Ulmo's Design by Aeneus
Summary: The love of one elf in the schemes of the Valar.
Categories: FPS, FPS > Tuor/Voronwë, FPS > Voronwë/Tuor Characters: Tuor, Voronwë
Type: Action/Adventure, Romance/Drama
Warning: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 3257 Read: 1785 Published: August 12, 2008 Updated: August 12, 2008
Story Notes:
Written for the Mîl ne gloss challenge. Thanks to Beckyboo for beta-ing.

FEEDBACK: Highly appreciated.

1. Chapter 1 by Aeneus

Chapter 1 by Aeneus
Day 1

Voronwë looked out over the turbulent waters. He had watched for over an hour but still he didn't give up the hope of spotting another survivor from his ship. His wet cloak didn't bother him. After seven years on the sea, the water had become his second nature.

And there was nothing for him to do but this. Sitting and looking, denying what he knew in his soul: that he wouldn't find them.

"Welcome, Voronwë! I await you."

The elf looked up at the calling of his name. Above him stood a man dressed in Elven armour. For a moment he was transfixed by the man's eyes. Was this an Elf or a Man? The splendour of his attire made him doubt.

And those eyes, they were so full of life and longing; and of a greater wisdom that was hidden in the depth of his dark eyes. They looked at him with a fierce intensity, but there was also a warmth there as if this man already knew him.

This stranger was the first new person he saw in many long years and he had grown unaccustomed to being under someone else's scrutiny like this. But he didn't sense any malice, only kindness.

Voronwë stood up and bowed low to greet the stranger; to show his respect and also to hide the sudden blush that was warming his cheeks.

"Welcome, my Lord, although how you know my name I do not know. But please tell me, who are you?"

"I am Tuor son of Huor of the house of Hador, and I am no Lord, but merely an outlaw in these lands," the man replied.

These names were not strange to the Elf. This man was then indeed of mortal race, but the stature of the man was deceiving. He carried the fine armour perfectly, as if it had been crafted especially for him. And about him was a cloak that made him appear taller, yet seemed to obscure the edges of his form in a thin mist.

"And I have come here to meet you, Voronwë son of Aranwë." Tuor continued.

"Tell me then, how do you know my name and lineage?" Voronwë asked in wonder.

"This I learned from Ulmo, when he spoke to me yesterday. He saved you, as the last of the mariners send out by King Turgon, to become my guide."

Tuor's words were only slowly sinking in. "Your guide?"

"You will lead me to the Hidden Gate of Gondolin, for I am on an errand from the Lord of the Waters himself."

Voronwë fell silent. To lead a stranger to the Hidden Gate was an offence punishable by death. This law had been ingrained into him for all the years he had lived in the City of Stone. And he believed fully in the reasons behind the law.

But when he looked at Tuor, he could see the shroud of Ulmo surround him and he felt his heart stir. He wouldn't resist the will of one of the Valar. His world had already been shaken; all that was dear to him lost. He had been saved for a reason and this would be his new purpose.

He had always been told that Ulmo held the Noldor in favour, so this must be a rightful duty.

He would serve this man.

Once Voronwë had agreed, the two men packed their few belongings and headed out on the long way before them.

They walked together all day, 'til they finally reached the eaves of Ered Wethrin. There they sat down to rest for the night.

That evening Voronwë and Tuor talked long. The elf told his tale from his setting forth out of Gondolin, to Ulmo's rescue of him from the wrath of Ossë; all that he had seen and lost; all his friends and companions who had died on the sea, until finally his grief became too great and he couldn't continue.

He avoided Tuor's questions concerning Turgon and the Hidden City. Even though he had promised to lead the man to the gate, his conscience was still troubled by his betrayal by even mentioning Turgon's kingdom.

Tuor himself told little of his life, save about the two most prevalent things that had shaped so much of it; his longing for the sea and his longing to find Turgon. Hearing him speak so passionately kindled a small fire within the elf; the hope that he could go on with his life again, that not all meaning for it had drowned.

Already he was feeling protective towards the man he had promised to lead. Like Ulmo would want of him.

Together they would go back to his home.





Day 12

Their progress was slow as they constantly had to mind their steps on the icy rocks. The wind had turned bitter cold and snow had been falling steadily for hours now, forcing them to finally find shelter.

"I have lived many years in Middle-Earth, but never before has snow fallen before Hísimë.[1]" Voronwë marvelled as they hid themselves behind some fallen rocks.

"Ulmo warned me that I had tarried too long. Alas, now I can see why. What good is the protection of the cloak, when our tracks will be clear in snow?" Tuor groaned, looking back, dismayed at the clear trail they had left behind them.

Voronwë saw it too and sighed. "That can not be helped."

Tuor muttered something unintelligible, this tone indicating he didn't like the answer, but knew it to be true none the less. It made Voronwë smile, seeing such human emotions shine through in the otherwise so serious and quiet man. Looking at the sky, the elf grew solemn again.

"I fear this weather will not relent, and either way we will have to press on. As you have said yourself, our errand is late."

But Tuor didn't heed him. Instead he settled down in a sheltered corner and pulled the elf with him.

"That is true, but for now let us gather our strengths and sleep for a while."

Voronwë relented and made himself comfortable next to him. They huddled together, letting Tuor's head fall against the elf's shoulder. Over the previous days the two of them had got used to such closeness and Voronwë was tempted to put his arm around the man.

Tuor closed his eyes and sank even deeper against him. Gently Voronwë leaned forwards and kissed the top of Tuor's head. The man seemed not to notice.

Voronwë stayed awake for a while, not needing to sleep yet and just enjoying the warmth of Tuor's body next to him. It appeared he would need use of that warmth in the days to come. He drew his own cloak around them, cradling the sleeping figure close to his body to protect him from the gusting winds. He had begun to cherish these moments, when Tuor slept while he watched over him. Already he cared deeply for the man and these were the times he could freely give in to those feelings. When he was the only one awake, he needn't be anxious about Tuor's possible reaction.

Because over the last days, he felt he had grown to love this man. But be that for good or bad, he didn't know.




Day 26

"Ai, this is grave indeed. Ivrin has been frozen!" Voronwë cried.

The lake where Ulmo's power had always shone brightly was now nothing more than a frozen swamp in a desolate waste. Tears pricked behind Voronwë's eyes at the sight of this destruction. Instinctively the elf grasped Tuor's hand to steady himself as both of them stood silently on the shore of lake Ivrin.

The Evil of the North must have grown a great deal stronger since he had left these lands, for he could not remember any winter terrible enough to freeze such natural beauty. He feared to say it out loud, but seeing this gruesome manifestation of the increased power of Morgoth made him seriously doubt if they would ever reach the Hidden Gate.

Already the road had taken longer then he had anticipated and food was becoming scarce. The deep snow made the paths treacherous and more then once had the elf needed all this strength to pull the man free from unseen holes in the ground.

Voronwë drew Tuor away with him. No longer could he stand to look upon this defilement, which so grieved his heart. He held on to Tuor's shoulder while they dragged themselves over the broken banks of the lake. Despair was thick in the air, seeping in with every laboured breath of the two travellers. ‘Til at last they found a place far away enough to breathe more freely. Only then did the elf let Tuor go.

"You are troubled, my friend." Tuor stated.

Voronwë tried to steady his voice, not wanting to reveal too much of his emerging feelings of hopelessness.

"I have been away too long and before my journey I lived sheltered in the Hidden Kingdom. I have heard tales of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad [2] from the survivors, but still, I had not seen it with my own eyes," Voronwë's voice had reduced to a whisper, ashamed of his own words. "But now that His Shadow haunts us day and night, I can not help but wonder if the Lords of the West have truly abandoned us."

Tuor laid his arm around the elf and turned him around to face him. "That I can not answer, my friend, but we go with the grace of the Lord of the Waters, that I do know."

Voronwë pulled himself free, uncomfortable with the man's sudden closeness when he felt he was betraying him.

"Have you not seen Ivrin! Even Ulmo has no power here anymore."

Tuor looked startled by his sudden outburst, making Voronwë instantly regret his words.

"That is why I need you the more."

Voronwë tried to still the sudden anguish in his heart at hearing those words. Tuor looked at him, his eyes betraying his own insecurity. The man needed him; needed him to lead. That is what he had promised to do.

The words broke a dam inside of him. A wave of protectiveness ran through him, enhancing the love that had grown stronger with each passing day. This time he let the man embrace him, letting himself be comforted in his warmth. He knew then he would not fail him. However dark the road might get, he would be there.




Day 36

Never before had Voronwë experienced such horrendous cold. The winds were so forceful, hailstones would cut their hands and faces. His waybread was almost entirely spent and they had been unable to hunt any food in this weather for days. They had crossed the frozen Mabluin, but Sirion was yet to come. Tuor leaned heavily on the elf, his energy almost completely exhausted.

They had frequently had to hide from the orcs roaming the woods and pathways, making their way even more difficult. Making a fire would run them the risk of discovery and everything they encountered was wet anyway. Voronwë knew they couldn't last much longer.

They had travelled little that day, but already Tuor had to stop. "My friend, I fear my strength will not sustain me much longer. Please tell me truthfully, can we still make it?"

Never had Tuor spoken to him with such graveness in his voice. When he looked at the man he feared for him. But he had vowed before never to give up. He wouldn't let the man lose the hope that had kept him going for all these days.

"We must try either way." Voronwë replied evasively. "That does not answer my question. I have let you guide me this far, relying on your knowledge of the secret pathways to the Hidden Gate and I have not questioned you. But now I must know, are we near Gondolin yet?" The man was pleading with him with his eyes. Lying to him would break him.

Voronwë grasped Tuor's hands tightly. "I have given my word to lead you. Trust me that I will."

The glint of thank you in Tuor's eyes was heart-wrenching for the elf. He could see how much Tuor relied on him; how much he was worth to the man.

"I will follow you." said Tuor softly, squeezing Voronwë's hand in acknowledgement.

But for now the two couldn't go on any more. They had to rest.

Voronwë cleared some snow with his feet and helped the man down. He too was exhausted and weaker than he would dare admit. Even as one of the Eldar, the harsh winds chilled him to the bone. If they had to endure this much longer, death may claim even him.

They drew next to each other under Ulmo's cloak, making themselves as comfortable as they could get. Little warmth had they left to give each other and their rest was uneasy.

It was sheer exhaustion that made the man finally drift off into some kind of sleep. Seeing Tuor like this twisted the elf's soul. He had grown to care so much for him, he could not bear to think about losing him.

Had been saved for this man. He had known this from the beginning. For in his tale to Tuor on their first night, he had left one thing out. During the storm, when the great wave had carried him from the shipwreck, he had thought himself dying. And in that moment he had heard a voice; a deep voice calling to him. Saying he alone of his friends would be spared, to serve another. Someone he would care for more then life and for whom he would need to risk all.

He looked at Tuor now and he saw death. The death that was so frighteningly near to mortals. Even in sleep the man shivered uncontrollably. The constant hunger had thinned his body, making him even more vulnerable to the intense cold.

Had this been Ulmo's design as well? For him to fall in love with this Man?

The elf wrapped himself protectively around the shaking man. He softly kissed the man's brow, then his closed eyelids, then finally his mouth. His lips were cold and Voronwë extended his tongue to wet them. Gently he sucked the lips into his mouth, warming them with his own heat. Tuor moaned quietly and the shivers seemed to lessen.

Voronwë took the man's hands and moved them under his shirt till they rested on his own skin. The fingers were freezing cold, but the elf didn't mind. He wouldn't let the man go. He drew him as close to him as he could manage, softly kissing ever bit of skin still exposed. He wouldn't let this chance go to express his love. If only they would last this night, he knew he would risk all.




Day 37

Tuor was still asleep when Voronwë untangled himself and stood up to look around him in the morning sunlight. The wind was still cool, but the biting frost had disappeared and it seemed to him the sun shone a little bit more intense than the day before. He focussed his eyes on the faint glittering that marked the far off mountaintops.

The air caught in his throat as he realised what was looking at. At last he was seeing the encircling mountains.

"Look, Ered en Echoriath! The mountains of my home!" he cried.

Tuor stirred behind him, his eyes blinking confused in the bright sunlight. The elf motioned him to get up.

"Look, the encircling mountains! Finally we are near." Voronwë pointed when Tuor stood next to him, his hand on his shoulder.

In a surge of joy he turned and hugged the man tightly. Tuor eagerly hugged him back, seeing the open joy the elf felt at seeing his home. Even when Voronwë leaned over and kissed the man he did not shy back and for a perfect moment their lips met and Voronwë felt Tuor return his love.

The man felt like a skeleton in his arm, so thin had he become. But there was still strength left in those arms that were clasped around his waist. A desperate strength born out of hope. Voronwë grasped Tuor's hand and pulled him with him. It was like his heart had been opened. Maybe they were not doomed after all. They would reach Gondolin yet. If they could pass the gate, they would be safe together. Since once they had entered neither of them would ever be able to leave.

They still needed to travel some distance, but now that their goal was in sight, the two set out with renewed strength. Ulmo's cloak secured their safe passage over Sirion and leaning close to each other they managed to make their way undetected. Close to nightfall they entered the dry river, the pathway to the Hidden Gate. They only had a short while to go from here. Tomorrow they would reach the gate and know for sure whether they had escaped the Evil. Tomorrow he would be home.




Day 38

Finally the head of the Guard brought Voronwë and Tuor before King Turgon. Only now, after they had passed the seven gates and were safely inside the king's palace did Voronwë believe that he had truly come home.

He looked next to him and saw Tuor standing calm and steadfast. No longer did he see the man who had almost perished on the way hither; the man he had comforted through cold and hunger; the man he had brought here against the firmest laws of his own people.

The man he loved.

Tuor's gaze was fixed on Idril, Turgon's daughter who sat by the king's side, and Voronwë saw a glowing warmth fill his eyes. The first true warmth he had seen in those eyes since he had first looked upon them. Then he had seen only a hint of it, a promise of more. But now that promise was fulfilled not for him, but for the king's daughter.

He shivered, feeling suddenly the cold of the water again; the water Ulmo had saved him from. And to what end?

To see his hopes fade with that one look.

A greater destiny was at work here; that was painfully clear to him now. A destiny he was only meant to serve, for Tuor carried a fate he himself was only subservient to.

How could he have deluded himself so? To think he would be the one to stay by the man's side. To believe he was more than just a guide, a useful tool for a while. That all the hardship they had endured would have meant something.

But it would seem he had performed his deed in the scheme of things and his task was over now. Whatever Ulmo's intend with the man Tuor, it was out off his hands now. And it did not include him anymore.

Why him? He should have died along with his friends in the water of the Belegaer. He could have gone peacefully to the Halls of Mandos with them. Why had be been so cruelly used? He realised now how his love had been essential to bring Tuor with him through the bitter cold that had hunted them. He would have died for duty, but he had stayed alive for love.

Only now did the cold reach his heart.
End Notes:
[1] Roughly end October
[2] The battle of Unnumbered Tears; F.A. 472
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