Erestor's Secret
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
17
Views:
13,067
Reviews:
53
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
17
Views:
13,067
Reviews:
53
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
13
Title: Erestor’s Secret (13/?)
Author: Aglarien
Type: FPS
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel, Galdor/Dringion (OMC), Ecthelion/Thoniel (OFC)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, except for the cats. The great Master Tolkien’s estate owns everything else. I promise to return his elves when I’m done playing with them.
Timeline: Gondolin, 501 of the First Age
Warning: AU. Lots of fluff.
Beta: Patricia – thank you Gwathel. Any remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Summary: Flowers speak.
Author’s Notes: My apologies for taking so long. I seemed to have stumbled into a writer’s block on this one, which is hopefully now over.
Victorians took the ancient Language of Flowers to new heights, with the most popular books published from 1853 to 1899. The only problem is that there seems to be no agreement on the meanings, and they frequently vary, depending on which book you use. A daffodil, for instance, was Chivalry in one 1883 book and Unrequited Love in another, then Regard two years later.
E.P. Kitty used this language with superb results in her wonderful Erestor and Glorfindel story, “The Art of Miscommunication”. Her story can be found here:
http://libraryofmoria.com/glorfindelerestor/theartofmiscommunication.txt
If you are interested in more about the language of flowers, I can recommend this site: http://home.comcast.net/~bryant.katherine/flowers.html
Chapter 13
Ecthelion was quite certain that the only reason he had lost was because of the distraction provided by Thoniel. If only she didn’t have such beautiful eyes…or those kissable lips. He simply had to stop looking at her in order to win. He was quite sure that was all it would take. And this time he would win more than the game.
“Would you care for a rematch, my Lord?” Thoniel asked sweetly, while setting up the chess pieces again. “Surely you will not let this end on my win?” She held her breath, waiting. Ecthelion was much too splendid for her to want to leave his company, and she could think of nothing better than to spend the night in his presence.
“A small wager this time, perhaps?” Ecthelion’s nonchalant voice belied his true feelings.
“A wager? What kind of wager, my Lord?”
Thel looked at the beautiful maiden and smiled. “A kiss. If I win, you will grant me a kiss.”
“Oh!” Thoniel was sure she was blushing. “And If I win?”
“Then you may choose whatever you wish as your reward.”
“Anything?” Thoniel grinned.
“Anything that is within my power, you shall have.”
“Then I believe it is your move, my Lord.”
~~~*~~~
Galdor smiled as he coaxed Dringion into finishing the bowl of hot soup he was feeding his mate. “Just a little more, my love? Please?” He was happier than he had been in months. After all they had been through, the Valar had blessed them, and Dringion was now his beloved husband.
“But I am full to my ears, Galdor! If you feed me any more I shall burst!”
“Just one more spoonful? You are as thin as some of those spindly things the farmers set up in their fields to keep the crows away. You have missed far too many meals, and if you do not regain your strength, how will I be able to make love to you again?” Galdor pouted and waved the spoon.
“Oh, very well – but I am not *that* thin.” Dringion accepted the spoon and mutely finished the entire bowl. Looking at Galdor’s brilliant smile, he grinned and said, “If you make love to me and I explode, it will be all your fault.” Actually, he felt much better – wonderful even. The last several hours were a blur, but two things he remembered clearly. The first was the exquisite feeling when his soul had united with Galdor’s, and the love and strength that had poured into him from their bonding. It had started from the moment they repeated the words of the bonding blessing and invoked the name of Elbereth and The One. They were a part of each other now, joined forever. Where hours before he had felt only coldness and the chill of Namo’s call, he was enveloped in warmth and swathed in love. The second thing he remembered clearly was Erestor – the loving elf whose forgiveness had called him back from Namo’s gates.
“What are you thinking of, my heart,” Galdor asked softly, smoothing the dark, tussled hair away from Dringion’s beautiful eyes.
“Our bonding,” Dringion whispered. “And Erestor. He kept me from entering Mandos’ halls. I do not think I can ever repay him, but I must try to find a way. If not for him…”
“I know, beloved,” Galdor said. “By the grace of the Valar, perhaps someday we will have a chance to repay his kindness. Erestor has a beautiful soul, and his light shines brightly.”
“I know that now. Before…I could not see, so blind was I.”
~~~*~~~
Glorfindel lay, supporting himself on an elbow, his head propped up in his hand, watching as the elf he loved to distraction slept. Shining sable hair lay swirled upon white linens, and tumbled as a starry night sky over alabaster skin. Deep gray eyes, eyes that could glisten with warmth or become stormy seas of passion, were half closed in reverie. Roseate lips, still flushed with color and kiss-swollen, were slightly parted, and curled into a soft smile. Glorfindel’s eyes meandered down to the lightly muscled chest and settled on a shapely dip here or comely curve there, before making their way up the long, elegant neck, coming to rest for a moment on a perfect ear, and then starting their journey over once more. Was there anyone more beautiful than Erestor?
He had never believed in love at first sight – at least for him. ‘At first sight’ had nothing to do with it at all. Glorfindel knew that it was all the years of getting to know each other, becoming as close as brothers, and the ultimate taking each other for granted, that had blinded him to his true feelings lying just below the surface. Erestor had grown into this gorgeous creature right before his unseeing eyes. How long would it have taken them to realize the true state of things if not for Dringion?
Erestor was so very easy to love. Sweet, wise, intuitive, and of so noble a spirit that Glorfindel had always known there was something special about Erestor. He would sit reading while Glorfindel and Ecthelion played their almost nightly game of chess, discussing the issues or problems of the day. Occasionally the younger elf would ask a question, or offer a suggestion so unobtrusively that the elder elves would swear it was their own idea.
Glorfindel had known and cherished Erestor for the smaller elf’s entire life, and now this most beautiful of Eru’s creations loved him in return. Unable to resist, he gently smoothed the dark hair away from Erestor’s face, and as softly and chastely as the stroke of a butterfly’s wings, kissed his lips.
~~~*~~~
Ecthelion cursed under his breath. He was assumed to be the best chess player in all of Gondolin, and all the while, his dear friend Galdor had been harboring this little wisp of maidenhood; this devious little feline; this furtive, sneaky little…. he raised to eyes to look upon his nemesis.…this ravishing beauty that stole his breath away and purloined his playing skills, this enchantress with her long dark hair and eyes that sparkled in the firelight. A sigh left his lips as he realized that he was losing more than this game to Thoniel: he was losing himself.
“Check, my Lord.”
“Indeed.”
~~~*~~~
Erestor’s eyes slowly regained focus, and he gazed into the bluest eyes on Arda. The sight of Glorfindel looking down at him with love in his eyes took his breath away. How he had been so close to the golden warrior all of his life without realizing that Glorfindel held his heart amazed him. Perhaps they had been too close. Brought together by Ecthelion’s love for both of them, he had always admired his brother’s closest friend, looking upon him as another brother. Many were the times that Glorfindel had saved him from one scrape or another as Erestor grew, and he could remember running to Glorfindel when he was an elfling and Ecthelion had been angry with him.
“What are you thinking of, beloved?” Glorfindel whispered as he continued to smooth Erestor’s tumbled hair with his fingers.
“The time when I was an elfling and I got into Ecthelion’s knives. I just wanted to polish them for him, but he was so angry at me for touching them,” Erestor replied softly. “I ran to you in tears, and you held me and rocked me, and then explained that Thel was just worried that I would hurt myself, and he was so angry because he loved me so much.”
Glorfindel chuckled. “I remember. We found you sitting in his room with every knife and dagger he owned spread around you, a cloth in one hand and a bottle of bath oil in the other.”
“I knew I needed oil, and all I could reach was the bath oil.” Erestor’s happiness bubbled up into a giggle. “Thel was so angry, but I knew you would always protect me.”
“I wish I had been able to protect you from Dringion, sweet one.” Glorfindel sighed.
“But it was for the best, my love, for it is what brought us together,” Erestor whispered as he pulled the golden head down for a kiss.
~~~*~~~
“You are toying with me, Thoniel,” Ecthelion said, exasperated. “Just have done with me – end my humiliation.”
“As you wish, my Lord Ecthelion,” Thoniel answered. Toppling the black king with her own, she declared, “Checkmate!”
“You are a vicious female, Thoniel,” Ecthelion said, leaning back in his chair, defeated once more. “You are a sly strategist, and an evil one at that.” He decided that the result of their second match called for sulking.
“So I have been told. My father and uncle have been known to call me evil as well.”
“I shall now go and lick my wounds in private, having been bested by a little slip of a maiden. If this gets out, I will be the laughing stock of the city.”
“Oh, surely not, my Lord. I do not mean the laughing stock part, for that will surely happen if word should spread – I mean the going off to lick your wounds in private. You have not forgotten the little matter of our wager, have you?” Thoniel asked coyly.
“Perish the thought, dear lady. I have wounds to lick, not because you have bested me once again, but because now I shall not get my kiss.” Ecthelion pouted.
Thoniel laughed and said, “Will you walk with me in the gardens, Ecthelion?”
“Is that all you wish from me for your boon?” Ecthelion asked in surprise.
“Not at all. I simply wish to go for a walk in your beautiful gardens that Erestor has told me so much about, and the night sky is bright with stars.” Rising, she rounded the table to Ecthelion’s side and held her hand out to him. “Come, and I shall tell what it is I wish for my prize while we walk.”
Ecthelion was more smitten with Thoniel with each passing moment. She would be a worthy catch indeed. Noble, intelligent, kind, compassionate, and beautiful, she was not afraid to speak her mind or make her desires known, and would make a most suitable mate for a Lord. Shaking his head at where his thoughts were already heading, he stood and took Thoniel’s hand and led her out to his gardens.
Thoniel looked in awe at the enormous gardens she had heard so much about, but had never had an opportunity to see before now. Built behind the house and surrounded with a high wall, the open courtyard held a large, high fountain the center; its pool was bordered with a low, carved marble wall that was topped with plush cushions, offering pleasant seating to enjoy the garden’s delights. Sprays of sparkling water burst from sculptures of silver flowers, with a high center plume cascading over it all. Ordered beds of roses and tulips; rows of cabbages and herbs; and trellises of beans were bounded by a riot of daisies, camellias, lilies, dahlias, columbine, phlox, carnations, and every flower imaginable. Bachelor’s buttons, violets, pansies, trefoil, and wildflowers of every description and color grew at the base of chestnut, almond and walnut trees; mistletoe covered the limbs of huge cedar, elm, birch and willow trees; ivy and other creepers wound their way along the walls; orange, lemon, plum, cherry, apple and peach trees in flower shed their soft blossoms on the gentle breeze. Scent of jasmine, lavender, and honeysuckle blended with rose and gardenia in sweet perfume. “Oh! It is enchanted!” Thoniel whispered. “I have stepped into a magical world!”
Ecthelion smiled and wove the maiden’s arm through his own, leading her down a cobbled path. “I am happy that it pleases you.” As they strolled down the path, he stopped momentarily to break off a large red rose in full bloom. As they walked, keeping their arms entwined, he casually snipped off each of its thorns, and then placed it in Thoniel’s hand.
Thoniel wondered if Ecthelion was aware of the meaning of flower he gifted her with, but she did not dare hope. She may have loved him from afar for years, but they had only just met, hadn’t they? Making assumptions could only lead to heartbreak. Feeling her cheeks grow hot, she whispered, “Thank you.”
Ecthelion was fairly certain that Thoniel would know the meaning of the rose. Most in Gondolin knew of the language of flowers; even though it was an ancient language and many no longer employed it, he had always thought that it was a most charming custom. He smiled when he saw the faint blush on her cheeks. Just to make certain, he released her arm to pluck a red tulip; a stem of rich purple, bell-shaped gloxinia; and a stem of pink gladiolus. He placed them in the stunned maiden’s hands, and then ran across the garden to pluck a jonquil and a white camellia. Returning to Thoniel’s side, his heart pounding in his chest and butterflies thumping their wings so hard in his stomach he could have sworn they were bats, he handed her first the camellia, and then the jonquil.
Thoniel looked down at her bouquet in wonder, and then up to Ecthelion’s eyes, seeing his plea in them. She swallowed the lump in her throat, drew a ragged breath, and ran her tongue over her dry lips. Finally she managed to speak. “Will you hold these for a moment please, Ecthelion?” she asked quietly, handing him the flowers and turning to scan the garden.
Thel watched, finding it hard to breathe, as Thoniel wandered the garden looking. ‘The daisy – take the golden daisy,’ he silently begged as she approached where they grew. As the maiden bent to pluck one of the multi-petal flowers, he released the breath he had been holding, expecting her to return. But no, she was crossing the garden again heading toward a patch of ambrosia. ‘Please, please, please pick an ambrosia…pick an ambrosia.’
Holding the daisy and the pink, lily-like ambrosia in one hand, Thoniel plucked a red dahlia and added it to her collection, then scurried around to gather a red camellia, a yellow dahlia, five roses, and lastly, a spring of mistletoe.
Returning to Ecthelion’s side, Thoniel was nearly panting in her excitement as she pulled him over to the fountain. Without saying a word, she took her flowers from his hands, and laid them on the cushions. Placing the flowers she had picked down on another cushion, she laid them out, arranging them in the order she wanted. Looking into Ecthelion’s eyes, she first handed him the golden daisy.
~~~*~~~
Galdor was drawing the curtains against the star and moon-bright night, when he noticed his niece and Ecthelion in the garden. He started chuckling as he watched Thel hand the thornless rose to Thoniel.
“What is it?” Dringion asked, coming to his husband’s side.
“Ecthelion just gave a thornless red rose to my niece.” Seeing Dringion’s confused look, he asked, “Do you not know the language of flowers, my love?” With Dringion’s shake of his head, Galdor continued, “A single rose in full bloom means, ‘I love you,’ and a thornless one is ‘Love at first sight.’”
“And you approve of this? They only just met!” Dringion asked, astonished at Galdor’s reaction.
“Thoniel has loved Ecthelion from afar for many years, my heart. I often offered to introduce them, but she feared a contrived meeting would not go well, and preferred to rely on chance.”
Dringion grinned and settled himself on the windowsill to watch with Galdor. “What do the other flowers mean?” he asked, leaning back against his mate as strong arms wrapped around him.
“The red tulip is a declaration of love; the gladiolus and gloxinia also tell of love at first sight. What is Thel going for now?” Galdor wondered. “Ah…a white camellia is to tell Thoniel she is adorable, and the jonquil is asking her to return his affection.”
The pair watched Thoniel as she scurried about the garden, Galdor’s whispers telling her what to pick, amazingly similar to Ecthelion’s.
“What is she doing now, my love,” Dringion asked, watching Thoniel lay her flowers out on the cushion.
“She is arranging her flowers in the order she is going to use them to speak…no, my dear, put the ambrosia after the red camellia, and the dahlia second to last. There, that is better.”
“I find this curiously exciting,” Dringion whispered. “Tell me what she is saying?”
“With the golden daisy, she is telling him that she shares his sentiments. The two roses together mean the same – his feelings are mutual. Now the red camellia is particularly lovely – it means that Ecthelion is a flame in her heart. The ambrosia says his love is returned.”
“And the three roses together?”
“I love you. Now give him the dahlia, little one….ah, perfect…forever thine.”
Dringion giggled, seeing Thoniel hand Ecthelion the mistletoe sprig last of all. “Even I know that mistletoe means, ‘kiss me.’” He sighed happily as the flowers fell from Ecthelion’s hands to the ground, and Thoniel was pulled into his arms for a passion-filled kiss. “It is a beautiful language. Will you teach it to me, my love?”
Galdor nodded before capturing Dringion’s mouth in a passionate kiss. When it finally ended, he whispered, “When you are strong enough for us to return home, I will pick nine hundred and ninety-nine roses for you.”
“What do they say?” Dringion asked breathlessly.
“That I will love you until the end of time.”
Tbc….
Author: Aglarien
Type: FPS
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel, Galdor/Dringion (OMC), Ecthelion/Thoniel (OFC)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, except for the cats. The great Master Tolkien’s estate owns everything else. I promise to return his elves when I’m done playing with them.
Timeline: Gondolin, 501 of the First Age
Warning: AU. Lots of fluff.
Beta: Patricia – thank you Gwathel. Any remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Summary: Flowers speak.
Author’s Notes: My apologies for taking so long. I seemed to have stumbled into a writer’s block on this one, which is hopefully now over.
Victorians took the ancient Language of Flowers to new heights, with the most popular books published from 1853 to 1899. The only problem is that there seems to be no agreement on the meanings, and they frequently vary, depending on which book you use. A daffodil, for instance, was Chivalry in one 1883 book and Unrequited Love in another, then Regard two years later.
E.P. Kitty used this language with superb results in her wonderful Erestor and Glorfindel story, “The Art of Miscommunication”. Her story can be found here:
http://libraryofmoria.com/glorfindelerestor/theartofmiscommunication.txt
If you are interested in more about the language of flowers, I can recommend this site: http://home.comcast.net/~bryant.katherine/flowers.html
Chapter 13
Ecthelion was quite certain that the only reason he had lost was because of the distraction provided by Thoniel. If only she didn’t have such beautiful eyes…or those kissable lips. He simply had to stop looking at her in order to win. He was quite sure that was all it would take. And this time he would win more than the game.
“Would you care for a rematch, my Lord?” Thoniel asked sweetly, while setting up the chess pieces again. “Surely you will not let this end on my win?” She held her breath, waiting. Ecthelion was much too splendid for her to want to leave his company, and she could think of nothing better than to spend the night in his presence.
“A small wager this time, perhaps?” Ecthelion’s nonchalant voice belied his true feelings.
“A wager? What kind of wager, my Lord?”
Thel looked at the beautiful maiden and smiled. “A kiss. If I win, you will grant me a kiss.”
“Oh!” Thoniel was sure she was blushing. “And If I win?”
“Then you may choose whatever you wish as your reward.”
“Anything?” Thoniel grinned.
“Anything that is within my power, you shall have.”
“Then I believe it is your move, my Lord.”
~~~*~~~
Galdor smiled as he coaxed Dringion into finishing the bowl of hot soup he was feeding his mate. “Just a little more, my love? Please?” He was happier than he had been in months. After all they had been through, the Valar had blessed them, and Dringion was now his beloved husband.
“But I am full to my ears, Galdor! If you feed me any more I shall burst!”
“Just one more spoonful? You are as thin as some of those spindly things the farmers set up in their fields to keep the crows away. You have missed far too many meals, and if you do not regain your strength, how will I be able to make love to you again?” Galdor pouted and waved the spoon.
“Oh, very well – but I am not *that* thin.” Dringion accepted the spoon and mutely finished the entire bowl. Looking at Galdor’s brilliant smile, he grinned and said, “If you make love to me and I explode, it will be all your fault.” Actually, he felt much better – wonderful even. The last several hours were a blur, but two things he remembered clearly. The first was the exquisite feeling when his soul had united with Galdor’s, and the love and strength that had poured into him from their bonding. It had started from the moment they repeated the words of the bonding blessing and invoked the name of Elbereth and The One. They were a part of each other now, joined forever. Where hours before he had felt only coldness and the chill of Namo’s call, he was enveloped in warmth and swathed in love. The second thing he remembered clearly was Erestor – the loving elf whose forgiveness had called him back from Namo’s gates.
“What are you thinking of, my heart,” Galdor asked softly, smoothing the dark, tussled hair away from Dringion’s beautiful eyes.
“Our bonding,” Dringion whispered. “And Erestor. He kept me from entering Mandos’ halls. I do not think I can ever repay him, but I must try to find a way. If not for him…”
“I know, beloved,” Galdor said. “By the grace of the Valar, perhaps someday we will have a chance to repay his kindness. Erestor has a beautiful soul, and his light shines brightly.”
“I know that now. Before…I could not see, so blind was I.”
~~~*~~~
Glorfindel lay, supporting himself on an elbow, his head propped up in his hand, watching as the elf he loved to distraction slept. Shining sable hair lay swirled upon white linens, and tumbled as a starry night sky over alabaster skin. Deep gray eyes, eyes that could glisten with warmth or become stormy seas of passion, were half closed in reverie. Roseate lips, still flushed with color and kiss-swollen, were slightly parted, and curled into a soft smile. Glorfindel’s eyes meandered down to the lightly muscled chest and settled on a shapely dip here or comely curve there, before making their way up the long, elegant neck, coming to rest for a moment on a perfect ear, and then starting their journey over once more. Was there anyone more beautiful than Erestor?
He had never believed in love at first sight – at least for him. ‘At first sight’ had nothing to do with it at all. Glorfindel knew that it was all the years of getting to know each other, becoming as close as brothers, and the ultimate taking each other for granted, that had blinded him to his true feelings lying just below the surface. Erestor had grown into this gorgeous creature right before his unseeing eyes. How long would it have taken them to realize the true state of things if not for Dringion?
Erestor was so very easy to love. Sweet, wise, intuitive, and of so noble a spirit that Glorfindel had always known there was something special about Erestor. He would sit reading while Glorfindel and Ecthelion played their almost nightly game of chess, discussing the issues or problems of the day. Occasionally the younger elf would ask a question, or offer a suggestion so unobtrusively that the elder elves would swear it was their own idea.
Glorfindel had known and cherished Erestor for the smaller elf’s entire life, and now this most beautiful of Eru’s creations loved him in return. Unable to resist, he gently smoothed the dark hair away from Erestor’s face, and as softly and chastely as the stroke of a butterfly’s wings, kissed his lips.
~~~*~~~
Ecthelion cursed under his breath. He was assumed to be the best chess player in all of Gondolin, and all the while, his dear friend Galdor had been harboring this little wisp of maidenhood; this devious little feline; this furtive, sneaky little…. he raised to eyes to look upon his nemesis.…this ravishing beauty that stole his breath away and purloined his playing skills, this enchantress with her long dark hair and eyes that sparkled in the firelight. A sigh left his lips as he realized that he was losing more than this game to Thoniel: he was losing himself.
“Check, my Lord.”
“Indeed.”
~~~*~~~
Erestor’s eyes slowly regained focus, and he gazed into the bluest eyes on Arda. The sight of Glorfindel looking down at him with love in his eyes took his breath away. How he had been so close to the golden warrior all of his life without realizing that Glorfindel held his heart amazed him. Perhaps they had been too close. Brought together by Ecthelion’s love for both of them, he had always admired his brother’s closest friend, looking upon him as another brother. Many were the times that Glorfindel had saved him from one scrape or another as Erestor grew, and he could remember running to Glorfindel when he was an elfling and Ecthelion had been angry with him.
“What are you thinking of, beloved?” Glorfindel whispered as he continued to smooth Erestor’s tumbled hair with his fingers.
“The time when I was an elfling and I got into Ecthelion’s knives. I just wanted to polish them for him, but he was so angry at me for touching them,” Erestor replied softly. “I ran to you in tears, and you held me and rocked me, and then explained that Thel was just worried that I would hurt myself, and he was so angry because he loved me so much.”
Glorfindel chuckled. “I remember. We found you sitting in his room with every knife and dagger he owned spread around you, a cloth in one hand and a bottle of bath oil in the other.”
“I knew I needed oil, and all I could reach was the bath oil.” Erestor’s happiness bubbled up into a giggle. “Thel was so angry, but I knew you would always protect me.”
“I wish I had been able to protect you from Dringion, sweet one.” Glorfindel sighed.
“But it was for the best, my love, for it is what brought us together,” Erestor whispered as he pulled the golden head down for a kiss.
~~~*~~~
“You are toying with me, Thoniel,” Ecthelion said, exasperated. “Just have done with me – end my humiliation.”
“As you wish, my Lord Ecthelion,” Thoniel answered. Toppling the black king with her own, she declared, “Checkmate!”
“You are a vicious female, Thoniel,” Ecthelion said, leaning back in his chair, defeated once more. “You are a sly strategist, and an evil one at that.” He decided that the result of their second match called for sulking.
“So I have been told. My father and uncle have been known to call me evil as well.”
“I shall now go and lick my wounds in private, having been bested by a little slip of a maiden. If this gets out, I will be the laughing stock of the city.”
“Oh, surely not, my Lord. I do not mean the laughing stock part, for that will surely happen if word should spread – I mean the going off to lick your wounds in private. You have not forgotten the little matter of our wager, have you?” Thoniel asked coyly.
“Perish the thought, dear lady. I have wounds to lick, not because you have bested me once again, but because now I shall not get my kiss.” Ecthelion pouted.
Thoniel laughed and said, “Will you walk with me in the gardens, Ecthelion?”
“Is that all you wish from me for your boon?” Ecthelion asked in surprise.
“Not at all. I simply wish to go for a walk in your beautiful gardens that Erestor has told me so much about, and the night sky is bright with stars.” Rising, she rounded the table to Ecthelion’s side and held her hand out to him. “Come, and I shall tell what it is I wish for my prize while we walk.”
Ecthelion was more smitten with Thoniel with each passing moment. She would be a worthy catch indeed. Noble, intelligent, kind, compassionate, and beautiful, she was not afraid to speak her mind or make her desires known, and would make a most suitable mate for a Lord. Shaking his head at where his thoughts were already heading, he stood and took Thoniel’s hand and led her out to his gardens.
Thoniel looked in awe at the enormous gardens she had heard so much about, but had never had an opportunity to see before now. Built behind the house and surrounded with a high wall, the open courtyard held a large, high fountain the center; its pool was bordered with a low, carved marble wall that was topped with plush cushions, offering pleasant seating to enjoy the garden’s delights. Sprays of sparkling water burst from sculptures of silver flowers, with a high center plume cascading over it all. Ordered beds of roses and tulips; rows of cabbages and herbs; and trellises of beans were bounded by a riot of daisies, camellias, lilies, dahlias, columbine, phlox, carnations, and every flower imaginable. Bachelor’s buttons, violets, pansies, trefoil, and wildflowers of every description and color grew at the base of chestnut, almond and walnut trees; mistletoe covered the limbs of huge cedar, elm, birch and willow trees; ivy and other creepers wound their way along the walls; orange, lemon, plum, cherry, apple and peach trees in flower shed their soft blossoms on the gentle breeze. Scent of jasmine, lavender, and honeysuckle blended with rose and gardenia in sweet perfume. “Oh! It is enchanted!” Thoniel whispered. “I have stepped into a magical world!”
Ecthelion smiled and wove the maiden’s arm through his own, leading her down a cobbled path. “I am happy that it pleases you.” As they strolled down the path, he stopped momentarily to break off a large red rose in full bloom. As they walked, keeping their arms entwined, he casually snipped off each of its thorns, and then placed it in Thoniel’s hand.
Thoniel wondered if Ecthelion was aware of the meaning of flower he gifted her with, but she did not dare hope. She may have loved him from afar for years, but they had only just met, hadn’t they? Making assumptions could only lead to heartbreak. Feeling her cheeks grow hot, she whispered, “Thank you.”
Ecthelion was fairly certain that Thoniel would know the meaning of the rose. Most in Gondolin knew of the language of flowers; even though it was an ancient language and many no longer employed it, he had always thought that it was a most charming custom. He smiled when he saw the faint blush on her cheeks. Just to make certain, he released her arm to pluck a red tulip; a stem of rich purple, bell-shaped gloxinia; and a stem of pink gladiolus. He placed them in the stunned maiden’s hands, and then ran across the garden to pluck a jonquil and a white camellia. Returning to Thoniel’s side, his heart pounding in his chest and butterflies thumping their wings so hard in his stomach he could have sworn they were bats, he handed her first the camellia, and then the jonquil.
Thoniel looked down at her bouquet in wonder, and then up to Ecthelion’s eyes, seeing his plea in them. She swallowed the lump in her throat, drew a ragged breath, and ran her tongue over her dry lips. Finally she managed to speak. “Will you hold these for a moment please, Ecthelion?” she asked quietly, handing him the flowers and turning to scan the garden.
Thel watched, finding it hard to breathe, as Thoniel wandered the garden looking. ‘The daisy – take the golden daisy,’ he silently begged as she approached where they grew. As the maiden bent to pluck one of the multi-petal flowers, he released the breath he had been holding, expecting her to return. But no, she was crossing the garden again heading toward a patch of ambrosia. ‘Please, please, please pick an ambrosia…pick an ambrosia.’
Holding the daisy and the pink, lily-like ambrosia in one hand, Thoniel plucked a red dahlia and added it to her collection, then scurried around to gather a red camellia, a yellow dahlia, five roses, and lastly, a spring of mistletoe.
Returning to Ecthelion’s side, Thoniel was nearly panting in her excitement as she pulled him over to the fountain. Without saying a word, she took her flowers from his hands, and laid them on the cushions. Placing the flowers she had picked down on another cushion, she laid them out, arranging them in the order she wanted. Looking into Ecthelion’s eyes, she first handed him the golden daisy.
~~~*~~~
Galdor was drawing the curtains against the star and moon-bright night, when he noticed his niece and Ecthelion in the garden. He started chuckling as he watched Thel hand the thornless rose to Thoniel.
“What is it?” Dringion asked, coming to his husband’s side.
“Ecthelion just gave a thornless red rose to my niece.” Seeing Dringion’s confused look, he asked, “Do you not know the language of flowers, my love?” With Dringion’s shake of his head, Galdor continued, “A single rose in full bloom means, ‘I love you,’ and a thornless one is ‘Love at first sight.’”
“And you approve of this? They only just met!” Dringion asked, astonished at Galdor’s reaction.
“Thoniel has loved Ecthelion from afar for many years, my heart. I often offered to introduce them, but she feared a contrived meeting would not go well, and preferred to rely on chance.”
Dringion grinned and settled himself on the windowsill to watch with Galdor. “What do the other flowers mean?” he asked, leaning back against his mate as strong arms wrapped around him.
“The red tulip is a declaration of love; the gladiolus and gloxinia also tell of love at first sight. What is Thel going for now?” Galdor wondered. “Ah…a white camellia is to tell Thoniel she is adorable, and the jonquil is asking her to return his affection.”
The pair watched Thoniel as she scurried about the garden, Galdor’s whispers telling her what to pick, amazingly similar to Ecthelion’s.
“What is she doing now, my love,” Dringion asked, watching Thoniel lay her flowers out on the cushion.
“She is arranging her flowers in the order she is going to use them to speak…no, my dear, put the ambrosia after the red camellia, and the dahlia second to last. There, that is better.”
“I find this curiously exciting,” Dringion whispered. “Tell me what she is saying?”
“With the golden daisy, she is telling him that she shares his sentiments. The two roses together mean the same – his feelings are mutual. Now the red camellia is particularly lovely – it means that Ecthelion is a flame in her heart. The ambrosia says his love is returned.”
“And the three roses together?”
“I love you. Now give him the dahlia, little one….ah, perfect…forever thine.”
Dringion giggled, seeing Thoniel hand Ecthelion the mistletoe sprig last of all. “Even I know that mistletoe means, ‘kiss me.’” He sighed happily as the flowers fell from Ecthelion’s hands to the ground, and Thoniel was pulled into his arms for a passion-filled kiss. “It is a beautiful language. Will you teach it to me, my love?”
Galdor nodded before capturing Dringion’s mouth in a passionate kiss. When it finally ended, he whispered, “When you are strong enough for us to return home, I will pick nine hundred and ninety-nine roses for you.”
“What do they say?” Dringion asked breathlessly.
“That I will love you until the end of time.”
Tbc….