To Explore Arda

This fic is very AU and doesn’t fall anywhere in Tolkien’s timeline. I have also changed the relationship of Haldir, Rúmil and Orophin. On the trading card for Orophin, he is named as Haldir’s kinsman. This got me thinking…I needed an outside relation for the family dynamics so for the sake of this fic, Orophin is Haldir & Rúmil’s cousin.


A special “thanks” to Ervy and Agie for their help in coming up with a term for aunt/auntie (Theladar)

Feedback welcome!

Chapter 5: Plans

Rúmil was sitting at his table, coaxing Haldir to drink a foul mix to settle his stomach and relieve his hangover.

“It is not like you to drink so, brother. Please do not be upset that I am leaving. I will stay if that is what you truly wish.”

Haldir looked across at his brother. Rúmil would in fact give up his dream if Haldir asked it. He smiled. “I am not upset. A little shocked last night and yes, I acted foolishly by drinking so much. I do not want you to give up this opportunity. Anyway, you would be even more miserable if you now stayed.”

“That is that supposed to mean?” Rúmil asked defensively.

“I am not blind. I saw you watch Lord Gildor all night. Beware, little brother. I am not sure he is exactly what he seems. There is some great, perhaps dark, secret lurking in his past. No one knows exactly who he is or where he hails from. He is as beautiful as the sea and perhaps as dangerous.”

The younger brother eyed his sibling. “Dangerous? The Lady Galadriel would not put me in harm’s way and you know it. As for watching him, I will admit I am curious about him. But really, I am a child to him and he is like my guardian.”

“Oh, right. And I did not see him watching every move you made and scowl every time anyone remotely attractive asked you to dance.”

Their conversation was cut short by a knock on the door. The latch gave way before the brothers could answer. Orophin never needed to wait; he was family. He entered with a triumphant smile on his face. Rúmil smirked and Haldir rolled his eyes.

“I take it from your continence that you had a successful hunt last night?” Haldir asked.

“Now, Haldir, you know I am a gentleman and do not discuss my…hmm…how shall I put it?”

“Dalliance?” Rúmil chimed in. Orophin threw him a mock glare, but it was true and the entire Golden Wood knew it. Orophin loved elves, male or female, and although he was an attentive lover (so it was rumored), he was like a bee moving from one flower to the other. If you sought more from him you would be hurt. He made no promises or declarations of love. He just made love whenever someone was willing or in need.

“I am here to fetch Rúmil,” he said at last, grabbing an apple from the bowl. “Lady Galadriel and Lord Gildor,” he winked at Haldir, “wish for you to join them in Celeborn’s library after your finish your meal.”

Rúmil nearly knocked his chair over in his haste to get up. He moved quickly to his room to dress and was to the door before Orophin finished his apple. He bid his cousin and brother good day and tore down the ladder.

Orophin looked at Haldir. “Come on. A swim in the lake will make you feel much better.”

Looking up with bloodshot eyes, the Marchwarden nodded. He stood, disappeared into his room to dress and grabbed a towel. He followed Orophin down the ladder and to the swimming hole. At this early hour the water would still be quite cold. Few elves would be there and Haldir was thankful for that.

*****

Rúmil stopped outside the library for a moment to settle his excitement, and then he calmly entered the large talan and found his Lady and Lord Gildor at a table. He approached them and gave a small bow. “Mae Govannin,” he said.

Galadriel stood and greeted Rúmil with a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning,” she replied. “If you will excuse me, I am sure there is much Gildor wishes to discuss with you, penneth.” With that she glided away, leaving the two ellyn.

Gildor indicated for Rúmil to sit. The young elf smiled and joined the elf-lord at the table. “Did you enjoy your begetting day?” Gildor leaned back in his chair.

“Yes, thank you,” Rúmil replied.

“Your mare is beautiful. Have you named her?”

“Aye, Ithildae. She seems to like it.”

“It is a good name for her,” Gildor said. “Although you would have been welcome to one of our horses, it is good that you now have your own. There is a special relationship between a rider and his mount. A horse can be a great companion when on a long journey.”

Rúmil nodded and did not interrupt, sensing that the elf-lord had more to say.

“We do not travel during winter in most cases, preferring warmth and more permanent arrangements,” Gildor continued. “This winter we will stay here.” Disappointment must have shone in Rúmil’s eyes for Gildor chuckled. “Do not worry penneth. You must study before you venture out of these woods. You will meet daily for lessons with myself or others of my Company. Before you travel with us you will need to speak Westron at the very least. You will learn geography and about each of the races we will encounter. You will study about dwarves and meet them later, so if you hold any prejudices, get rid of them now.” Gildor stopped to gage Rúmil’s reaction to all this. He was pleased to see Rúmil gave no objections and there was no disappointment about the idea of ‘studying’.

“When do I start my lessons?” Rúmil asked in all sincerity.

Gildor smiled. He liked this elf’s dedication and determination. The elf lord reached down into a pack at his feet and pulled out a book, parchment, quill and ink. Setting them before the younger elf he replied, “How about now.”

*****
When Haldir and Orophin reached the swimming hole, the Marchwarden as greeted by a sight that stole his breath away. It seemed his second in command also thought to enjoy the solitude of the swimming hole. He rose out of the lake in all his natural glory like the first elf to immerge from Cuiviénen. It wasn’t like Haldir had never seen Authion in a state of undress before, however, somehow, seeing the powerful body in this non-military situation was causing heat to pool in Haldir’s groin. The truth was, the Marchwarden found his captain very desirable and for centuries had done his best to crush those feelings. Authion was nearly five hundred years Haldir’s senior. Oddly though, he had turned down promotion after promotion, preferring to stay as Haldir’s second. That alone made him off limits. Haldir sighed.

“Why do you not approach him? You might be surprised by what you find. I know he likes males and is not involved with anyone,” Orophin whispered.

Haldir cast his kinsman as sour look. “Even if what you are implying were true and I was interested in him, it would do no good to pursue him. It would be improper. He is ranked below me and every time I try to promote him, he turns it down. If he were remotely interested in me he would take a promotion.”

The two ellyn approach the waters edge.

“Good morning Captain,” Orophin said. “Care for some company?”

The other elf smiled up at them as he reclined on the grass. “Feel free. Should warn you though, the water is quite chilly.”

Orophin discarded his clothing, save his loincloth, in a heap. With a running start, the Silvan made a streamed-lined dive into the water. He let out a yelp coming to the surface, teeth chattering.

“Warned you penneth!” Authion called out with a laugh. “Are you not joining him, sir?”

Haldir cringed at the word ‘sir’. “It is just Haldir, please, and no, I think I will pass.” The Marchwarden sat on the grass, pulling his knees to his chest. With the arousal he was sporting, there was no way to get into the cool water with out embarrassment. Sitting next to one of the few elves taller than him and seeing drops of water lazily role down sculpted muscles and rich dark blond hair blow in the gentle breeze was doing nothing to improve the situation. Why did Orophin have to start him thinking?

“How are you feeling this morning? Better than earlier I am sure,” Authion said.

“I am all right. Thank you for your assistance last night and your concern,” Haldir replied with a slight blush.

The captain always found that little blush endearing. “It was nothing. I feared leaving you to the other guards. I heard talk of mischief and thought you might not be in a jovial mood come morning. I did not want anyone to become Orc bait.”

This got Haldir smiling. “No, I do not think I would have been amused by any ‘mischief’. I am sorry for my behavior. Hardly what is expected from a Marchwarden.”

The older elf rolled to his side and propped himself up on an elbow. “There is nothing wrong with letting go every once in a while. I was glad to see you relax. I just hope that you were not drowning any feelings in your glass. I know how you feel about Rúmil leaving.” He hoped he was not bringing Haldir’s mood down.

“Admittedly, I did imbibe last night out of frustration, but the more I drank, the clearer things became. I am happy Rúmil has this opportunity. He will learn more than I can imagine and he will be safe doing so. I will miss his company though. Believe it or not, he and I play chess when ever we were home from duty together.”

“I am rusty, but if you should find yourself missing the game, I do play. I would be happy to play against you sometime.”

Haldir felt his heart melt at the warm invitation. He smiled at his friend. “I think I might take you up on that.” Haldir had managed to settle his body down and rested back on his hands with his legs outstretched. He was so focused on his companion that he did not notice Orophin approach with hands cupped.

“The point of this was for you to swim and refresh yourself,” Orophin said. “Since you have made no move to do that yourself, I have brought the lake to you.” With that said, he poured the cool water from his hands onto his cousin’s head.

Authion rolled onto his back, laughing as Haldir sprang up, shedding clothing as he chased Orophin to the lake. By the time his body tackled the fleeing archer, Haldir was in naught but his loincloth and the laughing from the upper bank stopped. The captain’s eyes roamed appreciatively over the exposed body. Over the four centuries that he had served as Haldir’s second, he had come to admire both the elf and the warrior. As time passed, admiration was overrun by desire. Since Haldir had never given any indication of interest, the smitten captain had done what ever he needed to stay as close as possible to his hearts desire; that included passing up promotions. It was getting harder though to keep his desires secret. Nearly every night was filled with erotic dreams involving the handsome, powerful body of his superior.

******
Rúmil was exhausted from his first day of lessons with Gildor. They worked on some basic Westron phrases and then spent the remainder of the day going over maps of Arda. Gildor showed the young elf all the places he would be visiting in the upcoming year. Rúmil was more excited than ever. He wanted to share his day with Haldir, but the moon was already high so he took the ladder to his own talan.

Easily finding his way in the dark, he did not bother with a candle. He pulled the drapes closed and then changed into sleeping pants and a loose shirt before slipping between the covers. It would be a chilly night. He breathed in the crisp air and thought about his day. Gildor seemed to know about every thing. They would be heading southeast first. The young elf suddenly remembered Gildor leaning across the large map, his tunic hanging open and that chain just begging to be set free. Rúmil had been able to see the smooth planes of the other’s chest, his pale hair brushing the tabletop, and his eyes intense. The guardian felt a familiar throbbing. His body awoke with the memory.

Gildor was taller than Rúmil and broader as well. The younger elf began to imagine what it would feel like to be held in those powerful arms. Rich red lips had been mocking him all day; Rúmil had wanted to kiss those lips soundly, to explore the warm cavity with his tongue. His member twitched. He let his hand slide beneath the covers and into his pants. He lazily stroked himself, thinking of every alluring thing about the elf-lord. Rúmil moaned. His free hand caressed his chest and down to his thigh. He dreamt of Gildor’s hands touching him. Rúmil stroked himself harder now, letting his hand fondle the twin sacs just below his straining member. With both hands in his sleep pants and his mind on Gildor, the Silvan moaned and thrashed before arching off the bed with Gildor’s name on his lips. The night no longer seemed so chilled to him as he lay there, waves of pleasure sweeping over him. Sleep claimed him before he could clean himself up.

****
In the royal talan, Gildor found himself doing something he had not done in decades. He rested in the tub of water, stroking himself. He envisioned a young elf with hair like pale wheat in the moonlightcaressing his body, stroking him, loving him. Rúmil was all he could think about. How was he to teach the ellon, guide him, if all he wanted to do was bed him? He stroked faster, one leg draped over the bathtub edge, his head back, and hair sweeping the floor. He had not desired someone in so long. Today, all he wanted to do was kiss rose petal lips and feel smooth flesh beneath his fingers. Water splashed out of the tub as he quickened the pace. The orgasm ripped through him and he sank into the cooling water.
Gildor left the tub and climbed into bed still damp and not sated.

He could not chase Rúmil from his mind and his body awoke again. The ancient elf-lord tried to will his desire away, but his body would not be ignored. Getting up, he retrieved three scarves from a drawer. Tying them to the posts at the foot of his bed and one to the headboard, he proceeded to bind his legs, splayed open. Lying back, he inched his way up the bed until he felt the bonds on his ankle pull tight. He reached over his head and swiftly wrapped his hand in the other scarf, pulling as tight as possible. How he wished he had a lover to tend to him this way. He wondered if Rúmil would tease him so? His free hand now moved over body, ghosting over hardened nipples, down his quivering stomach, into the nest of curls at the base of his erection. Stroking himself to near completion, straining against his bonds, Gildor stopped. He let his hand move below him, to caress his arse and thigh. Then he began to stroke himself again. Over and over he teased his body, gasping and moaning with desire. He wanted to teach Rúmil how to do this. Always it was Rúmil he saw; always it was Rúmil’s hands that touched him. Always he came with Rúmil’s name on his lips. Finally spent, Gildor released the scarf, sat up and unbound his legs, and then with a corner of the blanket, wiped his seed from his body before collapsing into a sleep filled with more passion-charged dreams.


Chapter 6: Lessons

Gildor used the winter months to teach Rúmil all he could about the cultures and languages beyond the woods. They spent every day save two a week in Celeborn’s library, pouring over history scrolls, practicing Westron, and writing dwarvish runes.

Gildor was an excellent, albeit demanding teacher. He expected only the best from Rúmil. For his part, Rúmil threw his all efforts into learning. He wanted to prove to the older elf that he deserved this opportunity. Rúmil was still uncertain of who Gildor was or how Galadriel had convinced him to take the young guardian along, but he would not disappoint either of them.

As the weeks progressed, teacher and student grew closer. While both kept their behavior appropriate, there was a tension building between them. Rúmil left his lessons needy and self-pleasuring was getting old. Gildor was doing no better. Still they danced around the situation, each thinking that it was only one sided.

“You are a quick learner, Rúmil. Never have I met one as quick to learn Westron, or as willing. I think you will enjoy our journey to Rohan. I have some business with the horse-lords,” Gildor said one day.

Rúmil mumbled “thank you” and flushed at the complement.

Gildor found Rúmil’s blush endearing. “Come, the night is beautiful. Let us take a walk and we will work on your Westron.”

Rúmil grabbed his cloak and followed Gildor out of the library and down to the forest floor.

The older elf was dressed as always in leggings and a silk tunic. Gildor donned his cloak, but left it opened and the hood down. He took a deep calming breath, raising his face to the moonlight.

Rúmil felt a flash of heat as he took in the sight. The more time he spent with the mysterious elf-lord, the more Rúmil wanted him. The pale-haired elf thought Gildor was beautiful and perhaps the wisest and most intelligent elf on all Arda. He dreamt of those ageless eyes gazing at him in the throws of passion, of strong arms holding him. He dreamed of opening wide the silk tunics that always showed just enough to tease. He wanted to follow that ever alluring gold chain to its end and lower. Feeling his face flush, Rúmil quickly looked away and began to walk briskly down the path.

Gildor hurried to catch up. “Penneth, is something the matter? I had not intended for this to be a sprint,” he joked.

Rúmil slowed. “I am sorry,” he said, hoping the darkness might hid his blush. “I, umm, I did not realize I was walking so fast. I am used to keeping up with Haldir.” He slowed his pace. He and Gildor walked in comfortable silence for a time.

“So, tell me about yourself, Rúmil,” the elf-lord said in Westron.

Rúmil began and was quickly interrupted by his teacher.

“In Westron, please,” Gildor instructed with a smile.

Rúmil chucked and began again…in Westorn. When he had finished what felt like his life’s story, Rúmil went out on a limb and asked Gildor about his family. The elf lord chuckled and evaded the question by saying that it was too late for so long a life’s story. It appeared that Rúmil would have to wait a bit longer to solve the mystery of Gildor Inglorian.


***

And so it was on one evening that Rúmil left his studies in the library to return to his talan. Having gone less than half way home, the young elf realized that he had forgotten his pack under the table. He turned back, and making his way back up to the library, stopped at the entrance. He heard hushed voices within. Rúmil knew that he should announce his presence or leave, but he found himself intrigued by what he heard.

“Your parents would be so proud of you,” Galadriel said softly.

“Why? What have I done that would bring such pride? I wander Arda with no aim in mind.”

Galadriel’s voice was soft and gentle. “You stood with the host of the Valar for a start. You lead your people justly. Penneth, you are kind and beautiful, a true picture of what a prince should be. You would have made a fine king.”

Rúmil peered into the room and saw his Lady and Gildor silhouetted in the moonlight. The look on Gildor’s face moved Rúmil’s heart. The older elf look like a forlorn elfling and Rúmil found himself wanting to hold Gildor and make it all better. However, he barely concealed his gasp as the conversation continued.

Accepting Galadriel’s embrace, Gildor spoke. “I am lonely, Theladar [aunt]. In all my travels I have yet to find the one who stirs my soul. In my younger days I welcomed many to my bed…” Gildor sighed. “But that has grown old.”

“Peace, gentle one.” Galadriel stroked the flaxen locks as her nephew’s head rested on her shoulder. “There is one for you. You just have to trust what your heart tells you. There is one who will make Arda new for you again. I believe he is already in your mind and heart.”

Rúmil was puzzled by what he heard and left as quietly as he had arrived. The older elves were related, aunt and nephew…or was that just an endearment, like Rúmil though of his Lady as a mother? And what was that about a prince? With so many questions and so few answers, Rúmil headed home, lost in thought.

The two in the library ended their embrace. Galadriel kissed Gildor’s forehead and smiled at him lovingly. She then glided from the room leaving behind a melancholy elf with a small seed of hope.