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True Bow (Cuthenin)	By : fremmet Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 9634 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
- 8
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Cuthenin (True-Bow)

by F.E.Morton

unbeta'd

italics = thoughts

(elvish translation)

Disclaimer: just borrowing, the characters and settings are Tolkien's,
the words here are mine. No money earned.

Summary: A look at what might happen if Legolas was just known as a
messenger and not as Thranduil's son. The setting is just before the
Council of Elrond. Features Glorfindel/Legolas pairing.

Note: I have been given such wonderful reviews from everyone and so I thank you all! I am going to catch up the other site to match this one during the holiday, so everyone's generous and insightful comments will at last be answered. Here is another chapter. The first paragraph is a poem I wrote and I hope that does not bother anyone. There is a quick glimpse into Legolas' childhood here and a new Guardian is chosen.

Galdor takes his job seriously and so he is trying to help Legolas through the transition, that is why he 'slips him a mickey' so to speak. That is also why heasks such specific questions; he does not know Legolas well and needs to learn quickly. He is not going to do anything to harm Legolas; others shall work on that goal.

Remember in this story that Legolas is both very young and has been raised in a closed, highly conservative culture. If he seems not to know much about how to go about engaging in a physical act of love with another male, that is not so surprising. In American culture, still very oppressive in may ways, a young person feeling the stirring of sexual yearning is often forced to attempt to learn these things covertly. Think of your own youth and the misinformation that surrounded such a touchy subject as sexuality.

For someone interested in the same gender, it is far worse, for sometimes they cannot even openly question friends for fear of being shunned, or revealed and punished. In Legolas' case, the additional stigma of his parents not being bonded adds to the fear of garnering greater shame.

Next chapter, Glorfindel undergoes a similar inquisition by the ancient Sadron to determine his fitness to become Cuthenin's soul-keeper, and the death ritual is detailed.

Nedrui Peth: Teith na Tûr ar Tegi (Part Nine: Marks to Guard and Guide)

The fire whispers softly a song of warmth and light,

and amid the coals bright tongues dancing mesmerise my sombre soul.

Shifting shades of amber and ochre, lulling tones in gentle timbre,

yield visions of summer's favoured hours under sounds recalling autumn's showers.

Entranced, the spirit spies naught but this final burst of red and orange gloze,

remembering dew, unnumbered drops of air's breath coating leaf and limb,

feeling earth between the tangled strands of rooted toes

and the surge of sap through timber in the spring.

Bark creaking and stretching in the stormy wind, reduced to radiant embers,

gives voice to the last stanzas of the fallen tree's chorus,

I sing a subdued, sullen note of long dark nights before us

and the sleep of endless pale Decembers.

A shiver and a deep sigh worked through Legolas' body where he sat upon the hearth staring intently into the undulating gleam of translucent flame, his thoughts drifting there within the curling currents of swirling heat and fire. Absorbed in the last gift of the maple, he received the fragments of consciousness freed from the tree's dry dead branches by the consuming blaze even as his weary body soaked up the effulgent warmth. He spared a swift glance into Galdor's face and found the mild brown eyes observing him just as studiously but with far greater concentration and something akin to appreciation.

"That is both sad and beautiful," said the elder elf and smiled at the young archer's expression of confusion and surprise. "Aye, you sang the tree's last lament just now. Did you not know?" He could see this was so and Legolas' quick shake of the head confirmed it.

"I do not recall singing," Legolas was uncomfortably doubtful and worried for such a thing to happen. He was not wont to lose himself in song or any other form of contemplation, and failing to remark his own voice was not something that had ever occurred before.

"Do not be overly concerned; it is not so unusual to act strangely at such times. Your bond with the woods is strong and other bonds have been violently severed. The feä reaches for what comfort it may find under such strain; yours found the remnant essence of this tree."

"Mayhap it is the drink," murmured the messenger, swallowing down the rest of the concoction in two eager gulps. He held out the cup. "Is there more of it?"

"There is, yet you have nothing solid in your stomach to dilute it." Galdor considered carefully the downcast disappointment on Cuthenin's features, then took the cup and arose with a nod. "I suppose it can do no harm as long as I watch over you."

"I am not a child," the belligerent words got out before Legolas could quite comprehend it and his eyes grew huge as his ears figured out what his tongue had just uttered. "Ai, Sadron! I did not mean to be disrespectful, forgive me!"

But Galdor was smiling, pleased that the tonic was working well enough to remove some of the Wood Elf's inhibitions. There could be none between them; Legolas must trust him completely. "Be at ease, I understand the source of those thoughts and thus you are free to voice them. You are free to speak anything your heart needs to reveal." He returned with a second, somewhat smaller serving of the doctored miruvor and sat beside Legolas.

Legolas accepted the drink but not the elder's suggestion. He cold not do as Galdor said, how could he? I do not even know this elf. I cannot bear my heart to him. Yet somehow he must if he would allow the noble Sadron to become his Tirn'wador. And why am I so eager for a replacement? I do not need a Tirn'wador.

Instantly his mind called forth a vivid memory, a time when he was young and rebellious, envious of the elves his age who had no Watcher to whom they must answer. Arms crossed before him and a deep scowl marring his features, eyes fierce and bright, he had uttered the same sentence to Calarlim.

'I do not need a Guardian. Henceforth, you may be my Naneth Edwen but nothing more. Tûovor (Strength Abundant - Thranduil's first born) and Tûrdangannen (Mastery Confirmed - Thranduil's second born) do not have Guardians.'

'That is true but then again both of them have bond-mates and families now, do they not? When you are so bound, you will not need Tirn'wathel then.' Calarlim answered with calm reason, fighting her smile at the sight of her contentious son, for in her heart Legolas was nothing less. How she mourned the passing of his elfling days while rejoicing in the youth's development as this new spirit of independence sought to grow and emerge.

'True.' This reluctant capitulation was followed by a short silence as Legolas sought a counter argument. 'Yet they did not have Tirn'wedyr (Guardians) ever, for they are not marked with the signs of Pâd-en-Tawar. They are whole and strong and Hiren Adar is proud of them, yet never had they any Guardian to interfere in their actions,' he reiterated emphatically, certain such logic was indisputable.

'You are correct, your brothers are not bŷr (followers). Nothing can be done about this, for it is not the way in your father's House. However, each of them had other minders through their young years; ask and they will tell you. And those minders were simply paid to serve the King's wife-mate, not devoted and bound to his children by holy rites and sacred oaths. In fact, many governors and tutors came and went within your father's household, for few elves could abide for long the constant uproar following your two brothers' every move.'

'But Tirn'wathel, this year I shall celebrate my thirty-fifth begetting day! (equal to about age 10) That is too old to have you following after me always. The others mock me for bringing along my nurse-maid to the training field!'

'Very well, mayhap your thirty-fifth year deserves some recognition. Yet with the privilege of freedom comes the responsibility,' Calarlim decided to compromise, hastening to temper her son's joyous response so that he would hear her words completely. 'My trust in you is absolute and I expect it never to be broken, even as you know with surety that I will never betray yours. Such is the pact between us.

'You may go unattended to your weapons practice and to lessons with the scholars, yet you shall return to me at the appointed time before you make other plans for your remaining hours. You will not be late for Eneg Egleriad. (Six Praises - a cycle of contemplation and prayer for followers of Pâd-en-Tawar) Now will the strength of your convictions be tested, for if you believe the other elves will cease teasing you because I am not present, you are soon to be disillusioned.'

She had been right, of course. Without her at his back, his contemporaries had felt free to say things he had never heard before. The first day on his own he had been returned to her in disgrace for starting a brawl over the insults and slurs aimed at his deceased mother and his status in the community. Prior to that day, he had not known it was shameful to be created as his parents had made him, for no one would speak such words with Calarlim the fearsome protector ever armed and by his side.

By the end of the week, he had realised how much he relied upon his Guardian and wished he could resume the custom by which she was always beside him, a shield against hurts he had not imagined, even as she had predicted. There was no going back, however, and as the years brought him closer to maturity, he was even more grateful for her dedicated vigilance and unfailing support. He had come to feel as an alien in his own lands, an outsider amid his people, and but for her aid he would not have both accepted and mastered his nature. Without her, the internal sense of exclusion would have bloomed into reality.

There was a similarity in his present situation. He truly was in a foreign land among folk split between those who could not fully understand him even did they wish friendship and those openly scornful and derisive. He needed someone to guide him through the events about to transpire and provide a bulwark against the mounting sorrow and impending disgrace. Even more, he required a mentor to teach him how to navigate among these new customs and the unexpected invitation he seemed to sense regarding expression of his darkest needs. He had many questions and a Guardian would be bound to answer them.

Yet the trust between them was not one-sided. As Tirn'wador, Galdor would defend Legolas even unto death, counsel him, console him in time of need, and most importantly act as a chaperone during courting. Tirnwador would have the final say in whether or not a match was favoured; even an elf's parents could not gainsay the Guardian's decision.

In return Legolas must reveal his inner heart or chance nullifying his Tirn'wador's efforts. There could be no holding back, no farce or pretence of allegiance; he must either grant to Lord Galdor the same place held in his life by Calarlim or forego the entire procedure and struggle on alone.

"It is not so easy, is it?" Galdor guessed the turmoil in his companion's thoughts and their source. "Just saying it is the will of Tawar does not make the situation more endurable. Worry not; once Úcaul Annaur (Unburdening by Fire) is completed you will find this less taxing, for Calarlim does not wish you to suffer and hopes for this transition to ease your spirit. For now, the marking will be a beginning for you. As soon as the first puncture is made, you will feel her protection ebb even as the red dye seeps into your skin, even as my thoughts penetrate yours."

Legolas shuddered again, hastily downed the rest of the drugged liqueur, and set the glass aside. "I am ready," he said for the second time and perhaps, due in part to the miruvor's effects, this declaration was more truthful than the first. He began to unfasten the closures to his borrowed tunic and slipped it over his head. As he worked on the shirt he watched Sadron remove and ready the devices required to ink the new marks and modify the old ones.

The piercing tool was a simple and efficient design carved from oak wood consisting of a slender handled stylus elegantly adorned with engraved blessings and potent prayers. The end of the handle was fitted with a tight array of three fine needles sharp and gleaming a bright white silver as if cast from mithril, which they were. Legolas had not seen any piercing quill composed from metal, and such a precious one at that. In Greenwood, the puncturing implement was generally a bone splinter, a shard of jasper, or the thorns from acacia trees. Calarlim had favoured thorns, for there was an ever-ready supply of fresh, unblunted points to harvest.

A set of brushes with thick soft boar bristles, similar to those used in painting a canvas, a vial of rust-coloured liquid and one of sooty indigo, and a container of clear liquid used to cleanse the skin and implements before and during the work. To make a design, the brush was soaked in pigment and held between the fingers of one hand, which also pressed and held the skin taut. The needled end of the piercing tool was then dabbed into the saturated bristles and jabbed repeatedly into the dermis with the other hand.

Galdor set out everything neatly on the stone hearth and waited as Legolas removed his shirt.

Cuthenin did so and then held his arms out, fists curled tight and up-facing, for the elder elf's inspection.

Galdor took one rigid knot of folded digits and carefully massaged the throbbing vein at the arm's juncture, murmuring a prayer for peace of mind and strength of will, until the archer relaxed and the hand opened. Setting this one down upon Legolas' knee, he repeated the procedure with its twin until both arms were loose and pliant to his manipulation. Only then did Sadron allow himself to trace the long lines of text up from the crease at the wrist to the the joint of the elbow. Not stopping there, he also ran his index finger lightly around the spiral over the archer's heart. He smiled, finding Calarlim's name in no less than three of the prayers, on each arm and within the delicate spiral.

The place of the Guardian is still one of high prestige, then.

All of those signs relating to her would now be altered. On Cuthenin's arms, her name would be struck through with a livid slash of vibrant crimson to signify her loss by violent death. A new line of text would then be inked in blue, proclaiming Galdor's place as Tirn'wador and Legolas' acceptance of the change.

The heart-spiral was more difficult to alter, for the symmetry of the design must be preserved. Not only the prayers were important but the image itself represented a powerful emblem of protection. This mark was the first begun on an initiate's body and its centre was inked on the twelfth day after birth. Thereafter, it was added to every year, embellished as the child grew, through the fifth year. From thence to the fiftieth year, the spiral was increased every sixth year and then never again until bonding occurred. The marks given then would be the last ever added to the heart-spiral.

Barring a tragedy such as Legolas has experienced.

Calarlim's name could not simply be crossed out, but would have to be outlined in red instead, a much more painstaking procedure, before the elder could add his name. Galdor decided the best way to achieve both goals was to create a sort of trailing back whorl on each of the three arms, so that there would be an inner and outer spiral, one interlaced within the other, one growing from and superseding the other, yet perpetually linked in an endless loop.

But Galdor was not through with his observations and lifted questioning eyes to Legolas. A bright smile and a swift move to bring all the golden hair to the front was his answer and the Noldo turned his new charge slightly to better view the exquisite work on the archer's back.

"Remarkable," he whispered. "Who did the design for you?"

"Calarlim."

"Of course, I should have realised." The elder's fingers trailed along one outspread wing and he heard Legolas whisper the prayer contained within the feathers as he touched them. This design, absolutely unique to Legolas, would have also been gradually built over his lifetime, with the small points of the constellation and a single feathered prayer inked on the first begetting day anniversary. The full image could not be finished until growth was complete and traditionally this was an event that happened on Coll o Gweth (Coming of Age) in the fiftieth year.

Galdor let his touch fall upon the delicate spray of vines and flowers and here his attention froze. This was a design he had seen before and his brows rose in surprise, wondering if the meaning was still the same.

"Tirn'wathel protected me," said Legolas quietly, knowing where his new Guardian's eyes were focused. "Will you do the same?"

"I will, if it is within my power. Legolas, you have said there is no one to stand as your Faer Hebron (Soul Keeper), yet this mark is reserved for an elf betrothed. Such a design was surely chosen by your intended mate. Tell me, where is this elf?" Galdor turned from his scrutiny of the vivid rendering and sought Cuthenin's eyes.

But Legolas kept his face averted, staring again into the flames, and licked his lips, trying to ready them for the work of speaking something that had only been voiced aloud by Calarlim before.

"There was no one. It was all a ruse. Calarlim took me on a visit to her cousins in the northern regions of the Greenwood in my forty-third year, for Hiren Adar expressed concern that I had not sought permission to court anyone for bonding. He supposed there was no one of interest to me close to home and suggested we travel among the various parts of the Greenwood that I might meet other eligible ellyth (female elves) of my age. Calarlim told me he really believed none among the folk near the stronghold would countenance my troth because of the stigma cast upon me as the product of illicit union.
"We stayed a good while in my mother's country, nearly the whole year. When we returned, Calarlim put it forth that I was betrothed to a warrior maiden from that region and marked me thus. Hiren Adar was pleased and professed the desire to meet my intended and her kin. Tirn'wathel had to delay the event three times, using excuses of all sorts. Another year later, word reached the fortress that the elleth had perished in a skirmish with spiders. In truth, this maiden never existed at all."

"Why would your Tirn'wathel do this? Would your father have attempted to force a match for you to someone you could not abide, beyond your country's borders, for political reasons perhaps?"

"Nay, Hiren Adar said I might bond with any elleth in Greenwood that my heart would wish, whatever her House or rank. I am not of high enough station to provide a strategic alliance, even if Hiren Adar wished for an external allegiance of that nature, which he does not. My two brothers fulfil the duty of cementing internal coalitions of strength and are bonded to ellyth from two of the most powerful among the Greenwood's noble Houses, ones that trace back to Neldoreth and Doriath in Beleriand."

"Then what is it?"

"I would never knowingly shame my family in any way. Yet if I seek a mate such that my heart truly desires, then I could not help but do so, for I long for that which is anathema among our culture."

"Ah, this is regrettable," Galdor sighed, for he realised what Legolas was trying to tell him. "Your interest does not include females, and customs scorn a bond between same-sex mates?"

"More than scorn, such is forbidden in my country. If anyone finds out, my father's House will be held up to ridicule. Thranduil's efficacy as a ruler will be questioned because he would present as weak for producing such an aberration within our people. Indeed, the fact of my existence, even lacking any immoral tendency, is enough reason for some detractors' aims. He would lose the respect of the most loyal among the leaders of the other Houses in the realm.

"Some would say it is a perversion introduced by the Sindarin bloodlines, a weakness to be purged. My brothers and their offspring would be scrutinised for any example of the detested behaviour. I have three great nephews who have not reached Coll o Gweth and they would come under the taint of my…preference. Finally, I would be judged and banished from my home, never to see my family again this side of the Sundering Sea."

All of this poured out from Legolas in a bitter stream of hurt and anguish, for while he dreaded anyone learning the truth, he felt wronged. Why must he be forced to display a false front for the rest of his life, ever denied a true bond-mate and the fulfilment such a union would bring?

"Ai, can it become more complicated, young one?" Galdor wrapped an arm around the bare shoulders and pulled the youth close, sickened in his soul to hear this tale.

In Gondolin, and now in Imladris and Mithlond, tolerance was a given and the choice for one's bonding-mate was not a cause for being ostracised from the community, much less banished from the country entirely. Lorien was more conservative, with same-sex pairings frowned upon but not prohibited by law or custom. The Greenwood's mores seemed too unforgiving and he wondered why this should be so, for the Pâd-en-Tawar did not list any restrictions regarding courting and bonding one way or the other.

"The little farce prevented all of these things. Additionally, I have been exempted from further attempts at seeking a mate on the pretext that my heart is broken and I am barely fighting off fading," Legolas continued morosely.

"So you preserve the family honour at the sacrifice of your own well-being. I deem it accurate to say that grief has been your companion even before the recent loss of your dear friends, though your intended never died. It is the same, to be sundered by death and to be held apart by rigourous laws too strict to endure. The soul cannot abide alone if it longs for union with another, and to force such a division is severely detrimental. We must remedy this, Legolas, or you will indeed be in danger of fading."

"There is nothing to be done; the laws will not be changed to accommodate me."

"We shall see. For now, let me proceed with the marking and then we will continue the discussion. I need time to think. We will begin." So saying Galdor took up the piercing stylus and Legolas' left arm.

Into the red ink the brush dipped and drank deeply, emerging full and swollen with the blood coloured die. Galdor swept the needles through the bristles and stabed the points down into the sign for Calarlim's name.

"Boe Leitho hene in dangen uin gwist pain." (It is necessary to release she who is slain from all oaths.) Sadron intoned.

"Sin endaith úhêb Calarlim sí." (These marks will not keep Calarlim here.) Legolas responded steadily, determined to be strong throughout the procedure in honour of his Naneth Edwen. "Eru, edra Mandos na Tirn'wathelen vell." (Eru, open Mandos to my dear Guardian.)

Thus, the Noldo Lord set to work and with skill and precision made the changes necessary on the Wood Elf's body. Each time the needle was dipped into the ink and pushed beneath the silvan's skin, the two stated the same simple sentences. When each mark of her name was overprinted in the red dye, Galdor began to ink the oath of his guardianship.

Because the artistic script was delicate and detailed, this required several hours and annûn was approaching before the application was completed. He had thus been provided ample time to consider what action might be taken to circumvent the Greenwood's taboo, yet no reasonable option had as yet revealed itself. Galdor gave a final inspection to the heart-spiral and sighed lightly.

"It is done. You are under my care until the day you are bound in soul-union to your life-mate," he declared.

"I shall heed your counsel in all matters, Tirn'wador," Legolas gave the proper response with a heavy heart.

Sadron had spoken truly, at the first puncture he had felt Calarlim's presence departing and it hurt more than he had expected, for this pain of the soul had taken root in his spirit upon her death and he had thought it terrible enough before. Listlessly he reached for his shirt but Galdor stayed his hand.

"Will you not even look upon my handiwork?" he queried gently and stood, pulling Legolas to his feet as well. A hand on either shoulder, Galdor half-pushed, half-led the archer to the bedroom where a long silvered glass was fixed within a carved wooden stand braced upon the floor.

"Oh!" Legolas could not help the exclamation of surprise for he had never seen a mirror so large, nor viewed his full body thus from an exterior perspective. Tentatively he lifted his hand to trace out the new additions on the heart-spiral, where the bright red outline forever highlighted that which he had lost.

"See, Calarlim will always remain close to your heart, no matter the distance death has forced upon you," said Galdor and met the tear bright eyes in the mirror with an encouraging smile.

Legolas tried to smile back and gave a brief nod, but dropped his eyes as he fought to contain another surge of sorrow.

"Go and dress while I put away the tools and straighten up the room," instructed Galdor and with another quick nod Legolas hurried back to the hearth.

The flames were nothing more than shimmering spots of incandescent orange among the white fluff of ashes and broken chunks of black charcoal, but the last bits of the tree continued to give off heat. Legolas gratefully sat upon the fire-warmed stone and lifted his shirt, dressing quickly as Galdor put everything away. A soft chime repeated three times and drifted through the house, making Legolas look up in curiosity to see if Tirn'wador would explain.

"Tea time is thus announced," chuckled Galdor.

"Ah, I have promised to take tea with Sam and Frodo and their kinsmen. How shall I find them? I never thought to ask where they would like to meet," Legolas felt a bit foolish upon realising this.

"We shall go together, for I will not release you from my side until we have discussed your troubles further. Also, I promised a strengthening ritual for the council tomorrow and we must plan for Úcaul Annaur," answered the elder elf.

"As you say, Tirn'wador," Legolas rose and followed him from the room.

They found the Hobbits in their private chambers, a huge apartment meant to accommodate a family with children along and thus had an extra bedroom and a larger sitting room. If the small folk were surprised or disgruntled to have an uninvited guest they did not show it, warmly welcoming Galdor, whom Legolas introduced as his Guardian. Meeting Merry and Pippin was a joy and the two soon had Legolas' thoughts diverted from his sorrows as they told a series of rather embarrassing stories concerning Frodo's antics while growing up. That prompted Sam and Frodo to retaliate in kind, and before the end of the simple repast the Wood Elf was close to tears again but this time from laughter rather than woe.

For his part, Galdor was glad to see his new ward lighter in spirit and partaking, albeit sparingly, of sustenance again. They stayed with the Hobbits for two hours and then returned to the noble Lord's suite.

At once Legolas moved to the sofa and took up the warm cloak still draped over the seat, wrapping it tight about him as he curled up against the ample cushions.

"Still cold?" Galdor asked and did not wait for the answering nod before going to the fireplace and stirring up the embers. In minutes he had the blaze renewed and added sufficient fuel to maintain the fire for some time. That done he prepared another of the miruvor mixtures and presented it to Legolas. "Drink and we shall speak of Glorfindel."

Legolas physically jumped at the abrupt introduction of this topic and nearly spilled the glass as he took it, feeling his ears grow warm with Tirn'wador's eyes upon him. He simultaneously yearned and dreaded to explore the subject of the Balrog Slayer. He took a deep draught and steeled himself to meet Galdor's kindly, expectant gaze.

"As you say, Tirn'wador." Legolas had never been so grateful for the set and proper phrases before this night. And for this tonic. This being the third portion of it in a relatively short time, the woodland messenger felt its effects begin almost immediately.

"He is a worthy suitor." Galdor began as he sat beside the archer.

"He cannot be my suitor nor can I become his; he is male."

"A technicality only applicable in Greenwood. Here in Imladris, and my home in Mithlond, that is an irrelevant factor."

"Yet I live in Greenwood."

"Glorfindel lives here."

"There, even without the law's strictures against it the match is doomed."

"I do not see why. You have already said you are not expected to provide any sort of official duty of state in Greenwood. Could you not spend much of your time away from the trees?"

"Nay! I am needed; every archer is vitally important. I could never abandon my trees, my people. You cannot know what it is like; the Shadow tries to rob Greenwood of its very soul while the Orcs from Dol Guldur seek to eliminate every elf in the forest. Shall I go away when such trials accost my country?"

"Then the match itself is not undesirable to you, only the estrangement from your home holds you back?"

"I…that is…he is worthy, I am sure. Yet I do not know him well, nor even if he desires such a thing."

"It is better not to withhold your thoughts, for I do know Glorfindel well and can best determine if he would make a fitting mate for you. Over both his life-times I have observed him, Legolas, and I perceive that he hungers for you. The question disturbing me is whether there is anything more than that, and yet in your current dilemma that may be all we have to build upon. You do find him appealing, yes?"

A long silence followed, broken by a nervous gulp of the restorative liquid and then, "Aye," the assent, barely audible, was given.

"What underlies this attraction?"

"I do not know, he is just…superb," Legolas felt his cheeks must be on fire so difficult was this to say and yet somehow the word had simply just escaped. He took another swallow and did not object when Galdor pulled him closer and began to gently rub his back and shoulders.

"Define that." These words were clearly spoken through a large grin. "What about him is so exemplary in comparison to any other elf you have met?" Galdor pushed, increasing the rhythmic massage down the silvan's back and arms. A light sigh and a sudden easing of tension informed him the elf was fully under the influence of the drug and he smiled again.

"He stood up for me," Legolas answered, feeling more at ease with the ancient Lord, grateful for the physical contact as much as for the non-judgemental acceptance of his desire for a male elf. He shivered and sighed again; it was so good to let go of all the worry and allow his Guardian to manage things for a time. Legolas' head dropped back to rest upon the Noldo's shoulder.

"At the borders?"

"Aye, and at the pools. He intervened in Erestor's plans to defame me."

"This is a quality you admire then, his proclivity to defend you even against his fellows and friends."

Another brief nod confirmed this statement. "Even more, he respects me. He did not laugh or scorn my words, nor allow the other warriors to do so uncontested."

"And at the baths, what happened there?"

"Erestor said some rather indecent things about me and boldly stated that Glorfindel had chosen me as his next lover."

"He said this in your presence?" Galdor's tone was shocked.

"In Quenya. He does not know, no one does, except Glorfindel, that I speak it well." In a less-fuzzy section of his brain Legolas regarded himself in amazed dismay, for he had just revealed something he most certainly should not. He vaguely wondered why he did not feel alarmed at this sudden loosening of his tongue, attributed it correctly to the drugged wine, and blithely let the idea vanish from his thoughts.

"That is interesting!" announced Galdor with a short laugh as he watched the silvan slip deeper into a state of mellow inebriation courtesy of the potent drug, his inhibitions falling away one by one. "Remember, all that you share with me remains between us. Fear not, for I will not betray your confidence. You told Glorfindel of this talent?" It was this that the noble elf found truly intriguing. "What made you trust him so?"

"Was it a mistake?" Legolas tried to focus on his Guardian but found his head too heavy to lift from its present placement upon the elder's shoulder. He had a clear view of Galdor's strong chin and jaw and smiled, for he could tell Sadron was also still grinning widely.

"Nay, not at all. Never has he betrayed a secret to my knowledge. He seems disposed to take your part. If he had divulged anything to Elrond, I would have been told at once, for I represent Mithlond, a strong ally to Imladris. I assure you I found this information quite unexpected. You decided quickly to encourage Glorfindel's interest. You had ample opportunity to observe him closely at the baths, is that why? What is it about him that stirs your blood?"

"It is as I have said. He is…superb." this last word emerged more as a throaty purr of pure desire than a simple word of descriptive praise and Legolas sighed again after uttering it. Behind him Galdor's low chuckle rumbled through him and incited a light giggle from the archer.

"So you would have him for your lover." The only response to this was a lazy lolling nod of the golden head. "And how shall it be between you, then. What would you have for your first encounter?"

That brought the colour back to the Wood Elf's face instantly and chased the smile away, replacing it with a wide-eyed look of stricken embarrassment. The elder noted this and started rubbing the archer's arms soothingly as the silence stretched into minutes.

"I do not know anything about…joining…between males," Legolas managed at last and hastily drank the remainder of the tonic, wishing there was more. He did not even feel it when Galdor removed the glass from his hand and set it aside. "I understand about male and female and the making of children. None of that applies; does it?"

"Some of it does, for your body will respond as any male's. The question I believe you are asking me is how to accommodate that state of arousal. None of this was discussed between you and Calarlim?"

"Nay, for there was no notion of fulfilling such a desire. Her counsel was on how to deal with such urges privately."

"You are completely untouched by any but your own hands." Galdor's tone grew gentler then and he smiled at the short nod of acknowledgement this provoked. "What do you imagine when you handle this specific problem?"

"That it is another touching me," Legolas began awkwardly, "another's hands and lips caressing my ears and neck, my chest and my…arousal." He was silent for several heartbeats but Galdor gave no reaction to this scandalous statement at all other than an encouraging nod of his head.

"Tirn'wador, I have never even been kissed, not with desire and need. I wish to be kissed and to kiss back, to know the taste of my lover's skin, his mouth, his essence," Cuthenin announced quietly, his words dissipating in a breathy whisper as he found the need to breath in deeply. And I would have Glorfindel be the one. "I want to touch; I want to give pleasure and see that this is so. Glorfindel would welcome this?"

"Aye, but he is not a fantasy under your control, Legolas. He is a real being, not merely a mythical hero from a child's story book. He is a vital and viral male and would make a most demanding lover," Galdor cautioned and felt Legolas tremble under his hands. The Wood Elf shifted uncomfortably and the Noldo Lord had not doubts as to the cause.

"Not a dream, real," Legolas whispered, and shivered again. He sought to reorient his body, hoping to ease the discomfort in his groin as this talk stimulated his libido. "I would have that be so, Tirn'wador. You can arrange this? He will become my Faer Hebron."

"Perhaps. Yet what of your fears of banishment from Greenwood? Your desire has quickly overwhelmed your dread of censure."

"They do not need to know about it. You will not tell them; Glorfindel need never go there. I can remain Athedrainyn between Greenwood and Imladris, spend time in both places."

"What of your duty as a warrior? Do not cast off your just concerns for one experience of passion's fulfilment."

"Then I will go home afterwards and Glorfindel will stay here. I suppose we shall not meet again very often until we cross to Eldamar."

"That hardly seems fair to either of you. Is that all you wish for, then? To experience this joining and then depart?"

"Nay. I would have him love me. I want to be loved and to love in return. I want a life-mate, Tirn'wador. Why can I not have this be Glorfindel? He is perfect."

Galdor could not suppress a light laugh at this naive demand and bold assessment of Glorfindel's qualities. "He is not flawless for no elf is. Everyone has faults and Glorfindel is no exception. Remember what I said: he is flesh and blood, more than a legend in a book. And he has had some rather bad experiences regarding pairing up with other elves. As in all cases, the problems were not entirely due to his partner's failings alone.

"You find him appealing and he has already made his interest in you plain. But these are often not the same thing, Legolas: desire and love. You crave his touch, he longs to claim you. That is a purely physical attraction. You have only met him this morn; whether there can be more between you is a serious consideration." The ancient elder's lecture ceased as the silvan warrior emitted a groan of discontented irritation.

"Why can I not have both these things? I would love him and please him also."

"Would you now? Are you so ready to commit your soul to this one elf? If that is true, could you leave him so easily?"

"Nay, you are right. I could not bear to be parted, if he loves me and I him. Yet I could never bring him to my home. Thus I am to be banished after all." Legolas nearly sobbed to utter this, his greatest fear, aloud.

"Hold, Cuthenin, for you have leaped far ahead of the present! You cannot declare love to one you do not yet know. Nor do we have any notions of Glorfindel's thoughts on seeking a life-mate. Thus, it is premature to sentence yourself to exile." Yet in his heart Galdor felt that Legolas' prediction would prove accurate, for there was in the Wood Elf's voice a note of acceptance, as if his heart had recognised to whom it belonged and felt both at peace and torn in two.

"You will see to it then. He must complete Faras-Uin-Ind first. (Hunting of the Heart - formal courtship) Then we can think of some means to conceal the bond from my people."

Galdor considered silently for several minutes, worried now that he had raised the youth's hopes beyond reasonable expectation, for Glorfindel had not seemed overly eager about assuming any role that brought him into contact with Legolas' soul. His body, yes, Glorfindel will gladly lay claim to that. As for the Wood Elf's heart, the Vanya is unlikely to be open to such a gift. I must make discreet inquiries and seek another. Legolas will be bound to agree to his Tirn'wador's choice. He sighed and squeezed the archer's shoulders consolingly.

"I shall speak with him; no more can I promise. If I decide this union would do greater harm to your spirit then you must accept my evaluation. Yet I will seek for you a Faer Hebron, for Úcaul Annaur must be achieved as soon as may be possible. For now, I will escort you back to the talan, for you are restless over a problem you must work out on your own." So saying, Galdor got up and offered a hand to Legolas, who was very red of face over this allusion to his state of arousal, which had not subsided but rather grown more frustratingly intractable.

TBC
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True Bow (Cuthenin)

Cuthenin (True-Bow)