Rating: R
Pairings: Elrond/Gil-galad
Summary: A chance meeting in the woods, or is it?
Feedback: Comments are very welcome! There's always a first for everything, and so was this for me. Thanks to Stephanie for the beta.
Until I see some peaceful dove
Bring home the branch she dearly love:
Then will I wait,
Till the waters abate,
Which now disturb my troubled brain,
Else never rejoice,
Till I hear the voice,
That the king enjoys his own again.
(Martin Parker)
The early days of the 2nd Age, not too long after the f ounding of Lindon.
He was standing at the edge of the glade, silent and watchful, scanning his environs meticulously without missing a detail. For an innocent passer-by the slender elf would be easy to overlook, clad as he was in earth-tinted garments, his abundant dark hair the colour of the wood that surrounded him. On his back there was a quiver full of arrows, and he carried a longbow over his left shoulder.
The wind sent whistling sounds through the glade that was aspersed with small white rocks, and large boulders lying here and there in the spring green grass. That wind would be inhibiting, the elf knew. Even the denseness of the trees around him could not shelter him from it and it would drown any noise made by a possible target. He fingered his bowstring with a thumb, while concentrating on the wind, reckoning its course and the divergence it would create.
He moved again, sliding from tree to tree without a sound along the edge in a large half-circle. A few times he halted for just a second, tilting his head and listening intently. His progress was relatively slow, he knew, but speed was unimportant.
Suddenly he turned and had an arrow nocked on his bow, aimed at a point amidst the trees that had been behind him only a second ago. A movement had caught the corner of his eye. He stood transfixed, his eyes searching for the origin of that movement. The trees whispered around him in soft voices.
He now had his back turned to the glade, which left him vulnerable at that side. He took two steps aside until he felt his back touching a tree that could shield him effectively. His entire body was tensed up and ready for action. He waited. Seconds turned into minutes, but nothing moved and his eyes detected nothing suspicious.
Nothing, but still there was something *there*. All his senses screamed, and the tingle that started at the back of his neck spread quickly over his body. He took a long, deep breath, and forced his heartbeat to slow down. All was quiet, all but the wind in the murmuring trees.
Long minutes passed, and when nothing happened he lowered his bow. The pricking of his skin did not abate. After one last thorough look, he retreated backwards to the glade, using the trees to cover his back. Reaching the edge of the glade he paused to listen. He released the string but kept the arrow in place, his back firmly pressed against a large oak. There...
He sensed it more than he saw it, the presence, out of place in these woods and yet not, moving -or not?-, drawing closer -or not?- following him -or running from him? A tree was between them. Making a quick decision he drew again and took two steps, swinging his bow around the side of the tree while keeping himself hidden. And then...
About forty feet away a figure appeared, face and body hidden in shadow and cloak and moving stealthily straight in his direction, slipping from tree to tree. Swiftly the figure came closer, still closer, at thirty feet, twenty-five, twenty...
"Hold!"
The figure froze at his call. Seeing the tip of an arrow pointed at him, the cloaked creature languidly lifted his arms to his head, and with one quick flick of his hands lowered his hood to reveal his face.
"You caught me," said the High King to his squire, and smiled.
Elrond was incredulous. Of all the faces he had expected to see, this was the last. Surprise struck him so forcibly he nearly forgot he still held the High King at arrow point, until Gil-galad motioned him to lower his weapon, saying, "I just surrendered. Loosen it; I would not want you accidentally to shoot your king."
"Why are you here? How come..." His shock at recognising Gil-galad as the figure he had been hunting through the woods for the past hours -or had he been hunting him?- caused him to blurt out his question without much deference. "I knew someone was near for a while, but I never expected it to be you. When..."
"Just now. I felt like going out and seeing the river," Gil-galad answered, gesturing vaguely over Elrond's shoulder. "Then I noticed a wayward elf playing hide and seek with no one in particular, and decided he needed a partner." His eyes sparkled. "Or is there someone else about I have not seen?"
"Not that I am aware of," Elrond, still staring at him wide-eyed, replied without thinking. "And if you have not seen anyone I think it safe to conclude we are alone."
"Oh, I would not be so sure. After all, you did manage to catch me quite by surprise. In all those years of forced enclosement in various palaces and halls some of my famed hunting skills must have slipped." He sounded perfectly insincere. "But I will trust yours in this matter."
Elrond merely nodded. He placed the yellow-feathered arrow back in the quiver on his back and took a step around the tree to fully appear in front of his king, automatically checking sideways to see the glade was still empty. The whole day he had been on the height of his consciousness, in full hunting-mode, concentrating the past hour on that unknown presence around him, and now that he had made his 'catch', he was having difficulty unwinding his strung mind.
The catch in question did not make that easier; on the contrary, he made it all the more difficult. Elrond shook his head, while he tried to find an explanation for this sudden appearance. His anonymous follower had been his king all along. How did he come to be here? As far as he knew he should be miles and miles away, not expected to return in less than maybe a six-month or so. And now he had simply stepped out of the woods, as if it was totally natural he did so, as if he had been there all the time; replying to his query with a ridiculously off-handed 'I felt like seeing the river'. As if he had not last seen him years ago, at the mustering of his troop, just before he left. He was so full of questions he did not know which one to ask first.
And there were all kinds of other incentives that preyed upon his senses in the mean time.
"Where were you going, anyway?" He turned his head back to see Gil-galad had set himself on a trunk, reclining on his elbows, an amused gleam in his eyes. The image only added to Elrond's confusion. The king looked fully relaxed. Shattered sunbeams were playing over his dark hair and white skin, lighting up the thin mithril tiara adorning his brow. He had swiftly taken off his cloak, and underneath he was dressed in a simple grey tunic and soft leather breeches and boots. He was never comfortable in too many clothes, least of all heavy, stately robes. As far as he was concerned, a little clothing went a long way and two layers were one too much. Next to the trunk he had laid the white spear he had evidently been carrying. Elrond, noting all this in one glance, suspected several knives to be hidden in boots and tunic in addition. The king was never one for halve measures.
But he will never cease to surprise.
"I was making my way to the riverbanks too," Elrond answered, for lack of a better retort. "I am carrying a missive for the sentries stationed there."
"Forget about the missive for a while, my friend. Sit by me. It has been long since we had a chance to speak." Gil-galad patted the trunk next to him, looking up to him invitingly.
Elrond blinked at his understatement. "Indeed it has been," he could only say, then added softly, "my lord."
He walked up and sat down next to him, discarding his bow and standing it against the trunk with care. His anxiety had not subsided but he slowly began to regain his confidence.
Gil-galad turned his body a bit to face him. He lifted one hand and lightly touched Elrond's face with the back of two fingers, taking him in close scrutiny. "I have quite missed you, you know," he said gently. "There is much I wish to tell you, and things were left unfinished when I had to go."
And with that simple statement, Elrond's nerves were back to all of their former wound up state. He was certain all of his thoughts and doubts, the combined apprehension and anxiety that knotted his stomach, were clearly visible on his face. He averted his eyes and cleared his throat.
"I should have welcomed you home properly, my lord. You have been gone so long." He had wanted to sound formal, but did not really succeed, and he heard the wistfulness in his voice when he spoke.
Another touch on the cheek, and when he looked back up Gil-galad seized his gaze and this time, held it. It was impossible to look away. Lingering in those sky-blue eyes he discerned things he had never expected to see there again.
No need, the eyes told him. All is well.
A whole conversation was conducted between them without words. Elrond posed silent questions, to which the king's look conveyed messages of comfort and security. A myriad of feelings passed in their eyes, unspoken, but plain enough to be unmistakable.
And at long last, they both smiled, until Elrond looked away. /Indeed/, he thought, I might have been wrong after all...
It was Gil-galad who broke the silence first. "You cannot imagine how tired I am of travelling," he said with a sigh, stretching his long, booted legs languorously in front of him. "I mean to stay in Lindon for at least a ten-year, to make up for lost time."
"You were missed here. You left so unexpectedly no one had time to prepare for a long absence."
"No, not even the both of us." The king smiled ruefully, and looked down, black lashes touching on pale cheeks.
Elrond's thoughts spiralled back to the day of Gil-galad's departure. Years of close confidentiality, companionship and a touch of hero-worship on Elrond's part had eventually grown into an affection that was beyond friendship, and beyond anything he had ever experienced. Elrond, young as he was, had long been blissfully unaware of the real state of his heart. He accepted his love and devotion for his king and his desire to be with him at all times as something perfectly natural for a squire, and never really questioned it.
When the need to search his soul arose in time, and he worked up the courage to look at his feelings in a different light, he was duly unsettled by what he discovered. But not out of fear of being scorned by anyone, even the king himself. As certain as he was his love was not reciprocated, at least not in this way; ever true to himself, he failed to see wrong in it. If the moment would arise,he was ready and fully prepared to throw his heart at the feet of the other, nerves not-with-standing, no matter what the outcome would be.
Gil-galad, the wiser by at least an age of experience, had known better. A relationship like this within a relationship like theirs; it would not be accepted lightly, and most likely, heavily frowned upon by many - if not all. So when Elrond at last declared himself one night, with a trembling voice and tears, but steady eyes, he had wanted to say exactly that to him. He had a neat prepared speech at hand, in which he explained each and every consequence, pointed out the impossibilities of such a bond, and concluded with a gentle nudge in the direction of an easier life and uncomplicated love.
Seeing the disbelief mount in the grey eyes and the tear-stricken features he had come to love and cherish, the words piled up in his throat and he could not go on. Unable to resist he simply responded.
That first night they had not spoken much but merely held each other, sharing kisses but hardly venturing any further until they had both succumbed to a troubled sleep.
In the days that followed, they talked all the more. In fact they hardly did anything else. But in spite of Gil-galad's warnings, he had not actively put a stop to their budding relationship, and that produced the spark of hope Elrond desperately clung to. Wisdom and wish were battling within the king, as they often did, and although he never explicitly said so, the latter seemed to win out this time. But Elrond could perceive the internal struggle - and knew the war was not yet won by far.
So much was left to discover, but, an urgent call for help from Círdan that the king could not possibly lay aside had ended it all too suddenly and brought their progression and explorations to a stammering halt.
Elrond was left behind. He had been indignant and had protested in every manner his imaginative mind could think of, but he was deemed still too untrained to face the many dangers that lay ahead. That was the official line, but he suspected some kind of protective streak on the king's part had been at work as well. He had been harsh in voicing is unhappiness and had eventually resorted to tears and pleas, but Gil-galad, stern-faced and firm, would not be moved.
Watching his king ride away with his host, Elrond felt storm-battered and torn. He did not understand what had happened. He now regretted his petulance; behaving like a spoiled brat might have ruined every chance he ever had. If he ever had any.
Thus he pondered and brooded for weeks. He was entirely too unsure of himself, of anything, to keep the lurking doubt and insecurity at bay. In the course of time, they took his heart into a firm grip. Numerous times he scolded himself for speaking his mind and being so transparent. It did not take long for him to convince himself that none of it had been real, and that the whole episode must have been no more than a short-lived fancy of a powerful king in the sight of temptation, leaving nothing but melancholy memories for him whenever he would return.
But when the best of three years had passed with hardly a word from the king - which suggested he was at sea - he had hardened himself, vowing never to wear his heart on his sleeve again. He refused to give in to regrets and pain, he was determined to forget and spend his energy on what it was he had come to Lindon for: becoming a skilled warrior.
And now, with one look, Gil-galad had crushed his resolve and brought him back to the point where he had left him, rekindling all the desires he had spent years to repress with a vengeance. It was utterly unfair.
"It is nice to look at you, playing around like this," Gil-galad now said, lifting a finger and nonchalantly tucking one of Elrond's braids behind his ear. He let his finger drift along the braid, all the way down to its point.
"I beseech you to not call it play in front of Erintilion." Elrond was acutely aware of the wandering hand, and tried desperately to turn his mind from it.
"It is an exercise he invented and is quite proud of. Rightly so, because it is effective. We are taught never to let our guard down, not even in places relatively safe as this area usually is. Regularly, when on missions, like mine today, someone is sent after us with the task to catch the other, or others. Whoever takes the other on arrow point, as I did just now, seizes the day."
Gil-galad, still holding Elrond's braid between two long digits, was now playing with it absentmindedly, alternatively winding it around one finger and then around the other. The natural gesture felt incredibly intimate, making it impossible for Elrond to resist the magnetic draw his king exercised on him and frankly, he became less and less sure he really wished to. He pulled up one leg, and shifted a bit closer to the king, until his leg touched Gil-galad's side. He lay his cheek on his knee, and watched him from aside.
"How do you know it is not a stranger or an enemy on your tail? There are never accidents? No near-shootings of fellows in panic?" Gil-galad frowned slightly.
"No. We call to hold whenever we have taken aim, and the other has to acknowledge his defeat immediately. If it is a stranger or an enemy that does not show itself, it is soon enough to shoot. Also, shooting only one should never be a problem, so there is time to discern who is who. If there are more, well, then we are sure to notice before that." Elrond's mouth curled in a self-assured smile.
"I am not certain there are no better ways to exercise perpetual caution then to draw against your companions," Gil-galad said, still sceptical. "I will speak to Erintilion about it when we are back."
"That reminds me I am still on duty. I should go on. That way, I can be back before dusk." Elrond put his foot back on the soil and began half-heartedly to rise, only to be held back by a laughing Gil-galad.
"Stay here. Keep still. You are dismissed."
"But I..."
"I am the king, am I not?" Gil-galad reminded him with a mock stern look. He waved a finger before Elrond's nose.
Elrond nodded.
"Well, I dismissed you. But, to ease your dutiful mind, I will tell you I did so before I took off. Someone else carries your missive, and you are free to go wherever you please. We have the whole day toourselves." The king sat back, leaning on his hands and swinging back his hair, altogether a perfect image of smugness.
Elrond could not repress a smile.
Whatever would happen, it was certainly good to have him back.
"Besides," Gil-galad said, eyes twinkling, "You owe me a proper welcome."
They took a meal together that Gil-galad miraculously conjured up from somewhere out of the folds of his cloak. Meanwhile, they merely talked, Gil-galad telling stories from his recent journey, Elrond informing him of the goings on in Lindon. The realm was still fragile and many problems had occurred in the king's absence, but Elrond avoided most of the heavier subjects. He was sure Gil-galad had omitted much in his tales as well, elaborating on the beauty of the places he had seen and the idiosyncrasies of his travel companions rather than saying much about the aim of his travels. There was a hint of sadness in them that made him suspect there had been more to his journey than he led on, but at the moment Elrond did not care. There would be enough time spent on the more serious matters later. These few hours he had Gil-galad to himself and he wanted to make the most of it.
To Elrond, his sudden return and the unspoken declarations he read in his eyes were almost too much to digest. He was elated, if a little unsure of what he saw - and at the same time he could not rid himself of the feeling that he had landed in another world, that he had woken up to an alternate reality in which secret wishes, only uttered in dreams, were granted with an ease that could not possibly be true.
The only way he could deal with all these confusing developments, was simply to ignore them as much as he could. So, in an attempt to maintain some kind of normalcy in his actions, he kept their conversation light and did not touch the issue that was uppermost in his mind. Although the words were often on the tip of his tongue, he wanted desperately to hold on to at least part of his determination; to show some restraint and prove he had grown out of his youthful impulses.
In spite of that, he delighted in the fact that they melted into patterns not so long established with ease, and years and distance appeared to have done nothing to compromise their familiarity with each other. It just had to be recovered. And the soft touches went on, now and then a soft stroke was administered to him, or a gentle tug at a dark strand of hair, and for a while they simply sat in the sun, relishing the warmth and each other's closeness. But underneath the peaceful exterior, Elrond felt the tension building and he was unable to quell the fluttering in his midriff.
Soon, they were talking about Erintilion's hunting game again, Elrond's mastering of the king - which, he admitted grinning, had been intentional - and following from that, they debated Elrond's partiality for the longbow.
Gil-galad, lying on his side with his hand tucked under his head, could not see the benefits.
"I know the merit of bow and arrow, the Valar know my life has depended on them more than once, but otherwise I seriously abhor these tools. Too many outside influences. If it comes to elements I was taught by the best, but I prefer to have matters in my own hands."
"So you have tried out?"
"I have learned, long ago. In my view it is a fickle instrument. And it will leave dents in your fingers and crass your hands." He drew his face into a near-pouting expression that was slightly comical, and chuckled.
Then he looked at Elrond, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "The bow has some definite feminine quality, do you not agree? Such a subtle and elegant weapon. It needs precision, skill and much practice, while strength is only secondary. It is lethal, if controlled by the right hands. But if not handled with care, it is prone to burn and sear its master."
"I think the lady Galadriel might not agree to that particular description, for one," Elrond remarked, trying to keep his composure and produce a frown.
"Galadriel presents herself as a proud exception to many rules. That does not weaken the rules, quite the contrary. And in this case, I would even say the rule is apt." The king played with a little white flower he had picked, leisurely pulling out the petals one by one. His face showed angelic innocence.
There had been word from Galadriel, whom Elrond had not yet met, to announce that she and Celeborn would come to consult with the king as soon as he returned, and Elrond caught himself looking forward to that exchange of wits. Galadriel, by all accounts was a formidable lady, but Gil-galad had proved himself well equipped to counter her. Their meeting would be ...interesting, surely.
"'Tis strange then that Oropher's people prefer these instruments, considering their general level of subtlety," Elrond let slip. He was not particularly impressed by what he had seen of the diplomatic skills of that lord when meeting him and had said so, a notion to which Gil-galad silently agreed. "They love their bows as their own."
The king snapped away the remains of the flower and contently watched it fly. "As they do their elf-women."
"Who all handle bows themselves, and certainly pose no different image while doing so."
"But that is hardly an argument against the comparison." There was a trace of a smirk in the king's voice.
"True," Elrond was forced to acknowledge. He smiled.
"It may be well known where my preferences lie," Gil-galad continued. "I prefer swords, and above all, I prefer my spear. Aeglos has never disappointed me." His right hand stroked the slim white spear at his side, and he looked at it lovingly.
Then his eyes slowly slid back to Elrond and came alive. "Maybe you can give me a demonstration of your skills, Elrond," he said slowly, his hand continuing the strokes. His eyes glittered. There was a suggestion in them that Elrond could not fail to notice.
For a moment he stared back boldly and without blinking, and then he broke off their connection to open the clasp at his throat and shrug off his cloak. Standing up, he swirled it around his shoulders and then folded it carefully over his arm.
When he looked back, Gil-galad stood as well, still watching unmoved but intently. Elrond contemplated throwing him the neatly folded package of grey cloth for a second, in the hope of making a crack in his air of untouchable control, but he reconsidered and placed it at a nearby rock. There were other ways. His king was certainly up to something, and he felt giddy with anticipation though he did not know what it was and what it meant.
"You'll have to provide me with a target," Elrond said. "Something interesting..."
"Something daring?"
"Yes."
"Let me see. That squirrels' nest is no challenge to you?" He pointed at a small dark spot in one of the taller trees across the glade, about twenty feet up.
"I would not wish accidentally to hurt a creature for sport."
"It has not been entered for a while. It seems abandoned."
Elrond did not reply, but swiftly pulled out an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, pointed for a second, and let it fly. The height and wind made it necessary to send it off with high speed, and the arrow hit the hole with a loud twang. Vibrating, it stuck halfway.
"No challenge," Gil-galad remarked.
"Another? I wasted an arrow." Elrond turned to him and lifted an eyebrow in question.
"We will retrieve it later. But what about..." the king looked about him, took a few steps and then pointed. "This trunk of wood here?"
Elrond tilted his head to see what he pointed out. "I cannot see it."
"Just behind that rock. But stay, therein lies your challenge."
After spotting the selected trunk, Elrond nodded in acceptance. But instead of staying to watch, Gil-galad strode towards him and placed himself behind Elrond. "I want to see how you do it," he said smoothly.
Elrond did not look back when he took another arrow and nocked it. "I can manage the desired effect if I wish," Elrond commented. "It is considerable and the trouble in this place is the wind." He squinted one eye. "There's a gush in between these large rocks on the right. I will have to wait until it dies down, for it winds its way throughout the glade, and will blow away an arrow as slow as mine needs to be."
He kept still for several long minutes. Gil-galad behind him did not make a sound. Then suddenly he released the arrow, somewhat high up in the air and without much force. In a long curve it flew through the air, spinning, and finally disappearing behind the rocks where the trunk lay. Immediately after it went out of sight and in one flow of movement, he put another on his bow and released again. The second arrow, aimed slightly higher, disappeared too.
"The first strayed. The second I think, hit. I am not certain it bit itself into the trunk and stayed. We will see."
He deliberately kept himself from taking a glance over his shoulder to see a reaction, and maintained an air of decided professionalism when he walked up to the rock and around it. A small cry of triumph, however, he could not resist when he saw the arrow pointing out of the trunk, firmly fixed in the stem of the dead tree. The other lay somewhat further off.
"You did well," the king's voice sounded low and from close behind, startling him for a moment. He had not heard him following so shortly and chided himself. Stay alert, he heard his teacher's cool voice in his head. Enemies do not keep training rosters and show no mercy with those who do. No, and neither did kings, albeit more subtle.
He felt his eyes, the so familiar blue orbs, stinging in his back and he turned, a content but neutral smile on his face. "Any more wishes, my lord?"
Gil-galad, regarding him with lazy amusement while he leaned against the rock, was never one to let an opening go to waste. "Many, my friend. And one more challenge."
He walked back up to their belongings, and picked up his beloved spear. Long strides carried him back to Elrond. "I put my weapon up against yours," he said, his lips curled in a smile.
No longer amused, but attentive and rather *predatory*, Elrond thought. He recognised the expression from long, terse meetings of diplomacy where Gil-galad had to prove his worth as king of a new realm and a doomed kin. Those would be battles of wills, as much as a competition in ability. He braced himself mentally, but was looking forward to the exchange with as much excitement as trepidation.
Gil-galad glanced around the glade, and then positioned himself on a spot nearby. He motioned to a large tree at the other side.
"That will be my target. It is an easy one, I acknowledge, but that is what we need. You have to keep the spear from it. It should not reach the tree. We will do this three times, and then switch."
"I would rather switch after each one," Elrond said casually, not showing his nerves.
Gil-galad's eyebrows shot up. "If you like. It only adds to the excitement. You have the advantage of speed, mass is mine. It is a fair game, is it not?"
"It is." A fair game indeed. Unusual and silly, perhaps, but fair.
As Elrond chose a position to the side, he looked back to see the other weigh the white spear in his hand, then nod when satisfied. Gil-galad stood ready, feet somewhat apart and one in front of the other, loosely holding Aeglos in his right hand. The sun seemed to seek him out, touching his broad form lovingly, and caressing the dark head with soft rays of light. His hair was flowing in the wind. Then he turned his head and flashed a dazzling smile his way.
For a moment, he was the focal centre of the universe in Elrond's eyes.
"Ready?"
Pulling himself quickly out of his reverie, Elrond drew his bow. He estimated the path Gil-galad's weapon would take, but he needed a reference point that might help him. Deciding that targeting close to the tree would give him the best chance at hitting *anything* in mid-air, he chose a point near it and took aim.
"Ready."
He nearly missed the motion of Gil-galad's arm when he threw, so focused was he on his own weapon. Sending the arrow off, he realised immediately it was going to miss spectacularly. This was more difficult than he had expected, he thought when he saw the white stripe travelling to reach its destination.
"We switch now?" Gil-galad asked, turning to meet his eye while walking up to the tree to retrieve his spear. His face was even, and if he felt triumph, he did not show it.
Elrond tried to equal his expression when he nodded and, after picking up his arrow, walked up to the point the king had occupied before. In their passing, the king dropped an eyelid in a quick wink and Elrond groaned inward when he sought his place and took another arrow out of his quiver. He discovered he really did not want to loose this game.
When Gil-galad gestured he was ready, he pulled his bowstring, took aim, and released. A whoosh of air came from his right, and Aeglos hit his arrow, knocking it forcibly out of the air.
"You may need a change of tactics," came a remark from Gil-galad's direction.
"Maybe we should try this moving," Elrond said without looking at him.
"You are daring, love."
The term of endearment did make him turn his head, and he immediately wished he had not.
Obviously at ease, the king was taking in his figure with openly admiring eyes. A smile twitching his lips, he headed for the spot where his spear had hit the ground. Along the way he picked up Elrond's arrow, now snapped in two, and clutching both, he lightly ran back up to him. When he handed it over, his fingers touched Elrond's. A shiver ran down the young elf's spine.
"I believe this is yours," he said, and then brought his face a bit closer to Elrond's ear. "Do not up the stakes when you have not mastered the game yet, young one." A tip under Elrond's chin, and then he was gone again. Elrond stared.
"Second round," Gil-galad called when they had changed places again.
Helped by his previous experience, Elrond had more luck this time. He took a slightly different angle, and his yellow-feathered arrow, while merely touching the end of the spear, now managed to avert its course sufficiently to have it miss the tree by a foot. He clenched his fist and his eyes shot at the king to see his reaction. He was rewarded with a smile.
"Well done."
"Thank you."
Searching for his arrow he felt pride well up in his chest. He had made a lot of progress during the years, and he admitted he had longed for an opportunity to show the king his ability.
The compliment only added to his focus, and, after having nocked another arrow, he shot it with lightning speed and watched it zing the tree uninhibited.
"It seems we are even. Maybe I should accept your proposition and try it moving. In between these three rocks you may go where you please. What do you think?"
"All right." The whole venture was neigh impossible, Elrond knew, but he did not want to admit his bluff. "Ready?"
Gil-galad nodded and, lifting his spear over his shoulder, began to move around on his toes. He had the air of one enjoying himself immensely.
Keeping one eye on the king as the older elf pretended to throw several times, he tried to maintain a certain distance and angle that would give him the opportunity to see both him and the tree. They danced around like this for a while, and then Gil-galad's arm swung backwards and this time, he let go. The arrow flew far and wide, but came nowhere near the spear that marred the tree once more. A tiny pang of disappointment went through Elrond, but when Gil-galad turned to him, he just shrugged.
"That is it for me, then," he said.
"There is still one to go, young one. Your concession is a bit premature. We can still draw."
"But I was not..." Elrond stopped when he saw Gil-galad laughing.
"I know. I seem to remember you hardly ever do. Well, shall we take our places?" Elrond nodded, but then was struck when Gil-galad marched up to him and positioned himself close behind, wickedness painted in the lines of his face.
"Why... You..."
"This seems a fine spot. Please continue."
"But you can never..."
"No?" Gil-galad cocked an eyebrow.
"You can not throw faster than I can shoot," Elrond finally said.
"Hmm... I may go wherever I please. It pleases me here. Do continue."
Without real conviction Elrond began to move, but looked over his shoulder every five seconds, seeing Gil-galad on his tail every time, a smile twitching the large mouth.
What was he up to now? Somehow the whole situation made him feel utterly ridiculous; as if he had been put upon a stage for a charade in front of a whole audience who knew what would happen while he had no clue. He should end this. Because it was the only thing he could do to save his dignity, he raised his bow to shoot.
Then he heard Gil-galad's soft voice in his ear. "I know but one way to a certain defeat," that voice said, and suddenly, something white was swung round him, pressed against his stomach, and he felt himself being pulled back with some violence against a hard body, a hot body, a body that moulded to welcome his. He dropped the arrow, and was drawn closer, even closer, and at last, held tight.
"I caught you," Gil-galad's breath was hot on his cheek. "At last, I caught you."
Elrond was well on his way to leaving Middle-earth behind and joining his father on the ship that traversed the heavens. His mind whirled, reeled, and at last, shut down entirely, while his heartbeat took up the speed of a butterfly's wings. He closed his eyes, floating in the warmth of the embrace of those two strong arms that now locked him into an airtight grip. One arm, then another had slid around his forearms, keeping him in place while still holding Aeglos in front of him. There was no real need for this containment, as he had no intentions of escaping. All the notions of restraint and maturity were swept out of his mind as he found himself where he had longed to be for ages. His bow had fallen on the ground, forgotten.
A deep laugh tickled his ear, and his stomach contracted while long shivers took hold of his body, surfacing at his nerve-ends and enhanced when teeth nipped his ear and lips followed in their wake. Soft, silky hair brushed his temple. He could smell musk and earth, and something else that he did not recognise. The full mixture brought back so many memories his head was spinning.
The nibbles moved until they reached his jaw line, lingered there for a while, then went on. Elrond exhaled slowly, just now realising he had held his breath all the while. He was unsteady on his feet, able to stay up only by the force of the powerful arms that enveloped him in a bear-hug. The wandering lips had now halted on his cheekbone, just below his eyes, and he tried to turn to catch the eye of the other.
"Keep still. I am worshipping you cheeks," Gil-galad murmured.
"Oh..." was all Elrond could bring out.
"They are lovely. So are you."
"You... cheated..."
"Ah yes... Fitting, is it not?"
Elrond at last willed himself to relax into the embrace. He leaned his head to the side to expose his neck, a subconscious invitation to which Gil-galad responded enthusiastically by lowering his head and exploring the curve, now and then administering small bites to the pale flesh. Soft sounds reached Elrond's ear, and it took a while before it dawned on him he was emitting them himself.
It brought him to himself a little. And suddenly a wave of uncontrolled fear engulfed him as a cold flood, containing all his previous doubts, long harboured and too strong to have disappeared completely.
Did he really want this? Did he really want to lose himself so absolutely, without any guarantees, without knowing what it would bring, if there even would be a tomorrow after this? Simply hand over his so recently hard-won self-consciousness, to dive into the unknown head-first?
In the wake of fear followed anger he could not contain, directed at himself for losing his balance so easily and his now proven inability to withstand the attraction; and then equally at Gil-galad for invoking this inconstancy.
His head snapped back up and he stiffened, shaking off the touches. He tried to keep his tone even and not betray the way sense and emotion warred inside him when he said, "Interesting way to decide a match."
Gil-galad lifted his head, immediately arrested by the change of mood he perceived in his squire. His grip remained firm.
"Yes..."
"Is that the way you win a war?" Elrond pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw. The accusation resounded between the rocks in the silence that fell, and he held his breath as Gil-galad stilled behind him.
The thud of something dropping on the floor, and he was quickly spun round until he faced Gil-galad. The king's eyes were clouded over, drinking in the sight of the young elf. Hands moved in circles on his back and then went upwards to slide underneath his dark hair and take his face in between them.
Elrond cast down his eyes, fearing to see the decisive answer to the challenge he had thrown at the king's feet. If this was all the result of fickle passion, if there would be nothing else, he could not stand it.
"Elrond, look at me." Tentatively, Elrond raised his eyes to meet Gil-galad's.
Their gazes met, locked, and held. The intensity in his king's eyes almost took Elrond aback.
"What do you hold me for, young one?" There was no anger in the question, and Elrond's melted away at the tender note he perceived.
"If you believe this to be play in the nature of our previous game, I am sorry. If you believe me to be thoughtlessly toying with your trust and loyalty, I regret that even more. Perhaps I should not have. You are still young and I..." Gil-galad heaved a sigh. Their faces were only a hand width apart and Elrond felt his breath on his skin.
"I may not have a right to lay claim on you like this, and you have every reason to mistrust me after the manner of our parting and all these years of silence. I do not know how to convince you of my good intentions and the last thing I want is to chase you away." His voice had lowered to a whisper, and his words flowed in an urgent stream. "I lay the choice in your hands, Elrond. But just know," the king gripped Elrond's head even tighter, "just know this: I love you. And I missed you. All these years I have longed to get home only to be with you like this again. Like this, and many other ways. Forever. If you want it." He dropped his head in a light kiss, near chaste, and leaned back to look at his squire.
Elrond shut his eyes a moment, and then opened them again, hot tears brimming in the corners. His heart was full to overflowing as all the affirmation he had wanted, he had needed, was given even without him having to ask. The king had made all his questions redundant in one speech.
And he need not think twice about his answer.
"I do. You know I do." His arms slid around Gil-galad's waist, and he pressed his body up to his. He raised his head and his lips sought the hot mouth to punctuate his words, never releasing the king's gaze. "I love you," he whispered against Gil-galad's mouth, inhaling his breath when he sighed. "You are everything to me. I cannot imagine where or what I would be without you. I want forever to begin now."
"Then let it..."
Elrond was not sure what he had expected to happen, but this was not it. Maybe a raging storm or stars shifting, maybe just to receive the answer to all the world's questions or ultimate fulfilment... he had always been a firm romantic, and in his opinion the least the universe could do when he would be united with a lover, was throw a spectacle.
It did not. And he did not care. He decided soon that what he got, tangible and up close, was infinitely better.
There were soft kisses, soon heating up in urgency and need until they grasped the other by the clothes in a frantic search for bare flesh. Elrond's hands slipped underneath the king's tunic, Gil-galad's long digits sought their way into the neckline of Elrond's. Restless arms shifted, a leg was pressed between the other's thighs. Elrond feared he would loose his footing.
Then Gil-galad, in a shuddering breath, stepped back, and released him. Elrond emitted a soft whimper of protest when the arms and legs retreated and left him cold. He stood breathing hard, watching the king's movement with curious intensity when he circled around his squire.
Elrond marvelled when reverent hands started to undress him, each piece of garment being slowly peeled off him, fingers taking off on a sweet voyage over every inch of exposed skin, of taut muscle, of limbs and curves. Standing naked at last, he felt like a sculpture standing on a pedestal, with the artist walking around it, touching here and there, and smoothing over last irregularities in admiration for the creation of his own hands. Neither of them spoke, as if they had silently agreed not to break the perfect stillness that surrounded them and kept them enshrined in their own little world.
Gil-galad came to halt in front of Elrond, a foot away and without touching him. He brought his hands to the fastenings of his own tunic, unclasping them one by one, until it was free to slide of his chest with a simple movement of his shoulders. His boots were discarded with a few economical actions. His eyes never left Elrond's when his hands went down to the cords of his breeches, pulling them until the leather, too, went down to join the steadily growing heap of cloth on the grassy ground. Knives were thrown on top of them, tiara carelessly tossed aside, and the king rose once more, stretching to full length.
A strong emotion gripped Elrond by the throat when he saw him in full glory, oozing strength and masculinity, his love radiating from cerulean eyes that were fixed on him. He swallowed, feeling his knees buckle until all he could do was sink down, and he looked up to see Gil-galad do the same.
Then they reached for each other again. Gil-galad gathered Elrond to him and pulled his body up to his own, one arm around a shoulder and the other around the waist. Incredibly tender, his mouth sought the other, lips touching and tongue delving deep into the soft and moist hollow of Elrond's mouth, caressing the spot where it curved upwards until the young elf emitted a soft moan. He withdrew, then placed a kiss on his brow, on each of his cheeks, on his nose, his temples and eyelids, until the lips finally came to rest on his mouth again.
"You are beautiful," Gil-galad whispered, his lips grazing Elrond's.
"So are you."
"Do not leave me."
"I won't." It was a promise easily made. Nothing in the world could have induced Elrond to leave him at that moment, and he could not imagine anything ever would.
They finally lay down, not letting go of each other, their bodies perfectly aligned when they pressed close, mouths locked and limbs entangled. Rolling around like wrestlers, now Elrond on top, then Gil-galad, they immersed themselves in the powerful sensations that slammed through them and left them both longing to get even closer, to crawl under the skin of the other and never ever be alone again.
At last they quieted down, and began a more gentle exploration. Lying on his back Gil-galad drew Elrond over him. The half-elf hovered over him on hands and knees. Gil-galad took Elrond's hands by the wrists and guided them to secret and sensitive spots the young elf had not previously known of. With silky fingers he caressed him, first hesitant, but gradually more bold; his armpits, his ribcage, his hips just beneath the bone, the back of his knees, the insides of his thighs.
Long, dark tendrils brushed the king's breast and collar, teasing him with feather-light brushes. Lips followed and travelled down to reach for his nipples, and Gil-galad's skin rose on its own accord to offer itself to Elrond's mouth.
Drawing back, Elrond sat up on Gil-galad's legs and looked down. The image of his king lying there, near-black shining hair pooling around his head, pupils dilated in want and glorious body arching up to meet his hands; it took his breath away, and the magic of the moment brought tears close once more. Gil-galad raised a hand in response, and cupped his chin to bring his mouth to his own for a soothing kiss.
"Hush love, it's alright."
"I'm just... it's just..."
"Hush. Don't talk anymore. Close your eyes."
Elrond complied.
"Now feel."
Gil-galad reached up and caught his shoulders, folding him to a broad muscled chest that was slightly damp but silky, then started an intoxicating exploration of his own. His hands were everywhere, lightly at first, barely touching, but soon more fierce and insistent, until Elrond lay gasping and moaning aloud. Long digits slipped in between Elrond's legs drawing them further apart, then upwards until they reached his buttocks, squeezing firmly. Then on again, they travelled upwards to the base of his spine, pressing their hips together.
One by one and with expertise Gil-galad did away with all Elrond's inhibitions, until he was left writhing against him, skin on smooth skin causing delicious friction. Elrond tried to mirror every ministration of Gil-galad in return. Every fibre of their being was now used to give pleasure and striving to receive it. Their breathing came ragged and with short whispered directions they urged each other impatiently to move, shift, go faster, slower, touch here and "Yes, there..."
Their passion flared high. While gentle fingers probed and caressed, Elrond felt himself tumbling down a dark, light-depraved hole until all there was left of the world was comprised of sensations, scents, sounds, taste. It all happened so fast, a whirlwind of new and delicious experiences; and he was unable to stop it, did not know how, did not know if he wished to, could not do anything else but hold on, let himself be taken by the current and try not to drown.
When Gil-galad at last slowly slid his body over Elrond's, slicked by sweat, the young elf's eyes snapped open and his hands gripped the king's shoulders in a silent plea.
"Tell me you want this."
The nearly inaudible request did not immediately register with Elrond. His vision was blurred, and he blinked to clear his eyes, then met the other's gaze with steady conviction.
"I want this. I love you so..."
"Maybe we should not... yet... here..." The king retreated slightly, but Elrond took hold of his head and drew him back against him for an affirming kiss.
"Do not stop now...Not for me...If you want it too."
"I do." Gil-galad's voice had convoluted into a helpless groan. "Oh yes, I do..."
Elrond's starry eyes stayed upturned to the king when he finally slid inside. The intrusion was painful and seared, and he clasped his legs around Gil-galad, biting his lips to fight back the tears threatening to spill. His nails clamped into the muscled back.
Gil-galad, watching him closely and seeing his discomfort, stopped his motions and kept still. He was panting, towering over him on his forearms. "Exhale, love..." he said softly, bringing one hand down to cup his cheek and kiss him.
Elrond released his breath in a shuddering sigh and slowly relaxed. Then Gil-galad started an ancient rhythm, slow, deep, thorough. An earth-shattering pleasure flashed through Elrond; mixing with the pain and taking hold of his body and soul, it encompassed everything he was and thought and tied him to Gil-galad in want for more. Tears slid down his cheeks, again and again, but he did not notice. They moved together in quickly mounting ecstasy, until they finally surrendered, and Elrond closed his eyes in overwhelming bliss...
The wind carried their murmurs and moans away, rocks shielded the lover's bodies from chilling breeze, the sun warmed their heated skin; all of nature laboured together to show its consent and grace their union with a gentle blessing.
"Ah, it is so good to be back," Gil-galad said with a satisfied smile. They were lying together on the mossy soil, drowsing and utterly content. Elrond's head was on Gil-galad's shoulder and one leg and an arm were draped over the king's body, while he floated in a satiated near-sleep. Gil-galad's hand was on his hip, fingers splayed on his skin and rubbing softly.
"What kept you so long?" Elrond murmured. "I was convinced you stayed away on my account, that you had changed your mind and were allowing me time to recover, out of some kind of courtesy."
Gil-galad chuckled. "Do you think me courteous to you?" he asked, shifting a little to nuzzle Elrond's hair, then pressing his lips to it.
Elrond lifted his head to offer his mouth once again, and for some time every speech gave way to long, deep kisses until they broke apart, gasping for air. Elrond laughed breathlessly, his face close to Gil-galad's and his hands buried in the long dark tresses. "No. Nor would I have you be."
"Maybe a bit more courteous than I have been on this day," the king said, with a twinge of regret. "In all my dreams I had not planned for a first time for us on rock-infested soil underneath the naked sky, accompanied by a rushing cold wind and devoid of any comfort of a sort." Gil-galad smiled apologetically.
"I do not care much for the courtesy of silk and embroidery and soft feathered pillows today," Elrond said. "I think I prefer you out of office, with as little as possible to remind me of the tasks that will keep you from me and the formality that will keep me from freely doing this," he pressed his mouth in the nape of Gil-galad's neck and took a soft bite, "or this," his hand trailed along the side of his body, all the way down to his leg, "or this," and he drew the king's calf up around his hip, pressing their thighs together.
Gil-galad rolled over until he lay half on top of Elrond. "Insatiable youth," he mockingly scolded, and kissed him hard. "But I assure you it was duty and not some misdirected courtesy that kept me away." He lifted an eyebrow. "To be frank, I am grateful for it. In some respects it lead me to the decision I have since made." He propped himself up on an elbow, and stroked the side of his squire's face with one hand.
"You know I committed to a lifelong duty, and that I did it out of free will. A crown requires sacrifices, I bring them every day. This is how it is and it is no use pining over. But when I was riding away from Lindon, away from you, I thought hard about those sacrifices."
Gil-galad looked at him earnestly now. "I concluded that I still have a choice in the matter. I choose them myself, my duties and my sacrifices; as they come and when they come. And since I am the one who makes those choices and suffers the consequences first-hand, I think I earn the right to be unorthodox on occasion." His voice rose a little. "I need to trust my own judgement and trust my own heart, even if that means I go against anyone else's - which I do in this case, believe me. But if I do not trust myself I am lost, Elrond, do you understand that?"
Elrond nodded, eyeing him in wonder.
"I am not in the habit of asking for payback," Gil-galad continued, "but I think that life could make this allowance for me; this one thing not duty-bound. Do not mistake me Elrond, I do not resent the task I took up. But I may one day. And if that day comes, this," he placed a kiss on Elrond's brow, "*you*, could be my one connection to sanity."
Elrond did not answer. He did not understand it all, but the sentiment was clear and he imbibed it greedily as it was offered, letting it warm him to the core.
"We do not need to flaunt it, love. But I will not deny my love for you, and neither will I keep us secrecy-cloaked forever." Gil-galad paused, then added quietly, "And if anyone has a problem with that, they can stuff it somewhere dark."
A wicked grin appeared on his face. "After all, I *am* the king."
"You never admitted to your defeat, you know." They made their way back through the woods in high spirits and, for a while yet, without a care in the world. Running around like elflings, their banter rang through the air and filled the woods with merriment.
"I was not defeated. You agreed to your cheating. If I have not beaten you, as by some rules I certainly have, it was at least a draw."
"You did not beat me. You had no chance left. Even if you had hit that poor tree, which was by no means certain, I could not lose. Also, no rule in the book says I am not allowed to grab you."
"You forfeited your victory by not playing fair." Elrond enjoyed his being ahead far too much to give way.
"Pouting is unbecoming of my squire, love."
"I do not...!"
Gil-galad chuckled. "Well, no victory then, but otherwise I like the idea of us being equal. Shall we call it a draw?"
"Hmm..."
Suddenly, Elrond jumped sideways, unceremoniously knocking Gil-galad over by a sly movement of his leg behind the king's knees. Immediately, he was upon him, pushing him on his back and straddling his waist. He grabbed the king's wrists, pulled them over his head and pinned them there.
"Forget spears and arrows," he said, bringing his head down to Gil-galad's. He saw surprise make way for anticipation in the blue eyes when his mouth descended on the king's, and he kissed him thoroughly. "I caught you twice today. I think I deserve some kind of prize in any case." Elrond's eyes were dancing as he looked down at his newfound lover.
Gil-galad threw back his head and laughed aloud. "What monster did I unleash? You have a subtle mind, my love. And once we are back, oh, you will have it! You may not yet be able to beat me, Elrond, but by the Valar, I will always, always grant you *this* victory..."
The End
Notes:
The title is a quote from A Midsummer Nights Dream, full 'Hold, or cut bowstrings!. The exact etymology of the phrase nobody seems to agree on, but 'Cut bowstrings' is generally explained as a command to admit your defeat as a bowman, and I went with that as it seemed to suit the playing lads. On a side note, I believe Tolkien disliked the play, and downright hated its elves. I just liked the phrase.
The poem is part of a cavalier ballad about exiled King Charles II of England, full text here.
The name of Erentilion is derived from Erinti, Vala of music, love and beauty in a very early stage of the Silmarillion. (HoME: The Book of Lost Tales part I)
I took it that Galadriel and Celeborn are still in Harlindon, south of the Lhûn (LOTR, Appendix B). They'll pay Gil-galad a visit before going over the mountains.
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