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Summary: Glorfindel and Ecthelion while competitors, discover love in Gondolin.
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Deep within the encircling mountains, like a jewel on the emerald fields of Tumladen, lay Ondolindë, The Rock of the Music of the Water. Built as a reflection of Tirion, with shining fountains, smooth stone pathways, and vines of flowers cascading from the windows of its inhabitants, the city was a testament to what was left behind. It was hidden, not to be found by friend or foe, though this could not last forever…
Prologue
All of Ondolindë was out for the celebrating. There was music, dancing and wine. Ohh, the wine. It flowed from the fountains like water. There was much revelry to be had on the eve of Tarnin Austa, the Festival of the Gates of Summer.
Two elves sat side by side listening to the night’s concert, in front of Glingal and Belthil whose leaves shimmered silver and gold in the fading light of the day. They heard a note that did not sound quite right, shrill over the merry, light music being played. Was a trumpet out of tune?
”What was that?” Glorfindel murmured as he finished his wine, the smile fading from his face.
Again the discordant, brass notes sounded, louder and more strident this time. It was no mistake.
“Stop the music!”
The orchestra abruptly stopped and there was silence in the center of the city. Dancing stopped, the crowd hushed and Ecthelion rose from his seat.
The trumpets sounded from the walls surrounding the city, as if with one voice, echoing through the stone streets.
“We are found…” Ecthelion murmured softly.
A glass shattered, dropped by a horror struck Elleth, and Turgon stood in the center of his people, taking command before the chaos could hit.
“Warriors, to your houses; arm yourselves for battle. The day we have dreaded is come. Ondolindë must make its stand. To your homes, my people. Leave this to our soldiers and stay indoors. Move now, quickly. We will repel this attack as best we can…have hope…”
Ecthelion looked at Glorfindel and said. “Meet me after. You know where…”
“I will…”
And that was all they had to hope for.
Many years earlier…
“Take him, Lord Ecthelion! He is nothing to you!”
“Go, Lord Glorfindel! Show the Fountain what we are made of!”
The two warriors circled in the sparring area, egged on by their soldiers and the larger audience from the city. One had raven hair and the other had hair so gold it shined in the sun, reflecting its light.
They were each leaders of two of the newly founded twelve houses of Ondolindë, and it was the final bout in the series of competitions between the houses. This would decide the winner of the entire tournament; the Golden Flower versus the Fountain, in hand-to -hand combat.
“Someone has to start here…” Glorfindel said dryly, a small smile playing on his lips. “They want action.”
“It is tedious, is it not? Let’s give a good show, then.”
The crowd was far enough away and the noise so loud that no one would hear what the combatants were saying.
“I could use a bath.”
“You could, you definitely could.” Ecthelion sniffed derisively.
“That’s it …you’ve had it, Fountain!”
Glorfindel launched himself at Ecthelion with a battle cry that had his compatriots roaring in their seats.
In a match that had them rolling in the dirt pummeling each other handily, Ecthelion of the Fountain concluded one thing that embarrassed him to no end, something he had not expected in all the years of his life to that point: he was attracted to Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower. His body was responding in a way he had not anticipated to their wrestling match.
It was this thought which occupied his mind when he was soundly slammed into the dirt by the object of his desire. His back hit the ground with a force that took his breath for a moment.
“Do you yield?!”
The Elves watching roared at the culmination of the fight.
“No!” Ecthelion strained to break the hold. “I do not!”
“You will…” Glorfindel leaned close to his ear to whisper for him alone. “In all ways…”
Ecthelion was so surprised that he went slack, and Glorfindel pressed him all the way to down to the earth.
“Lord Glorfindel has him! He has won!” Came the excited cry.
The House of the Golden Flower erupted from the stands in jubilation.
Glorfindel did not let his opponent go immediately and held him just a little too long.
“Meet me after.”
“What?”
“Meet me after, on the northern ramparts.”
“Alright…I will.”
“Good, we have much to discuss.”
Glorfindel rose to greet his king, dusting off his leggings to accept the congratulations of Turgon, the founder and king of Gondolin. There was to be some sort of ceremony on the square two days hence, but that was not what was foremost in his mind. He was looking forward to his meeting with Ecthelion of the Fountain in a few hours.
He gave all due credit to his adversary for his prowess and chalked it up to luck…and a well uttered phrase…he reminded himself silently. He had no doubt Ecthelion would have come out of the hold had he not said those words to knock him off balance. All is fair…all is fair and he’d needed to know how his long time friend would react. All is fair, indeed.
Turgon was effusive. The competition had been a rousing success, and he was well satisfied with both the attendance and the enthusiasm of the audience and the participants alike. It had been a good way to launch the Houses. Now, the citizens of Ondolindë would accept this system of organization for both political and social structures. It was expedient, and Turgon liked that.
Both warriors were congratulated by their king, and all Houses were complimented on their sportsmanship and skill in the competition. The date was set for the award ceremony and Turgon took his leave. The audience started to dissipate quite quickly after that.
Ecthelion and Glorfindel stood in the arena not quite knowing what to do.
“I am going to go bathe.”
“And then I will see you.”
“Yes…” Ecthelion said softly.
“Do not worry…all will be well.”
They left then to meet later.
On the ramparts…
His hair was still wet, but neatly braided, and his face freshly scrubbed from bathing, all the dirt removed from his skin and nails. Ecthelion rested his elbows on the wall, wondering what he was about; what he was doing here exactly. He was so deep in thought that he did not hear Glorfindel approach.
Glorfindel came up behind Ecthelion, pressing his body against his friend’s back, letting his state of desire be known. He was not ashamed of it as some people were. It was natural to feel this way. He would not hide from the attraction between them. .
“I have been in this state since our match, unabated…unwavering. I need you Ecthelion and I think you feel the same. I can feel it in you…somehow I can…as with no other…”
Ecthelion moved against Glorfindel restlessly, unintentionally sending a thrill of excitement through them both. He enjoyed the feeling of his friend’s arousal against his backside, the heady sensation of being desired by the one he wanted and the promise of love in this. If he were to admit it, he would have had to say there would be love in this. Having been through so much together, walked the ice together, fought side by side, their mutual respect was blossoming into something else.
Ecthelion whispered something to the wind that Glorfindel could not quite hear, but he could imagine what was said.
“What is it, Ecthelion?”
“I have never done this. I do not know if I can.”
“Do not be afraid. I will show you the way of it…but not here…out of the city. We must get out of here.”
Ecthelion knew what Glorfindel meant instantly. Ondolindë was beautiful but oppressive, and the very walls had eyes. The need for security was high, which meant there was a tenseness in every moment one spent in the walled city.
The dark hair elf turned to face his lover and smiled at him.
“I know just the place…where the water is surrounded by flowers, golden flowers, I think. It is perfect…the river valley. Do you know it?”
“I think so…” Glorfindel nodded as he remembered it.
“We will meet there, and you will show me all that love has to offer.”
And then they kissed their first blissful kiss; long, slow and timeless, tasting deeply of what their future had to offer. .
Second thoughts…
The days that followed their meeting were the longest of Glorfindel’s life. Never had time moved more slowly. They had decided to meet three days later. Each would leave the city from separate gates, at different times and in opposite directions, but wind up in the same river vale. It would work. No one would know they were meeting, and they could have the day together to do as they wished.
He took it upon himself to prepare all they would need. He’d told Ecthelion to bring only himself and his horse, while he packed his own mount with provisions and comforts for the afternoon. Rising very early in the morning, as was his usual habit, he harangued the kitchen staff at the House of the Golden Flower into first, making him a large breakfast of eggs, toast and bacon. While Glorfindel ate his ample meal, they put together a very nice picnic lunch for two, complete with wine, tasty sandwiches and fruits. Nary a question was asked. He was sure they would need sustenance since it would not be a brief meeting. That was his fervent desire.
He fabricated an excuse to leave the city riding out across Tumladen in the late morning. They were to meet in early afternoon, and he wanted time to make ready.
This was Ecthelion. How long Glorfindel had wanted him, he did not now know. It had been growing in him over the years, since the long march, since the ice when they had pulled each other along and held vigil over each other. Neither would let the other fall to the cold. They had always had a bond, but for him it had changed into something else, though he could not pinpoint when that had occurred. He suspected Ecthelion had only just realized it.
Meanwhile, across the city in another part of town, the other half of this equation paced and warred with himself, so much so that his horse snorted and stamped in alarm.
“I know…it is not to be borne.”
Yield. He did not yield. Ecthelion of the Fountain yielded to no one. He kicked a bucket and yelped. Eru, that hurt!
He would not go, damn it.
He tumbled into the straw and sighed. He wanted to go, but could he yield the way Glorfindel wanted him to?
“You will yield…in all ways…”
His body remembered being pressed down by the weight of his compatriot and his desire stirred.
Apparently, he could.
“Come, Shadow, we are going, before I lose my nerve!!”
Where the water meets the flower…
Glorfindel sat on a large rock by the river bank, trailing his toes in the water. It was summer, and the sun was high in the sky. Wearing simple clothing; a homespun white shirt and leggings. He had taken his shoes off to walk in the grass and flowers. One never got to do that in the city. It was beautiful there, but one did not feel free. Surrounded by high walls, and ornate gates, one did not feel free at all.
He loved it here where the water was surrounded by an expanse of golden flowers spreading throughout the valley; where the water met the flowers. It seemed fitting somehow. The river wound through the vale, water frigid from mountain run-off of the snow capped peaks. Perhaps they would brave it and swim later, if he could entice Ecthelion to do it.
He had carefully prepared everything for his friend’s arrival, laying out the blanket on the grass, chilling the wine in the river. The sun was directly overhead and he was beginning to worry that Ecthelion would not be coming, that he had thought better of it and…
He heard a horse approach from the south and felt his stomach tighten. He was inexplicably nervous, as if it was all new to him, too. Truth be told, he was not that experienced, either. There had been no one who really caught his affections, and he had been waiting for this moment. He continued to dunk his feet in the water, trying to appear nonchalant.
Ecthelion dismounted, and slapped his stallion, sending him off to join Glorfindel’s mare. They knew each other well from patrol, so they quickly settled to graze and wander.
“Take off your shoes.”
“Pardon?” Ecthelion blanched at the command.
“I said, take off your shoes. This is a wonderful place to walk barefoot. The ground is soft underfoot, and the grass tickles your feet. It is so unlike the paved streets of the city. Try it and see.”
“Ahh…” He relaxed then and kicked off his short boots, stooping to peel off his socks.
He could see Glorfindel’s black boots on a blanket nearby and went to place his own there. It did feel good to walk without shoes. The ground was soft and springy, and he could feel the soft petals of the flowers on his skin.
“I thought you might change your mind or think better of this. Perhaps I had given you too much time to think.”
“Almost,” Ecthelion admitted.
Glorfindel squinted at him as he got up from his perch, and he moved toward his friend with a purposefully fluid stride. He pushed his own nervousness aside, as he drew near.
“Shall I remind you of why we are here?” He purred softly, and Ecthelion’s whole body reacted to the passion in his gaze. Glorfindel was stalking him and his feet felt rooted to the ground.
“What do you--”
His response was swallowed as their lips met. Cupping Ecthelion’s face gently with both hands, Glorfindel teased his lover’s mouth open. He wanted nothing between them, and he needed to taste Ecthelion’s flavor. They had no past or future. There was only now, and he meant to make it last forever.
“I remember,” Ecthelion whispered as they parted, slowly opening his eyes, grey irises full of longing.
“I remember, ” He repeated and pulled Glorfindel in for another kiss. He wanted more, so much more. He wanted it all.
* * *
“I used to lay watching you sleep when we camped together on the crossing. I wanted to make sure you were breathing and that you were not going to freeze in the night. I would stay up all night sometimes…” Glorfindel looked down at Ecthelion to see if he was well. His words were a whisper, a moan almost.
The pain had passed and now there was only pleasure between them. All those things unsaid came spilling out of them, words of love, admissions and their future. Yes, there was that, too.
His movements were slow, gentle, even, though it was hard to stay at that pace. His body had to be controlled until Ecthelion writhed underneath him, flexing in frustration.
“Can you not…?”
“Can I not what?”
“I need more…”
“I do not want to hurt you.”
“I am not an Elleth…more, Glorfindel.”
He leaned up to playfully nip at his lover’s lips.
“Give me everything.”
The Golden Flower growled and did just that as they made love on a bed of fragrant blossoms.
Stolen time…and idle gossip
It became a favorite pastime in the Gilded City to wonder about the love lives of its most eligible warriors, and other notable citizens. Ecthelion and Glorfindel were not above this speculation, much to their chagrin. Hopeful matchmakers and mothers petitioned the Fountain or the Golden Flower to divine their interest in a certain attractive or marriageable Elleth, eager for success, only to be thwarted at the outset or indulged for a number of months and finally dropped flat.
One had to ponder how two such handsome and eloquent elves could be unmarried for so long. Turgon remarked loudly on that very same thing, in none too polite terms, yet both of them resisted the pressure and inclination to marry. They were happy with each other, but no one could know that.
Through the long months of the winter, they spent much time sneaking in and out of each other’s houses, up the back stair when servants were abed. It was small price to pay for a night together, cocooned in comfort, indoors by the fire.
In spring and summer, they would venture out of the city, exploring the encircling mountains or simply lounging at their favorite spot where the river was surrounded by flowers. Even if the flowers were not in bloom, it was a beautiful spot to enjoy a day.
Time passed, years flew by and their love deepened, though to outside appearance they were compatriots, rivals and leaders. In private they were best friends, lovers and mates. It became an unspoken bond between them, this knitting of their souls, as elemental as the air, as solid as the foundations of Arda, as relentless as the ocean’s tides.
The end is come…
In the year 510 of the First Age, the great city fell, to the foul dread force of Morgoth. Wicked beasts defiled Turgon’s city and brought it down to rubble. It was betrayed from within and attacked from the north over the Echoriath to tragic end.
And after…
Ecthelion found himself wandering free. He was free and light, and awaiting something. The pain which had been so unbearable was gone now. His lungs had been full of water, and now he would breathe the free air in this meadow, their meadow. The yellow flowers shimmered in the starlight and he could walk barefoot among them. The petals were soft on the rough soles of his feet. He could breathe again.
He lay down and waited. He knew it would be a short time. They had agreed.
He opened his eyes as he sensed Glorfindel’s approach.
“I am here…the city is…”
“I know.”
“We are…”
“Together.”
Glorfindel’s tears fell on the flowers for which he was named. As the lovers took their rest a while in the meadow, the hours passed peacefully under the stars. Some time later, under the pale light of the moon, they followed a mountain path out of Ondolindë forever.
The End
Terms:
Ondolindë=Gondolin
Echoriath=the encircling mountains around Gondolin