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As our bloods separate
As our bloods separate the clock resumes,
I hear the wind again as our hearts quieten.
We were a ring: the clock ticked around us
For that time and the wind was deflected.
The clock pecks everything to the bone.
The wind enters through the broken eyes
Of houses and through their wide mouths
And scatters the ashes from the hearth.
Sleep. Do not let go my hand.
~David Constantine
On the hills of Nevrast, F.A. 114
Ecthelion lay in the low light, afraid to move. He couldn’t believe how fast his heart raced, even now, in the quietude of the aftermath. His feet were bars of ice, but his body throbbed, covered with a thin sheet of sweat. Words and images galloped through his mind. It felt like the shock of battle. It was hard to cling to any thought except that, whatever the price, it was worth it to be lying here in Glorfindel’s arms, even if for just this once.
He didn’t know the etiquette. He wanted to speak, to say words of love. Not ‘I love you’ – that was too soon, too trite, unspecific… What other words could describe the tourbillion of colour and sound in his heart? It felt as if the stone that had lived there had been suddenly overturned and transmuted into clouds of setting suns over blue.
Could he move his arm and hold Glorfindel even closer? Could he kiss the crook of Glorfindel’s neck, and then his cheek, and his lips? Could his hand draw circles on the smooth, warm skin, could it trail down to reawaken Glorfindel’s desire? Glorfindel surely read minds and hearts, for he responded to these unspoken questions with a ticklish chuckle and a few slow kisses, his hand gently covering Ecthelion’s and guiding it down.
Once could never be enough, and if this night would have no reprise, Ecthelion needed more, to store up bittersweet memories and dreams of what could have been. But Glorfindel did not seem troubled at all. He sighed raggedly, kissed Ecthelion deeply and gently pressed him back and down on the bed, lying on top of him.
In the half light, the blue of Glofindel’s eyes turned to almost black, the colour of the Linaewen just after dusk. Those eyes bore into him – tender, curious, demanding – making it hard for him to breathe, even.
“What…?” Ecthelion ventured, unsure how to even phrase a question.
“Nothing.” Glorfindel’s smile was barely visible, obscured by his hair as he lowered his head, his lips hovering over Ecthelion’s. “I just want to feel you under me, all of your skin pressed to mine.”
They remained silent, gazing into each other’s eyes until Glorfindel deeply kissed Ecthelion and once again their bodies merged, limbs entwined, mouths hungry, hands clasping.
“Take whatever you want of me,” Ecthelion murmured. “Just don’t stop.”
The night was long. No footsteps were heard outside their tent, no whispers of hunters, only frogs and crickets, belting their desire into the night, the calls of owls, and once, the low growl of a mountain lion in heat. They were alone in the universe. They slumbered, woke, loved each other again and again, even when the fire turned to embers and the wet cold set in. Ecthelion knew that with dawn explanations were to come, but he soon forgot whatever questions he had.
The sun was high when he woke with a start. Glorfindel’s eyes were closed but his mouth was curled in a smile.
“I can hear your thoughts, you know,” he said, his eyes still closed. “And your worries are starting to bubble again. You’re quite adept at worrying.”
Ecthelion wondered if Glorfindel meant it literally. It would not be the first time that Glorfindel seemed to perfectly guess another’s mind.
“Is it true, what they say?” Ecthelion asked.
“That Lalwen is a witch and her son has magical abilities?” Glorfindel chuckled and turned to face Ecthelion. “Yes and no. I wish I was as well versed in such arts as my cousins Finrod and Artanis, but I am not sure if they should be called magic.”
“But did you read my thoughts?”
“That would be invading your privacy, and I would never do it even if I had such an ability. But I do feel, sometimes very strongly, what other people are feeling, in a way that it almost seems as if their thoughts are materializing before me.”
Echtelion drew a stray lock of Glorfindel’s hair out of his face. “Is this alright?”
Glorfindel smiled. “Yes. More than alright. But I knew you would ask that.”
“How?”
“Because, despite the friendship that has grown between us ever since we met on the way down to Nevrast from Hithlum, you’re always in some way guarded.”
“Well…” Ecthelion sighed. It felt harder to be brave here in the cocoon of the tent than out on the wide battlefield with a sword in hand. “It’s… it’s military rank, it’s social standing, and most of all, it’s the desire that I was quite sure was unrequited.”
“You ought to know better, Ecthelion,” Glorfindel chided. “There is no difference between us in what matters – compassion, courage, commitment… And, despite my maternal bloodline, my father was a commoner just like your own. I am on no pedestal.”
Ecthelion nodded. “And what of the laws and customs… what are we doing? Starting something that might risk everything or spending one single night…?”
Glorfindel inhaled deeply. “I don’t think a single night is what you want. And it’s certainly not what I want.” He sat up and put on his shirt. “I want forever,” he said, turning to Ecthelion. “I want to follow Turgon into his hidden valley with you by my side and I want to build paradise there, for the two of us and for everyone else. I want to dine together every night and tell you about my day and hear about yours. I want to recline on my bed and drift into slumber as you compose something.”
Ecthelion rose and cupped Glorfindel’s cheek with his hand. “I want that too.”
Glorfindel beamed. “So, let’s go! Time is wasting and soon the patrols will be down by the lake, waiting for us, for the drill to start.
Ecthelion dressed quickly and they dismantled their camp quietly and efficiently, as they had done many other times. There was much to talk about still, but Ecthelion could put off that need, could hold off the rush of violent happiness that consumed him, could keep the need to touch Glorfindel’s hand in check, for he felt, as they walked side by side, that an invisible, insoluble tie linked their flesh and spirit together.
The day was long but not hard to bear. There was joy in everything. At night, after discussing with their captains the successes of the day and the steps for the round of exercises expected the next day, Glorfindel dismissed them and as they left the command tent he, quite unabashedly, asked Ecthelion to accompany him to his tent to discuss private matters.
It was nothing out of the ordinary – every man in their companies knew that they were close friends as well as two of the commanders that worked best together. Still, Ecthelion now felt a shadow of apprehension.
Glorfindel smiled once they were alone, as he served Ecthelion a cordial. “Your worries are almost cute. These men love us. Even if some would reproach us, they would never harm us.”
Ecthelion shook his head. He thought Glorfindel might be too much of an optimist but he wanted to believe him.
“I heard you all day long, you know,” Glorfindel said, sitting by Echtelion’s side. “There was a sweet, little waltz that I quite liked, an old march, a few chords that could be a ballad and, over and under it all, that song Maglor wrote for his wife that made all of Tirion go mad. I thought you would be too young to remember that.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t read thoughts precisely,” Ecthelion said, surprised, “And I am quite sure I did not even so much as hum today.”
Glorfindel chuckled and leaned in, almost kissing Ecthelion, “My darling… darling. I don’t know… I think it’s not so much me hearing inside your head as it is the music flowing out of you, even if you do now play it. Did you see how everyone around you seemed more lively today?”
Ecthelion huffed. “I think you are imagining things.”
“I think not… music is your gift, what you have in your soul to give, to heal others. Even when we were in Hithlum and had not met properly, I could already hear you.”
“You noticed me in Hithlum?”
“Of course.”
Ecthelion closed the gap between their lips. The soft peck multiplied into a myriad of tiny kisses that grew in boldness. After a moment, they drew apart.
“We can’t,” Ecthelion said. “Not here, not now.”
Glorfindel agreed with a reluctant nod, but took Ecthelion’s hand and placed it over his hardness. “See how much I desire you?” he asked. “I thought you wanted me too, but I feared you would never…”
“It’s the same for me. I thought it was a dream of impossibility… and now this… and music inside me again. It was you who brought it back.”
Glorfindel lowered his eyes and his smile vanished. “I know you were almost completely silent for a long time, after the…”
“The death of my father and sister, yes. I stopped feeling the music. Didn’t feel much at all, actually.”
Glorfindel wrapped his arms around him. “I know,” he simply said, stroking Ecthelion’s hair. “I know.”
Eventually Ecthelion drew away and said, “I need to go,” and chastely kissed Glorfindel’s lips.
But instead of moving away, they kissed again and again.
“Nobody will come. We can keep quiet,” Glorfindel proposed.
Ecthelion bit his lip. “Do not tempt me so. I am aching for you.”
“You’re burning into me, your skin burns like Anor at midday,” Glorfindel whispered, kissing him on the cheek, trailing off to the neck. “I can feel every note you sing to yourself under my skin, your heartbeat running underneath.”
“I can feel you too,” Ecthelion said. “I felt you all day long, my body pulling toward yours, my eyes filled with you… Leaving your side now is excruciating.”
They held each other tightly for a long while, letting the desire subside, the breaths quieten.
“We will have time,” Glorfindel said.
“When?”
“In two days’ time we will head back to Nevrast, as planned, leaving the men to execute the rest of the drill. You’ll dine at my place, as you have so often. Maiwen will do the dishes and go to her home and we’ll be left alone. Nothing will be different from what we have done on so many other nights, as friends, no one will raise an eyebrow. And you will be in my arms for as long as we want.”
“We need to talk about Turgon’s plan and what it means for us.”
“We will.” Glorfindel kissed Ecthelion. “Rest your worries. We will be fine.”
Ecthelion rose and kissed Glorfindel once more, before leaving for the night.
The next day, however, things did not go as planned. The objective of the drill was to get the men to perform find-and-rescue missions in the wilderness, with limited means. Glorfindel and Ecthelion, as well as a few other captains of their companies, had gone ahead and left tracks and hints for the scouts and, at a few chosen places, a dummy, which was to be retrieved in a stretcher. This exercise was a part of a wider plan that included improvement of logistics, development of military engineering, – including the construction of temporary bridges and other infrastructure as well as their total dismantling, without leaving traces – among many other things.
At first, Turgon confided only to his sister and daughter the plan that he had brewed, and later he had gradually involved other people, including the commanders of his companies, such as Glorfindel and Ecthelion. At this stage, the commanders already knew that Turgon planned to move the whole population of Vinyamar and eventually the wider Nevrast region to a secret location that had been revealed to him by Ulmo. There were some parts of the preparations that could no longer be held secret: the masons of the city had disappeared to an uncertain destination, with a promise to their families that they would be reunited. Other trades had been called to service as well. The farmers had been given a calendar for preparing their stocks for transportation. The military had increasingly complex exercises that went far beyond the normal training for warfare.
Parts of the preparations had become obvious to the public, and Glorfindel was aware that rumours ran through Nevrast with wild speculation about them, and he and Ecthelion had even heard here and there correct guesses. Not everyone was happy, not among the Noldor, who were not prone to blind obedience, and not among the Sindar, who had lived in Nevrast for far longer than Turgon and wished to have a say in their own future. However, news from the outside was increasingly dark and many feared that the remoteness and insularity of the cozy alcove within the mountains that was Nevrast would not forever protect it from the enemy.
In this climate of uncertainty, Turgon’s captains discussed among themselves the new system of social and political organization that Turgon proposed, designed to entice them to accept his plan with the promise of more autonomy and agency. The idea of creating houses, giving the more prominent commanders and nobles a chance to organize those around them as they saw best and to manage the economic activities with more freedom, seemed too good to be true in some aspects. Still, Ecthelion had often pointed out that in many ways it was just the perpetuation of the ruling system, only more atomized. He, who had been born with no connections, saw the common man’s perspective and guessed that for many, trading their homes in Nevrast for a place with unknown conditions and a new social order that offered nothing new but the perspective of more security and less freedom, would not be enticing in any measure.
Glorfindel and Ecthelion had long worked on proposals to improve the Law of the Houses, so as to ensure that the lord of each house would not become a small tyrant. The governance system could be something closer to what the Sindar had before the coming of the Noldor to Nevrast, where there were many matters for which common council was required.
Ecthelion seemed particularly enamored of the Sindar’s notions and Glorfindel had often debated with him the implications of a system of lords and houses where there was such wide berth for personal expression and action. Glorfindel was in his tent, going over their latest draft, which still did not take into account most of Turgon’s objections to the last, when the bell sounded. At first, he thought it was the call for lunch but quickly the chiming told him that something had happened.
He ran out to the command tent, hoping to find news there. Ecthelion was there, receiving news from one of his soldiers, Ninai. She belonged to one of the mixed groups created with people from both Glorfindel’s and Ecthelion’s companies, and had come down from the site that Glorfindel and Ecthelion had set up the night before. It was on a rocky hillside, with not much space to move, and they had left the dummy at the bottom of a rock face to be rescued by the team.
Ninai reported that one of Ecthelion’s soldiers had volunteered to descend first, but had slipped, fractured an ankle, and hit his head. The other two soldiers in the group were presently trying to lift him from the platform but he was incoherent and kept hindering their efforts, putting everyone in danger.
It was one of the closest drill sites and Glorfindel and Ecthelion ran over to help, leaving Glorfindel’s Second in command of the camp.
When they arrived, Aerandir, one of the soldiers who had stayed behind, curtly said, “It’s the Fëanorian, sir. Hit his head and is ready to go to Mandos and take us all with him.”
Ecthelion seethed. “We will have words about this Aerandir, but right now we have a job to do.”
As he harnessed himself for the descentthe aid of Glorfindel, Ecthelion added, “Findegil’s father was with Fëanor but married a Sinda and chose to live with us. Findegil is not to blame for his parentage or for being young and inexperienced in the military.” As he started descending, he added, “And let us never forget that whatever crazed deeds Fëanor might have committed, he was also the best of us in many things, courage not the least.”
Aerendir lowered his head but did not assent or apologize. Glorfindel held the rope tight and kept an eye on Ecthelion’s descent, but he could feel the anger blinding his lover’s thoughts. He feared that a second accident would ensue. He tried to recall the little, happy waltz that Ecthelion liked, holding that thought as if it were a calming prayer. Artanis and Finrod would have no trouble sending calming thoughts and feelings to another, but he had never really committed to learning the art, and now he regretted it.
As Ecthelion reached the platform, he went out of sight. Glorfindel could hear their voices, Findegil babbling incoherently and Ecthelion trying to calm him with soft words, and now and then Glorfindel glimpsed an arm or some other movement. After a while, he saw Ecthelion kneeling by Findegil’s side. Ecthelion started humming the little waltz, like a lullaby, and after a few repetitions, Findegil finally calmed down enough to have his head and his ankle bandaged.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Ecthelion said. He seemed to have forgotten about Aerandir and Glorfindel was relieved to sense that he was calm and focused. Ecthelion tied Findegil to himself and tugged at the rope. Glorfindel could see that it would be a risky climb – it was not very high, but they were two people and if Findegil started thrashing again they could be seriously hurt.
Glofindel took a deep breath and ordered his thoughts before speaking. “Aerandir, regardless of the words exchanged just before, can you see, for a moment, just this young, injured elf, and this other elf who has been your friend and captain for many years?”
Aerandir pursed his lips and nodded affirmatively. “I will help, sir. I may not like certain things but I know we’re all in this together and I would never fail commander Ecthelion… or a fellow comrade in arms.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Glorfindel and Aerandir started pulling the rope. There was no space for anyone else to pull and no way for Ecthelion to help. Ninai stood watch, a few paces back, alerting them of the difficult points coming ahead. It did not take long for them to be safe on the cliff, and then they were making their way down the mountainside.
When they arrived at the camp, tired and bedraggled, Findegil was carried to the healer’s tent and the rest were given food and water. All the other groups were back with success stories to tell. Glorfindel and Ecthelion exchanged glances, as they heard the stories and discussed the various issues raised and suggestions the soldiers made.
After the meeting dispersed, Glorfindel accompanied Ecthelion to his tent.
“That thing with Aerandir…” he started.
“Yes. Not the first time,” Ecthelion replied. “He’s a good man, but can have a hard head…”
“Turgon’s people, our people are quite varied in their origins and customs. Do you see it as a problem to come?”
“I see it going either way. It could also be the stuff that is needed to build a stronger union between all of us, when we embrace and integrate the differences into a new thing all our own.”
“It’s taking its time.” Glorfindel stopped at the entrance of Ecthelion’s tent. “You must be exhausted. I saw what you did there with the music. I told you it was your gift, your way of moulding the world.”
“It was strange. I was so angry at Aerandir but as I went down I could almost hear your voice singing it in my head. A little out of tune…” Ecthelion smiled, teasing, as he held Glorfindel’s arm.
“I did sing it,” Glorfindel said. They exchanged a glance full of meaning, feeling a deeper understanding course through them.
“I will leave now,” Glorfindel said. “You need your rest.”
“I need you.”
“Tomorrow, my home.”
Ecthelion nodded. “Tomorrow.”
Vinyamar, F.A. 116
People can change the world, if only a little at a time. This Glorfindel had always believed, as he grew up, raised by a wild Noldorin princess, single mother to a child born out of wedlock with perhaps the only free-spirited Vanya who ever lived . Glorfindel barely remembered his father, but his mother had kept his memory alive as she lived all the adventures she saw fit and dragged him and his cousin Gildor through the wilderness of Aman and later Beleriand, on voyages in her role as ambassadress or just for her own enjoyment and curiosity.
He had learned with her all that one needed to survive on his own, but he had also learned that solitude was a last resort. People need people, and accepting help, even asking for it, is not a concession to feebleness but rather a call to connection.
He had not asked for help or counsel in what he was about to do, though, not even from Ecthelion, and that was to risk exile and disgrace in one single move. Turgon was family, but he was king first and foremost, and not one known to give much in the way of concessions without much pressure and discussion.
Glorfindel asked for a private audience, but when he arrived at his cousin’s halls, he found him waiting with Idril and Aredhel by his side. It was no surprise and it did not stop him in his purpose.
“King Turgon,” Glorfindel greeted formally, bending his knee to the floor.
“Such formality, Lord Glorfindel of the Golden Flower… We were raised together, almost of an age…”
“Today I come to tell you something, to ask something of you that I suspect will shock and disappoint you, and I do not wish to invoke family, friendship, or affection as any sort of coin to barter with.”
“Then please do tell,” Turgon said, moving uneasily in his throne.
“I came to tell you that I love a man.” Glorfindel waited but Turgon did not move the smallest muscle in his face.
“I have always known this about myself. The law forbids it, and I was able to bear it while I was alone. But my heart is full now. I have fulfilled my duties and prepared everything that was in my hands to help you succeed in your plan. But I cannot, in good conscience, follow you and continue living as I have, sheltering in half-truths and deceit.”
“Who is this person?” Aredhel asked.
“I will not tell, cousin, forgive me.”
Idril placed her hand on her father’s shoulder as she exchanged a glance with her aunt.
“Father, no one has a purer heart or has done more than Glorfindel,” Idril said.
“I do not invoke that,” Glorfindel said. “If I were to ask anything, it would not be an exception for myself, but maybe the recognition that love comes in many forms and the law can change, if hearts find ways of accepting that we are not all equal but all have the right to give our hearts freely instead of living lies.”
“Bold words,” Turgon said. “But we, the Noldor, are known for being bold. I need to think.”
Glorfindel bowed.
“At your service.”
He left the halls and wandered through the city for a few hours, avoiding the places where he usually met his friends. He walked along the shore for a long time. He would miss the sea, if Turgon accepted his request… or he would be stranded alone on these shores, until he could figure out what he wanted to do and where he could go, or he could be punished in the traditional way.
It was night when he arrived home. Maiwen told him that Ecthelion had left a note and that a messenger from the king was waiting in the kitchen. The boy rose when he walked in and bowed. “King Turgon wishes to see you at once.”
Glorfindel followed him, acutely aware of the cold sweat on his palms, the sea spray in his hair, and of his gelid feet. Not the finest condition in which to receive a sentence of any sort, but whatever it may be, it would be swift. Turgon was not cruel in that way.
“Cousin,” Turgon said, as he entered the hall.
Glorfindel bowed in silence. Aredhel came to his side and held his hand.
“Like you said, laws can change. It is not an easy decision but time is against us, seeing that we leave in two weeks.”
Glorfindel felt Aredhel’s warm hand squeezing his and hoped it was a good sign, although it felt more like the comfort you would offer the condemned.
“I will not ask you of your personal business any more than I have ever asked my brother about his,” Turgon continued.
Glorfindel swallowed dry.
“The law and sanctions will be discreetly erased from the codes. The rest is up to you.”
A sudden rush of relief coursed through Glorfindel’s body, reaching his eyes with a warm stinging. Aredhel pulled him into a hug.
“He wasn’t hard to convince,” she whispered. “Idril helped.”
Glorfindel nodded, his face hidden in her hair. “It’s Ecth…” she started asking.
Glorfindel stepped back, nodding as he smiled gratefully.
“Thank you, my king,” he said, bowing to his knee. “I am sure that this decision will bring relief and joy to many hearts.”
Turgon nodded gravely. “I fear to anger the Valar but we are here, left alone save for the Lord Ulmo… We need to take counsel from our own hearts.”
Glorfindel thanked him and bowed one last time before leaving. He had not told Ecthelion of his plan and now he wanted nothing more than to be in his arms and share the news, even if he knew his lover would chide him for taking the risk alone.
Home was waiting, in Ecthelion’s arms.
Finis
February, 2023