House of the Golden Flower

We haded bed battle well, I mused as we passed through the Gates, our men's feet lighter for hearing the singing and cheering of our women awaiting us in the city. Few were wounded, and fewer yet were missing or known dead. Most of us were returning wearier and a little more experienced than when we had left. I was among those who had first tasted battle in Nirnaneth Arnoniead - as it would later be ca by by the historians - who made up perhaps two-thirds of our number.

I walked at Turgon's side, with Rog and Galdor. Our men trailed behind us - eager to return to their homes. Turgon was the only one of us not afoot, somehow we had managed to find a horse for him. My own feet were sore, my arms tired from bearing my spear home along with another's who was wounded and unable to carry his own. My calves ached from yesterday, when it was my turn to carry the end of a stretcher with a wounded man upon it. He was grateful to be borne, and so I had not minded too much then.

The cut on my left forearm from a stray arrow was mildly inflamed, but I was concerned about where it was hot and swollen. Battlefield salve might cure many wounds, but not all. Turgon's nose was beginning to heal quite nicely, due to his vain reapplication of salve twice daily. I pointed out to him that all the salve in the world could not make him beautiful, but surely Idril wouldn't mind too much?

For that, I was cast out of his bedroll in the middl the the night, which was when I had been so imprudent to have stated it.

I repented later, and was forgiven my transgression.

The day was bright and mild, two weeks after we had left here; as we had made better time returning than going, as going we had to be careful to keep the men fresh for battle, and there were no such restraints now. Our women had decorated in our absence to keep their hands busy from worry, and banners waved from the roofs of every house in sight. Likewise, they were well-dressed, I noted, as we entered the city itself.

Apparently our return was an occasion for feasting as well as mourning, for the smells were all around, and all our hungers were filled within moments of being embraced by Gondolin. We had beautiful women, wonderful food and drink, and were invited to rest. Turgon hadn't any addresses to make, other than to say:

"Go, and have my blessing."

And with that, our ranks broke, and men were everywhere, embracing wives, playing with children, going into the house courtyards for meals, calling out to one another invitations to feasts. Turgon dismounted, and distracted, I caught an armful of soft, sinewy warmth, with pleasant curves that tucked herself into a tight hug around my neck. I buried my face in the long wavy golden hair that I recognized, and wrapped my arms tightly around her slim waist. "Idril!" I laughed. She kissed my neck and let me go, leaping atop her father in much the same way.

Ecthelion stood to one side, smiling pleasedly. Maeglin glowered from where he stood, holding the horse's head. Turgon took her hand and mine and would have taken us to the palace to eat, but I caught him. "Turgon, why don't you eat with me? I'm sure your house can join, our grounds are large and gardenacioacious."

He ed aed at me as if I were brilliant. "Yes, they are, aren't they? So we shall. Maeglin, Ecthelion - would you join us as well?"

"Certainly." Ecthelion bowed in a courtly manner and departed.

Not to be shown up by Ecthelion, Maeglin purred, "Of course, my Lords." He scurried off to gather his house.

Idril looked over at me, and her lips tightened, but she gave no other sign of distaste at Maeglin's having been invited. Tired though I was, I figured he would be easiest to deal with on my territory, thus on my terms, and with miendiends all about.

We went to my house, and were greeted eagerly. Not moments later, as Turgon and Idril and I scurried right alongside my men and their women, children playing underfootthelthelion reappeared, with his house in tow, bringing along their own feast.

They were welcomed warmly, and soon the terraces and balconies and gardens were full of people, as Turgon's house arrived, bearing platters that made the tables creak. Maeglin's house came next, surly and dark, the women dirty and the children beasts of rotten temper. They brought little, and carried away more, afterwards, and we let them have it, with our blessings.

We ate, and then the tales and lays began, of our deeds, and heavily laden with the stories of the fallen, and their fates. We wept even as we smiled, and when the sun set the lamps were lit, and the Houses' gardens shone aglow, everywhere there were folk gathered beneath the starlight.

The children piled on one another to sleep like puppies in the grass, until their mothers realized with a start how late the hour had grown, and woke them to herd them home. The men remained for more wine, and the companionship of our fellows who understood the losses more truly than the women did, however kind creatures they were.

Drunken, they parted ways and stumbled home, filling the streets with songs both sad and brave.

When the last had gone, Turgon and I stood in the wreckage of my gardens, and saw the swaying, bobbing lanterns home. Then we stood there longer, and he drew me against his chest, leaning on the stone walls, and we admired the glittering stars at length.

I grew cold, and pulled my cape tighter around me, the scarlet a purple black in the starlight.

"Should we go in?" He asked me, voice slurred with exhaustion and wine.

"Yes." I answered back sleepily, and left the warmth of his embrace, taking his hand and pulling him along behind me.

***

We lay in the bed, face to face, looking into one another's eyes, sharing intimacy. I trailed my fingertips across the scab on his nose.

"I was so afraid, in that moment, that I'd lost you."

Turgon smiled, and toyed with the turquoise necklace on my chest. "And never was I so glad to see your face." He smiled gently, then frowned. "This is fading. Twice you have repaired it this decade. Would you ask a replacement of me?" He asked, seeking my eyes with his.

"No. Always my first. I would have no other." I reassured him of my love.

He smiled hestitantly.

I kissed him, and pulled him atop me.

Our passion rose like sparks from a fire, and like the skittering, licking flames we touched, embraced, caressed. I rejoiced in all the sensations, reveled in giving him pleasure. We kissed, and I thrust between his thighs, taking our time, looking into each other's eyes.

When our passions had risen enough that we could no longer deny release, he moaned quietly, hot, intense; and I tucked my head low against his neck and groaned, brimming with my love for him, spilling both physically and emotionally. My breath caught, and panting, I would have sobbed, but for I did not know why I craved to do so, and I feared my urge to so much that I resisted.

I lay forward on his chest, my wieght to one side, and turned my face away from him.

"Are you quite sure, Fin?" He asked gently, after a moment.

I closed my eyes against the pain that nickname caused me. "Yes, my dearest." I answered.

"Why would you ask this pledge of me?" His fingers traced my pierced ear.

"I cannot say." I answered, my guard rising.

"Cannot, or will not?"

I tensed. "Musn't; my love." I turned and pulled his head down onto my chest gently, stroking his hair through my fingers.

He did not press me further.