Songs of the Spirit

Chapter Fifteen

It wasn’t long before both elves were striding down the hall towards the healing quarters. Neither spoke to the other, but there was no need. Each could feel the other’s presence, reassuring and supportive, and that was comfort enough.

Lord Elrond was there to meet them, directing the two towards the private room that held both Caerdil and Duralmir. It was a small chamber, only large enough for two beds and a side table. A window instead of a balcony was set into the far wall to lend the room a natural light, although that light was grey as Anor remained obscured by thick clouds.

As they entered the first thing Erestor couldn’t help but notice was the form lying motionless upon the bed. The battered elf’s eyes were fully closed, his flesh paler than it had been when Erestor saw him last. The bruises were still vivid; too vivid given the usual speed of elvish healing, and the thick bandaging around the remains of his hand was spotted with crimson where the grievous wounds still wept. It appeared Caerdil was indeed quickly fading, aided by his injuries, and it was obvious that Elrond spoke correctly; he would not be much longer on these shores.

At his side in a simple chair sat Duralmir, holding gently to one of Caerdil’s bandaged arms, and one hand occasionally reaching out to stroke the short dark hair. The dark circles around his eyes and his slumped position revealed that he had not slept during the night, despite the seriousness of his own injuries.

He looked up as the three elves entered, his gaze lingering on Erestor and Lindir, and smiled wanly. “There has been no improvement. But I am glad you are here.” He shifted his attention to the bard. “My name is Duralmir. You must be Lindir?”

“Yes,” Lindir answered, curious as to how this elf knew of him. Yet no answer was forthcoming, and he watched with amusement as Duralmir looked back and forth between him and Erestor, a pleased smile on his face. “I am glad to see you are both together.” He looked directly at the darker elf. “Did I not tell you that he would come back?”

Erestor couldn’t help the smile from forming on his face. “Yes, you did.”

Elrond moved to look over the patient before turning to leave. “I have other things I must see too. I will be out in the main room, or in the herbarium if you need me,” he said before disappearing back into the healing hall.

Erestor walked over to stand at the foot of the bed while Lindir remained near the door, watching silently. The injured elf appeared much smaller and weaker to his eyes; a far cry from the monstrous tyrant he had feared as an elfling. It wasn’t only the various wounds which formed this suddenly harmless visage, but some indefinable presence, and it took Erestor a moment to realize that it wasn’t merely Caerdil, but his own personal growth that added to the illusion. He was an adult, and in control of his own life. The only hold his father held over him was of his own making, and looking down upon the elf, he knew this to be true.

I am no longer a child, he told himself. I am not a blind victim like my mother, unless I wish to be. I am not a bully or tormentor like my father, for I am stronger than that. I am a survivor, as is Lindir, and I am free of my past. I’ll never forget, but neither should I remain haunted by it.

He felt Lindir come up beside him and stop, staring down at Caerdil in much the same fashion as he had done. The bard’s eyes roved over the battered form, searching for something, yet not knowing what. This was as close as he would come to meeting his own father. Surely there was something to be gained; some insight, some understanding… Despite his earlier thoughts he still hoped, yet those hopes remained unrealized. Whatever this elf had been, he was that no longer, and he never was Lindir’s father.

The bard took a step back, then to the side until he was standing directly behind the shorter elf. He moved to wrap his arms around his lover’s waist, and felt Erestor lean back into his embrace.

“What do you see?” he whispered into Erestor’s ear.

“A broken elf,” he replied after a few moments silence. Duralmir nodded at the observation, and Erestor turned his attentions to him, looking down at where he clasped Caerdil’s arm. “How can you care for him so much after you know of all he has done?”

“Ah, but I told you before,” Duralmir said with a small smile. “He is not the same elf that he once was. His exile was a turning point in his life as well. His worst fear had come to pass, and rather than allow it to break him, he remade himself. I didn’t learn of his past until long after we met. Since then I have come to care for him greatly.”

“Wait,” Erestor looked at him in shock, something clicking in the back of his mind. “Are you-”

“Bound?” Duralmir looked down at Caerdil, the love and affection in his pale eyes now plain to see. “Yes, we are bound together. He is my husband, and I his. And when he dies I shall leave for Valinor to await him there.” The elf sighed heavily, his pale green eyes clouding momentarily with tears. “Lord Elrond does not expect him to live, and in truth, neither do I. I can feel his life’s flame flickering as we speak. It was the orcs.” He looked up at Erestor, tears now slipping down his cheeks. “When we were captured he saved me by forcing the orcs’ attentions upon himself.”

Erestor felt Lindir’s hand grasp his own, and he clutched it tightly. However doubt still crept through him, despite Duralmir’s admission of love. His own mother had insisted upon her love for Caeril, despite the abuses heaped upon both her and her child. And it was possible that any injuries sustained in the orc attack could be covering older hurts inflicted by the formally abusive elf. He would consider the possibility of madness but for the fact that this elf seemed to be as intelligent and level-headed as any elf here, perhaps even more so, and least likely to become bound to a creature of insanity. He could see a vitality in Duralmir’s gaze that his mother’s eyes never carried. No hidden fears lurked there, or suppressed emotional injury. In fact, they carried the same look Erestor had seen earlier that morning in his own lover’s eyes.

Suddenly the unconscious elf shifted, his arm moving slightly towards his bonded mate. None spoke or moved as, after a few moments, the dark eyes flickered open and into awareness.

“Caerdil?” Durlamir whispered, wiping away his tears and leaning closer. “I am here still.”

There was a ghost of a smile as Caerdil’s eyes focused on the elf beside him, but was quickly overtaken by a grimace as the pain from his injuries overwhelmed his senses. The eyes closed momentarily, then reopened, this time shifting to stare at the room’s other two occupants. Erestor would have backed up a step under that gaze had Lindir not been behind him, holding him steady. Yet there was no malice in his expression, no anger or disapproval; only a sense of curiosity, pride, and even regret. This expression only served to reinforce his earlier appraisal: there was nothing left to fear that he himself did not create. However he still felt a friendship with his father would have been nearly impossible; there was too much in the past that would hamper any sort of true reconciliation.

Caerdil’s gaze shifted back to Duralmir, and his face relaxed into one of simple, yet deep affection. “I am sorry,” he whispered, his voice rasping. “I wanted to hold on for you.”

Tears now fell unheeded down Duralmir’s face as he stroked his husband’s arm. “That is all right, my love. You saved me.”

Caerdil then smiled, and his eyes closed. “I shall see you again, when I am whole.”

“I am certain you will,” was the whispered reply.

Caerdil’s breathing evened out once again, indicating a return to oblivion. Duralmir’s head lowered to rest upon the bedside, the only sign of his grief being the shaking of his slumped shoulders. Erestor and Lindir slowly left the room to allow the mourning elf some last moments alone with his dying love, and as they walked they held to each other, suddenly grateful for the time they had together.


* * *

The day dawned bright and clear the morning of Durilmir’s departure. He had been granted a horse and an escort to aid his way west where a boat awaited to carry him over the sea. His fading was obvious as the light that had once brightened his eyes was now gone. He still smiled occasionally, but the expression held little cheer. He would make it to Valinor, the healers were certain. Beyond that they could only guess.

Also with those leaving were several of the humans who had been rescued from the village and were fit for travel. They would find new homes in various towns along the way, or wherever they felt they would be able to prosper. Lord Elrond had been generous, providing each displaced human with packs of supplies and even coin that might ease their settling.

It was a small party who appeared to see them off. No one said much, for there wasn’t much left to be said. The funeral itself had been a quiet affair for the only one who truly knew Caerdil, or at least the elf Caerdil had become, was too filled with grief to say much. Erestor didn’t feel right saying anything for the elf he knew had already died a long time ago. Both he and Lindir stood steadfast through the solemn ceremony, hands clasped within each others’. Afterwards they spent some time with Duralmir before retreating to their own rooms to seek quiet solace in each other’s arms. The song had finally ended, and it was time for a new ballad to begin.

* * *

Several days later found the two elves within the hall of fire. As usual Lindir played while Erestor sat some distance away, watching his beloved with loving eyes. He could never get enough of watching his fair beauty, particularly when in the grip of a particularly poignant song which caused a dreamy, wistful expression to grace his features. And when those silvery eyes turned to meet his own dark ones, he felt he could willingly drown in the love he found there.

The night before, while in the quiet beauty of the gardens, a question had been asked and in turn well received. They would soon become bonded mates. No one else knew as of yet, although Erestor was certain that it wouldn’t be kept secret for long. The joyful news was fair bursting from his chest, and he couldn’t wait for others to share his happiness.

Lindir’s song ended, followed by a short gesture of appreciation from those listening. He smiled graciously, nodding his head in return, before turning his gaze towards his lover. Erestor watched curiously as he was granted a wink before the taller elf stood.

“My good elves,” Lindir called out, and within moments the attention of all rested upon him. “I would now like to sing something special; a duet with my love and soon to be bonded mate.”

Erestor’s eyes widened at that, his cheeks reddening slightly at both the sudden smiles turned in his direction, and Lindir’s request that he perform in front of an audience. While used to having others watching him, and was no stranger to speaking in front of an large group, this was another matter entirely. He shook his head in negative, however Lindir’s beckoning gesture and the other elves’ encouragements were proving to be too much. He would never live this down.

Erestor stood, brushing his robes in an automatic self-conscious gesture he rarely felt, and walked over to where Lindir was grinning broadly at him. Words of congratulations reached his ears, and he smiled politely at the well-wishers as he passed. Even Elrond and Thranduil were in attendance, and as he looked over at them, his lord raised his cup to the nervous elf, a gesture repeated by Thranduil.

“You will pay for this,” he whispered in Lindir’s ear when he finally reached his side, however his surly tone was betrayed by the sparkle in his eyes.

“Oh, of that I am certain,” Lindir grinned back. “I have promised myself that I would sing a duet with you before Imladris since that first night I heard you sing. I will suffer whatever punishment you deem worthy, and gladly.”

Erestor sniffed. “I’m certain I can come up with something…suitable.”

The bard chuckled at that, but was immediately silenced by the pair of lips that were suddenly consuming his own. He could hear the sound of the other elves cheering and laughing at their display, but it was all at a distance as he melted beneath Erestor’s touch. As his mouth was invaded, his already aching body, long since aroused by Erestor’s gaze upon him through his evening performance, hardened further.

Finally the darker elf pulled away, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Perhaps I will finish later,” he whispered, “or mayhap I’ll just let you handle it yourself.”

“You are cruel.” Lindir murmured, shifting slightly in an effort to ease the pressure.

Erestor placed one more kiss upon the bard’s darkened lips. “Am I?”

Lindir shook his head with a grin, and then turned back towards the hall. All eyes were upon them, watching the two eagerly. Never had any seen the bard or the advisor given to expressions of such passion, so the unusual sight was received with much warmth.

Lindir sat back down and picked up his instrument, laying the beautiful tilmyr across his lap and frowning slightly as he had to adjust its position to compensate for the hardness between his legs caused by his lover’s teasing. Erestor merely smiled at the bard, fully aware of his discomfort. Despite his words, he would not let Lindir suffer alone. He planned on returning to a more private celebration when the music here was finished.

“What song did you have in mind,” Erestor asked as the noise about the room settled into a quiet hush of expectation.

“Something simple perhaps. ‘A Lovers Lullaby’?”

Erestor smiled, and nodded his head in acquiescence. Lindir took a moment to retune his instrument before gazing up at his lover, all the love and affection he could possibly feel evident in his pale eyes. The darker elf reached out to touch the bard’s cheek just as the first notes sprang from the tilmyr, and together they began to sing…

Sleep, my sated lover
And know that when you wake
I will be here with you

Sleep, my moonlit spirit
And know that no other
Will love you as I do

Dream of me
With my arms around your body
My legs entwined with yours
Dream of me
As my hands caress your body
My lips devouring yours
And when you wake you will find
Dreams have become reality
Then we will be one once more

Sleep, my precious shadow
I will follow you through dreams
And guard you from the night

Sleep, my one true lover
And I shall wake you with a kiss
Come the dawn’s tender light


The lyrics were simple, but the melody as haunting as a lover’s sigh. All had known of the bard’s gift of music, yet none had realized the dark advisor shared that gift, a gift that for at least this one night was being shared with all. Lovers curled closer together, and single elves sought the welcome company of their fellows, minds filled with the magic of sweet beginnings and endings.

The two elves watched each other as they sang, the world falling away until it was obvious that they had no thought for any others. Their voices rose, twining and harmonizing together, becoming one as their spirits reached and merged through song. And when it was finished the music continued on; drifting into the starlit night to beckon all to share the joy that they had found within each others hearts.

The End


Review Responses:

Kalima: I’ve learned to appreciate all reviews; the critical ones especially. I had a somewhat what critical reviewer on my last story, and we still keep in touch!
Oh! I’m currently taking a Business English class, and some of the things we’re learning made me think of you! The teacher discussed some of the things you pointed out last time, and I just smiled. So thank you doubly; you’ve assured that I received an A on that section test! *grin*