazier as if to rival the
sun, added its voice. The barely discernible rasp of a comb carding
through long straight hair, the rustling shuffle of silk-clothed arms
and shifting booted feet vied with the murmuring heat's noise. A louder
clank as the grate was opened and several heavy objects were settled in
the glowing amber coals disturbed the quiet mood and made Glorfindel
startle. Involuntarily, his fingers gave the hair a sharp tug and this
wrought a surprised though subdued mutter of disapproval from the
kneeling figure to whom the tresses were attached.

It was Legolas, of course, and he shot Glorfindel a disgruntled glare
from under upswept flaxen lashes.

"Nin gohennach," (Forgive me.) whispered the Vanya Lord contritely and
carefully untangled the knot his jerking motion had formed. He resumed
the grooming more carefully, counting the number of passes the simple
device made through the fluid locks, determined not to be distracted by
the luxurious sensuality of the weighty strands spread across his palm.

Legolas sighed and turned his eyes, since he could not move his head,
to observe what Galdor was doing that had made such a disruption. The
elder was slowly working a small bellows to supply the charry wood in
the brazier with sufficient air to make them incandescent. His
comforting brown gaze met Cuthenin's and he gave a nearly imperceptible
nod as his lips formed the slim outline of a smile. Legolas returned
the facial gesture and raised the goblet he held in his hands to his
lips, drinking deeply.

The mixture within was the same his Guardian had supplied on the
previous day only stronger, the bitter aftertaste of the potent herbs
more pungent upon the back of his tongue. He had not eaten at noon and
the effects of the drug were quickly diffusing through his bloodstream
and easing his anxiety. As before, Legolas was glad for it; thus far
the day had challenged his emotional endurance to its limit and the
ritual itself was said to be gruelling. While it seemed an Age might
have passed since the disastrous council, the events had concluded mere
hours ago. Now he knelt on the fallen leaves in the lengthening rays of
the setting sun as Glorfindel prepared him for Úcaul Annaur.

Wishing not to dwell too deeply on the activity to come, he recalled
instead the history preceding it. Verily, I fled down the path
from everything the dawn had introduced. He gave a slender
snort of self-derision as the image filled his mind:

\|:|/

"You will name him Faer Hebron?"

"Glorfindel is willing and I have examined him carefully for any
untoward intent. His spirit is genuine. You were not displeased with
the idea yesterday."

"Aye, but that was before I knew of his espousal. He is genuine, you
say, yet he could not find the means to explain the severing of his
bond to Erestor. His heart is not cold, you claim, yet he cared not for
the pain of his first love. I cannot entrust my soul to him nor commit
myself eternally to one so fickle. Faer Hebron, if not of my own blood,
should be my intended; thus I have been taught. Is it not so among the
other Gairdh o Tawar?" (Regions of Tawar)

"It is. Do Greenwood's byr obey the counsel of their Tyrn'wedir and the
rulings of their Sedryn?"

Long and lanky Galdor had no trouble keeping up with the smaller Wood
Elf as Legolas came as close to running along the byway as possible
without actually doing so. Nevertheless, the elder was irritated with
such an open display of defiance from his new ward and the sharpness of
his tone pulled the archer to an abrupt halt.

"I will heed your counsel in all matters, Tirn'wador." Legolas bowed
his head gravely but his voice shook. Now he regretted giving over such
an important role to someone he truly knew nothing about and who
understood him even less. All of his anger drained away, replaced by
the compounded shame such union would generate: linked to a male who
was another ellon's mate.

Ai! My father will disown me and my brothers will refuse to
even speak my name. His shoulders slumped and he did not
bother to lift his sight from the ground.

"How can I claim someone already bound?"

The cadence of this query was simultaneously defeated and pleading and
Galdor realised the messenger truly feared such a thing might be
ordained.

"Nay, Legolas, never would I force you into such an immoral joining."
The noble Lord quickly gripped his charge by the shoulders and gave a
short, brisk shake as if hoping the physical motion would jar loose
such an offensive concept. "This espousal you mention truly was in
another lifetime; it is no lie. You are young and mayhap it is not as
clear to your eyes, but I can see there is no eternal connection
betwixt Glorfindel and Erestor."  He maintained a tight hold to
prevent further retreat along the path.

"Erestor does not agree. He says that Glorfindel holds his heart. What
do you see in his eyes, Tirn'wador, for I saw only pain and anger."

"Their relationship was not so holy and exalted an estate as he has led
you to believe. In his defence, I believe Erestor truly does care for
Glorfindel and cannot accept the truth. Whatever bond existed during
their lives in Gondolin, it is vital no more. This is the doing of the
Valar and the reasons for it I do not pretend to comprehend. For such
answers you will need to permit Glorfindel to speak freely to you,
without voicing recriminations and accusations."

"Why can you not explain it to me? Tell me of their time together; you
knew them then, did you not?"

"Is it my place to spread gossip and hearsay? Is it right to speak
half-truths and repeat words removed from the dialogue and events that
inspired them? This is not my history we discuss but Glorfindel and
Erestor's. I will not reveal what was told to me in confidence, even if
Glorfindel is not the same elf now that spoke those secrets all those
centuries ago.

"I was quite serious regarding my apprenticeship to our Sadron then and
that is why he came to me. Even more adamant am I now regarding my
responsibilities, yet were I not bound by the oaths of a Sadron, still
I would never betray the trust of a friend. Not even for you, Cuthenin.
Do you understand this?" Galdor peered into the silvan's distraught
face and shook him again for emphasis. "Do you understand this?" he
repeated.

"I understand," Legolas murmured and turned his eyes down to the path.
He heard Galdor exhale a worried breath and felt the elder's strong
grip leave his arms. Cuthenin shivered, missing the succour of that
contact immediately.

"You have already said you would hear Glorfindel's explanation if he
complies with your request. I am sure he will finally confront this
matter with Erestor and settle the issue, though it will not be easy
nor pleasant to do so. He has many regrets, Legolas, not least of which
is the distress this has caused you. When he returns, will you listen
to him with an open heart?"

"Aye, Tirn'wador." Legolas did not meet his Guardian's gaze for several
minutes as he considered these words. He wished to believe there was a
reasonable explanation, that he could understand it all and still look
upon Glorfindel with the same respect as he had upon meeting him. Yet
one notion nagged at his thoughts and threatened to rob him of hope. At
last he raised his head to question the elder. "Would Erestor not know
of it at once? If he was bound to Glorfindel, would he not sense the
dissolution of that bond?"

"Indeed, therein reside my own misgivings for the Chief Advisor's
sincerity in his concern for your welfare."

"How so?"

"You are judging this in a very narrow way. In your mind, Erestor and
Glorfindel must be still bound, and thus the Balrog Slayer has broken
his vows. You believe this based on the premise that a true bond cannot
be sundered, for thus the Valar revealed and our natural inclination
substantiates. While that is correct there have been exceptions:
Finwë and Miriel specifically. Open your thoughts. Has it not
occurred to you that there are two possible answers to this dilemma?

"Perhaps Erestor and Glorfindel were not bound equally, in which case
the Valar would never sanction a continuation of such an arrangement
should one party be unwilling. An unequal bond could be of many forms:
a political union promoting alliance between powerful Houses or a
joining in which one elf was enamoured physically but the soul was
never touched, for example.

"Alternately, Erestor was cognisant of the bond's failure and refuses
to admit it, naming Glorfindel inconstant and seeking to punish him. He
is deeply hurt, this much is clear to me, even if I cannot condone his
manner of treating the injury to his spirit. Indeed, it may even be a
mixture of these factors rather than distinctly one or the other that
drives Erestor's actions. And Glorfindel's, for that matter."

"Nae! This is a horrible mess. Why is it Glorfindel who has captured my
interest, Tirn'wador? Mayhap my feelings are merely lustful desire, as
you warned. If so, the result is the same. How can I entrust my soul to
him?"

"Fear not; if you truly cannot abide Glorfindel then I shall seek
another for you, yet I must be blunt. The grieving sickness will only
advance more rapidly as each hour passes. You are shivering again; the
cold has returned. It is time to admit that this is not a result of the
poison, long banished from your body. This is but a sign of the
illness, as is your loss of hope and confidence. I know of no means to
halt its course but one, for you are far from home and loved ones and
the very elf you would first turn to is she whom you mourn most deeply."

"Mayhap that is for the best, then." Legolas dropped his eyes from his
Guardian's again and exhaled a shallow sough before attempting more
speech. "If that is my fate it is futile to evade it."

"Here is the proof of my fears already manifest before me. You would
rather fade and join Calarlim than aid our cause in these dark days
ahead?"

Legolas made no answer to this. What use could he possibly serve when
every effort he put forth resulted only in failure and loss of immortal
life? It seems I am less an advantage to the silvans than to
the Shadow. Yet he could not bear to say these words aloud
and thus give them substance.

"It is a difficult thing, trying to comprehend the nature of fate, and
not likely to produce fruitful results."

The gruff voice sounding this notion did not belong to either of the
elves, and the two immortals turned to look behind them. So intense had
been their discussion that neither had noticed the approach of the
wizard. Merry and Pippin, the Ring-bearer's kinsmen, were with him and
stared in undisguised fascination and concern at the First-born. They
had been close enough to hear the last part of the conversation
regarding grieving and eyed Legolas with sympathy.

"Mithrandir," said Galdor quietly and waited for the Istar to continue.

"Mellynen (my friends)," the Maia smiled his creased and wrinkled grin
and turned to address Legolas directly. "I would ask for your help in
this grave matter, warrior of the woods. Frodo and Sam cannot hope to
succeed all alone, even if I accompany them."

"You wish me to join the venture? Even after my failure in keeping
Smeagol?" His tone plainly transmitted how unexpected was this request.

"Have I not already said it is pointless to try and comprehend destiny?
It is better to accept that those events were unavoidable and take up
your part in this. Vairë is not known for changing her mind very
easily and she seems to have chosen you. Elrond agrees with me as well.
What does your Guardian say on the question?"

"I had not thought on it, Mithrandir, as there are other issues to
resolve first," Galdor frowned. Truthfully he felt it was wrong to add
more weight to the archer's burdens but had no desire to speak openly
of the dire nature of Legolas' suffering.

"Then we shall leave you to attend them in the hope that you will soon
turn your attention to my request," the wizard bowed formally and
stepped past them, continuing on the way. "Come, good Hobbits, we are
on a mission to find the Dwarf Lords!" he called behind him genially.

Merry and Pippin each gave a hurried and awkward bow to the elves and
skittered after their friend. They did not need to speak aloud their
sadness over the Wood Elf's troubles, for each had awakened to the
sounds of his haunting lament the previous night. Now this talk of
fading sounded too much like dying for them to feel comfortable about
it. Gandalf's belief that Legolas would join Frodo and Sam eased their
worry for the Ring-bearer and pointed to hope for the Wood Elf, yet the
elder elf seemed unlikely to approve it. Their grim expressions
wordlessly communicated all these fears in seconds.

On impulse, Pippin reversed his progress and went back to stand before
Galdor and Legolas, eyes darting uncertainly between one set of dark
brown irises and one of sapphire blue.

"Pippin!" hissed Merry in a frantic whisper, watching his cousin with
trepidation, terrified that he would offend the regal creatures with
some inappropriate remark.

"Please, Legolas," the Hobbit spoke and reached out to take the
silvan's hand in a firm grip. "Do not fade. Frodo needs you; we all
do." He gave the slender, elegant fingers a brief, reassuring squeeze
before releasing them and racing to his cousin.  Merry fixed him
with a lopsided grin, shaking his head in wonderment, and clapped his
friend on the shoulder to signify his approval. Together they hurried
to catch up to Gandalf, leaving Cuthenin staring in amazement. 
 

Galdor smiled into his ward's bewildered eyes, reading the look of
shamefaced guilt easily. It was obvious the Hobbit's plea had touched
Legolas and forced him to think beyond his own feelings of sorrow and
failure, longing and disgrace. The Lord of the Tree revised his earlier
judgement; perhaps this quest was exactly the sort of burden Cuthenin
required to draw him from his grief.

"Legolas, it is time to decide this matter. Come and see the place I
have chosen for Úcaul Annaur. Then you will listen to what
Glorfindel has to say. If he cannot acquit himself to your satisfaction
then I shall ask Elrond to suggest another to undertake the role of
Faer Hebron." So saying he led Legolas away from the path and into the
countryside, heading for the craggy cliffs and the perpetual
fomentation of the falls, confident of his charge's obedient
acquiescence.

/|:|\

"Bind all of his hair tightly into a single braid."

Galdor's instructions to Glorfindel called Legolas back from his
meandering memories and he blinked, attempting to clear his vision
which had suddenly become a whirling swirl of shapes and shadows. He
swayed and dropped the cup, spilling its contents upon the ground, and
instinctively grabbed onto the nearest solid object close at hand. This
happened to be the Vanya warrior's thigh and he felt the muscle flinch
under his pinching grip.

"Nin gohennach," (Forgive me) he mumbled as he loosened his hold and
tried to look up. Glorfindel's features swam in an alarmingly
nauseating pattern and Legolas shut his eyes tight. "I am dizzy."

"Ú-boe anim díhenad, Cuthenin," (There is no need for me
to forgive, Cuthenin.) Glorfindel knelt beside the archer and supported
him, finished the long plait and pocketed the comb. "What is in that
tonic, Galdor?"

"Only what is necessary. This is not all caused by the miruvor. Have
him lower his head to his knees; it should pass momentarily,"
instructed the elder Lord as he came and stooped down beside them. "Be
at peace, Legolas, it is normal to feel thusly."

"It has begun?"

"Aye, the first incantation is silent, for to hear it only compounds
the stress to the body by introducing fear into the mind." Galdor
lifted Legolas' chin and peered into his eyes. Truly, Legolas
almost has no need of a spell to loosen the spirit from the flesh, for
his yearns to flee anyway. Satisfied, he smiled to reassure
his ward before addressing Glorfindel again. "You must not lose contact
with him from henceforth until I tell you it is over, understood?"

"Yes, Galdor, I will not leave his side," promised the Balrog Slayer,
lightly rubbing the silvan's back.

"Nay, I mean this literally. Recall the instruction I gave you this
morning: you two need to be in physical contact for the duration of the
ritual. You can ensure this by placing his hands upon you as well. Now,
remove his tunic and shirt and yours also."

As Glorfindel complied he watched the ancient Lord quietly arranging
some objects on the small table. This had been carried down from the
talan to serve during the ritual and held several jars of ointments or
oils, some containers of a dry gritty substance in colours of green and
ochre, a set of metal tongs, and a wooden handle of sorts. He
shuddered, thinking on what had been explained of this rite after
Galdor's mild interrogation into his character. While pleased to have
convinced the Lord of the Tree of his worthiness to become
Cuthenin's Faer Hebron, Glorfindel could not suppress an innate dread
for what
must be done in order to uphold that honour.

It was dangerous and bordered on barbaric.

Knowing this, he stripped off his upper garments carefully, alternating
hands, keeping one set of fingers tightly clasped on Legolas' arm the
while. He was even more cautious while disrobing the archer, settling
Cuthenin back on on his heels and positioning one of the silvan's lax
limbs across his shoulder. Once Legolas' chest was bared, Glorfindel
noticed at once the changes in the spiralling tattoo and sought to meet
the messenger's gaze. Cuthenin kept his eyes veiled, however, a faint
blush tinting his high cheeks, and Glorfindel realised this was due to
the proximity of their naked flesh. Though Legolas had seen him
completely unclothed in the pools, he had not touched the Vanya.

Most likely has not touched anyone else, either.

He smiled faintly over Cuthenin's shyness and the innocence it
represented, giving the younger elf's shoulder a comforting clasp. He
switched his attention to the glowing embers, now so hot that the
brazier spilled a bright orange glow over their exposed skin.
Glorfindel let his vision travel the bounds of the shallow dell,
following the intricate circle which Galdor had sketched over the dirt
in a fine white powder. Even as he watched, the elder moved toward this
artfully crafted boundary and extended his hands over the design.

"Gleino mín nedhechor od edraith. Minna erui mellyn vi gwend a
sîdh." (Enclose us within a circle of safety. None may enter save
those who do so in friendship and peace.) The noble Sadron spoke
clearly and the words rang with a compelling tone of command.

A spark flew from his fingers and fell upon the spiral, igniting it,
and it was only then that Glorfindel realised he held a flint stone. No
flames erupted from the burning powder, however, and little smoke, but
a clear blue gleam as of captured moonlight arose from the ground and
etched the protective talisman upon the molecules of the very air. The
cool pale light mingled with the vibrant vermilion glare pouring from
the grate.

"Calarlim!" Legolas moaned pitifully, clutching his head in his hands,
and would have collapsed upon the ground in a heap had Glorfindel not
been holding fast. "Addheli enni, saes!" (Return to me, please!)  

Glorfindel gathered him close and looked to Galdor in alarm, but the
elder only stood still, eyes half-lidded and hands folded as if lost in
thought. The re-born elda wondered how long this phase of the
proceedings would last, for Legolas did not seem to be improving,
breathing with difficulty and clutching his temples as if his head must
pain him severely.

Beside the table, Galdor began chanting in a slow, mesmerising rhythm
but his volume was too soft for the words to carry. The Vanya warrior
felt Legolas inhale deeply and then a tremor worked through him. Under
the Balrog Slayer's hands, the pounding of the silvan's heart increased
two-fold.

It took all Glorfindel's resolve to remain calm, for though Galdor had
described every detail of the ritual and what various effects these
might produce upon Legolas, it was quite different to witness these
things. It was too much like illness, too close to the responses of a
failing body for Glorfindel to bear it easily. Shall I always
be on the cusp of loosing him just when it seems I have won
him? The noble warrior no longer wondered over the urgency of
his feelings and the strength of his desire to prevent their permanent
separation.

How close circumstances had come to that made his stomach churn. Even
now, with Cuthenin clasped in his arms, it was difficult to banish the
sinking desolation that had filled his soul the moment he believed the
woodland warrior was lost to him forever. Glorfindel thought back to
Legolas' ultimatum and smiled grimly, for that demand had forced his
encounter with Erestor to resolve the contention. The anger in the
memory contrarily stirred him to sorrow as the scene unfolded
within his thoughts:

 

\|:|/

Glorfindel stared at Legolas' departing form in disbelief.
This mere stripling, this untested youth would instruct him on how to
conduct his affairs? He scoffed one instant and the next felt his heart
freeze in terror, imagining that rapidly diminishing figure never
willing to reverse direction and return to him. With anxious haste he
mimicked the messenger, wheeling about and hurrying toward the Last
Homely House, desperate to repair the unexpected rift.

Yet he should have anticipated something of the sort, should have made
certain to prepare Cuthenin for the Chief Advisor's false words and
specious sympathy. It was no one's fault but his own and only his
actions could prevent permanent estrangement from the Wood Elf. And
while Glorfindel could not command Erestor's participation in
rectifying the volatile situation, he did not quail from forcing the
confrontation if need be.

In fact he was not far from absolute enragement for the complications
his former mate had introduced into the first stirrings of affection
and desire between himself and the Wood Elf. The Balrog Slayer was
ready to throttle the deceiving throat that had so smoothly and
deliberately supplied misinformation to Cuthenin. Yet there was a small
corner of Glorfindel's soul that did fear to address the break openly,
for his conscience could not be silenced.

Erestor was not in his rooftop apartment where Glorfindel expected to
find him. When no answer came to his knock at the door, the reborn
warrior did not hesitate to enter in unbidden. He called for the
advisor as he moved from room to room, noting the familiar disarray in
the office, the discarded clothing and unmade bed in the sleeping
chamber. With a scowl Glorfindel stalked into the observatory and
clambered up the narrow steps to the roof, for while the dome was open
the largest telescope was still within, its platform flush against the
floor of the room. Once upon the circular walkway, he spied a smaller
scope set upon a tripod facing east over the valley, a small stool
positioned before it.

Glorfindel's brow wrinkled in quandary, for the sighting tool was not
aimed up into the heavens as one would expect. He could not deny his
inquisitive nature and bent to set his eye to the device. A sharp
intake of breath accompanied his shocked surprise and he straightened
up, crimson in consternation. The talan in the oak grove was the visual
target and there upon the visiting messenger's bed reposed Erestor.
With a curse Glorfindel realised the implications and hastened to
confront the advisor. It did not take him long to reach the garden and
ascend to the flet.

"Welcome, Glorfindel, I have been awaiting your arrival. I suspected
you would find your way here in search of your young lover," drawled
Erestor, supine on the plush mattress in absolute ease and comfort,
wearing not a shred of covering over his appealing masculine form.

"Erestor, this behaviour is inexcusable! You have been spying upon
Legolas; do you deny it?"

"What makes you say so, Glorfindel? Have you invaded my rooms without
permission?" Erestor stretched languidly and caressed his abdomen,
sliding his fingers lower to fondle his penis, already filling and
rising to his touch.

"Do not try to shift attention from your errors," hissed Glorfindel,
refusing to allow his eyes to linger on the growing erection. "Cover
yourself, for what will transpire here has nothing to do with
pleasure," he snarled and snatched up the advisor's tunic from the
floor, throwing it upon him.

"Ah, I doubt you would be so eager to clothe your Cuthenin," sneered
Erestor and tossed the garment aside. "But I am not jealous; I can
understand the allure of being his first. I care not if you want him;
pierce him and get it over with for the thrill will vanish once you
have spilled within him. What can the two of you share beyond such base
lust? You belong to different worlds and his is barely civilised. That
silvan child cannot give you what you truly crave. Join me and I will
refresh your memory of how well suited we are to one another's needs."

"Do not involve him in this, Erestor." Glorfindel glared in fury but
could not quite manage to keep his gaze on Erestor's face.

"I am not the one who brought him into it," chortled the advisor. He
shifted his hips and flexed his penis, undressing Glorfindel with his
sultry gaze as he did so.

"Enough!" Glorfindel turned his back to avoid ogling the arousing
vision on the bed and took a deep breath, swallowing as he concentrated
to slow his heart and reign in his libido. "This has nothing to do with
Legolas and I am not here to justify my feelings for him. Cuthenin does
not deserve to be punished by you for wrongs you believe I have
committed. I am here to demand an accounting at last."

"Indeed? How dare you make such a statement when I am the one who was
wronged? Speak no more lies; it is your worry over that Wood Elf's
disposition that has brought you here. Admit it, Glorfindel, you are
angry because I told him the truth and now you have lost your virgin
warrior."

"You uttered nothing but innuendo and deliberately poisoned his
thoughts against me!" Glorfindel turned and shouted back. His eyes
travelled over the recumbent elf and rested on the fist encircling the
dark maroon cock, pumping in a slow, seductive rhythm. "Valar! I will
not be diverted! Dress yourself, Erestor, for I will settle this with
you at last."

"Aye, diverted; that is what has happened to us. Do you not see?"
Erestor's voice softened and he stood from the bed, sidling up against
Glorfindel and wrapping his arms around the warrior. With a groan the
advisor pressed his hot and heavy shaft against Glorfindel's groin,
thrusting against the growing protrusion trapped beneath the Vanya's
leather leggings. "Do you deny that you want this, love? That is surely
a lie."

"Nay, Erestor, I do not," Glorfindel managed to stutter out but for an
answer he found the Noldo's lips devouring his, demanding entrance. In
spite of himself Glorfindel moaned and began to kiss back, eagerly
caressing Erestor's limber tongue with his own, locking his arms around
the naked body, leaning into Erestor's supple heat. They broke to
breath and Glorfindel stared into the brightly burning triumphant gleam
in the predatory onyx eyes. Smug, assured laughter met his ears as
Erestor stepped back, tugging him toward the bed.

"This is as it should be, Glorfindel. You belong to me and no other.
Return to me and you will find that all is forgiven. Put aside your
yearning for the bastard child of the woodland King, for he is beneath
you." Before Glorfindel could reply Erestor sealed their mouths
together anew and pulled the Vanya down with him upon the mattress,
sliding his leg between Glorfindel's thighs and gently massaging the
restrained erection with his knee.

Glorfindel gasped and arched into the contact, his fingers moving to
untie the leggings as Erestor's worked upon his tunic and shirt. He
shifted on the bed, pressing back into the cushions in order to lift
his hips and allow for the garment to be drawn off, and that is when
the smoky scent reached his awareness. The faintly lingering aroma of
semen arose from the bedding and he knew at once it was not Erestor's.
He inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes to savour the heady musk of the
youthful silvan's release, for surely this was his essence and no
other's. Glorfindel's desire surged as he imagined Legolas in orgasm.

A hand slid inside his leggings and explored, grasping onto his rigid
length and yanking it free of confinement. He shuddered in the
exquisite combination of pleasure and pain. A throaty laugh sounded in
his ear as Erestor's tongue tasted its sensitive tip and he failed to
repress an ecstatic cry of longing.

"Your little silvan virgin could never make you emit those sounds. He
has no idea how to please you."

The words were packed with derisive disgust and penetrated the haze of
lust clouding Glorfindel's thoughts. With a jolt he opened his eyes,
realising where he was and what he was doing. In desolate shame he
cried out and shoved Erestor away. He could not believe he had nearly
allowed himself to lie with Erestor in Cuthenin's bed.

"Valar, how can you plan such cruelty?" Glorfindel sat up and stared at
Erestor. "You would hurt him thus? Why?"

"What are you talking about? What is the matter now? No one is to be
hurt any longer, all is as it should be again," crooned Erestor, trying
to draw him back into his arms.

"Nay! You would have us couple here, leaving the evidence in his own
bed so that Legolas would know of it. That is…I cannot fathom what sort
of mind conceives such a foul scheme." Glorfindel shoved off Erestor's
groping hands and rose, hastily retying his garments. "You are exactly
as you were in Gondolin, Erestor, nothing has changed and that deep
streak of darkness in your soul shall not touch Legolas. I will not
permit it."

"Ah Glorfindel, you never objected to my possessiveness back then. If I
recall you found it flattering. Besides, this is no less than you did
to me yet to my pain you remain indifferent. Set aside your
squeamishness; it is better for the elfling to be educated on how it
would be between you. He is not ready to take a mate, especially not
mine. Let Galdor do his job and find the child a more suitable
companion. Perhaps Rumil of Lorien, being of similar station, will be
interested. Come back to bed, love."

"Get dressed, Erestor, for I will not do this," Glorfindel announced
firmly and moved to take a seat at the small table, keeping his back to
the naked elf with whom he had shared his first life.

Several minutes of heavy silence settled over the oak grove as Erestor
waited and Glorfindel defied him.  

"Very well, I will humour you for now. Mayhap before our discussion
ends you will regret that decision." And Erestor laughed, a falsely
cheery sound, a cracked and broken attempt to transmit dismissive
unconcern that made Glorfindel cringe.

"So you would choose a fleeting infatuation with youthful beauty over
the enduring commitment of soul-mates? I admit I thought it would be so
and yet I had to offer you a chance to redeem yourself." Erestor
dressed as he spoke and then joined Glorfindel at the table, propping
his chin on his hands as he gazed into the icy indigo eyes. "I did spy
on Cuthenin, you are right. Ah, he is magnificent in the grip of his
passions, Glorfindel, and when he came I spilled all over one of my
favourite scopes in response. Yet I doubt you will ever observe such a
sight, for he will not be open to your plans to debauch him now."

"There are no such plans, Erestor. Why have you done this to Legolas?
He is innocent. Can you truly think that harming him will cause me to
find you desirable?"

"Nay, I quite comprehend your rejection of my love; it has been made
plain," Erestor snapped and stood angrily. "You do not deserve to have
another mate, Glorfindel, for you did not appreciate your first. I felt
it was my duty to inform Legolas before he fell victim to the same lies
you spoke to me."

"I never spoke lies to you. You are the one who misused our bond,
Erestor, all those years ago. A lifetime ago for my part and still you
try to manipulate me," spoke Glorfindel coldly, standing in order to
meet his former mate eye-to-eye.

"Do not expect me to accept such ridiculous fallacies; I was there. Or
has your memory been altered by your own guilt? Let me reacquaint you
with the details then." Erestor's voice was low and dark, filled with
the pain that had distorted his love and made his own heart into
nothing more than a festering wound. He smirked in satisfaction as
Glorfindel took a step back in shock at the sound of these words.

"I chose you, Glorfindel, from all the elves in Middle-earth, I
selected you to receive my heart and soul. As I remember it, you were
once overjoyed to have this honour. You were nothing then, a minor
adherent to your House. How the histories have exalted you! Yet you and
I, we know the truth. You were no Lord of the Golden Flower in those
days. I am the one who advanced your career and raised your station.
You were only a Lord because you were wed to a Lord."

"And never would you let me forget it!" retorted Glorfindel, his own
anguish over this ancient affliction resurfacing. "Not a day passed
that you failed to remind me of the difference in our status, Erestor.
I had to grovel to earn your attentions! I had to beg for you to gift
me with your touch; do you remember any of that?"

"You did not complain about it, Glorfindel, so do not play the
suffering martyr to me!"

"I did not object for I feared to loose you. I was very much younger
than you and it is true; I was insignificant in comparison to others
you might have selected. I was flattered that you wanted me and
overwhelmed when you stated your intent for us to be bound as one. I
could not refuse."

"What do you mean by that? Of course you could have refused me! Will
you tell me now you felt no love for me, even then?"

"I did not understand these things; you were my first and I knew not
the nature of love. I found you pleasing and the match was
advantageous, but what I felt was not the kind of love that binds two
souls together eternally," Glorfindel's voice shook with remorse, for
this was what he had dared never reveal before, though he had realised
it soon after the formal ceremony of binding to the noble Noldo Lord
all those long Ages ago.

Erestor stood silent, glaring in bitter denial and outraged anger at
this admission. These were not the words he would hear. He drew himself
up in rigid indignation. "I will not allow you to denigrate our union
thus. You gave yourself to me and that is not something you can change.
I will not see you initiate formal espousal with that Wood Elf; bad
enough it was to witness your flagrant abuse of our sacred estate by
bringing Rumil to your bed."

"I am not yours, Erestor. Our bond was not true. I was young and
foolish in Gondolin, captivated by a beautiful and powerful Lord's
interest, infatuated by the prestige of such a match, eager to gain in
esteem and rank amid Turgon's court. What feeling there was to link us
died with my body in Beleriand. The heart I have now knows you not and
you cannot claim it. I will give it to whomever I wish."

"You are cruel, Glorfindel! How can you speak such cold words? If what
you say is so, why did you resume your life with me upon arriving here
in Imladris? If you felt nothing, why invite me back into your bed?"

"It was not I who did the tempting, Erestor, and you are well aware of
it! You are the one who began to pursue me the very minute I crossed
the Bruinen!"

"You did not resist! How can you maintain this farce? It cannot be both
ways, Glorfindel, I will not have it! We are bound and I will forgive
your weakness in succumbing to Rumil's beauty if you ask it of me. We
will start anew and this enmity will be only a memory, but you must not
take that Wood Elf for your own; I forbid it. I will not be shunned in
favour of some rustic King's bastard, regardless his comely form, no
matter if it is for only one night."

There was a brief silence as the pair stared at one another, Erestor's
anguished hope plain upon his aristocratic features as was Glorfindel's
shocked dismay to see it. At last the Vanya sighed and dropped his
head, unable to look at his former mate any longer, unable to deny his
part in the dissension between them.

"Is that what you have been waiting for all these many years since
Rumil returned to Lorien?" he asked quietly and shook his head. "For me
to come begging your mercy?"

"Nay, not for your apology, Glorfindel, but for you. I am your mated
spouse, no other can so claim. I love you and so shall I always. Will
you still deny our union?" Erestor pleaded.

"Nae! (Alas!) Nothing else can I do for I do not feel the same. It is
my
fault; Cuthenin is right. I should not
have permitted myself to indulge in my lust upon arriving here. That is
all it was for me; memories of the pleasure we found in one another's
bodies. I should have told you this, but I delighted in
having you chase after me and thought it my due for the way you abused
me in Gondolin.

"I did know in my heart that you believed we were still soul-mates and
the thought pleased me, for in payment of the long years of debasement
you had subjected me to I hoped to make you the fool. It was not until
you confronted me over Rumil that I realised how deep was the injury
that dalliance inflicted. That much I swear to you."

Erestor gaped in stricken disbelief to hear this response and found the
need to lower his body back onto the chair. He shook his head and then
buried his face in his hands, leaning his elbows upon the small table,
desperately trying to contain his rising sorrow and despair. It was
humiliating and he could not face this a second time. Oh, he had known
even in Gondolin that Glorfindel's feelings were less engaged than his
own, but he would have the Vanya warrior and no other. Yet it had
rankled, the fact that his mate had accepted him as nothing more than a
means to satisfy carnal cravings, further a career, elevate his social
status.

"That is why I would make you beg and degrade yourself before me," he
mumbled through his hands. He heard Glorfindel's surprised inhalation
and continued. "I understood that you did not return my feelings, but I
could not bear the mortification it would cause me to set you free.
Then everyone would have known and I would be pitied by my peers.

"When you died, I took that as my punishment and decided to wait for
your return. I was determined it would be different between us, that I
would win your love and respect by showing you the same. Thus I courted
you so diligently, thus I submitted myself to you when finally you
acceded. I believed you wished to rebuild our life together also, to
allow the love we should have always shared to grow at last. Until I
saw you with Rumil."

"Ai, Erestor. There is nothing shared between us but bitter regret."
Glorfindel gave a sour sigh. "And you are right, I have done nothing to
merit a soul so true as Legolas possesses."

Erestor's spine stiffened on hearing his rival's name yet he made no
reply.

Long they stared in silence upon one another, all the worst elements of
their inner souls revealed at last, all the ancient hurts uncovered,
all the vengeful plotting disclosed. A more thorough disgrace to the
true estate of bonding than their interactions would be difficult to
find, for they had used one another so spitefully and selfishly that
the concept of love could never be bent to fit the convoluted contours
of their twisted relationship. There was nothing to salvage from these
revelations and the air grew cold and still between them despite
the warmth of the autumn afternoon. At last Erestor stood up.

"You have not asked me to forgive you," he began proudly.

"I have not heard your request for absolution either," retorted
Glorfindel.

"Sîdh (Peace) I will finish ere you object," Erestor raised his
hand to silence the interruption, a sharp stab of agony piercing his
soul to hear the animosity in Glorfindel's voice. "I free you from our
bond, Glorfindel, and I will bear you no more ill-will."

"I suppose you expect me to thank you?" Glorfindel growled. "Yet you
show no remorse for the harm your hateful jealousy inflicted upon an
innocent."

"Concern yourself with your own remorse over that; it was you who
failed to be frank with the Wood Elf regarding our relationship."
Erestor finished his sentence in stern tones with his imperious gaze
locked on the volatile warrior's.

Another lengthy pause ensued, for Glorfindel was ashamed that this was
true. At the pools, he could have elaborated on the depth of the
history he and Erestor shared but had chosen to make light of it
instead. He sighed.

"You have not asked, but I grant you forgiveness and in turn accept
yours with humble gratitude. It seems we shall both suffer our heart's
desire to go unrequited, and I do not doubt this is Námo's
intent: that I experience the same pain that you have borne so long.
Cuthenin is disgusted with me now and I am sure he will never consider
my suit, nor will Galdor encourage him to do so.

"And because of this he
may be lost to grief, for the ritual needed requires someone in whom
resides his utmost trust. Fate placed me in his path and I failed him.
His death would be a grave sin we would both find hard to bear, should
such an untimely end claim him. I know not how I will endure such an
outcome."

"You truly feel for him," Erestor gave a small rueful smile as he
spoke. "Fear not; he will give you a second chance. You will have to
prove yourself, no doubt, but he will not deny you the attempt."

"Ah, I would like to believe that but you did not see the pain in his
eyes."

"I did see and gloated over it, to my shame. I must go beseech his
forgiveness as well." This said, Erestor found he could not bear to be
near Glorfindel any longer and quickly descended from the flet. He had
no wish for his former love to witness his tears over this final break
as he began to grieve in earnest for the emptiness in his soul.

/|:|\

"Buiam Tawar." (We serve Tawar.)

"Tawar min beria." (Tawar protects us.)

Sadron and byr gave the traditional acknowledgement of Pad-en-Tawar and
thus the ritual of Úcaul Annaur was advanced.

"Nuin Ist-en-Eru men túliel sí, breitham o haim men
naegra, ristam na falch imgûr a cuil. Iluvatar, lasta nallad o
hên lín, Legolas." (Under the knowledge of Eru we have
come here, broken from those we mourn, severed by the chasm between
death and life. Iluvatar, hear the plea of your child, Legolas.) Galdor
spoke this prayer plainly, his chanting done, and waited for Legolas to
respond.

The Wood Elf was steadier, for the initial disorientation had dwindled
away, replaced by the steadfast determination so integral to his
character. Still and straight-backed, he knelt upon the ground in the
centre of the glowing circle facing Glorfindel. Arm's length apart,
they leaned against one another, forehead touching forehead, each one's
hands secured firmly upon the shoulders of the other.

Legolas long single braid lay draped over his right shoulder, rising
and falling with every breath he took. Upon hearing his Sadron's
supplication, his bowed head rose and his bright beryl eyes locked with
those of the re-born elf. Within them he found admiration and respect,
encouragement and reassurance. Legolas took a calming breath and gave a
slight nod.  

"Iluvatar, aniron athrabeth ah gwaidyren dannen ar Nanthen min lû
vedui. Anna dâf lín; boe tî gohennad pain
úgerth coren dan tî. Aniron gohennad ah avegliriannen vi
dôr gwanner." (Iluvatar, I wish for converse with my fallen
comrades and my mother one last time. Give your permission; they must
forgive all wrongs I have made against them. I would plead forgiveness
for failing to honour their passing in the place where they gave up
their lives.) He stated the purpose for the ritual. "Alae, si hebithon
Taith-en-Rîn an Uir." (Behold, I shall keep the Marks of
Remembrance for Eternity.)

"Their hroar a feär (bodies and souls) are sundered, how shall
this communion be achieved?" demanded Galdor.

"Let me be the vessel for the spirits of the deceased. Let them come,
would they have it so, and relieve me of my debt. Forever will I
proclaim my gratitude for this mercy, until my body is spent." Legolas
replied as a shiver ran over his spine.

"What is to become of your feä whilst you serve this need? Who
will safeguard your spirit until these debts are forgiven?" Sadron
demanded.

"I will keep his soul safe," Glorfindel spoke the correct response
quietly, chilled as the reality of the situation filled his thoughts.

No sooner had he answered than he felt a peculiar shifting inside his
body, centred near his heart, and gasped as a warm presence filled him
and a hazy golden gleam surrounded them both. His grip upon Cuthenin
tightened in concern, for the silvan's head dropped back heavily,
exposing his ivory neck to the sky, while his body grew limp in the
Vanya's hands. Glorfindel's breath caught in his throat as he
recognised and welcomed the silvan's soul alongside his, awed by
Legolas' unfailing faith and the genuine joy transmitted through the
vital connection.

"Faer Hebron indeed! He would not even wait for the final declaration,
so comfortable is his essence within yours." Galdor murmured softly as
he knelt and gently lifted the lolling golden head, easing
Legolas forward to rest against Glorfindel's chest. He smiled in
approval as one of the elder warrior's arms encircled the archer's
waist and drew him closer and the other supported Cuthenin's neck. "Let
us make it official nonetheless. Are you willing to bear the mark of
this commitment?" he asked of Glorfindel.

If he found Galdor's insertion of such casual remarks within the solemn
ceremony surprising, Glorfindel kept that to himself. "Proudly shall I
do so,
forever until my body is spent." The Balrog Slayer could not help
adding his personal emphasis to the traditional reply. He boldly raised
his eyes to the ancient Lord's and endured the intimidating glower the
Sadron saw fit to project.

"Nasan." (So be it.) Galdor stated at last.

He returned to the table and lifted the tongs, opening the grate as he
did so. From the smouldering coals he drew out a small ingot, brilliant
in the glow of red heat peeling from it. This he set upon the table and
at once the sharp scent of scorched wood arose within the dell. Quickly
Galdor took up the wooden handle and slipped its slotted end over the
vividly incandescent object, fitting a locking ring around it to hold
the metal seal fast. That done, he dipped the exposed iron into the
grainy ochre powder and then hastened to the kneeling elves.

Swiftly the ancient Sadron's fingers pressed against Legolas' left
side, counting down to locate the third rib beneath the heart. Without
further warning than this he pressed the red-hot iron briefly against
the warrior's bare skin.

"Nay!" Glorfindel could not suppress his cry of dismay even though the
brand was lifted in mere seconds, for Cuthenin's body had gone rigid in
his arms as a low moan escaped him. The sickening odour of burning skin
dissipated rapidly but was no less shocking for it. He exhaled a great
rush of air as Legolas went slack again. Then Glorfindel gasped anew,
for he felt the archer's spirit stir within him, seeking to comfort him
through the stressful experience, as if he had been the one to receive
the wound.

Galdor set the tool aside on the table and returned with one of the
small jars of ointment, spreading the cooling salve over the small,
circular burn. Legolas' skin proclaimed Glorfindel his Faer Hebron, for
the brand was nothing less than the insignia of the Vanya's name and
rank within the House of the Golden Flower.

With insufficient time to
have a proper brand made, Galdor had imporvised, appropriating
Glorfindel's stamp for marking his correspondence and imprinting the
wax used to seal his letters. The ancient elder met Glorfindel's eyes
gravely ere he approached the table and once more lifted the tongs.
Extracting a different iron from the grate, he repeated the gruesome
procedure, branding the Balrog Slayer in the same place but with the
seal of Legolas' name and House.

Glorfindel hissed against the searing burn but said nothing, leaning
his cheek upon Cuthenin's head, relaxing as the heat of the brand ebbed
during Galdor's application of the ointment.  The pain was intense
and he was relieved the ordeal was over, wondering what the mark would
look like when it healed. Still he dreaded the rest of the ceremony,
for there were three more glowing ingots within the fire and all of
those would be applied to Legolas' body.

He had learned from Galdor that these small iron icons were carried
everywhere by initiates of Pad-en-Tawar, just in case some such
catastrophe occured. Each warrior possessed three of these markers: one
he carried in a pouch attached to his tunic, the others would be
entrusted to two comrades. In the event that one among the company was
lost and no fitting burial could be achieved, the elf carrying the
fallen one's seal branded himself with it, offering the lost soul a
place to reside until family could be notified and the Pennas Lunnen
completed.

In a small company such as Legolas had led across the Hithaeglir, each
of the four warriors had exchanged tokens with the other three. As the
sole survivor, it was Cuthenin's responsibility to ensure the souls of
the departed were not adrift amid the turmoil of the living. The brands
on his body would be as a beacon, guiding the unhoused feär home
to their loved ones.

Glorfindel shuddered involuntarily, for Úcaul Annaur was
something more. In this ritual, the supplicant willingly removed his
soul and opened his body for possession, accepting responsibility for
the other's death and asking the deceased for expiation. The drifting
soul would be commanded to speak through the borrowed flesh of the
supplicant, either granting forgiveness or stating plainly how to
remedy any grievance named. This done, the spirit exited and the brand
was burned onto the penitant's body as a sign of their eternal accord.

Galdor had admitted that sometimes the loose soul sought to permanently
displace the person making this sacrifice, for the confusion and
disorientation of sundering violently was severe and accompanied by
anger and fear. This was what Legolas must face, three times over. At
once the Vanya felt again the definite presence of Cuthenin's feä,
much stronger than before, seeking to convey reassurance and
confidence. Abruptly the sensation resolved into the archer's concrete
thoughts:

'Worry no more. The pain is nothing gauged against the peace I
will earn through it, insignificant compared to the honour of bearing
their marks in return. They are my friends and will not harm
me.'

Glorfindel was not even really aware of the soft smile that spread
across his features or the gentle kiss he placed upon the archer's
temple.

Galdor noticed, however, and was glad for it. His concern over
Glorfindel's part in this ritual had all but vanished. Úcaul
Annaur was rarely conducted, for it was not a trivial undertaking and
the danger of unwholesome invasion of the supplicant's vulnerable body,
breathing and functional yet all but bereft of its spirit, was very
real.

He did not fear that Legolas' comrades would seek to retain possession
of his body, but there were other unseen entities at large. Stories of
such roving demons were not just myths and the elder
suspected the fragmented bits of life infused into Orcs were of this
nature. Only the most extreme circumstances required such a serious
risk and Galdor had performed Úcaul Annaur only twice in all his
long
years of life. He was comforted that in this instance their location
was doubly protected by the Peredhel Lord's ring of power and the
circle of enchantment wrought through the will of Tawar.

Even so, three souls must be invited here and that leaves
Legolas virtually defenceless for longer than I would like.

"Cenin Hatholvaen, Athedrynen o Gladgalen, mellon o Cuthenin. Tolo si,
caro lín iest lim. Anno sîdh a Legolas ar hebo îdh
uireb." (I call Clever-Blade, messenger of Greenwood and friend of
True-bow. Come now, make your wish clear. Give peace to Legolas and
keep eternal rest.) Galdor lifted his voice into the silent air, eager
to conclude the rite.

Minutes passed; all remained still. Legolas did not stir in
Glorfindel's arms.

Galdor called out again the same words, pacing a circuit within the
protected ring of glowing light. No answer came that he could detect
and thus a third time he issued the command. More seconds lagged past
and the elder frowned, preparing to utter the call again.

Then a slight gust breezed into the glade and swirled a curtain of dry
leaves around Legolas and Glorfindel briefly before dying down. The
silvan moaned and shifted in the Balrog Slayer's arms, straightening up
and raising his head to peer into the Vanya's eyes. A decidedly
irreverent and puckish grin spread over his features, an expression the
archer was not wont to make but one that was a trademark for the
deceased warrior whom Galdor had summoned.

Glorfindel's eyes widened, for he was staring into a face transformed.
This was not the youthful untried messenger but a seasoned warrior much
acquainted with life and all its mysteries, even now the greatest one
as far as the First-born were concerned. Here was an elf who had
lived fully and relished it, and the eyes gazing into his were no
longer clear blue as they should be but instead were deep brown,
sagacious, and held no innocence. A mocking laugh erupted from Legolas'
body.

"Ah, it is strange to be in such a form. Mae govannen, Glorfindel of
Gondolin. Suilad Galdor of Mithlond. I am here at your bidding; say
what you will," spoke Legolas' voice in tones and pitch that were not
his own.

"Ai Valar, I know you now," exclaimed Glorfindel. "Although I think you
were called Gîlfuir (North Star) when we met in Lorien. You were
among Legolas' guard on his journey here?"

"Nay, Gîlfuir is my brother, but he shall be called hither next,
I think, for we were both assigned this task. I promised Inarthan we
would look after Cuthenin, for he was against sending his little
brother hence."

Then Glorfindel startled, for in his mind he could hear Legolas'
thoughts clamouring for expression, all jumbled and urgent but he
gathered their meaning nonetheless.

"Legolas begs forgiveness for leaving you behind and wishes to…"

"Say no more," the unhoused spirit in possession of the Wood Elf's body
interrupted. "Be at peace, Cuthenin. It was my honour to accompany you
and no less than my duty to defend your mission, for it is vital to all
of Middle-earth, as I see it now."

"Go then, seek respite in Mandos, Hatholvaen. I pray we will meet again
in the Blessed Realm," Galdor said firmly, his eyes dark and commanding
when they met the errant soul peering at the world through Legolas'
transmuted orbs.

Hatholvaen gave the elder an insolent shrug and an irreverent smirk,
winked at Glorfindel in a manner that suggested inhabiting Legolas'
body had granted him more information than the young silvan might
appreciate, and finally obeyed.

Legolas blinked twice and focused his blue irises on Glorfindel's for
an instant before the disturbingly empty spheres rolled back in his
head. With a loud exhale Cuthenin fell limp in his Faer Hebron's
embrace and Glorfindel gathered him close, settling the drooping head
upon his shoulder and retrieving an arm that had dropped from its
secure position around his neck. No sooner had he stabilised the Wood
Elf than Galdor was beside them, bearing the brand, and a second burn
was etched into Cuthenin's side: the seal of Hatholvaen's name and
House. Legolas only twitched this time yet Glorfindel could feel his
heart racing under his ribs.

"It is over," he whispered against the archer's ear and his heart was
inundated with the answering warmth of the fair soul he harboured.

Just as the spirit of Hatholvaen predicted, his brother Gîlfuir
was called forth in the same manner. His demeanour was similar to his
brother's with perhaps less arrogance and more compassion for the
suffering that warranted such a severe remedy. Gîlfuir arrived at
the first summons and granted Legolas absolution and his blessing
quickly. He departed without need of the incantation and the entire
event was concluded with rapid efficiency when Galdor seared the
warrior's name and status upon Legolas' side just below Hatholvaen's.

Three livid marks adorned the silvan's flesh and but one more soul
remained to be summoned.

Yet Galdor had no need to speak the words of command for Calargyll was
already there and took possession of her sister's son gently. The eyes
that opened to survey Glorfindel were now a vivd emerald green all
alight with motes of gold and flecks of blue. The spirit they announced
scanned the noble Vanya shrewdly before sending Galdor an equally
probing inspection.

"Calarlim, Tirn'wathiel and Naneth Edwen of Cuthenin, mae govannen. I
commend your excellent upbringing of this silvan byr," said Legolas'
new Guardian with a deeply respectful bow.

"He was easy to raise for his spirit is strong and true, if perhaps too
heavily endowed with stubbornness and impetuosity." Satisfied with his
affirmation, Calarlim smiled at Galdor, gratitude displayed upon the
youthful visage that was not her own. "I thank you for assuming the
role of Tirn'wador, for his future is complicated and not all sorrows
are behind him yet. His father's people are not initiates; they would
not understand his needs. Speaking of which…"

Legolas' naneth turned to favour Glorfindel with another piercing
stare, and this was all the more disturbing since the face and form
confronting him belonged to the young archer. The Vanya inhaled a
steadying breath and met the cool green gaze evenly.

"You will take care, Adonnen Ben (Re-born One), for his heart was
untouched by such strong feelings before now. It is my dearest treasure
I entrust to you, precious and irreplaceable. Born of my sister's body
he may be, yet only one year did Legolas spend with her while I have
watched over him for all the days since. He is my only child and I am
loathe to give him up to you."

"I do not seek to part him from you, Calarlim; ill-fate has done him
this harm." Glorfindel protested gently.

"This I know. Had I lived, he would still have found his way to you,
only then he would maybe not be so vulnerable, so eager to fill an
empty place in his soul. Yet I have no wish for him to go through all
eternity lonely and unfulfilled. It is selfish for me to think I can
supply enough love to give his life purpose, as he did mine. And mayhap
it is not so different, for he filled the gap left at my sister's
passing and I have never regretted the substitution." She sighed
lightly and was silent as her eyes appraised the Vanya from Legolas'
point of view.

"What would you have me do to assure you of my honest intentions for
Cuthenin?" asked Glorfindel, disconcerted by this candid assessment of
his physique from the shy silvan's mother.

"There is nothing you can say that will ease a mother's worries,"
retorted Calarlim. "It is an issue of trust, something Legolas has
already granted to you fully or we would not be speaking now. Thus I
will do so as well, yet with this warning: Should you mistreat him as
you did your first love, I shall have Námo revoke his grace and
summon you back to Mandos. There I shall be waiting."

Glorfindel could not think of any words to utter in response to this
threat and indeed his attention was immediately diverted from the
remarks. Within his heart he felt Legolas struggling to pull back,
seeking to re-enter his own body and be once more with his naneth.
Alarmed, the Vanya sought to restrain him, yet knowing not the way to
do this, and called for Galdor.

"He seeks to go with her!" he shouted as the silvan's body began to
jerk and twitch in his clasp.

"Nay, relax and be at peace," the Sadron knelt beside them and calmly
kneaded the reborn elda's straining shoulders. "She will not allow him
to depart with her to Mandos. He only wants to be with her a last time.
Let him go, Glorfindel."

"I have my assurance, Glorfindel," spoke Calarlim from within her son's
form. "Now that you have shared his soul, you could never hurt him. I
see that even the thought of parting from him terrifies you, and few
things have that power over your mind. Fear not; he comes to my call,
for I would know the only experience of motherhood that was denied me:
sharing one body with my child. Relinquish him, for he is not yours
just yet."

'Release me; I will not abandon you.'

The soothing promise of the silvan's thoughts rang through Glorfindel's
brain and at this he relented, though his soul knew an emptiness he had
never imagined possible the instant the warmth of Cuthenin's feä
departed. He felt a surge of vitality course through the body pressed
close to his chest and Legolas' arms tightened around his neck. A soft
sigh accompanied the light burden of the archer's head reposing against
his shoulder and Glorfindel could feel Cuthenin's smile where his lips
barely brushed against his neck.

What passed between mother and son was not divulged to either
Tirn'wador or Faer Hebron, and not long did the two commune. Another
deep sigh passed from Legolas' lungs, bearing a whispered farewell and
Calarlim's soul as it fled.

Seeing this, Galdor hurried to the brazier for the final brand,
pressing the glowing ingot of Calarlim's seal upon Legolas' side above
all the others, droning a final prayer for strength and healing of the
young warrior's spirit as he did so.

Back in his own skin, Legolas jerked violently at the searing agony of
the burn and groaned, alert instantly, clutching onto Glorfindel as he
struggled to pull himself up straight. His knees ached and his side
throbbed hotly, but his heart was no longer broken. He pushed back to
arms' length as they had been at the start of the ritual, permitting
Galdor to apply the cooling salve, and raised triumphant eyes to
Glorfindel's. Legolas smiled, a brilliant and dazzling expression of
joy that he had not displayed since the loss of Calarlim.

"Le Hanteän," he said softly and impulsively wrapped his arms
tightly around his Faer Hebron's shoulders, drawing Glorfindel back
into a breath-stealing embrace.

"It is done," announced Galdor needlessly, smiling down upon the elves.
"You may safely separate now."

Over the silvan's shoulder, Glorfindel sent the elder a look indicative
of his incredulous remonstrance. He squeezed the lithe body pressed
against him, delighting in the sensation of their hearts beating in
tandem. He had no intention of ever letting Cuthenin go again.

TBC

Reviews: ff.net:


woodland: Thank you for reviewing and I am so glad you are enjoying the stale!

Gemini969: faithful friend I so much appreciate your reviews! Now we see that Glorfindel is not perfect either, just as Galdor warned us!

Quellesirel Peredhil: thank you for reviewing and I am glad you found the story. Hope I can keep your interest.

Anarien: your kind compliments are very ego-enhancing and I thank you! Yes, the build up is slow, but this is a slash story and there will eventually be something more than longing between these two. I am not sure how far I can really go here, so the more graphic scenes only appear on another site where the story posts. Check the profile for the url if you are curious. Now the religious aspect of all this is definitely important to Legolas and he is not to be appeased with just a romp in the sack. He wants Glorfindel but he wants him for keeps. No wonder he had to be 'loopy' to admit that to a complete stranger! I do not blame him for wanting that softening buzz either. Hope this chapter satisfies and thank you adding me to your favourites, too!


aff.net:


SilentOne: Thank you so much! I try to make the characters act like real people. You are right about Glorfindel and Erestor, they have been taking jabs at one another for a long time and anyone in the way winds up getting hit, too. They do not even seem to notice, until now. Legolas is different and they both sense it. I am glad you approve the way he is written, for that is what I have been aiming for, strong but not cold or stoic, vulnerable but not helpless or too fragile. Here is the next instalment and thank you again.


Daphne: thank you so much for those compliments on my writing, that is so gratifying to read! I am sorry I made you wait on the death ritual, but here it is at last. I confess this is a much edited and scaled down version, for as it is the chapter is too long. Still, there will be more regarding this in a future chapter. I will try to write faster, but I know better than to promise! Thank you again.


yanic: thank you for the review! I am glad I have some folks beginning to feel a little sympathy for Erestor. He is not all bad and hopefully this chapter shows he has been suffering a long time, too. Thank you especially for the compliment on my style!


TopKatz: Thank you for that vote of confidence! I often feel it difficult to relate to a character that is either all good or all bad. Glorfindel and Erestor are legendary figures but if they are real people then they cannot be so perfect. Their relationship is a terrible mess and I am afraid even in this chapter they do not kiss and make up or shake hands and agree to be friends. Lots of rancour and bitterness, centuries of it, to overcome and I do not think one talk in a flet is going to make it all go away. I am glad you did not mind me letting that part of the grieving go unfinished, for this chapter's ritual was difficult to write and harder to edit. Still not as complete as I would wish it, so a revision may be done at some point, but at least folks can get the gist of it here. Thank you again!


zombie, thanks and I agree: very twisted this mess they are all in. Erestor's dirty little secret is out now. I doubt Elrond will approve of his use of those optical devices!


Jenni: your review arrived on Christmas day so thank you for such a wonderful gift! I am always thrilled when someone writes to say they found the story and enjoyed everything so far, does me good! Your comments about the various personas, especially Erestor who is very flawed and everyone knows it, are much appreciated. Now we see Glorfindel is probably just as flawed or nearly so, yet no one noticed because he perhaps was better able to mask his emotional reactions. Personally I think that is because he has less invested in the relationship than Erestor. But, he has a conscience and does regret that he hurt Erestor. Too bad it took a dire situation to make him own up and do the right thing finally, but I guess he deserves a second chance with Legolas. Maybe Erestor deserves a second chance too, but not with Glorfindel!


To Everyone making the hit counter climb: my gracious thanks and hopes for a happy New Year to come!


Cheers,

Fred

Dec. 26, 2005