Summary: A voyage from Umbar to Lindon is filled with intrigue and suppressed yearnings.
Author's note: Hope this fits the bill as it's somewhat different from the usual E/G. I'm afraid my Glorfindel is a bit of a jock but he's been out of high school for a very long time. *g* Sorry that I got carried away with this. It became an adventure tale, but still has plenty of romance. Merry Christmas!
****************************
Chapter 5 - Ossë
The water was pitch black and
deadly cold. Erestor could not tell which direction was up or down.
He could hear the bubbles issuing from his mouth and faint thuds as
objects struck the side of the ship. That was all. There had been another
time that he had felt such terror, five hundred years ago in the last
shipwreck. He had barely escaped then; perhaps his fate had finally
caught up with him. As his breath swelled in his lungs, so too did his
fear. He knew that panicking wouldn't help. He must try to think
his way through this one, calmly, while he could still hold his breath.
He stopped thrashing and let
himself drift upward until his head bumped a barrier. He began
trying to feel his way along it but there was no change, no opening.
He should keep going until he reached . . . what? Until he couldn't
hold his breath any longer and had to inhale a lungful of ocean?
It was too late. There was no way out.
An image of Glorfindel manifested
in his thoughts. It was last year at the Mettarë party. His head was thrown back,
his mouth open in laughter as he joked with Ereinion. Then he
turned and looked directly at Erestor with eyes so bright it seemed
as if a star had melted in each of them. His face fell into sadness,
yearning. At the time, Erestor hadn't realized what it meant. Now he
knew. Glorfindel loved him. Had Erestor been so blind before?
Actually, on some level he'd been aware all along, but he couldn't open
his heart, couldn't even admit the possibility of love. It didn't matter
now. He was going to die here, cold and alone. So terribly alone.
Still running his hand along the wood, he came to a place where it curved
upward, but it was solid. No way out. He despaired.
Ossë, please, I beg of you, he thought.
I've been your servant all these years. I've done everything you asked.
Please.
His lungs were bursting, bursting.
He had to breathe, had to take in that gulp that he knew would kill
him. With a sob, he breathed in. It burned like fire.
He tried to cough but more water came in. He was choking.
And then his consciousness left him.
*************************
His cheek rested on something
gritty. He could hear waves coming into shore, felt them lapping about
his thighs. They were warm. Erestor turned his head, choking up briny
water. He breathed in air, sweet smelling air. It was the most
marvelous breath he'd ever taken. He opened his eyes and, dazzled by
brilliance, quickly shut them again. There was a white beach that caught
the light and reflected it back in fiery sparks as if the sand were
made of diamond dust. He rolled over on his back, clenched the
wet sand, let it bunch through his fingers. He was alive.
He was grateful. For a long moment, he basked in those realizations.
But where was he? Maybe
he wasn't alive after all. Maybe he had died and was now in Valinor,
in the halls of Mandos. This was not how he had pictured it.
He opened his eyes again, squinting.
How did he get here? And bloody Mandos! Where were his clothes?
He was lying naked on some alien shore. He must be dead. Must
be.
Then he heard laughter.
It was formed of the cries of gulls and the crash of waves. He
knew that sound, all too well. Erestor raised himself up on his elbows
and stared out at the rippling aqua-green water that deepened to a dark
blue at the horizon. He watched the familiar figure rise from
the water.
Long and foam-white was Ossë's
hair. It was chopped in various lengths, some ending at his chin,
some his shoulders and his chest; the rest frothed all the way down
to his waist. His body was a deep gold, tattooed with light brown
geometric symbols that seemed to move as he did. His elfin face was
sly and fair as a summer's day. He wore a necklace and a kilt
of beaded shells that clicked as he walked. A mantle of kelp adorned
his shoulders; he was crowned with a circlet of polished coral.
He strode up to Erestor and stood over him, straddling his legs.
"Well met, Erestor,"
he said. His voice boomed and hissed like waves upon the shore.
"You surely do know how to get yourself into trouble but then you
begged so nicely that it seemed a shame to let you perish."
"Am I dead?" Erestor
asked.
Ossë laughed. "You think like a creature
of Arda, in absolutes. There are shades in between life and death.
Aye, 'tis that! You are caught in a shade between."
"Riddles, as always,"
Erestor said.
"You used to like them,"
Ossë replied. He threw himself down next
to Erestor, picked up a long strand of Erestor's hair, and ran it over
his mouth. "And how is your king, Ereinion Gil-galad?"
"He is well, as I'm sure
you know," Erestor said.
"He has not ventured out
to sea in the last five hundred years. Not since . . ."
"Not since then,"
Erestor agreed.
"He would be safe,"
Ossë said. "And you, my pet, you have
not journeyed to the sea cave to sacrifice to me in nigh on two years."
His lower lip curled outward in a pout.
"I have kept your altars
burning. I have kept my vow to you. What more do you desire?"
"You know well what I
desire." Ossë unclasped his shell kilt, cast it
away; then he flung a hard, muscular leg over Erestor's thighs and dragged
him close. He slid on top of him, pressing a forceful kiss to Erestor's
willing mouth. As always, Ossë smelled of salty wind and warm sand.
His body felt heavy as it drove against him. Erestor closed his eyes
and gave himself up to sensation that was pleasurable to the point of
pain.
*******************
Afterwards they lay entwined,
their skin dusted with sparkling sand. The Maia amused himself by braiding
shells into Erestor's hair as he sang to him. In an unknown language,
he sang ancient songs that came from the twilight time. Erestor's
soul ached with the beauty of the music. His body felt sated, but his
heart was unsatisfied. It was good to be here in the Maia's arms, to
feel desired. He had needed it. Yet still, Ossë was not . . .
"I fear I am not the one
you truly love. It saddens me," Ossë said in the long quiet that came after
he finished singing.
"If you loved me, as you
say, you would let me go," Erestor sighed, as he sidestepped the
question. "What kind of life is this for me, Ossë? Do you really intend to hold
me in thrall to you forever?"
"In thrall? Is that what you think? I do recall that willingly you made the vow to me in exchange for certain favors. I granted those and I gave you life. This time, I am still deciding what to do with you."
"You are?" Erestor
sat up in alarm.
Ossë chuckled knowingly. "Truthfully,
you are still in the hold of the Hirilondë on the brink of death.
For a time, I have stopped your journey to Mandos. Perhaps I should
hold you suspended for all time, to keep you here as my lover? What
do you think?"
Ossë's expression was taunting. His eyes
were wells of emerald green. He sank his teeth into Erestor's
neck until the elf cried out. Erestor felt something warm trickle down
his neck. Ossë lapped at it eagerly. "So sweet,
my Elda. You feed me well," he murmured. He moved lower,
swirling a tongue around one of Erestor's nipples before sucking it
wetly into his mouth. Erestor threw his head back with a gasp.
It felt so good. The Maia's lips trailed downwards.
For a time, Erestor knew only
the sharp pleasures of the Maia's mouth and hands. When he was done
and Erestor lay panting under him, Ossë said, "Nay, my lover, I do not
think I'm quite ready to relinquish you. Not yet." With this
pronouncement, Ossë rolled off him and lay in the sand
with his head propped behind his hands.
Erestor reflected that the Maia was quite capable of doing just as he had said. But he was capricious. For many years he might forget that he had Erestor in his keeping. For Erestor to save himself from such an existence, suspended between life and death and at the mercy of a fickle god, it was time to start playing whatever cards he had left.
He climbed atop the Maia, grasped
his long white hair, pulling it hard in his fists, and kissed him.
He kissed him with all the passion he'd ever felt for anyone, for maybe
a certain golden-haired elf. At first the Maia tensed, but then
he began to purr, "Ah, the little Elda is licentious."
His tongue was slick, covered with small bumps. It curled snail-like
around Erestor's in a sinuous dance. Erestor rocked his hips against
him, feeling him rising under the friction. Finally he spoke,
his lips brushing against Ossë's mouth. "I've been your acolyte
for five hundred years, my lord. I know what you desire and it's
not this." He kissed him again.
"What is it then?"
Ossë said breathlessly, "for surely
this is desirable."
Their mouths plundered each
other for hidden secrets. Erestor came up for air. "You
desire worshippers to call your name while they dance before your altar.
That is what feeds you and makes you strong. I have given you
that."
"Indeed you have."
"I can get you more worshippers,
build your cult so that it surpasses even Ulmo's," Erestor said
as he slid downwards.
"Surpasses Ulmooo? Unhhhhh,"
Ossë cried as Erestor's mouth claimed him.
Erestor knew just what Ossë
liked. Slowly up and down he drew his mouth, swirling his tongue
here and there, now speeding up until the Maia was struggling and moaning,
then slowing down again. He used his hands, his fingers. Then,
when he judged Ossë was ripe, he began humming in a sing-song
voice.
Ossë thrashed under him. He gasped.
He cried out. He seized Erestor's head and attempted to make him
move faster. Erestor resisted him, brought him to the brink, then
kept him hovering there until the Maia was desperate.
Finally Ossë roared, "Erestor, I beg of you.
I cannot bear it. Release me!"
Erestor lifted his head. "What
will you give me?" He plunged a finger into the Maia's body
and curved it around, causing him to howl.
"Anything, I'll give you
anything. As Manwë is my witness, I swear it."
"Free me from the ship. Let me go back to my life. Release me from my vow."
"Clever little Elda. I
will send you back, but you are still mine, your vow intact. Now, do
not try my patience. Give me my release!"
One does not refuse the command
of a god. Erestor kept his part of the bargain so magnificently that,
as Ossë roared out his completion, the earth
shook and the waves pounded over them, flooding them with white foam.
*********************
Erestor found himself back
in the dark hold of the ship, his last breath burning in his lungs.
Suddenly, there was a bright light that illuminated everything about
him. He could see the twisted wreckage and the damaged hull. And
there it was, a gash in the side. As he swam towards it, he discovered
he could breathe as if he were a sea creature. His fear vanished
in the wonder of it. He swam through the hole and upwards towards
the surface. A white dolphin was cavorting about him, nudging him with
his nose. The bright light increased and the dolphin became Ossë,
god of the waves. His white hair floated beguilingly about his face.
He smiled at Erestor, then held his chin for a lingering kiss.
"I have a soft spot in
my heart for you," he said as he studied Erestor's face. "Until
we meet again, Erestor."
"Please tell me, my lord,
Glorfindel and the others, did they survive?" Erestor asked in
a sudden panic.
Ossë shrugged. "I cannot account for
all. But you might recall that my blessings are bestowed on a
ship that affixes an Oiolairë sprig to its prow. Remember your vow.
You are mine and I will call for you again. Farewell." Once
again he shifted into the dolphin shape.
I shouldn't have expected a
straight answer from that one, Erestor thought irritably. His
head broke the surface and he sucked in a long, gasping breath that
felt almost as good as the one in Ossë's Land-in-Between. The storm seemed
to have abated but the water was still rough. Erestor took a hit in
the face. He spat it back. Towards the west, the clouds
were bright with sunset. There was no one in sight. He was about
to call when, with a start, he saw the black ship anchored on the other
side of the remains of their vessel. How was he going to get away
without being seen?
The dolphin swam by him, poked
him with its nose, then rubbed against his back, almost like a cat angling
for attention. He saw the fin slide by. He grabbed it and held on.
The beast shot away, drawing Erestor rapidly behind him.
It seemed as if ages had passed,
when the dolphin shook him free. It leapt out of the water, dove,
undulated around him, then disappeared into the deep. It was twilight.
He could hear waves crashing. He must be close to shore.
With his last strength, he began swimming. The waves caught him, carried
him, hurled him to the beach. Hunched over, drawing his legs up under
him, he coughed up water. Then he passed out. For a long time
he lay still with no knowledge of the world moving about him.