I stepped out into the corridor after Elendil. My heartbeat buzzed in my ears, making me dizzy and uncertain. "Wait," I pleaded, only to discover that he had taken no more than two steps from my door and was moving no farther.
"I find I cannot leave," he said apologetically. His voice was even deeper than usual, and it sent a thrill up my spine. I had no idea what I was doing, for I had never before approached anyone in matters of the heart. Elrond had begun our affair, not I. Though many years had passed since then, I still remembered how Elrond had seduced me.
We had been the best of friends, youths little more than children, myself and Elrond and his brother Elros. Elros we had treated as though he were indeed a child, for if we ran as swift as the wind or climbed a tree or crag he could not follow us, or if we found a hiding place whether in the walls of the buildings or in a forest grove he could not discover it, or if we boastfully discoursed with learned elders he had nothing to say. I believe it was our treatment of him that eventually led him to choose mortality, but for Elrond and myself at the time it meant freedom from the ordinary people around us, and the ability to seek adventure in the wild without a tattletale brother behind us.
Some of our adventures were truly frightening, and now I would certainly have forbidden my childish self to undertake them. We encountered strange beasts and beings of the woods, and walked dangerous paths along narrow cliffs, and once or twice nearly let ourselves fall into the hands of Orcs or wild men. Yet more often than not the adventure was simply to steal a picnic basket crammed with food from the kitchen, and then climb or ride with it as far away as we dared for luncheon.
"Gil-galad," Elrond had asked me idly as we lay on a hilltop watching the clouds, a perfect target for anyone who had wished to attack us, "do you love me?" The question was in the same lazy tone as all of the whimsy we discussed on these outings.
"Of course," I replied, taking it to be a philosophical question. "You are as my brother, the choicest of comrades in all activities, the best with whom to discuss scholarly matters or someone to trust my life to when we must confront the forces of evil and stare face on at death."
"You have never had a brother," he remarked dryly, and we both laughed. He stared up into the clouds for another minute. "I know that well," he added. "It is not the question I asked."
"Then what is?" I asked him, genuinely confused. At that time I had never heard of any love between men other than that which bound warriors, considered to be a great and pure love. I looked to the tale of Beren and Lúthien to imagine what a less platonic love might be.
"I asked," he said, and with that he rolled over and was on top of me, his hips straddling mine and his hands pressing my shoulders down, his face barely inches from my own, "dost thou love me?"
I knew instantly that I did. I knew with a remarkable new insight that when every night for the past month I had woken up in a cold sweat, the mysterious hands and mouth in my dreams had belonged to Elrond. That when I sometimes thrilled at the brush of his hand on my shoulder it was not deadly premonition but desire. That all my blood and skin and the very marrow of my bones longed for his. That the taste I sometimes felt in my mouth for no reason at all was the ghost of the taste of his tongue. Yet I could not manage to say all this to him now, not when I could feel his breath on my face and his hands so near to caressing me and against my will my loins pressing even nearer to his.
"Yes," I whispered, and he smiled a smile that I had never seen before and would soon come to know as a warning of tortuous delights. Somehow he moved his hips even closer into mine, and smiled still broader when I gasped.
"Good," he whispered back, and after that if he said anything else I could not know. His lips and mine, everywhere, on faces and necks and hair, his tongue as if it stole a laugh from my mouth, some kisses so light I begged for where the rest should be, and some so deep that they left me breathless. His mouth brushed my skin like a painter testing a canvas with the finest of brushes, tickled my cheek like a butterfly, tested and teased me with lust. Then it retraced the same route, but savagely, leaving a swathe of burning heat on my face. My heart beat a hammer through my whole body.
Down my neck, calling up the blood in every vein, his mouth moving ever closer to the edge of my robes. Great as my desire was for him then, I feared the shame that would fall upon me if anyone found out how womanish were my pleasures, and I spoke to him despairingly.
"Elrond. Stop. Please stop." The words barely escaped my mouth. He halted, halfway into a kiss, and stared at me uncomprehendingly. "We can't do this. Someone will find out, they'll turn us out into the wild for trespassing against nature, we can't."
His eyes flashed in anger, although it was not at me. "How do we trespass against nature in this? Would it not be more unnatural to deny that love between men can be more than platonic? Is it not rather our nature that we should love men instead of women?" I could not argue against that fury, and furthermore I could begin to believe that he was right.
"How did you even know?" I asked him instead. "I had never heard of men being lovers, and though I desired it I did not know what it was that I desired. You knew, although it had never been spoken of before. How?"
"I have always known that I desired you," he answered. After a minute, he added, "There is a book on the arts of love in the library, one that came from Valinor when the Noldor departed. Neither the Vanyar nor the Teleri held it any sin."
Only for a moment did I contemplate this information. Then I reached up and drew his lips once more to mine, caring nothing for society or custom, and he easily answered my kiss with his tongue. Now that I had no fear, the spell of his lips grew twice as potent, and the hammer in my heart began once more to beat its tune, sending throbbing waves of desire through me. It was not merely the desire of his body, for I could feel with the taste of his tongue in my mouth his sweet tenderness, and with the burning press of his mouth on my neck the passionate fires of his heart, and I knew why all the same loves expressed platonically might express themselves thusly as well.
This time when his mouth began to brush back the edge of my tunic I made no attempt to halt him. His fingers moved ghost-like over my chest as they undid one button at a time, followed by his lips. My blood pulsed so strongly that I could hear no other sound but my heartbeat, his name running through my veins. Though it was impossible that any space could still be left between us, I was pushing myself even closer into his body. As he released the last button of my shirt, his hand dropped to the inside of my thigh, and for an instant I could not remember to breathe.
His hips heaved against mine as he brought his mouth teasingly, gently curving around my nipple, and my hands slid to his loins, my fingers around his hips and my thumbs inward. If his mouth and fingers on my chest were as delicate as air or the brush of a feather, his thighs were as a raging volcano, the heat of burning lava coursing through the firm stone, and welling up within, building pressure. The hammer-beat of my blood now matched the beat of his, both growing together into an unstoppable rhythm.
Newly incensed, I tugged at his robes, my hand tracing across his shoulder, then his waist, and downwards once more as I removed the only barrier between us, not caring that I ripped the elegant silk. The tenderness of his tongue turned in response to a passion like that of his thighs, his teeth even grazing my nipple. With that the clamor of my blood became unbearable, and I begged him to hurry, my cracked and urgent voice hardly seeming to reach my ears. He laughed kindly and kissed my chest.
Agonizingly slowly, he began to work his fingers down across my skin, until finally he removed the last bit of clothing that separated us. His hand, from my thigh, moved inward, still gentle and light though it touched the very center of our passions. I grew dizzy and covered in sweat. His fingers caressed me, still too careful, and then at last he dug in his hips and took me, there on the hillside with only the open air around us.
Alas for those who will never dare to know whom they truly desire! That day was the greatest of all my life, though I am king and am surrounded by people who wish my happiness. We spent all that long afternoon on the hilltop, partly in kissing and partly in marveling at our newfound love. I told Elrond everything I could remember that now meant to me a sign of my love for him, and he confided to me the moment when he had fallen in love. He told me how he had first come across that fateful book in the library which had led him to know what love could be, and said that he had spent many a night devising plans for me to discover the book, or accidentally find him in his bath, and many an idea of that nature.
We washed in the mountain stream there, freezing though it was, and then prepared to leave, wishing that we could stay without anyone missing us at dinner. We only realized after we could delay no longer that Elrond's robe was ripped far too noticeably for it to be worn in public. We made an elaborate game of sneaking inside, ducking into his chambers without being seen. Later we would learn to be more careful, but at the time we were too drunk on love to pay attention to our safety. We did, at least, duck into shadows or behind trees to steal our kisses, but we made enough noise that it is a wonder we were not dragged off by Orcs.
We were nearly caught by several other elves as well, wandering the halls with our arms wrapped around each other's waists. When we finally slipped into Elrond's chambers, I knocked over a table in my haste to once again find his lips with mine. It took several minutes before he started searching for a new robe.
At dinner, Iorerin quirked one eyebrow at us. "You were not wearing that robe earlier," he said to Elrond. Elrond glanced at me surreptitiously, hoping for an explanation, and I quickly provided one.
"We climbed the cliff where the gulls nest," I told him. "He tore his robe."
"The tailors are going to be incredibly angry with you," Elros remarked gleefully to his brother, grinning. "They said they couldn't do any work for you for five moons. That means you won't have enough robes, so you'll have washing more than once a week, and you'll have to do it yourself." Elrond was about to retort with anger, but I interrupted.
"I have some skill with a needle," I lied. In truth, I knew nothing about cloth or thread, and I only realized too late that Erin was full aware of that. "I can fix the robe, and we will not even bother the tailors."
"Good!" Elrond exclaimed, his eyes twinkling. "If you join me after supper, perhaps between us we can fix it tonight. Will you come to my chambers?" I nodded, hoping that he would say no more, for Erin was beginning to look curious. When Erin was curious about something, he would not rest until he knew the truth.
"When have you ever picked up a needle in your life, Gil-galad?" he asked, and I wished I had never spoken. If he pursued his questioning, I would have to lie more than an honorable elf could possibly bear. It contradicted our very nature.
"I have been practicing of late," I mumbled, trying to think of a way in which I could make my answers as true as I could.
"Verily, he showed me this afternoon that he is quite skilled with a needle indeed," Elrond added. He seemed incapable of keeping quiet, and I struggled to keep my face from turning a most unsuitable shade of red. He continued unabashedly. "I prefer his work to that of any seamstress I have known."
"Amazing," said Erin, whom I suspected was beginning to see what Elrond was hinting at. "Have you known many seamstresses?" He knew. At least Elros was left in the dark.
"I am not quite as well acquainted with the seamstresses as I would like," Elrond admitted, at which even Iorerin could not help but smile. Elros wrinkled his brow in confusion.
"You don't ever talk to any of the seamstresses," he pointed out. The three of us tried very hard to keep from laughing.
"Talking is overrated," was all that Elrond could manage to reply with a straight face. He took a sip of water to hide his smile, then added, "That is not the only way to get to know someone."
"Well, you haven't gone into battle alongside any of the seamstresses either," Elros persisted, still oblivious. I decided to join in the conversation, winking at Elrond.
"What we were saying is that Elrond does not need to befriend any of the seamstresses, because I am his friend," I explained. Elrond smiled and put his hand on my knee under the table.
"Oh, I see," said Elros brightly, no longer confused. "Because you can sew. That's very useful." I had to pretend to drop my fork so that I could duck under the table to laugh.
Elrond left the hall early, and I waited a few minutes so that it would not be too obvious that I was following him. When I excused myself from the table, Erin excused himself as well. I knew what he wished to say, but we did not speak until we were well away from the hall. We walked silently and slowly in the darkness.
"I wondered when you two would finally realize that you loved each other," he said. This was not the reaction I had been expected, and I almost collapsed out of joy. I could not speak to reply, but I hugged Erin fiercely.
"Was I the only one who never knew that this was possible?" I asked when I regained my voice. Erin laughed and gave me his it's-in-the-library-you-fool smile, which I normally detested but was now delighted to see.
"I doubt the people at large know," he told me. "Go on and meet him, then." I hugged him once more and raced off to find Elrond.
He was lying back on his bed, naked. I raised an eyebrow in imitation of Erin. "I thought you might need to take measurements," he explained.
I, who had not even suspected the possibility of love between men, now had the opportunity to present it to another man. At that moment, with the most important choice of words I had ever needed in my life lying before me, I had nothing to say.
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Chapter notes: Author's Note: This chapter is semi-AU, as I didn't bother to look up when Elrond met Gil-galad, and more so because they definitely would have been killed by passing Orcs if this had actually happened.
