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Summary: none given.
Author's Note: Canon about Celeborn prior to TA is very confused, Tolkien changed it several times. I�ve used the version alluded to in LOTR, where Celeborn dwelt in Lorien for centuries before Galadriel showed up from where ever bringing Nenya with her. I haven�t been able to find any trace of Gildor except in The Fellowship, but that�s not to say he wasn�t around for a long time. I hope I fulfilled the request.
* * *
The clearing had been pristine, snow glittering like fine crystals on the ground between the tall pines, the air brightly crisp, Ithil’s light making all glow. Now pools and splatters of black and red ruined the purity. The broken bodies of orcs, elves and horses lay dead and dying. Against the remaining orcs one elf still moved his silver hair flying as he swirled and slashed at his foes with a sword in a beautiful, graceful and deadly dance. The once gleaming metal marred with dark gore.
From out of the trees a black fletched arrow flew the elf darted to one side trying to avoid the deadly shaft as he also attempted to avoid an orcish blade. Elven grace allowed him to escape the blade and kill his opponent and he almost avoided the arrow but not entirely. He staggered as the arrow imbedded itself in his chest, just under his shoulder where his armor had been rent by a sword stroke.
The faces of the remaining four orcs twisted in evil grins, hard eyes lit with malevolence as they moved in, sensing victory. As the first raised his sword, eager anticipation burning in his continence, an ugly scream ripped through the night and an orc’s body fell from the nearby trees, the bow he’d been using crushed beneath his corpse. Stunned, the orcs surrounding the elf stood still for a heartbeat, fear replacing the confidence that had been there but a moment ago. Two started forward, whether to run or to seek out their new attackers would never be known; as from the shadows of the trees; slender white shafts struck them with lethal effect.
As his foes fell the elf felt his strength leave him, his sword fell from nerveless fingers as he slowly dropped to his knees. His last sight was of blurred forms moving quickly toward him.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Awareness returned slowly, he was wrapped in comfortable warmth, for a time he lay quietly assessing his circumstances, in these times it wasn’t wise to simply assume that those who attacked the orcs were friends. Though the sons of Feanor no longer lived, men now also roamed Arda and they weren’t always friendly to the Firstborn.
He realized that except for the bandages he could feel wrapped around his chest; he was naked beneath soft coverings. Cautiously he opened his eyes; a tent sheltered him on three sides the fourth was open to the night. Ithil’s light greeted him almost where it had been during the battle, which led him to think that he’d slept for a long time. Letting his gaze wander over the area directly in front of where he lay, he saw several camp fires burning, wood smoke forming a sweet smelling haze in the flickering light. Struggling he tried to sit up when a form appeared out of the glow.
“Don’t try to move just yet,” a deep melodic voice instructed. “Removing that arrow cost you a lot of blood and though it was not poisoned, you need to rest awhile longer.” The voice sounded Elven, but the figure’s features were shadowed by the hood of a cloak and backlit by a nearby fire.
“H..how..?” he whispered, his throat dry.
“Here, sip,” the voice said. A strong slender arm raised his shoulders and another pressed a cup of tea to his lips. “It will ease your throat and help you heal.”
He drank the surprisingly pleasant tasting tea. Having drained the cup, he tried speaking again, finding it easier, “How long have I been…?”
“You were unconscious for several hours, but early this morning you slipped into sleep. You’ve slept the day and part of the evening,” the other answered.
“Who are you?”
“Gildor.”
“I am…”
“Celeborn, once of Doriath, now of Lorien,” the other finished.
“You’ve heard of me?”
“Aye, a little, in my wanderings,” Gildor told him.
“You have me at a disadvantage. I’ve no knowledge of you.”
Gildor laughed, “Not many have. Those of us who make up the wandering company have found that remaining mysteries of a sort allows us the freedom to move about as we please.”
Another elf entered carrying a simple wooden tray, which he handed to Gildor, who nodded his thanks before turning to Celeborn again. “Come, let me assist you in sitting up, and then you should eat. It will help you recover faster.”
Laying the tray to one side, Gildor stood and moved to Celeborn’s other side, where several pillows were piled. He helped the wounded elf sit up pushing a few of the pillows behind him for support. “Comfortable?” he asked as he settled his patient.
When Celeborn nodded, Gildor reached over him to retrieve a bowl and spoon from the tray. Moving about had caused the hood to fall back and now that Gildor was facing the fire light his features were revealed. As he began to eat the stew being fed to him, Celeborn found himself entranced.
Hair reminiscent of a winter sunrise framed an elegant face that held both an easy mirth and deep wisdom. It was his eyes that fascinated Celeborn the most; of such a deep blue they appeared almost violet they smoldered with fire. Celeborn found himself wandering what those eyes would hold when in the throes of passion.
Surprised by the direction of his own thoughts Celeborn dropped his own eyes to the bowl of stew to find it nearly empty. The attraction he felt to the other elf shocked him. “You know nothing of him,” he told himself sternly. “Did Doriath teach you nothing?”
Unaware of the conflict raging in the wounded elf, Gildor fed him the last of the stew. “Would you like more? There is plenty. Or is tea sufficient for now?”
“N..No. I..I mean the tea is enough now.” Celeborn found himself stammering.
Gildor frowned worried about the other elf. “You’re tired and need rest. Drink the tea it will help with any pain and healing. Then you should sleep.”
Still contemplating his own thoughts, Celeborn drank the tea then allowed the other elf to assist him in lying back down. He found himself slipping into sleep, he was aware of Gildor’s leaving and his last thought was that he would rest better had the other elf remained at his side.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Anor was just rising when he awoke next, he sat up on his own, finding the pain from the wound greatly diminished. He began to wonder where his leggings were when Gildor approached.
“Good, you’re feeling better.” He said squatting down on his heels. “I should check your wound though.”
As the other elf began to remove the bandages, Celeborn found himself reacting to the other’s nearness in ways that shook him. It had been several centuries since he’d found himself so attracted to another. After leaving Doriath and finding himself with some of the survivors in Lorien, he had concentrated on helping Amroth make the forest kingdom secure and safe for their people. Now as this stranger touched him, even so clinically he found himself wondering what those hands would feel like bestowing a different touch; if those slightly smiling lips looked as soft as the rose petals they resembled. So deep into his musings was he that he didn’t perceive that Gildor had finished examining the wound and replaced the bandage until the other elf spoke.
“I think you can move about some today, it’s healing nicely,”
Caught unaware, Celeborn didn’t answer for several moments, forcing himself to appear composed he said, “That is good. I need to get back.”
Pale gold eyebrows rose and amused concern lit the dark blue eyes, “That much movement will have to wait a day or two more, I think.”
A frown marred Celeborn’s brow, “I have a duty to…”
“Yes,” Gildor nodded, “but you must be well to fulfill that duty. Your wound was serious, and is just closed. Even with your healing ability it needs another day or two to heal completely.”
Celeborn sighed, he knew the other was correct, but it didn’t erase his anxiousness to return to Lorien and know it safe. Emotions flickered through his ice blue eyes; chief among them was anger.
Gildor watched as the eyes closed shuttering the emotions that had so briefly been allowed to show. When those eyes opened once more, all emotion was shut away.
“You speak wisely,” Celeborn admitted. “I will stay.”
Gildor inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, “I’ve brought clothing, such as we had to spare. It has been many months since were in one of our home camps, but these will keep you warm.”
“Hannon le,” Celeborn accepted the shirt, leggings and cloak the other handed him. His own boots, which had been cleaned, were laid nearby.
“I’ve leave you to dress,” Gildor said standing. “After, come join us.”
“I will.” Celeborn told him.
Gildor’s smile brightened the tent and lifted the gloom that had entered Celeborn’s heart. When the other elf left he found himself once again wishing that he had stayed. He wondered about the strange need he felt for the other’s company. He had been surprised by the feelings the night before, but to find that those feelings were not the result of the shock of the attack and being wounded and continued in the light of the day, puzzled him.
He rose, dressing quickly in the provided clothing; wrapping the cloak around himself, he exited the tent. The clearing they were in was fairly large, there were many other tents scattered around it. Elves moved about going about many tasks. Celeborn saw that this was not just a band of warriors on patrol, but these elves practiced many of the same crafts other elves did inside their cities.
The greatest difference was that here there were no walls, not even of trees, only sentries stationed on the perimeters. Seeing Gildor speaking to an elf who was working with a piece of leather, Celeborn approached.
“Ah, I see the clothes fit reasonable well,” Gildor smiled.
“More than reasonably,” Celeborn found himself smiling back. “Again, hannon le.”
Dark blue eyes lit with pleasure, causing Celeborn to hold his breath for a moment. Attempting to hide his reaction, he exhaled and smiled then asked, “Tell me of yourself. You said you are of the wandering company? They have been known for millennia but you are new to me.”
“What would you like to know?” Gildor asked eyes dancing with amusement.
“How came you to be with the wandering elves? I can see that you are of the Noldor and of the house of Finarfin. Why are you not with the others in Lindon?”
“I’ve seen enough of hidden cities. I grew tired of stone walls and the darkness that hides within them,” Gildor smiled. “Here in the open Anor’s light seems to shine more brightly and upon all who wish to feel her.”
“Even in the light there can be darkness on Arda,” Celeborn said bitterly.
Gildor looked at the silver haired elf, hearing the grief behind the bitterness. “Those who were slain…”
“My guards and more; they were friends, some companions from Doriath,” Celeborn said.
Gildor said nothing, staring across the clearing; there wasn’t an adult elf in Arda who had not known grief, and they would all know more before the end.
After several moments, Celeborn shook off his dark mood and said, “So, you wander Arda, tell me what you’ve seen of the light.”
Gildor smiled, “Come my friend and I will tell you of what I have seen of this Middle-Earth.”
For the rest of the day, long into that night and through the next day the two elves were seen much together talking and taking their meals in one another’s company. Both were surprised to find that they were reluctant to part each night. Anor had not risen when Gildor came to Celeborn’s tent on the third morning, but the silver haired elf was already awake and dressed.
“You’re ready then?”
“Aye,” Celeborn nodded.
“Come, we’ll eat and be on our way,” Gildor said. “We should reach the borders of Lorien within the fortnight.”
Celeborn nodded and followed the other to where their meals awaited them. As they ate, others of the company packed the tents away, stowing them in wagons and carts. Anor had just begun to show at the edge of the horizon when the company mounted and moved away from the clearing.
The company traveled during the day, always leaving just at sunrise and stopping only at sunset. As they traveled, Celeborn found the fascination he’d felt toward the golden haired elf growing. It seemed that the day wasn’t as bright without Gildor’s smile or laugh or his voice raised in song as the company traveled. Yet he had no notion if the other elf returned his interest and therefore he said and did nothing to betray his interest to Gildor.
After traveling for several days, the elves made camp in one group for the last night. On the morrow, they would split one group with the wagons going south, where they would eventually go around the southern most foothills of the Misty Mountains and on to the lands of the Man. The second group all mounted would make its way over the mountains and to Lorien. Celeborn would travel with the second group back to Lorien; Gildor would lead the first.
Celeborn watched Gildor go to his tent that night, admiring the way the other elf moved. Sighing he turned away and entered his own tent. He found himself staring at nothing; his mind replaying every instant spent with the golden haired elf, every word, gesture, smile and glint in the dark eyes imprinted on his mind forever. He knew that without the other elf the world would be a darker place. Gildor’s inner light had illuminated parts of his faer he’d long thought lost to the light. He debated with himself whether he should go to the golden haired elf or stay in his own tent and keep these feelings to himself.
Sighing he stood, he wasn’t going to find rest until the matter was settled, he moved toward the opening of the tent, only to see a figure standing just outside. He pulled the flap aside and looked into Gildor’s face.
“May I enter?” Gildor asked somewhat shyly.
Mutely, Celeborn stood aside, allowing the other to enter the tent. He let the flap close then turned to his guest.
“Celeborn, I…” Gildor began.
When he looked away, Celeborn closed the distance between them. He lifted a hand and caressed the blonde’s cheek. Sapphire hued eyes looked into pale blue, the desire in them lighting their depths with inner fire.
Needing no further urging, Celeborn kissed the lips he’d been wondering about for days, finding them to be just as soft as they looked and more. Gildor moaned, giving himself to the kiss in turn.
Neither spoke as hands undid ties and clasps, need driving them to seek bare skin. Once both were naked, they stood and for several heartbeats admired one another. Passion filled eyes devouring the other, hands and then mouths followed where eyes had been. Still no words were spoken, they found that moans, cries and hisses of pleasure communicated all that was needed.
When Gildor lay under him, legs spread exposing his most secret part, Celeborn almost spoke, but Gildor stopped him with a deep kiss, handing him a vial of oil that had been in the golden haired elf’s cloak. Celeborn prepared first his new lover than stroked oil onto his own member, all the while looking into eyes that seemed to blaze from within.
As Celeborn entered the tight warmth, both elves moaned in pleasure, Gildor’s legs locked around the Celeborn’s waist pulling him in deeper. Celeborn’s hair formed a silver curtain around them as he lowered his head to claim his lover’s lips in a breath-stealing kiss.
Gildor arched under the other elf, meeting him thrust for thrust, his sweet spot rubbed each time. Together their movements increased until rhythm was lost in the desperate drive to reach the pinnacle. Gildor’s sight blurred as stars burst and his body quivered with release. Power muscles contracted and pulled Celeborn’s orgasm from him, for the silver haired elf it was as if he had left the world behind and soared far above it.
Hands caressed sweat damp skin, lips joined in tender passionate kisses as lungs strove to draw in enough air and two hearts calmed. Still silent, they let their bodies speak and after giving one another pleasure again, they fell into a satiated sleep.
Mist greeted them the next morning; still Celeborn was able to see Anor’s reflection in Gildor’s eyes as they waited for the last of the wagons to be readied.
“I have something for you,” the golden haired elf said. He held his hand out; sitting in it was a small silk bag. Celeborn took the bag, opened it, glanced within and then tipped the contents into his hand. A perfect sapphire cut to reveal the gem’s inner fire was held in a setting of mithril wrought to resemble the petals of a rose in full bloom, as if a drop of water reflected at night sat upon the flower. The whole was suspended by a gracefully fashioned mithril chain.
“I…” Celeborn began then tried again, “I have noth…”
“Shh,” Gildor touched his fingers to the other’s lips. “I know you don’t have a gift for me. I want you to have this, let it remind you of our time together.
“Knowing you has brought back some of the light I thought I’d lost,” Celeborn said. “Without you…”
“Let this remind you of that light then,” Gildor smiled. “Until next we meet.”
“Do not let that be too long,” Celeborn warned.
“No longer than need be,” Gildor promised. “Look for me one day to come uninvited to your woods.”
“For you there will always be an invitation.”
Gildor smiled then nodded. He walked to his horse and mounted, turning to see that Celeborn had done the same, he called, “I accept your invitation, and you will see me again.”
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Celeborn sat at his desk, the light was fading outside his talan the coming night reminded him of a pair of sapphire eyes and pale golden hair. It had been decades since he’d last seen Gildor. Little news of the wandering elves reached Lorien, and Celeborn was often torn about whether this was a good or a bad thing. If a disaster had struck the wanderers then surely they would have heard of it even here. Yet if Gildor had found another; that he might never hear of. Often he would take out the sapphire and mithril necklace letting it bring to the fore of his mind those few weeks he’d spent in the other elf’s company. Each night he felt the absence of the other elf keenly and admitted that for him there was less light in the world without the blond. Amroth often told him he needed to find another lover; that it was unhealthy to cling to such a short affair for so long. Celeborn felt the wisdom of his Lord’s words but found he couldn’t give up the hope that Gildor and he would meet again.
The sound of footsteps running up the stairs to his talan drew his attention and he stood to confront the one coming.
“What is it?” he asked the warrior that entered
“My lord there is…” the warrior began.
“He’s here to tell you I’ve accepted your invitation,” another voice said. “If it’s still open that is.”
Celeborn found himself smiling, “It is indeed.”
The warrior’s presence was forgotten as one of his lords and the strange elf embraced. Their lips meeting in what was obviously passion and much joy.