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Rating: NC-17 [Glorfindel/Elrohir UST and a solo act]
Characters: Glorfindel, Elrohir, Elladan
Summary: The story behind the stone necklace of "Building
a Mystery".
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, no harm intended. If you would like
to know when other stories in this series are posted, go to http://groups.yahoo.com/group/follyofstarlight/join
Thanks: to Emma for the beta, and to Dream Theater for the inspiration
Feedback: PLEASE!!!!
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"They took pictures of our dreams
Ran to hide behind the stairs
And said maybe when it's right for you, they'll fall
But if they don't come down
Resist the need to pull them in
And throw them away
Better to save the mystery
Than surrender to the secret
You won't find it here
Look another way
You won't find it here
So try another day."
-- John Petrucci (Dream Theater), "Another Day"
[Midsummer's Eve, Year 172 of the Third Age, the Ford of the Bruinen]
From the vantage point of his saddle, and grumbling vague curses about the irresponsibility of youth, the ancient elf keenly surveyed the woods beyond for any sign of motion. Finally nearing the end of the curvaceous path down from Imladris, sensitive elven ears eagerly picked up the long-sought sound of the perennial, fraternal bickering he had hoped and expected to hear. "So this is where they have been hiding," Glorfindel murmured under his breath, grateful to have at last located his wayward charges. They had disappeared several hours before, shirking the tasks that had been appointed to them by their parents, and it fell upon their tutor's shoulders to round them up for a sound reprimanding by their sire.
Rounding the last corner of the path, he emerged into the clearing at the near edge of the riverbank, both elflings immediately rising to their feet in acknowledgment of their apparent capture. Elladan was closest to the path, the roughly carved fishing spear still held in his hands as he rose. His brother stood several dozen steps farther downstream, a pile of stones pyramided at his feet. Both twins were in that awkwardly coltish phase of their transformation between childhood and full-fledged adult, yet Elrohir somehow managed to wear it with a manner of grace his brother sorely lacked. With the unyielding passing of years, the differences between their personalities had been finely honed and keenly displayed, no more so than in this moment. Whereas Elrohir's face clearly reflected understandable hesitation and sincere remorse, all that could be discerned in Elladan's demeanor was defiance.
"Elrohir! Elladan!" Glorfindel sternly called out, dismounting from his steed. "Why do you tarry here when there are preparations to be made?"
"We have three days to pack for our journey," Elladan smartly retorted, stabbing his handmade spear into the water again in a half-hearted attempt to snag a fish. "Besides, Mother will just disapprove of what we have packed, or how we have done it, and end up redoing the task herself. I do not see why I should bother."
"So you believe scaring the fish with your crude spear to be a far better use of your valuable time?" Glorfindel spat in annoyance. Walking several steps farther down the shore, he turned his attention to the now silent younger twin. "What say, you, Elrohir? What manner of 'better use' have you found for *your* time?"
"He collects 'pretty stones'," Elladan derisively interjected, snickering under his breath. "Perhaps he thinks Mother will appreciate one of his plain river rocks to the fine jewels she already has."
Elrohir evaded his tutor's gaze, instead falling to his knees and picking guiltily at the collection of water-smoothed minerals piled near his feet. "Mother always appreciates anything we give to her, no matter how simple or 'plain'," he dejectedly murmured.
Despite his justified displeasure at the twins' irresponsibility, a smile twitched the corners of the ancient elf's mouth. "Yes, she does indeed." Sensing the more sensitive twin's pain as acutely as if it were his own, Glorfindel cautiously lowered with bent knees unto his toes beside Elrohir. "May I?" he inquired with earnest interest, gesturing with pointed fingers at the young elf's hoard.
With an embarrassed shrug, Elrohir nervously shifted up to his feet, wiping his damp and sand-dusted hands on his dark green leggings. "They are really nothing special."
"Allow me to judge that," Glorfindel lyrically replied, a comforting smile now fully blossomed upon his face. As Elrohir watched with rapt interest, the elder elf reverently picked among the stones, carefully examining each in turn before gently setting it down in a new pile of his own making. One flattened gray stone was lifted up against the air for Elrohir's inspection. "This one is rather unique -- do you see how the water has nearly worn a hole clean through its center?"
A beaming grin of pride chased all trace of melancholy from Elrohir's youthful features. "Yes, that is why I kept it!" Shooting his brother a smug expression of moral victory, he was disappointed to see his brother would not even meet his glance, instead stabbing blinding at the river with his carved stick. Turning his attention back to the only one who seemed to appreciate him at this moment, the younger twin knelt beside his tutor and eagerly fished through the pile of carefully sorted and selected stones for one in particular. "Here, look at this one!" he joyfully urged, ensnaring the searched for stone in his fingers. He excitedly shoved a pale blue agate into the other's grasp, accidentally brushing his fingers against the palm of the slightly larger hand as he deposited the stone.
Despite the innocence of the action, and the fact that he had obviously had bodily contact with Glorfindel countless times during the years he had been under the elder elf's tutelage, there was some new, unexplainable sensation which arose in his flesh. It was a tickle, yet not so, and at the same time it felt as if his stomach fluttered and fell to his toes despite being firmly confined within his flesh. There was also a startling heat arisen from seemingly nowhere and settled in his cheeks, as when he was embarrassed by his brother's teasing, and he instinctively raised his free hand to cup the half of his face which seemed on fire. With widened eyes Elrohir met Glorfindel's gaze, noting an uncomfortably unreadable depth suddenly visible among the ancient elf's usually decipherable expression.
The unnervingly intense visual embrace was abruptly broken when Glorfindel forced his eyes to look down upon the stone he found he absently caressed in his hand. With a loud clearing of his throat, he handed the rock back to Elrohir, mindful not to touch the delicate slender hand to which he delivered it. "This one is, indeed, most lovely," he acknowledged softly, his eyes actively avoiding the other's face. He sharply rose to his feet and wiped his hands upon his robe. "Collect the ones you wish to keep and return to your father's library immediately. I will ride ahead and assure him that you are close behind." He turned back to face the elder twin. "*Both* of you!" Ignoring the disappointed click and sigh Elladan voiced in response, Glorfindel stalked back to his horse and mounted back into the saddle. Grabbing his reins, he glanced back over his shoulder at Elrohir, and spied the younger twin still kneeling upon the rough shore, the agate tightly grasped within his fingers. "Do not make a liar of me," he sternly warned to both his charges, then turned his horse back toward the path and galloped off.
Tossing his stick into the river, Elladan huffed a loud, annoyed exhalation and stomped a few steps closer to the path. "Leave your silly stones behind," he urged without humor or patience. "Father will surely add further to our chores for each moment we delay."
Elrohir did not answer, but rose to his feet and sprinted to his brother's side, his right hand still tightly clutched around his precious prize. Precisely what he would actually *do* with the stone evaded his muddled mind; yet he understood that Glorfindel had found it fair, and that somehow made it something to be cherished.
------------------------
As Elladan had sagely surmised, their disobedience had resulted in a rather unrewarding array of menial chores, the last of which was the washing down and brushing of all the horses their travel party would ride. Elrohir bore his portion of the burden in silence, his mind clearly not focused on his tasks.
Afterwards he begged off dinner with his brother, retreating instead to the solitude of a hot bath. As the heat of the water soaked the scent and stain of the horses from his skin, he thought of nothing save what had happened down at the river, his mind continually replaying the look which had passed between him and his teacher. He still could not discern what it had meant, but he understood that if he had lingered in its fire any longer, he would have surely made a fool of himself.
The tightness which had strangely arisen in his leggings reappeared in the floating freedom of the bath, and his fingers instinctively moved to encircle the needful flesh harbored between his legs. It took merely a few slow, awkward strokes before he strangely felt the fire return to his flesh, despite the chill of the slowly cooling water. Quickening his fingers' pace, he closed his eyes and leaned back his head against the stone ledge which marked the edge of the carved tub. All he spied in his mind's eye was his tutor's face -- the fire of glistening quicksilver eyes set above artistically carved cheekbones, the entire package masterfully framed by with the gleaming gold of braid accented hair. His mind wandered farther and deeper into the realm of the fantastical, and with a sharp cry of surprise he secretly added his essence to the bath water.
Guiltily arising from the bath, he swiftly abandoned the evidence of his lustful thoughts, wiping away all hint of his desire with the soft cloth of an oversized towel. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he plunked down onto a nearby chair and roughly raked his fingers through his dark sodden hair. <<What have I done? What manner of madness has befallen me?>> he wordlessly lamented. He had certainly pleasured himself before, out of a physical need to release the tension which naturally seemed to arise without cause or reason. This was far different -- there was most certainly a reason, a definitive cause.
His tutor.
Yes, it was Glorfindel's face which he had so vividly pictured in his mind, as he had also painted an image of the other's hand wrapped around him, pleasuring him, whispering his name in that lyrical way which no one ever seemed to be able to do. His name always seemed rough, curt, cumbersome compared to that of his twin. Yet on Glorfindel's tongue it always seemed as beautiful as an ancient song.
There it was again, that strange tickling sensation in his flesh, the sudden sinking of his stomach which could not possibly occur, yet felt as if it most definitely had. He even placed a hand upon his abdomen to assure himself that everything was where it was supposed to be. Nothing within him seemed out of place, yet it appeared that at the same time *everything* was wrong... yet, somehow *right* for the first time in his life.
<<If this is a proper thing to feel, then why do I worry that others will find it wrong?>>
His parents had certainly told him of the correct traditions of courtship and marriage, of the feelings of love which sometimes arose between the male and female of the Eldar. No words had ever been spoken about the possibility that such feelings could naturally arise between two of the same kind, yet nothing had ever been said which would lead Elrohir to believe it to be *forbidden*. "Is this what I feel -- love?" he whispered to himself, awe and indecision intermingled in his delicate features. A sudden clarity pierced the seemingly impenetrable fog of his hopes and fears. Was that what he had found impossible to read in Glorfindel's expression? Did... *could* his tutor share the very same feelings for *him*?
How could Elrohir discern the truth, both of his own feelings, and those
of his tutor? Staring blankly at the nearly empty room around him, he spied
his discarded clothes carelessly set in a pile upon the floor. A sly smile
born of instant comprehension and the hatching of machinations graced his
lips as he stood, allowing the towel to fall to the floor. With singularity
of purpose he reclaimed his belt and fished inside the small pouch which
was attached. He had finally found a use for his shallow shoals discovery,
and a means to discover the depths of his feelings for his tutor, and whether
those lofty emotions were returned in kind.
Part 2:
[Two nights later, on the eve of the twins' departure]
Glorfindel slumped lazily in his favorite chair, the silence of the library inexplicably providing both solace and suffering at the very same instant. He tried to focus his eyes and his mind upon the volume he had cradled in his hands for much of the time since dinner, only to realize that he had not turned a page in quite some time. Sighing forlornly, he admitted defeat for the moment and slowly closed the book in his lap. His inability to concentrate on such a simple task was merely one of the myriad unwelcome changes which the past few days had wrought in his life. <<Such is the handiwork of a guilty conscience.>> The reason for his keen guilt was as sharp and clearly focused as his mind was not. Wincing, Glorfindel reluctantly replayed within his mind's eye the riverside conversation of two suns before. Just what illicit feelings *had* he felt when his younger charge had handed him that stone?
The answer was plain, and damning in its simplicity. Desire for what he could not rightfully have -- not now, and not in the future. <<He is but a child, and not just *any* child, but the son of your Lord and friend, and your pupil. You are thrice damned if you allow yourself to succumb to these feelings of madness.>>
Yet there were other voices, softer still, but just as insistent, which whispered in his ear. <<You have put duty before all else for two lifetimes -- surely the Valar have not returned you to the flesh only to have you deny its most natural needs. He will not be a child forever, nor will he always be your student. Have patience, and allow love the free room to blossom as it will, in its own time.>>
"Yes, but he will always be Lord Elrond's son," Glorfindel despondently spoke to the uncaring night air surrounding him.
"What of my father's sons?" a hesitant voice inquired from behind.
Glorfindel leapt from his seat, the book freely tumbling to the stone floor with a dull thud. "I did not hear you approach," the elder elf coolly offered, snatching the book from the floor with a graceful, fluid motion even while his eyes found themselves fixated on the new arrival.
Dressed in light-weight, forest-hued robes, his hair neatly braided in a style identical to Glorfindel's, Elrohir seemed far more adult that he had down at the river's edge, and yet his tutor knew it to be merely a trick of the candlelight, and the trappings of office.
"I apologize -- I do not wish to interrupt or intrude," the twin swiftly offered, the insecurities and uncertainties vibrant in his voice.
Glorfindel found himself smiling despite his own emotional turmoil. "You do neither," he softly assured, setting the book onto the chair behind him. "What finds you in the library at this hour? Surely you require rest before setting out on your long journey tomorrow."
Lowering his eyes to the floor, the young elf dejectedly toed the floor with an unexpectedly bare foot. "I do not wish to think about tomorrow," he softly spoke, his voice only a shade above a whisper.
The elder elf remained a safe distance from his young charge, yet studied the other's unmistakable demeanor with considerable interest. "You do not wish to travel to Lorien?" he easily guessed.
"I... I wish to remain here... to continue my lessons with you." Elrohir broke his studious survey of the floor for the briefest of moments, catching a snippet Glorfindel's expression before swiftly lowering his gaze once more to the safety of the stones beneath his feet.
Although he felt his heart tumbling ever deeper into the abyss he knew would eventually cause him naught but boundless pain, Glorfindel smiled tenderly in response. "Your lessons can wait, Elrohir. It is high time you visited your mother's parents. They have not seen you in many a season, since last they journeyed here." Finding no glimmer of response, nor even acknowledgment, he tried a different tactic. "Would you have your mother travel with your *brother* as her primary escort?"
"No, of course not," Elrohir laughed lyrically, raising his eyes from the floor to meet Glorfindel's gaze. "She would become lost for certain! He cannot find his ways by the stars as well as I."
Satisfied in the success of his ploy, Glorfindel heartily agreed. "Yes, you were the far better student in that lesson."
"And many others! You have said so yourself!"
Confusion sprouted furrows in the elder elf's brow. "I have? On what occasion?"
"To Father," Elrohir proudly announced, before his tone, and his expression, turned far less smug. "I... I accidentally overheard a conversation between you and him concerning our studies."
"Somehow I do not believe an accident to be involved," Glorfindel gruffly admonished. Still, somehow he could not bear to be angry, even a little, at the hope-filled eyes which brightly shined back at him. How easily it would be to lose himself in the warmth of those eyes, envelop himself in the enthusiasm of innocence and optimism, those rare and much-missed qualities the battles of this world had keenly sliced out of his soul. "That information was given in confidence," he simply stated. "I trust it will not find your brother's ears."
"No, no, it will remain *our* secret," Elrohir eagerly promised. "But it will be difficult to keep from laughing at him from time to time."
"Laugh as you will, just do not speak a word of your reasons," Glorfindel carefully cautioned.
"I swear, by the Lady of the Stars." Elrohir paused, and nervously bounced on the balls of his feet for the passing of several heartbeats. "I... I have brought you something."
Glorfindel was clearly taken aback, blinking away his surprise. "A gift? What is the occasion?"
"No occasion, except that I am going away and will not return until the next blooming of the leaves. I...." Elrohir licked a bead of nerves-glistened perspiration from his upper lip and anxiously palmed a small package in one hand. "I wanted to give you this, so you would not forget me."
Softly chuckling, Glorfindel shook his head in incredulity. "My young
prince, your rash doings could not be forgotten in the passing of a thousand
seasons, let alone one cycle." Cognizant that his honest humor had raised
a faint hint of insult in the other's expression, he reduced his grin to
a sweet smile of encouragement and extended his hand. "What have you brought
me, Elrohir?"
Part 3:
There it was again, the musical melody of his name, said in that singular of ways. It sent a shiver down the youth's back, re-ignited the fire in his face, and bobbled his stomach in that amazing way. Elrohir found he had somehow lost the power of coherent speech, and merely stuttered nonsensical sounds for a few seconds before finally thrusting the neatly wrapped package into the other's hands. "Here," he ultimately managed to clearly state, retracting his fingers carefully without contacting his tutor's skin.
Hope-keened eyes flashed brightly, yet with an aura of hesitation rimming their expression. Elrohir took several steps back and impatiently waited as the other carefully untied the blue ribbon which held the velvet captive around the hidden prize. "You will probably think it stupid and childish...," he babbled nervously, his heart nearly bursting in his chest under the strain of the ferocity of its hastened beatings.
His gaze clearly fixed upon the gift as he slowly divested it of its covering, Glorfindel calmed those obvious insecurities as best he could. "It is neither childish nor stupid to freely give something to another, whether it be made of gold, or wood, or even words alone." A gasp of surprise slid from between his lips as the contents were finally revealed to his eyes. There within his fingers he held the very same river-carved agate whose loveliness he had admired, along with the loveliness of the one who had discovered it, only a few days before. He turned it over in his hand, appreciating the delicate latticework of silver which now firmly encased it. "You had it mounted as a pendent," he noted with hushed tones.
"Yes -- I told the smiths to make it sturdy, yet the most beautiful thing they have ever wrought," the young elf proudly explained.
"They have assuredly succeeded in both aims, then." Glorfindel held it up to eye level by the well-made silver chain which threaded through the eyelet at the top of the setting and carefully examined the handiwork both front and back with his free fingers. "It is indeed lovely, and one of a kind to be sure."
"That is why I thought you should have it, as it is so much like you," Elrohir babbled earnestly, then halted. His eyes widening in the horror of understanding, he quickly stuttered, "I meant you are my only tutor, and the only one who seems to appreciate my collection of river stones." He stared at Glorfindel with hope balanced on the edge of rejection, and the elder elf realized that fact immediately.
Glorfindel was, himself, poised on the knife blade of thorny choices. If he refused the gift, he would most assuredly crush the youngster's self confidence and cause him great pain. And yet, if he accepted such a thing, would he not be sending the most egregiously erroneous of signals to his student? There was much unspoken behind the giving of this gift, of that Glorfindel had no doubts. He easily saw past the innocence and eagerness to please ever in those smoky eyes and recognized the emergence of smoldering desire beyond. His sensitive student had indeed found himself immersed in the confusion of his very first youthful folly of the heart. If he did nothing to encourage the other's attentions, they would pass, harmlessly, and Elrohir would one day find himself offering his heart to one more suitable in age and unfettered by the unforgiving and relentless bounds of duty.
So, too, would pass the unnatural feelings of fascination Glorfindel had discovered in his own heart for the passionate young princeling. The separation which loomed before them was a blessing, despite Elrohir's grumblings. When the youngster returned, he would have forgotten all about these foolish feelings of fancy toward his tutor, and all would be as it should be.
Yes, there was nothing wrong with accepting this innocent gift, was there? "It is a lovely gift, and I shall treasure it always," Glorfindel finally announced, fastening the necklace around his neck. "There -- does it meet with your approval?" he inquired, adjusting the stone against his deep sapphire hued robe.
"It mirrors your eyes, as I knew it would," Elrohir whispered reverently. He hesitantly reached out to touch the stone, paused, then barely brushed his fingers across the stone. Glorfindel shifted slightly in an inopportune way, and the youth's fingers accidentally ran across the soft firmness of the robe as it lay against the elder elf's chest. A visible shudder ran through him, and, he thought, through the other. Unsure of what to do, he quickly retracted his fingers as though they had touched fire and curled his hand into a ball. "I... I should return to my room. Father wishes to speak to my brother and me about the journey before we sleep."
"Yes, you should leave," Glorfindel reluctantly agreed, the sorrow of forbidden desires ripe upon his tongue.
Elrohir lingered in a frozen stare into the other's face, then clutched his still-balled hand to his chest and turned sharply on his heels to leave. Hearing an unmistakable sigh shimmer from the other's lips, he froze mid-step, then turned back and smiled shyly. "I will miss you," he whispered.
"As I shall you, pen-neth," Glorfindel answered through his twinned pains of longing and self-revulsion. "Remember, you are my finest student," he forced himself to add to throw the perceptive youth off base.
The smile faded noticeably from the youth's face, replaced by the obvious glimmer of rejection and hopes dashed. <<It is for the best, for both our sake's,>> Glorfindel reasoned to himself, even as he watched part of his heart leave in dreadful silence. With trembling fingers, he clutched the stone which weighed far heavier upon his heart than its true mass. He considered taking it off and storing it safely in a box with other accumulated riches of his lengthy years, though this be among the greatest of treasures he had been granted.
Caught in the indecision of his heart, Glorfindel found his fingers tucking the stone safely beneath his robe before his mind could settle on its final course of action. It felt cool upon his skin, yet the fire of forbidden desires scorched his flesh just as surely as a red-hot iron poker. Sighing in the apparent defeat of his inhibitions, he kept his hand reverently laid upon the robe-veiled gift. It would surely cause no harm to wear the youth's gift during their lengthy separation, and when Elrohir returned, several seasons older, and having outgrown his childish fancy for his tutor, Glorfindel could retire both the necklace, and his illicit emotions, to the store chest of memories. Yes, he would be freed of the fetters of his student's ill-found attentions soon enough, and his own unwarranted and aberrant emotions would likewise fade away.
"By the Lady's Grace," Glorfindel whispered with a heavy heart, his
fingers tenderly caressing the resistant hardness beneath his robe.
The End
Note:
In "Morgoth's Ring" it is stated that adulthood/majority for elves occurs at age 50. If we scale up a human majority of 21 to Elf terms, Elrohir is the physical equivalent of 14 in human years in this story, although he is actually 33 years old. As for Glorfindel, he is old enough to know better, by many centuries <G>.
Also note that there is some inconsistency in the date of the twins' birth in canon. SA 139 seems to be the favored date, so that is what I have used here in reckoning the date of the story.
pen-neth = young one