THE SPEED OF THE END

During the time that the Fëanorions were in exile, Findaráto became great friends with Turukáno, brother of Findekáno. He preferred the quiet grace of Turukáno to the bold abandon of his brother. Findekáno became closer to his father Nolofinwë as the years dragged on while they waited for the return of the Fëanorions.

To pass the time, Findaráto and Turukáno often rode out to visit Alqualonde, and befriended many of the Telerin people. Findaráto renewed his friendship with Amarië, although they did not again become sweethearts, and thus passed his days while he waited for Carnistir to come back to him.

But events unfolded quickly after Fëanaro and his sons returned from Formenos and these events shocked Findaráto and alienated him from his lover. After the tragic death of Finwë and the theft of the Silmarils, Fëanaro convinced the Noldor to rebel against the Valar and leave Valinor. Following the dreadful events of the kinslaying at Alqualonde and the burning of the Telerin ships at Losgar, the hosts of Fëanaro, Nolofinwë and Findaráto made separate camps at Lake Mithrim in Hithlum. Nolofinwë and Findaráto remained together, but Fëanaro’s people moved to the opposite side of the lake.

Findaráto was overwhelmed with conflicted emotions. Sitting alone in his camp that teemed with soldiers, women and children, he felt overwhelmed by the events that had occurred in such a short time. Fëanaro and his sons had committed murder, and it was the murder of his friends, the Teleri. Then they had burned the stolen ships so that Nolofinwë’s and Arafinwë’s hosts could not use them to cross the ocean to Middle-earth. Findaráto’s father had turned away and gone back to Valinor, and Findaráto had become the leader of his people. He felt unready and unworthy of such a task. Fëanaro died, tragically killed by a Balrog before he had a chance to see anything much of Middle-earth, and Maitimo was taken by Moringotho. And then there was the problem of Carnistir, now estranged from him.

Findaráto stood at lake’s edge and stared across it to the Fëanorion camp where he could see a fire burning. He felt pained and bereft of his father and his cousin and was still in shock. He wondered what Carnistir was feeling and concentrated on letting his thoughts reach out to those of his lover. He concentrated hard, but he could not detect anything of Carnistir through the maze of darkness and horror that swirled between them. His friend and cousin Turukáno approached him, carrying his little daughter. Turukáno’s eyes brimmed with tears while Itarillë lay in his arms, too quiet for such a small child. A child should be happy and playing, thought Findaráto, and not witness to the death of her mother. Findaráto sighed and turned away from the lake and did his best to comfort his grief-stricken cousin and niece.

On the other side, Carnistir and Macalaurë stared at each other with grim faces, eyes deep and dark with sadness, mouths no longer able to smile. They were streaked with dirt and blood and their eyes, which had seen dreadful things, burned into each other with bleak stares. They were covered in the blood of many people: of their Telerin victims and of their dead father. “Come,” whispered Macalaurë to Carnistir. “Let us bathe and wash away the blood of our kin. I cannot abide the feel of it on my skin anymore.” The brothers disrobed and entered the water.

Carnistir bore the most wounds. His body was covered in cuts and gashes everywhere except on his face. Macalaurë was not as badly wounded as Carnistir and he helped to wash him, pouring water over the worst of his cuts to try to clean them. Carnistir had suffered some burns on his hands, too, and these Macalaurë bound with clean strips of cloth. Then he noticed tears falling down Carnistir’s cheeks and he kissed them, holding his brother close. “We have suffered many wounds these last terrible days, Moryo,” he said, “not all of the flesh. And we shall suffer many regrets in the days to come. But remember that our enemy is ruthless, and unless we make reparations to our friends then we shall be a scattered force too weak to withstand them. Findaráto now leads his people. You must go to him and seek forgiveness.”

But Carnistir was reluctant. In his heart he wanted to go off somewhere and be alone. He did not care where he went, as long as it was far away. He was ashamed for the way he had acted during the fighting. Overcome with battle-lust, he had fought fiercely against both kin and foe, not discerning between them and killing both alike with the vigour of bloodlust. He decided not to go to Findaráto right away but to wait until they could put some time between them and the terrible events that had occurred, and he shut his thoughts away from Findaráto. It was not difficult because darkness had descended on him and he let it place a barrier between them. He could thus slink away and tend to his wounds and not have to think about anything else.

As it happened, it was Findekáno who made the first move and came to the Fëanorion camp to try to befriend again the sons of Fëanaro and reunite the Noldor as one army to be ready to fight their foe. In tears Findekáno sat before Macalaurë, Tyelkormo and Carnistir and proposed his plan. To solidify their bond, he told them that he would try to rescue Maitimo from the precipice of Thangorodrim. “I know you think me foolish to undertake this task,” he told them, “but I cannot abandon him there. If he should perish, I shall too.” Maitimo’s brothers were astounded by Findekáno’s bravery. He did what they could not. Against all odds, he was successful. After this feat was accomplished, the rift between the houses was healed. Nolofinwë held Mereth Aderthad – a great feast of reuniting – at the Pools of Ivrin, and there followed many years of peace.

During these peaceful years, Carnistir and Findaráto thought often of each other. They had been apart for almost fifty years. Carnistir’s new home was far in the East in Thargelion, where he trafficked in the natural resources and raw materials of the region with the Dwarves of Beleriand. He had thus become rich in material possessions, although he was bereft in heart. Lonely and desirous of seeing Findaráto again, he left Thargelion to come westward to seek Findaráto on Tol Sirion.

When fifty years had passed and on the same day that Carnistir left Thargelion to seek Findaráto, Turukáno also left his home in Nevrast to journey to Tol Sirion. When Carnistir finally arrived, he found that Turukáno had reached Tol Sirion and Findaráto before him. He had been hoping to be alone with Findaráto for a satisfying reunion since they had not seen each other for many years. Over time Carnistir had managed to put his old, horrific memories of the kinslayings and ship-burning behind him, and remembering with fondness his cousin and once-lover, he desired to renew their relationship.

Upon arriving on Tol Sirion, Carnistir was directed to seek Findaráto on the banks of the Sirion where he was said to be fishing with friends. But when Carnistir ran down the rocks to the beach, he found Findaráto and Turukáno bathing naked together in the river. Carnistir stood and watched them. He held his breath as he gazed upon Findaráto’s splendid form. His memories had dimmed and he had not remembered quite how beautiful Findaráto looked. Or perhaps it was the years that had passed and seasoned the son of Arafinwë. His once-slender body had developed strong muscles, yet he still retained his slimness. His hair was as bright as the Tree of Gold had been and fell to his hips in radiant waves. Carnistir could not see the blueness of his eyes from where he stood, nor the pink hue of his beautiful lips, but he saw Findaráto take Turukáno’s hand. They were both laughing. Carnistir watched Turukáno and jealousy grew in his heart. Turukáno had the same raven hair, blue eyes and seductive quality of his brother Findekáno, but he had been married and had a young daughter who’d survived the crossing of the Helcaraxë, yet his wife had not. Carnistir could not prevent fear of losing Findaráto from entering his heart, filling him with anger and frustration. However, he bit back his dark feelings and continued down the rocky steps to the sand.

When Findaráto turned and saw Carnistir, he cried out in surprise. Letting go of Turukáno’s hand, he plowed through the water in a desperate attempt to reach the shore and his lover. Carnistir watched Findaráto race toward him and his angry jealousy melted away like butter under the hot sun. He waited, a tall, dark figure dressed in black and red, until his lover was upon him. Findaráto threw his wet arms around Carnistir without regard for his fine, regal-looking attire, and embraced him with exuberance.

“Carnistir!” he cried. “How good it is to see you!”

Carnistir let a smile grace his face, and it was like the opening of the most beautiful flower, growing out of a crack in a rock: unexpected, delightful and brilliant. He hugged Findaráto with fervour and longed to kiss him. But out of the water at that moment strode Turukáno and as he drew closer Carnistir met the glance of his dark-haired cousin over the shoulder of Findaráto. And he knew in that instant that there was a special involvement between them. But he held Findaráto to his heart with a fierce possessiveness and said nothing.

Later, they had dinner together with a number of their friends and relatives. Besides Turukáno, Aikanáro and Ambaráto were there, and a number of the other Noldorin Elves who made Tol Sirion their home. Carnistir barely spoke to Turukáno during the meal or afterwards, keeping a watchful stare upon him whenever he spoke to Findaráto or moved close to him. The son of Fëanaro burned with desire to have Findaráto all to himself in his bedroom later on in the late hours of the night, where he longed to ravish him. The sight of the golden-haired Elf naked in the river had aroused his old passion. Their eyes met several times over dinner and Carnistir saw the sparkle of lust in Findaráto’s eyes and knew that he also held the same passionate feelings for Carnistir.

At last Carnistir and Findaráto were able to bid their friends goodnight and make their way upstairs to their bedchambers. Carnistir’s room was the first to which they came in the long, draughty corridor of Findaráto’s castle. “Will you come to my rooms later?” asked Carnistir as he paused outside his door. Findaráto turned to him and Carnistir could see that beneath his blue robes his chest was heaving.

“Yes,” Findaráto whispered. His cheeks bore the rosy flush of too much wine and of desire. “In an hour I shall come to you.”

Carnistir watched Findaráto as the blond Elf glided down the length of the blue-carpeted corridor to his own room. Carnistir’s body seethed with a torrent of desire. He turned his door-handle and entered the spacious bedroom. It was warm inside. The servants had built a fire in the grate and had turned down the coverlet on his bed. Carnistir strode to the tall oak cupboard in one corner and began to disrobe. He folded and hung up every piece of clothing, inspecting each item with care for soil before he put it away. He noticed there was sand adhering to his cloak and he brushed off every speck. He smoothed out the creases in his jerkin, tunic and leggings before he hung them on hooks in the cabinet.

Carnistir padded into the adjoining bathroom where he washed his face and hands, armpits, groin and feet, using an ewer and basin that rested on an oak stand just inside the door. He noticed that the huge, claw-foot iron bathtub had been filled with water. He felt it and it was tepid. There was a fire burning in the grate in the bathroom and a large iron pot of water hung over it. On a low table beside the tub was a stack of unbleached linen towels, some jars of liquid soap, fragrant oils and various pumices and scrub brushes.

After Carnistir had washed quickly at the basin and picked up a vial of oil, he returned to the bedroom and lay down on the bed to await Findaráto. He crawled beneath the top sheet and pulled it up to his chest. He took a mirror from the bedside stand and checked his hair as he arranged it to spread out over the pillow, to frame his face to its best advantage. He did not have to wait long before there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” he said in a husky voice, and Findaráto entered. He had taken only twenty minutes to come to his lover.

Carnistir’s breath became heavy when he saw him. Findaráto had changed to a light robe of pale blue velvet trimmed with white satin bands around the sleeve bottoms, and a sash of white satin held it tied closely around his narrow waist. His golden hair fell unbound, the ends resting to the tops of his thighs. Carnistir could see the sapphire gleam in his eyes from the bed.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered. “Please come here to me.”

Findaráto obeyed, and crossed the room in rapid strides, and stood beside the bed. Carnistir leaned forward and untied the white sash of Findaráto’s robe and it fell away to reveal that he was naked underneath. Carnistir took a moment to admire the muscular form of Findaráto the warrior before he bent his head and kissed his cousin’s smooth, taut abdomen. Findaráto gasped in response to feel his cousin’s lips once again upon his flesh. Carnistir slid his hands around behind Findaráto to cup his round bottom, and he could feel Findaráto growing hard against his throat. He moaned. He felt his own erection stiffening beneath the bed sheet.

“I have missed you,” Carnistir whispered, taking both of Findaráto’s hands in his and drawing him down to sit on the bed beside him. He stroked the blond Elf’s glorious hair and looked upon his face.

“I have missed you too,” said Findaráto.

“Then let us not waste any more time,” hissed Carnistir, and pushed Findaráto down onto the bed. He claimed the blond’s lips in a fiery kiss, his tongue invading Findaráto’s mouth, his lips crushing his cousin’s with furious passion.

His hands coursed over Findaráto’s body in a torrent of longing caresses, his pent-up desire raging out of him in a stream of frenzied kisses and strokes. Findaráto thrashed and moaned beneath the turbulence of Carnistir’s touches. He cried out when Carnistir bit his nipples in his desire to devour them. He yelped when Carnistir forced two fervent fingers into his tight passage while biting passionately on his lower lip.

“Turn over,” Carnistir growled as he slicked his hard shaft with oil. Findaráto whimpered, but he did as he was told. Carnistir then oiled his cousin’s prepared passageway and tossed the vial aside. He positioned himself above the fair-skinned blond. “Do you remember our long-ago wish to bond?” he asked.

“Yes,” whispered Findaráto, surprised by Carnistir’s vehemence.

“Do you still wish it?” asked Carnistir, in a gentler tone that crept into his voice like the sun emerging from behind the storm clouds after the passing of the tempest.

“Yes,” said Findaráto in surprise.

“Do you love me still?” asked Carnistir. He was calm now, and laid his cheek gently against Findaráto’s back.

“I do. I missed you and I love you more than ever,” replied Findaráto with a sigh.

“Then I take you, Findaráto, to be my mate, for now and forever,” said Carnistir, and he pushed his smooth shaft into Findaráto’s entrance as Findaráto shuddered in ecstasy.

“May Manwë and Varda bless this union,” whispered Carnistir, his head bent over Findaráto’s shoulder, his hips pumping his desire into his lover’s rump.

“Manwë and Varda,” Findaráto sighed into the pillow.

Both Elves were suddenly overcome by a feeling of lightness and they were transported to a place in which peace descended on them as if a white eagle had come from Manwë to brush away all remnants of darkness with its wings. They both felt it. They made love to each other with gentle caresses and soothing touches. They whispered words of love and held each other’s faces in tender hands while they kissed. The bond between them made each Elf feel lighter, as if their burdens were now shared between them.

“I take you, Findaráto, to be my mate for all time, until we are sundered by death or until the ending of the world,” said Carnistir, and removed his ring, made years ago by his father of heavy gold studded with diamonds and rubies, and placed it on the index finger of Findaráto’s right hand. It was a large ring, almost too large for his smaller hand. The two Elves lay facing each other in the bed, hands clasped between them, gazing into each other’s eyes.

“I take you, Carnistir, as my mate, and promise to love you until our doom overtakes us or the world ends,” said Findaráto solemnly. “I love you and no other,” he whispered, and slid his ring of silver with one large stone of sapphire, made for him by Curufinwë, son of Fëanaro, onto Carnistir’s baby finger.

They fell asleep together, lying in each other’s arms. A thunderstorm rent the midnight sky but they did not hear it.

When they awoke in early morning, they both desired a bath. Findaráto padded into the bathroom to add the still-hot water from the iron kettle to the bathtub water. The fire had not died completely during the night.

They both sat in the warm comfort of the water, facing each other, feeling the soothing effects of the lavender oil that Findaráto had added to it. “Mmm…” said Carnistir, laying his head back against the rim of the cold iron tub. “I suppose now we shall have to think about packing up your things to move to Thargelion.”

“What? Oh, no,” said Findaráto. “I cannot leave Nargothrond. I have many projects under construction. Turukáno and I have promised each other that we will travel together to take a look at Elwë’s caves…” His voice trailed away as he saw Carnistir’s expression change to one of anger.

“Turukáno? What have you promised him?” asked Carnistir.

“Well – er – we were going to travel…” stammered Findaráto.

“Now is the time,” said Carnistir, sitting up straight, seething and squeezing out his words between clenched teeth, “that you should tell me what has occurred between you and Turukáno in the past while you were supposed to be waiting for me.”

The light in Findaráto’s eyes flickered and his gaze almost faltered as he felt a heaviness in his heart like a boot heel crushing a flower. He could not lie. He knew that Carnistir could sense the truth. “You had shut yourself off from me,” he whimpered. “I know it was wrong, but we were both in need of comfort…”

Without a word, Carnistir stood, climbed out of the tub, picked up a towel to wrap around his now ice-cold body, and strode out of the room. He crossed to the cabinet and took out his clothes. Findaráto leapt out of the tub and followed him, pleading with him.

“Carnistir! What are you doing? Please do not leave me! I am sorry! I’m so sorry! If I could go back and undo what I did, I would!”

Carnistir dressed himself quickly, and without a word or a look at Findaráto, he left the room, closing the door firmly but quietly behind him.

After he had gone, Findaráto dropped onto the bed as if the thunder in the somber sky had turned into stone and smote him with one cruel blow. He lay weeping for a long time. When he finally rose, Carnistir was well on his way back to Thargelion. He still wore Findaráto’s ring.