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Flawed and Fair	By : tehta Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 946 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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-----

Finwe's Grandchild

-----

Turgon was a wise lord. He knew much about his subjects and their amusements,
and he would, with foresight and compassion, make a point of keeping a decanter
of pure Gondolin water in his study on certain mornings.

"Please, do have some more."

As Ecthelion accepted the full glass, he could not help feeling as if he were
repaying open-hearted kindness with a subtle lie. He knew he was only
confirming Turgon in the belief that his pained appearance was a result of
wholesome, if over-enthusiastic, revelry. In reality, of course, Ecthelion was
tormented by the memory of last night's temptation. However, he could never
confess this to his lord, whose opinions on the matter of such debaucheries
were widely known. Egalmoth still spoke of the music-hall incident of a year
ago, when Turgon had thrown a harpist out of the room for singing a suggestive
song about Turgon's brother Fingon, his cousin Maedhros, and their dueling
swords.

But today Turgon was all gentleness, his speech soft as he offered Ecthelion
advice.

"Be wary," he said. "For although Morgoth is besieged up North,
there are many other perils in this land."

Ecthelion knew this already, but he also knew that it was Turgon's great love
for his younger sister, whom he considered 'a shy, white woodland flower,' that
made him so overprotective. Ecthelion, in turn, loved his lord -- blessedly, in
a pure way, uncomplicated by unnatural desires. And so he had accepted the
position in Aredhel's escort, in spite of all his misgivings. Soon, he would be
spending all his time talking to Glorfindel, eating with Glorfindel, sleeping
with Glorfindel... it was difficult not to dwell on the possibilities. Still,
somehow, Ecthelion mustered his fading will-power. He listened to the repetitive
warnings, and nodded sympathetically.

---

An hour or so later, Ecthelion walked out onto the palace courtyard. The place
was full of the usual foppish courtiers, absent-minded scholars, and harassed
pages. However, one striking figure stood out among the common rabble.

Glorfindel looked quite well for someone who had, only twelve hours earlier,
found walking unsupported so difficult. Only the lightest shadows under his
eyes betrayed him.

"Well met, Ecthelion," he said.

Here it came: the mutually embarrassing show of misplaced gratitude. Ecthelion
braced himself. "Well met, Glorfindel. I suppose you have heard that I
will be joining Aredhel's escort? I am told that Salgant could not bear to be
away from his family for so long."

"Yes, it is a hard thing to be separated from those you care for,"
said Glorfindel.

Ecthelion was irritated by the diplomacy of that statement; any other guardsman
would have pointed out that Salgant, a man who spent all his off-duty hours in
the officers' drinking hall was, presumably, quite used to not seeing his
family.

Glorfindel, meanwhile, went on. "Yes, I had heard the good news; and I
came here to congratulate you and also to, well... thank you for your
assistance."

"Please do not mention it." Ecthelion meant every word.

"But I must. My state was inexcusable. I really want you to know that I do
not normally drink anywhere near that much. It is just that everyone wanted to
drink a toast to my departure, and--"

"That is understandable. You have many friends." Ecthelion really
wanted this exchange to end. Still, there was something more that needed to be
said, and, as uncomfortable as it made him feel, he knew that he was the only
one who could say it. "You might want to be more careful in the future,
though. You were barely conscious. What if you had fallen prey to a...
practical joke?"

"Oh, that seems very unlikely. I was not so far gone that I would have
accepted any assistance from Salgant. Even when drunk, I am still myself."
Glorfindel's voice carried such utter certainty that Ecthelion felt almost
convinced. He longed to be certain: to know that he could not really have
fallen, that, if he had tried to fall, Glorfindel would have helped him by
throwing him down the stairs.

"I suppose you were fairly in character," he said absentmindedly.
"You have always been naturally affectionate."

"Affectionate?" Glorfindel paled. "Merciful Manwe. Ecthelion, I
am so sorry. I thought... What did I do?"

"You rubbed my shoulder."

"Ah. Your shoulder. I think I remember that. Good. And, really, it was
only natural, seeing as I had been hanging off it all the way home."
Glorfindel, red-faced now, forced a laugh. "But I fell asleep immediately
afterwards, right?"

"I do not know. I left... What do you mean, you 'think you remember that?'
You just said you were not all that far gone."

After a brief venture into his natural skin tones, Glorfindel was red again; he
seemed to be turning into one of those flashing lamps the Palace put out on
holidays. "I was not. I do remember the... shoulder incident. I just
thought it was part of a dream. Truly, I can remember everything. Falling down
the stairs. And the key." Glorfindel touched his hip. Ecthelion hoped he
was recalling some bruise sustained in the fall and not the trauma of the key
search. "Getting into bed, and... undressing... which is, again, only
natural. It is healthy to sleep in the nude."

"Why, certainly it is." Ecthelion could just picture it. The dark
green sheets, and Glorfindel upon them. Knowing it was horribly cliche, he
thought of shafts of sunlight in a murky wood. At that thought, the green
sheets turned to moss, a surface they might both be sleeping on in a few days.
Ecthelion was getting increasingly worried about the logistics of this trip.

"Except, perhaps, while on a mission such as ours," he said. "We
would not want to frighten the lady."

"Frighten Aredhel?" Glorfindel looked doubtful. "You do not know
her very well, do you?"

"No," said Ecthelion. But of course Glorfindel did. Had not Egalmoth
implied that there was something between them? How else could Glorfindel have
known her attitudes towards nudity?

"You will." Glorfindel sighed loudly, exactly as a wistful lover
might.

---

They rode out of Gondolin the following morning, under the envious eyes of a
cheering crowd. No doubt they made a splendid sight, clad in their fine mail
and flowing cloaks: Ecthelion in silver, Aredhel in white, Glorfindel in green
and gold, and Egalmoth in an outfit Ecthelion could not bring himself to
contemplate. The trip through the valley passed without incident. Aredhel
seemed giddy, delighted both with the journey itself and with her companions.
Ecthelion discovered that he was expected to sing, just as Egalmoth was
expected to discuss the finer points of archery and gossip, and Glorfindel --
to amuse the lady by being teased. About his hair, his clothes, the length of
his sword; about anything, including the invariable cheerful politeness with
which he deflected all comments. Ecthelion himself would have considered this
torture rather than flirtation, but then, he was not Aredhel's admirer.

Once they were outside the Encircling Mountains, the mood changed. Aredhel rode
out ahead and turned to face her escort, her back soldier-straight, her face
imperious.

"Now that this journey begins in earnest," she said, "I want to
make a few things clear. First of all, the purpose of my tripto vto visit my
cousin Celegorm in Himland. I would prefer to have your company, but it is not
vital. Secondly, as long as we travel together, I am in charge. It is only
right, as I am Finwe's grandchild. And, thirdly, I expect all three of you to
answer to the name Huan. I have always wanted a faithful servant called Huan,
and I cannot be bothered with all these Sindarin names."

The first two statements had not been unexpected, but the third... "My
lady, you may be Finwe's grandchild, but we are your escort, not your
servants--"

"Ecthelion, no," Glorfindel whispered.

How could he defend, even admire, such an infuriating woman? Ecthelion, at any
rate, would not fall for her wiles. "And you certainly do not have the
right to rename us on a whim. I intend to answer to 'Ecthelion', or 'Ehtelion'
if you really insist, or even 'Hey you!' in an emergency. But definitely not to
Huan."

Aredhel smiled. "Oh, very well. I will forget the renaming business. But I
am glad the rest has all been settled." She rode off a short distance.
"Are you three not coming, then? Never mind. Finwe's grandchild needs no
escort."

They followed, of course. They owed it to Turgon.

---

They made camp just before sunset. Ecthelion built a fire, and his friends
joined him beside it. Aredhel stood some distance away, practicing her archery
skills on a dead tree.

"Truly, I am glad to be on this journey," said Egalmoth. "It has
long been my life's ambition to visit every Elven realm in Beleriand."

"That is rather ironic," said Ecthelion, "considering that you
live in a sealed-off city."

"Many of life's ambitions are tinged with irony. Do you have a life's
ambition, Ecthelion?"

Ecthelion quickly rejected the first idea that popped into his head, the one
about Glorfindel, the forest stream, and the shampoo. Not only was it not an
actual ambition as such, but it was utterly shameful. Striving to focus on
virtue, he sought a more noble suggestion. "Yes. My life's ambition is to
defend the innocent. In Gondolin, or anywhere."

"That is possibly the least interesting ambition I have ever heard
of," said Egalmoth. "And not even a bit ironic. Ecthelion, you may be
righteous, but you are also very boring."

Even without looking, Ecthelion knew that Glorfindel was scrutinizing him
thoughtfully. He braced himself, waiting for the inevitable compassionate
words.

"I think," said Glorfindel, "that Ecthelion--"

"Please do not say that it was my childhood. I mean, I know I spent a
large part of it living in Alqualonde, and... " Ecthelion could still
recall the sickening shock of arriving at the city after it had been sacked by
the Feanorions. His lord's allies. He remembered looking for the music school
and finding only a dark outline filled with twisted shapes. "Fine,
Glorfindel, you win. I admit that the kinslaying might have upset me on some
level. Happy now?"

Glorfindel looked far less smug than he had expected. "Well, no, of course
not. I think--"

"I think we all have mixed feelings about the Feanorions," said
Egalmoth. "However, seeing as we are on our way to visit one, perhaps this
is not the best time to explore them."

"I could not agree more," said Ecthelion.

"Good. In that case, let us discuss your ambitions, Glorfindel. And your
heritage. You are part Vanyarin, are you not? Plenty of ironic possibilities
there, I think. Do you want to go back to Valinor?"

"No, of course not. As long as there are dark forces afoot in Middle-earth,
my place is here. But if you want to know my non-boring ambition, it is to
somehow convince one of the Eagles to take me up into the sky."

This was exactly why Ecthelion had to hate Glorfindel: because he could say
something noble, and mean it, and then, suddenly, laugh and lightly answer a
bizarre question. It was fortunate that they slept on opposite sides of the
campfire, and that nobody seemed in the mood to explore the health benefits of
nudity. Still, Ecthelion spent far too much of his watch staring over the fire
and realizing that clothes were no impediment to one gifted with a perfect
memory -- although the reflection of the flames on naked skin might have made
for an interesting effect. He knew such thoughts were wrong, but they were the
only way to keep his mind off Aredhel and all that flirtatious teasing. He
envied the sleeping Glorfindel his serenity.

---

The following day, when they reached the fork in the road, Aredhel turned south
without a moment's hesitation. Her escort followed, and soon all four were
riding among the trees of Doriath. Ecthelion felt happy to be in a proper
forest again, even if the sunlight shining through the branches reminded him of
a certain inappropriate fantasy. Or perhaps bee ofe of this, for the others seemed
slightly uneasy.

"There is something strange about this place," said Glorfindel.

"Well, we are definitely being watched," said Egalmoth. "But I
am not sure how strange that is. We are crossing a border, after all."

Not being a skilled hunter, Ecthelion could not detect any watchers; he was,
however, aware of the forest's enchantment, and he did feel that there might be
something unusual about it, something that was due to more than the familiar
magic of nature. This impression was confirmed when the trees thinned, and they
found themselves back at the spot where they had first entered the woods.

Aredhel said nog. Sg. She simply turned around, and waited for the others to do
the same before heading back inside.

The next time it happened, she growled and doubled back without waiting.

It was on the third attempt that they finally met the border guards. As they
rounded an ancient oak, they found their path barred by two heavily-armed
Sindar. Their armour was leather, their faces grim. The dark-haired one carried
the largest bow Ecthelion had ever seen, while the pale-haired one held an
interesting longspear.

"Hail, Noldor," the bowman said. "Please, tell us why you
persist in trying to enter our forest."

Aredhel rode forward. "I am Aredhel, daughter of High King Fingolfin,
grandchild of--"

"I know who you are," the spearman said. "We have met before.
Although I expect I was below the notice of such a high Noldorin lady."

From her high seat on her horse, Aredhel studied him as if inspecting the trail
of a strange animal. "Ah. I believe you came to my father's council,"
she said at last. Judging from her expression, she had just decided the animal
was below the notice of a serious huntress. "Now, will you show us the
path that leads to the eastern edge of these woods?"

"Why would you want to go there?"

"I wish to visit my cousin Celegorm."

The spearman took a step back. "The Feanorion! Curse him and his
kin." He spat upon the ground. The bowman followed his lead; and a
rain-like sound coming from the trees suggested that they concealed many more
warriors, all of whom shared the anti-Feanorian sentiment.

The bowman toyed with his quiver. "These woods are not open to the friends
of the sons of Feanor." Again, he spat after saying the hated name. This
time, Ecthelion tried to count the sounds made by the concealed Sindar,
arriving at two dozen.

"In fact," the spearman said, "they are closed to all
Noldor." He replanted his spear.

Aredhel rode forward a bit further, ignoring the implicit threats. "Yet I
am quite certain that my cousins Ingoldo and Artanis have traveled through
these woods."

"Certain, perhaps, but mistaken," the spearman said. "None have
entered our realm bearing such hideous Noldorin names."

"Mablung," said the bowman thoughtfully. "I think she means that
man who is always asking strange questions, and who loses so gracefully when we
play cards. And that sister of his with the stare, the one who always wins.
They have some Noldorin blood, I believe."

"Oh, them," said Mablung. "Well, they are relatives of our King.
These travelers clearly are not."

"Ecthelion is part Telerin," said Egalmoth.

"Ecthelion? The one with the spear?" Mablung looked at said spear in
a most insolent way, obviously all too aware that his own weapon was both larger
and scarier. "He looks like a typical Noldo. And even if he does have
Telerin blood... how would that help your case? I could never trust a Teler
who, of his own free will, wished to visit one of Feanor's kinslaying, um...
kin."

The spitting that followed seemed more profuse than before, but Ecthelion would
not be intimidated. "I travel as I do in the service of my lord, Lord
Turgon."

"Lord Turgon?" the bowman asked. "Is he the one who rescued the
Feanorian leader?"

"No, he is the one with the hidden city," said Mablung after the
usual Feanorian-inspired spitting was over. He was still staring at Ecthelion.
"Tell me, Noldo, is your city near here?"

Ecthelion felt annoyed. And reasonably confident that he could take down this
judgmental, over-inquisitive tree-dweller, no matter how their spears compared.

"We cannot speak of this." Glorfindel edged forward on Ecthelion's
right. "We must protect our city, just as you protect your realm. I am
sure you understand. After all, we are warriors with a common cause. Are we not
all simply obeying the commands of our lords? And, since it is your king's law
that keeps us out of this forest, might we not at least petition him in person?
Our errand is... urgent."

Listening to him speak, Ecthelion felt strangely proud: of his composed beauty,
of his reasonable words, even of that slight hesitation on 'urgent' that
revealed his honest nature. For a moment, he thought the speech would work. The
spearman smiled.

"Perhaps. If you agree to give up all your weapons, travel blindfolded,
and then pay homage to King Thingol as king of all Beleriand."

"As king of--" Aredhel's horse danced and backed away. "Come,
men, we are wasting our time here."

Glorfindel persisted in his diplomatic efforts. "If you will not let us
through, will you at least tell us if there is another way?"

The Sindar exchanged glances. Then, the bowman spoke. "Your path must lead
around Doriath, to the north or to the south, but the northern road, the one
leading through the Nan Dungortheb and the Fords of Aros, will be faster.
Though perilous."

"To you Sindar, perhaps. We Noldor laugh at peril," said Aredhel.

The spearman jiggled his spear again. "Do you also laugh at orcs and giant
spiders?"

"Speak not of giant spiders to a grandchild of Finwe, Dark Elf!" said
Aredhel. "Long have I despised their smaller brethren, and killed them on
sight, ruining many a fine slipper and scroll. Filling them with my arrows will
be both a solemn duty and a great pleasure. Indeed, now that you have spoken of
them, I am impatient for our first encounter."

For once, Ecthelion sympathized with her. He sought Mablung's eye again,
warrior to warrior. "It is quite true," he said. "We Noldor like
killing large spiders."

Mablung's expression was only half-mocking. "Well, give it a try then.
But..." he appeared to struggle with himself. "...do not drink any of
the water that comes off the mountains. It is poisonous. Stick to the edge of
the forest; you will find sweet water there."

He would say nothing more. Ecthelion gave him a nod before departing.

---
>
A>
As they rode out of the woods, Aredhel refused to talk about her travel plans.
"The trees may have Sindarin ears," she said.

r esr escort trailed behind her, discussing the matter in low voices.

"I would not mind shooting a giant spider or two," said Egalmoth.
"Do you think they twitch much, when they die?"

"It would be interesting to find out," said Glorfindel. "And, of
course, it would make a fine story, once we are back in the city."

Ecthelion hoped that his friends would not think him a coward for saying what
needed to be said.

"You are right, spider-slaying sounds most amusing," he began.
"And yet... Nan Dungortheb: The Valley Of Dreadful Death. If I recall
correctly, it lies just south of the Mountains of Terror, and, of course, just
north of a forest inhabited by some Sindar who do not seem to like us very
much. Is this really the sort of place where we would want to take our lord's
only sister?"

"I was wondering who among us would have the courage to bring that
up," said Glorfindel. "Of course, now I am wondering who will have
the courage to bring it up with the lady."

It was Egalmoth who took up the challenge, once they reached the edge of the
wood. "My lady!" he said. "As those Sindar said, the road
through Nan Dungortheb is perilous--"

Aredhel threw him a furious glance. "You are either a coward, or a fool,
if you doubt my courage."

Ecthelion could think of nothing to say to that; but Glorfindel rode forward.

"My lady, we value your courage highly. It is just that you travel under
our protection."

Aredhel turned around. "I did not ask for protection, but for an honour
guard. If you think me weak, then you are blinded by my gender."

"No, my lady, I do not think you weak. Your prowess with the bow is often
discussed among the men of the Guard. However, the risk--"

"I do not ask you to risk your lives for me."

"No. But you will risk your own, just to travel to Himland."
Glorfindel spoke gently. "Will you not, at least, discuss the
matter?"

"Oh, very well."

The two of them dismounted and began a debate. As far as Ecthelion could tell,
it was immediately going round in the expected circles.

"I suppose," said Egalmoth, "thaorfiorfindel will do his best,
even if the odds are not good. Let us set up camp."

elioelion took charge of the horses. When he next looked over towards Aredhel,
she was sitting on a fallen log, and talking earnestly. Glorfindel was seated
close beside her. Ecthelion felt strangely pained, for they did make a fine
couple, a pleasingly contrasting one. He touched his own dark hair, decided
that he was a perfect idiot, and turned away.

He had only just started the campfire when Egalmoth joined him, carrying a
small handful of wood.

t;Pot;Poor Glorfindel," he said. "I accidentally overheard a bit. They
were discussing the effects a long separation might have on the heart. I had
only just heard Celegorm's name mentioned when Aredhel spotted me and told me
to stop skulking in the bushes."

Poor Glorfindel indeed, since soon he might be separated from Aredhel, with
whom he was speaking of love. Ecthelion could not decide whether to pity
Glorfindel, or himself. Or, indeed, Celegorm, if he really was the object of
Aredhel's affections.

Glorfindel certainly looked rather pitiable as he assumed his usual spot by the
fire.

"The Valley Of Dreadful Death it is," he said.

Egalmoth wasted no time. "So, what did Finwe's grandchild say about
Finwe's other grandchild? Celegorm, I mean?"

&;Why;Why not ask her yourself?" While Glorfindel's answer was diplomatic,
his tone was less so. Ecthelion winced at this slip, an obvious sign of pain.

"Of course," said Egalmoth, "We all know what they say about
half-cousins in our ruling family. Has either of you heard Salgant's latest
song about Fingon and Maedhros?"

Ecthelion had not, but then, he did not want to. Or rather, he wanted to, quite
badly, but he really did not need to. He would have to distract Egalmoth, and
quickly. Perhaps he could...

"I have not," said Glorfindel. He seemed eager for a change of
subject. "What sort of song is it?"

"Oh, a hilarious one. It is titled 'Where Is His Other Hand?'"

Ecthelion had expected something more... erotic. But this was a mockery: of
Maedhros' disability, certainly, but, even worse, of his own innermost desires.
"But that is obscene," he said. "Hideous."

"It is rather a strange song, yes. I cannot remember it exactly, but in
the first verse--"

"Egalmoth, I do not want to hear this."

"Do you truly think it so hideous?" Glorfindel was looking at
Ecthelion intently. "Why do you judge it so harshly? Desire is not always
given where one chooses, it is not always wise."

Yes, Glorfindel was ever the defender of difficult people. But even he would
not be speaking with such sympathy if he had any inkling of just how unwise
desire could be. The temptation to simply slide over there and show him was not
particularly strong, but it was there. Ecthelion turned away from the bright
gaze and looked into bright flames.

But Glorfindel would not give up. "Indeed, unwise desire is rather common.
Just think of all the men you know who long for an unavailable woman."

Ecthelion understood then: this was no idle sympathy. This was about Aredhel,
who loved her cousin, and so was not available to other men. He stared
unblinking into the fire until his eyes watered.

But now Egalmoth was speaking again, eager. "You believe that it is true
about Fingon, then?"

"I do not know," said Glorfindel. "It is none of our business,
surely."

"I doubt it," said Egalmoth. "They both seem rather competent.
Surely such an... unusual passion would affect their ability to perform their
duties?"

"No, I cannot believe that," said Glorfindel. "Two people who
are both of valiant, honourable heart, who feel for each other -- surely such
people will strive all the harder, so as not to shame themselves in one
another's eyes. Hone their battle skills and their honour together. Inspire
each other to deeds of surpassing courage and greatness."

His voice had grown richer and deeper as he spoke. Now he shone: eyes, hair,
skin, all were shining with the strength of his belief. Ecthelion shifted,
painfully roused by this sudden evidence of passion. He thought of Aredhel who
was, surely, valiant -- and, even more surely, foolish to reject someone so
irritatingly glorious.

"Even when the situation is impossible, when desire is not
returned..." Glorfindel smiled a little sadly. "Even then, something
good can, I think, come of it. That inspiration will still be there, even if it
is only one-sided."

How could he torment himself so over someone so unworthy? Ecthelion wanted to
do Glorfindel violence. Throw him on the ground, weigh him down so he could not
breathe. Shut him up. He knew his anger was an ugly emotion, but he could not
hold it back.

"That certainly sounds like a useful sort of bond," he said, "if
it will, um, 'inspire' that Feanorion to ever greater deeds. Because, of
course, we all kwhatwhat his other hand will most likely be doing. Killing a
Teler."

Glorfindel flinched slightly. Egalmoth raised his eyebrows.

"That was a bit abrupt, not to mention over-wrought," he said.
"But it does seem appropriate. You should ask Salgant to put it in the
song."

"I see what you mean, Ecthelion -- I was not thinking." Glorfindel
had recovered from his shocked silence. Now he hesitated, briefly. "Is
that you you thought it hideous and obscene?"

Ecthelion considered saying that it was, objectively, hideous and obscene and
wrong, but the hypocrisy of that statement gave him pause. It was a difficult
moment. Relief came from a very unexpected source.

"Come quickly!" Aredhel stepped into the firelight. Her smile was so
joyous that, for a moment, even Ecthelion could see that she was beautiful.
"And bring your weapons. There are orcs out in the valley."

-----

---

-

---

-----

Author's notes:

0. In case anyone out there does not know this, Maedhros and Fingon are
arguably the slashiest elf couple in all of Tolkien's works. I can recommend
some amazing angsty Maedhros/Fingon stories.

1. The name thing: back in Valinor, the Noldor spoke Quenya and had Quenya
names. In Middle-Earth, they took on new, Sindarin names, and started to speak
Sindarin, in part to appease the irritated Sindar. So "Ehtelion" is
supposed to be Ecthelion's Quenya name. Oh, and Huan was Celegorm's magical
dog.

2. Among the Elves, cooking is more commonly done by men. Women usually bake
the bread, though.

3. Regarding my heroes' heritage: in canon, both Ecthelion and Glorfindel are
described as Noldor. However, Ecthelion's affinities for water and music just
scream 'some Telerin blood' to me. And there has to be some explanation for
Glorfindel's yellow hair. (All the blond Noldor we know of have some Vanyarin
blood.)

4. Ingoldo and Artanis are the Quenya names of Finrod and Galadriel. Aredhel
uses them because she is feeling increasingly Noldorin and snooty.

5. The name "Ecthelion" can (possibly) be derived from the Sindarin
word "Ecthel", meaning point of a spear. That is how Mablung picks
Ecthelion out: he is the only one a s a spear.

6. Glorfindel's little outburst is based (very loosely) on the immensely slashy
speech of Phaedrus in Plato's Symposium. Sample thereof:

"And if there were only some way of contriving that a state or an army
should be made up of lovers and their loves, they would be the very best
governors of their own city, abstaining from all dishonour, and emulating one
another in ho; an; and when fighting at each other's side, although a mere
handful, they would overcome the world."
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