A Denial of Souls

Title: A Denial of Souls 2/?
Author: Eawen Penallion
email: cross_stitcherire@yahoo.com
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/eawen_penallion/
Type: FPSlash/Het
Pairing: Glorfindel/Ecthelion, Ecthelion/OFC, Glorfindel/OFC, Glorfindel/Erestor
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, Het, death of character, incest
Beta: Nienna, beta reader extraordinaire!
Disclaimer: all rights to the characters belong to JRR
Tolkien – I’m only playing with them.
Timeline: First - Third Ages
Feedback: Yes please,
Archive: OEAM, AFF, LJ, anywhere else, please ask


Summary: On arriving in Middle Earth, Glorfindel thinks he has found the one who will share his life. But Life must take many paths before he realises who that person truly is.

Chapter 2


It had been decided unanimously that the arrival of the exiles at Lake Mithrim would be a time of pride and celebration of the achievement of their survival. Fëanor's House already resided there and, although the despicable desertion at Araman still rankled with Fingolfin, the elflord was determined that his diminished and bedraggled people would hold their heads high in the face of their elven kin. Thus the order went out that all swords should be burnished, all spears stand tall and the finest of the surviving raiment be donned. Marching proudly with silver and blue banners unfurled, the silver trumpets sounded their arrival upon the lakeside shore to their errant Noldor kin.

The bugle of the trumpets resounded in the low hills, to be echoed by a collective gasp as a golden orb rose above those hills into the starlit sky, banishing the night and dazzling the onlookers. With the sudden warmth of the sun bright flowers grew and bloomed in the footsteps of Fingolfin, and songs were raised in awe and joy. The elves knew not that the orb they would call Anor had been created by Yavanna from the last fruits of the Two Trees, and was guided in its fiery path by the stalwart Arien. Melkor cringed in the depths of Thangorodrim for, though he had struggled in even battle with Tilion, the controlling hand of the paler disc that had traversed the heavens for some weeks now, in Arien the evil Vala knew he had met his match. Upon Middle Earth the Firstborn of Ilúvatar could only stare in delight and praise the Valar for their mercy in ending the Age of the Stars.

And under the brilliant rays of Anor Ecthelion gasped at the beauty and brilliance of the golden hair of Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, and rejoiced that this beautiful elf was now otorno to him.

Glorfindel smiled too to see Ecthelion, the personification of the stars and the night, still glow in the light of day. He had always known that his meleth was beautiful beyond measure.

For many days the weary survivors had rested on the northern shores of the lake, their number more than twice as many as those of the house of Fëanor. Unrest quickly arose between the two kindred of the Noldor for there was no love in the hearts of Fingolfin's followers for those who had left them to misery and pain. Glorfindel and Ecthelion were prominent amongst the captains of the Exiled Wanderers who were requested by their lords to patrol and control the sporadic fighting that had broken out. The two lovers depended heavily upon each other as they waded into the fray. They separated the warring elves, divided blooded noses from bloodied knuckles, and struck down swords raised in anger before yet more kin-deaths could be inflicted. Wearied and weakened they had been from their terrible journey and weary they were from their peacekeeping duties until they finally collapsed each night into the tent they shared - too weary to share their bodies.

Dinner was long over when Glorfindel pulled Ecthelion back into his arms and pressed his forehead against the star-dark hair, inhaling the special scent that was his - friend. Glorfindel sighed, for still his lover had not confirmed that connection between them. Ecthelion echoed his sigh though for different reasons, and the golden lord tightened his arms about him reassuringly.

"Mayhap tomorrow will be easier," he murmured into the peaked ear, his breath failing to elicit a responding shudder from the dark elf, so tired were they. Ecthelion laughed shortly.

"You think so?" he asked, shaking his head. "There is too much sorrow to be assuaged in a mere seven-night, too many losses on both sides. Major losses, that all must grieve."

Glorfindel nodded, the fingers of one hand rising to idly lace through the thick midnight strands.

"Gods, the news that Fëanor is lost to us - "

"To *them*! We are not of his House. We swore no oath."

Glorfindel paused, somewhat shocked to hear the bitterness in his melindo's voice. He continued softly, his own tone tempered in the face of Ecthelion's rancour.

"Lost to *them* on the field of Dor Daedeloth where we trod too. Thank the Valar that Fingolfin was not tempted to try the gates of Angband beyond the challenge of trumpets. We could not have withstood an assault from within those evil gates at that time. We would have been wiped out - or held within to suffer the fate of Maedhros…"

"Fingon mourns him deeply," Ecthelion murmured and although Glorfindel could not see Ecthelion's face in the darkness of the evening's gloom he could sense a softening of the temper of the elf.

"As well he might," the golden elf concurred. "We should all mourn for of all the sons of Fëanor, Maedhros was ever the voice of reason. Now in Caranthir I hold no trust - he has always been unruly in his actions. No, the sooner Fingolfin moves us away from these prideful elves the better. The oath they swore has doomed them to eternal strife. I want no part of it, for we will have enough to deal with when Morgoth issues forth from that black fortress. He is determined to wipe us out."

The sorrow and despair in those words caused Ecthelion to lay his own hands over the encircling arms that held him close and he stroked them gently. He lifted his head, striving in the darkness to meet the sapphire eyes of his friend. He smiled reassuringly and Glorfindel could feel the sentiment if not see it.

"Turgon too will hold himself apart from the sons of Fëanor, but truly it is for Finarfin's house that Caranthir holds most distrust, for their mother was of the Teleri and it was their kin that they slaughtered at Alqualondë. Also, no longer will our lord follow the lead of Finwë's eldest son or *his* extravagant family. The word emanating from the discussions is that we will not remain here but instead that each lord will choose a portion of this vast land as his own. Apparently Lord Elwë was not lost, but instead has embraced the grey Elves as his people and has taken their language as his own. He has established his own kingdom of Doriath and has taken a Maia to wife - her powers guard his realm. He has sent a messenger to say that he will only treat with Finarfin's house."

Glorfindel snorted. "I wager that Caranthir was not pleased with *that* message."

Ecthelion rumbled with disparaging mirth, but then sobered. "None of the brothers were pleased - but they are missing the sanest brother who would otherwise temper their wrath…" He shrugged and grinned wryly. "But let us not dwell on that unhappy family. We survived and we are here. Once Turgon has chosen his realm we can look forward to the years ahead and the establishment of out soon-to-be infamous Houses."

Glorfindel chuckled, for Ecthelion had often referred back to that conversation during their trek south.

"How could I forget, melmë?" he laughed, tenderly kissing his beloved's lips. "The House of the Golden Flower and the Fountain - long may we prevail!"

Glorfindel did not register the momentary tensing of the elf within his arms, nor see in the darkness a nervous flicker in the royal blue eyes.

"Aye, our *Houses*," the dark elf repeated, seemingly innocently. "And may our children and their descendents always hold the same friendship in our hearts as we do." He paused, calculating his next words. "Ai, 'Fin - once we settle in our new lands we will have to - expand our horizons with regard to our affections. Indeed, we must not deprive the ladies of the chance to found such exalted dynasties. Our sampling must be extensive and fruitful - with a few beautiful males to add variety to our searches." Ecthelion yawned and stretched deliberately. "Come, otorno, let us sleep. Our day will be just as long tomorrow and we need to rest." He reached up to plant a chaste kiss upon the soft cheek. "Goodnight, 'Fin."

Even as Ecthelion moved himself further into the blankets Glorfindel blinked away the unbidden moisture caused by the blithe declaration, his heart pinched at the dismissal of his loving endearments.

Otorno. Sworn brother.

Not melindo.

Not 'melmë'.

His lover's breathing became softer and slower as Ecthelion slipped into reverie, but Glorfindel did not sleep, could not sleep as the dark elf''s words rumbled within his mind. With that thought in mind he too succumbed to his weariness - but his arms did not relax his hold upon his elf.

****

Although the poisonous cloud sent by Melkor yet lingered in places upon the waters of Mithrim, the scattered campfires upon the hillsides surrounding the lake bore witness to the mightiest rejoicing known to the Eldar since their arrival in Middle Earth, for Maedhros son of Fëanor was restored to them. In his deep love for his friend of childhood, the Lord Fingon son of Fingolfin had in secrecy departed their camp some time before, traversing the dangerous heights to the fastness of his foe. In quiet song of voice and harp he had sung in defiance of the foul orcs that patrolled the dark mountain, hearing his cousin's sorrow and pain in his answering song. But even at the point of rescue he had seen no way to release the red-haired lord from the evil bonds and in his agony had almost acquiesced to the pleas of the imprisoned elf to end his torment by ending his life. Only by the intersession of Thorondor, Lord of the Eagles, and the severing of Maedhros' right hand, was he saved and returned to his brethren.

Now the Lords of the Noldor had gathered to welcome the recovering elf and his beloved cousin and were toasting them in wine, food and song at an intimate feast within the large congress halls of Fëanor's sons, surrounded by their most senior captains and their ladies. The word had been sent forth throughout the peoples and they too feasted and caroused in joyous abandonment in their abodes.

Ecthelion looked over at his otorno as Glorfindel entertained a lady of Fingolfin's household, the golden hair falling gently forward over the strong, sculpted face as he made speech with the quendi. The quendi seemed much taken by the Vanya and was attending to him in earnest, eager to ingratiate herself with this magnificent quendu. Ecthelion took in a sharp breath as she leaned even closer to Glorfindel's lips and he turned his face away so as not to see the moment when their lips met. For some reason he could not witness his otorno kiss another in affection, even as he rebuffed similarly loving intimacies.

Sex was a different matter. They were not exclusive, at Ecthelion's insistence, and they both had had other lovers. Their coupling was that of bond brothers, of battle lust and warrior comfort, not of soul mates or declared lovers. Even as he clarified his thoughts he wondered at them for it was he who had held back throughout their relationship, fighting any attempt by Glorfindel to define their feelings. Ecthelion sighed, for he knew the depth of the love that his friend held for him and in many ways he reciprocated it - but was it true in its direction? He had avoided the gentler attentions of love, preferring to avoid public displays of affection for somewhere within him he knew that it was not yet time to bestow the love of a soulmate. Still - it hurt to see Glorfindel close to another.

The darkling lord looked over at the two cousins who sat close together at the head of the table. Fingon was discreetly aiding Maedhros with his repast for Maedhros still had not trained his remaining hand to control his utensils with any great degree of skill. In their mannerisms it was obvious that the twain had a deep abiding love, sexual to some extent but it was more the deep devotion of the cousins that captured Ecthelion's gaze. They knew each other intimately in body and mind; they knew that their friendship was life-long and that they would always be there for one another even if they were bound to another in soul love. Ecthelion felt a pang in his heart and he knew it as envy. Allowing the truth to seep into his mind, he knew that he was jealous of the closeness of the cousins. The dark lord thought of his own situation - he had no brothers or sisters, his cousins were aloof from him and his father and hence mother had refused to follow the dissenting elves to Middle Earth. In this new world he was alone, save for one edhel.

His gaze slid back to Glorfindel, now thankfully leaning back in his chair. The quendi seemed a little peeved and Ecthelion guessed that her approach to his friend had been too open and without sufficient subtlety, in conflict with his otorno's romantically inclined nature. He grinned as Glorfindel caught him looking at him and his sapphire eyes conveyed his disgust at the quendi's forewardness. It was a silent signal for the Lord of the Fountain to rescue the Golden Flower. Rising from his seat he negotiated his way through the tables to Glorfindel's side, ignoring the pointedly annoyed huff expelled by the quendi. With deliberate movement he wrapped his arms around the seated lord's neck and pulled his friend's face close to his, claiming those full lips in a devouring kiss. On parting, Ecthelion registered the surprise and delight in Glorfindel's eyes and in that moment he made his decision. He wanted more. He wanted what Fingon and Maedhros had - the closeness, the warmth, the more-than-brothers nature of their relationship. Glorfindel would be his Maedhros, and would assuage his loneliness with his generous affection. Ruthlessly crushing a rising twinge of doubt, he looked earnestly into his melindo's puzzled face.

"What say you that we depart this place, melmë?" he whispered seductively. "I can think of many more pleasant things we could be doing."

Without waiting for a response he dragged Glorfindel up from his chair and across to the exit of the edifice. Under the starlit skies he entwined his arm around the broad waist of his friend and leant his head against that sturdy shoulder, silently leading them both to the secluded glade and the tent that they shared there.

****

The heat was upon the two elves as they panted in entwined struggle, one upon the other. Glorfindel thrust his hips upwards to meet every downward stroke, his prostate stimulated almost beyond bearing by Ecthelion's thick shaft. The golden lord grasped at the strong shoulder and wrapped his long legs even more firmly about his lover's waist in his determination to hold Ecthelion to him in this rapture. Lids closed in ecstasy hid the expression in the royal blue eyes, but Glorfindel could not tear his own from the beauteous face above him. Harsh moans and urgent breaths emanated from both the elves in the rapacious joining, for it seemed as if they resented that their sweat-soaked flesh stood as a thin but solid barrier to the melding of bodies that they fought to attain.

Both hovered on the precipice, both were ready to fall into the chasm of completion that beckoned so strongly - but there was a reluctance to end this intense duel for it had brought them to a closeness that they had never before achieved. Alas a final pressure of penis upon prostate triggered a climax that rivalled the first explosion of stars in Ilúvatar's universe and Glorfindel rode the crashing thunder of spasmodic shudders, expelling his lover's name with a loud shout. The clenching of the tight muscles of his channel milked the shaft of the penetrating elf and Ecthelion cried out too, his seed filling the hot rectum even as his exclamation reverberated through the empty glade.

"Glorfindel! My love!"

And in that moment of lust, Ecthelion begged his soul to believe his exhortation.

****

The meeting had been intense in both emotion and content for it was a moment to be recorded in history and was witnessed by all the Lords of the Noldor and their vassals. Maedhros One-Handed had, to the dismay of some of his brethren, apologised to the Wandering Exiles and to Fingolfin for their desertion in Araman and had begged forgiveness in the wrongdoing enacted by their father. In recognition of this evil and erroneous deed he had ceded his right to the kingship over all the Noldor to Fingolfin.

"If there lay no grievance between us, lord, still the kingship would rightly come to you, the eldest here of the house of Finwë', and not the least wise."

There was little spoken dissension amongst the sons of Fëanor but dissension there was, and of them all it was Caranthir who held the most rancour in his heart. Thus it was, as Mandos had foretold, that the house of Fëanor would be forever called the Dispossessed for their relinquishment of the overlordship of the Elves of Beleriand, and for the loss of the Silmarils. At the same meeting a discussion was held as to the disposition of the realms of the kindred, for through Angrod son of Finarfin had been conveyed the words of King Thingol of Doriath, granting to the newly-come Noldor the lands of Hithlum, Dorthonion and those to the east of Doriath.

Turgon had chosen the coastal realm of Nevrast as the land of refuge for his people.

In the pale morning light Ecthelion watched as his lover barked the final commands to the gathered households sworn to Lord Turgon as they took up their burdens for the journey to their new home. Each command was responded to with eagerness and respect, so beloved this golden elf was. Since Ecthelion's acknowledgement of their relationship Glorfindel had seemed brighter than ever for he fairly glowed with happiness, a glow that only enhanced his innate beauty. Coupled with his kind and generous nature Glorfindel was irresistible to all - but he only had eyes for Ecthelion.

The quendu had sensed the watchful gaze and he turned and smiled gently at his melindo, a smile that was full of joyful emotion, then Glorfindel gave the final shout.

"Let us mount and proceed! We travel to Nevrast and our new land!"

As the elves of Turgon began their voyage to their far-distant new home, Ecthelion could not suppress a brief frisson of fear and doubt as the Lord of the Golden Flower brought his horse alongside that of the Lord of the Fountain. Glorfindel smiled at him, a smile of hope and promise and love unbounded - and bile gorged in his throat as Ecthelion realised that his friend now thought them as a couple. As a courting couple, leading to an inevitable binding. And the thought repelled him.

Oh Gods - what had he done?

TBC

(Maedhros' speech was taken directly from 'The Silmarillion.')

Elvish:

otorno - sworn brother (Quenya)
melindo - lover (male) Quenya
melmë - love (endearment, Quenya)
quendu - male elf (Quenya)
quendi - female elf (Quenya)