The Flower and The Fountain

Duet
Summary: Ecthelion has created a new composition upon his flute, and implores Glorfindel to sing with him.

It was a pleasant summer’s day in Gondolin. Many of the inhabitants of the hidden, white city were busy with their duties, flitting here and there to complete errands and tasks so that they may enjoy the delightful weather and one another’s company. Unanimously, the captains of the city had neglected their duties in favor of enjoying themselves; the running of the households ultimately fell to their advisors, whom struggled to complete the appointed tasks quickly to obtain some relaxing time. Egalmoth and Rog had left early in the morning to the Valar only knew where, and Tuor had made for Turgon’s home to spend the day with Idril. The rest of the captains went off on their own, now and again joining with one another for some friendly conversation.

It was unusual to find Ecthelion alone and without the company of Glorfindel, especially on a day such as this one. As the Lord of the Fountain reclined upon the steps of his house, heads turned in curiosity at the raven-haired Elf, who sat in concentration, now and again playing a few notes upon his flute. He would stop every so often and pick up a quill, scribbling something on a piece of parchment by his side. It was a curious sight indeed, though no one stopped to ask where the Lord Glorfindel was that day as Ecthelion did not seem to wish to be disturbed.

It was nearly time for the noon meal before a smile of satisfaction crossed Ecthelion’s face. He rolled up the parchment he had previously been writing on, and bound it with a ribbon; stopping a lad coming out of the house, Ecthelion bid the boy to take the scroll, ink and quill up to his room. Once the task had been carried out, the Fountain Lord made his way into the city, his flute tucked into the sash at his waist and a warm smile on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel was exactly where Ecthelion had expected to find him. Having taken the day off from duties like the other captains, the golden-haired Elf had kindly agreed to be minder for two pairs of sisters, daughters of two maidens of his household. The youngest of the four girls was golden-haired like her Lord; the other young maidens possessed shimmering dark locks. The five were gathered around the great fountain in the King’s Square, the girls listening enraptured as Glorfindel told them tales of Valinor.

Ecthelion stopped some feet on the opposite side of the large fountain, a smile upon his face as he listened to his lover speak. The youngest girl seemed more interested in the Flower Lord’s hair than his tale. She had taken to sitting in his lap, idly braiding strands of the golden tresses as Glorfindel spoke on to her sister and friends.

“My grandfather did not trip down those stairs on purpose,” the raven-haired Elf said when Glorfindel made a remark involving Rúmil, robes and a fall down stairs. Ecthelion put on his best mock scowl, trying to hide the amusement in his eyes, as Glorfindel whirled around in surprise; his motion was so sudden he nearly dumped both himself and the young girl in his lap into the fountain. The other girls hid giggles behind their hands as they watched the scene unfold in amusement.

“Ec…Ecthelion,” Glorfindel stuttered in surprise.

Ecthelion merely pursed his lips, trying not to laugh as he made his way around the fountain to sit beside his lover, five pairs of eyes following his every movement. “My grandfather detests the formal robes his station demands he wears,” he said slowly. “’Tis not his fault when he is burdened with books and scrolls and is unable to see his way down a flight of steps.”

“Perhaps so,” Glorfindel said, a smirk quirking the corners of his lips. “But it still makes for an amusing story, no matter how much I respect your grandfather.”

“Be thankful Ata’da is not here to hear you say such.” More giggles issued from the girls as Glorfindel gave a mock pout, which turned into a brilliant smile when Ecthelion leaned against him and whispered a kiss into the golden hair without being seen.

“What brings you here today, Ecthelion?” the golden-haired Elf question as he shifted, obtaining a more comfortable seat, the elfling in his lap seemingly oblivious to his motions.

“I’ve been composing,” the Fountain Lord replied simply.

“Composing? What, pray tell, were you composing?”

“Just a little song. It’s nothing important.”

“I beg to differ.”

Ecthelion lifted an eyebrow as he stared at Glorfindel. “Do you now?”

“Of course I do!” He momentarily glared at his dark-haired lover before Glorfindel continued, having all but forgotten about the young maidens seated at his feet. “Your songs could rival those of our King’s best musicians! Why, you might even be far greater in musical talent than that of Maglor himself!” He delighted in himself when Ecthelion’s laughter filled the air, sounding like rain on silver roofs.

“You flatter me too much, Glorfindel! Better than Maglor? Surely you jest!”

“I never jest.” He lowered his voice, the whisper only meant for his lover’s ears. “I never jest concerning you, meleth-nîn.”

Ecthelion swallowed thickly, hoping the flush of love and embarrassment brought on by his lover’s words did not show in his face. “In any case, Glorfindel,” he said, thankful his voice did not temble when he spoke. “You must be mistaken. I am merely gifted at composing music. It is you who is blessed with a wondrous voice.”

“Ecthelion…”

“I will not cease,” the dark-haired Elf said, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly as he understood the warning in Glorfindel’s voice. “I speak the truth, and you know it. How many times has Idril asked that you sing in the great halls? How many times has your voice echoed down the corridors whether you realized it or not? How many times…”

“Yes, I understand your point now.”

“Do you now? All right, I am issuing you a challenge then, Lord of the Golden Flower.”

“A challenge?” A golden eyebrow arched as Glorfindel stared pointedly at his lover, wondering just what Ecthelion was scheming. The young maidens had grown silent as the conversation between the elven lords intrigued them; even the maiden in Glorfindel‘s lap ceased her movements, curious eyes fixed upon the elven lords.

“Yes, a challenge. I have indeed composed a song this day, and I challenge you to sing with me as I play this new tune.”

“Sing with you? Forming lyrics from mid-air?”

“Do you have a problem doing such, Glorfindel?”

/Ai, vanimaer. You do love to tease me, don’t you?/ Azure eyes narrowed slightly at Ecthelion’s gentle teasing and banter. Glorfindel never was able to refuse his dark-haired lover anything, made worse by the fact that the Flower Lord was known to never back out of a challenge. “Very well then,” Glorfindel said with a sigh. “I accept your challenge.”

At the sound of his last statement, a number of Elves nearby ceased their activities and began to converge on the great fountain. Many had seen Glorfindel on the practice fields, accepting challenges by young lieutenants and soldiers, and always he bested them whether it be by the sword, spear, knives or bow. But to accept a challenge--a musical one at that--from the Lord of the Fountain would be a sight to observe indeed.

Unbeknownst to either Glorfindel or Ecthelion, Pengolod, one of the King’s trusted scribes, was among the crowd. He watched with a keen eye the exchange between the elven lords, a slow smile forming on his face when he realized he was in for a treat.

“Begin then, Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said with a wave of his hand. “I cannot begin to form appropriate lyrics for one of your songs if I have not heard a few notes played first.”

“Very well then,” Ecthelion replied, pulling his flute from the sash at his waist. Adjusting his perch upon the fountain’s edge to obtain a more comfortable position, gray-blue eyes closed as he raised the instrument to his lips and began. The first few notes were lilting, reminding many of days long past.

Glorfindel, for his part, listened to the beginning of his lover’s song with his eyes closed. Words formed in his mind, taking shape according to the sounds of the flute. Before he realized what was happening, Glorfindel’s voice was echoing through the square, accompanying the Fountain Lord’s playing.

Because we invite the peace and tranquility from afar
It looks like we will have to travel a bit further
Only holding your hand, we cross the freezing night

Because we met when you were hurt with your head hung low,
And if the pain can go away, you can let go;
Because on the dirtied water, there is a beautiful reflection of the moon

Pengolod listened with held breath as the two lords continued to play and sing. The song was sad, the notes bringing to mind images of pain and suffering from long ago. And yet he felt happy as he listened, his heart growing lighter as the notes continued on. /They make a stunning pair,/ he thought to himself as the music filled the air.

Because we met when you were hurt with your head hung low,
And if the pain can go away, you can let go;
Because on the dirtied water, there is a beautiful reflection of the moon

Here, drawing in memories, unable to keep the gifts
Given from the deep warmth of the blue that is sky.
Sharing something, and throwing away something

The sound of music in the square drew Idril to her window. The song stirred her heart, as did the sounds of the flute that accompanied the words. Gazing down, the daughter of Turgon instantly caught sight of the crowd gathered around the fountain. She knew the voice that was singing, as well as the one who was playing. A gentle smile crept upon her lips as she thought of Glorfindel and Ecthelion together. /They make beautiful music together./ Turning, she smiled at Tuor who nodded, indicating that he too had heard the song. The pair exchanged smiles as the notes floated through the air, love filling their eyes.

Turgon as well had heard the sounds of his two trusted friends. A sad smile formed as he listened, remembering days long past, memories long buried but slowly arising again. The song, to his ears, spoke of love and loss, something Turgon know both Glorfindel and Ecthelion had experienced in the past, as did many others within Gondolin‘s walls.

Breaths were held as the last verses sounded. Both Glorfindel and Ecthelion had long forgotten where they were or who might be watching and listening. For them, there was only the other and the love that connected them together.

Like this, together we journey to
The distant frozen sky, somehow believing;
Because, closer than anyone, further than anywhere,
Your dreams won’t disappear from memory

That is the story told of pain
l hel hesitating to call it love
Because, in the frozen night, in the nearing stars
I still want only to see your dreams

As he played the final notes, Ecthelion lowered his arms until his hands rested in his lap, his silver flute laying silent in the cradle made by his lean fingers. Love was in his eyes as he gazed upon Glorfindel, whose azure orbs had not yet opened. /I love you, always, malthener. I always will./

As if sensing his lover’s thoughts, Glorfindel slowly opened his eyes and fixed his gaze upon Ecthelion, a smile creeping upon his lips. Applause sounded through the crowd, drawing his attention; with an embarrassed smile, Glorfindel inclinis his head to the gathered Elves.

“Come,” Glorfindel said, setting the child in his lap upon the ground. “Let us take these young ones home to their parents. There is much I wish to…discuss with you, Ecthelion.”

Ecthelion smiled, accepting the hand of his lover that clasped his own. “I would be delighted to accompany you,” he replied, giving Glorfindel’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Hand-in-hand, the elven lords saw the young girls home before spending the rest of the peaceful day in anotanother’s company. This day, they had joined together in song, strengthening their bond with one another through words and music.

/I hope,/ Ecthelion thought, /we will have many more days like this./

~~~~~~~~~~

Even as the gathered crowd was departing from the square, Pengolod remained, busily penning words into a ledger. He did not stop until he had accounted for all the day’s events, and the notes of Glorfindel and Ecthelion’s song had been recorded. He smiled as he looked over his work, gray eyes twinkling as he closed the ledger and made for Gondolin’s library to file away his notes for the future.

TBC...