“I seem to have landed myself in quite the predicament.” The young elf looked to Erestor and shrugged. “I was wondering if you might do me a favor and contact my grandfather. My mind is not so strong over such great distances, but I know that yours is.”
With a sigh, Erestor nodded his head. “I am sure King Turgon will not keep you here forever, Laiqalasse. In fact, we shall go to my friend Ecthelion and ask if he might speak to the king.”
“The gate captain?” Laiqalasse shook his head, blond braids gently swinging. “First, he did not believe a place called Green Wood existed, and second, when I told them I was the Prince’s son, he laughed. He insulted my father as well- he said to me ‘Little Thranduil, the philosopher’s son? That amateur shipbuilder would never have known how to become a prince’. Among other discomplimentary things.”
“Discomplimentary?” Erestor chuckled. “Still making up words, then, I see.”
“Someone needs to make new ones up, else we would bore of the old ones,” grinned the young warrior.
“Laiqalasse, forgive me, I should have introduced you. Glorfindel, this is Laiqalasse, the younger son of Thranduil, Prince of Green Wood as I understand it now. Last I saw him, he was barely to my knee and was a constant audience for my fiddling. Laiqalasse, may I present Captain Glorfindel, chief of the House of the Golden Flower.” Erestor politely motioned that Laiqalasse should join them at their table in the garden where they were having tea.
After offering to pour a cup for the newcomer, Glorfindel gave Erestor a smirk. “I never knew you were a musician.”
“I dabbled a bit,” answered Erestor.
“Dabbled a bit? He writes his own songs,” blurted out Laiqalasse. “He sang me to sleep more times than I can count, and Luthien employed him as her minstrel for a time.”
Greatly interested, Glorfindel pressed for more information. “Erestor hardly speaks of his life before coming here. I have a feeling your stories will be fascinating.”
Laiqalasse bit his lip, and glanced at Erestor, who was staring off at a tree in the distance. “Perhaps it best that Erestor tell you those stories, in his own time.”
“My apologies,” said Glorfindel, with a slight bow of his head. “I should not have assumed.”
“Actually, I am myself curious of what young Laiqalasse remembers of Doriath. There is no need to keep the things you recall from anyone- Glorfindel is a good friend, and there is nothing to hide from him.” Erestor picked up a biscuit from the tray, and Glorfindel practically beamed at the comment. “I was simply in thought.”
“What about?” asked Laiqalasse curiously.
“Well, I do believe that you have kin here, Laiqalasse,” explained Erestor. “If I am correct, your father is related to the folk of the tree through his mother. If that is the case, you might appeal to Galdor. He is the Lord of the House of the Tree here in Gondolin. Perhaps his word will be good for the king. If nothing else, he will surely see that you are given good lodgings here.”
“I shall go to see him immediately,” decided Laiqalasse, but Erestor raised a hand.
With a curious smile, the dark ellon asked, “You have my interest, pen-neth, what do you recall of Doriath when I was there?”
“I remember when you left. I refused to eat for weeks after that, and I threw a fit. Thingol limped for awhile from the bite I gave to his leg,” snickered the youth. When he sobered, he added, “I tried to follow you, but I could barely walk. I thought at first you were leaving because of me, because I was always crawling about instead of walking. It took a few years for me to understand it was because of all of the trouble you had with Thingol.”
“You were in trouble with the king?” interrupted Glorfindel.
“We had a... battle of words, one might say,” Erestor stated. “I began something of a small rebellion over the speaking of Quenya. It is forbidden there.”
Laiqalasse’s grin spread across his face. “That is why I began to use this version of my name.”
“We used to call him Legolas,” added Erestor to clear up any confusion Glorfindel may have had in following the conversation.
“So, you started a rebellion. Is that what you were in jail for in Doriath?” guessed Glorfindel. Before Erestor could do more than nod, a messenger approached the table, bowing low.
“Good lords, your pardon. Lord Glorfindel, you are needed at the front gate. No one can find Lord Ecthelion, and we have a party of visitors.” The runner took a deep breath, obviously having raced about in an attempt to find someone who could greet those entering the city. “They have been waiting for some time now, but we have yet to allow them entry.”
“I shall go to the gate at once,” replied Glorfindel. The messenger nodded and ran off again. “Laiqalasse, perhaps we might have another chance to speak again soon. It was a pleasure to meet you,” he said.
“And you,” came the answer.
“Laiqalasse, perhaps we should go to see Galdor,” Erestor reminded him as Glorfindel stood up. “Fin, will you be in the hall for supper?” Glorfindel nodded. “I hope we shall see you then.”
As Glorfindel lingered to watch Erestor and Laiqalasse leave, something seemed to twist at his insides. A pang of jealously, he realized. Although it had not been said, Laiqalasse was something like family to Erestor – like a nephew or something of the sort. For so long, Glorfindel had felt a companionship with Erestor, born mostly from the fact that neither had anyone else, and so, they had each other. This newest development left him with an ache in his heart as he covered the distance from the courtyard to the main gate.
Upon arrival, he found a party of three riders, one of whom had dismounted and was looking particularly bored. “Welcome to the Gates of Gondolin,” announced Glorfindel loudly as a soldier handed him a scroll. He unrolled it carefully, but he was well aware of what was written upon it.
“Before you enter, I have but a few rules to tell you. First and foremost, you may not turn back now. Once you have entered the city, you will be required to stay here forevermore. No one who finds Gondolin may leave Gondolin. Anyone who seeks to escape will be punished by death. Second,” he began, and this was always the hardest for him to decree, “no unclean behavior will be tolerated. The penalty for such an act is death. Third, no one shall steal, murder, rape, torture, or maim. The full sentence for such an act is to be determined by the king, but the ultimate outcome is always death. Do you have any questions?”
“What is the penalty for tax evasion?” asked the elf who was standing, leaning against his horse.
“Ah... we... uhm... what are taxes?” mumbled Glorfindel to the nearest guard, who shrugged.
“Oh, beautiful!” The ellon took hold of his horse’s reigns and began to lead her to the gate. “I like this city already. However, I regret to inform you, I plan not to follow all of your rules, and I plan not to be killed on account of it.”
The full company of guards, including Glorfindel, stood silent and in shock. The pair still mounted began to laugh lightly as their leader further approached. “My name is Gildor Inglorion, and though that may mean little to you, it will mean quite a lot to your king. I am a messenger of the realm of King Elu Thingol, long live the king and may his reign be prosperous and filled with glory.”
“So... so which rules did you plan to break, then?” asked Glorfindel, fairly confused.
“For one, I do indeed plan to leave. I have been assigned to travel between Gondolin and Doriath, with messages and the occasional token or treat.” Gildor took a moment to gaze up at the tall towers and nodded commendingly. “Wonderful design.”
“And... the other?” Glorfindel truly wished Ecthelion had been at the gate instead of him, until the answer was given to his question.
With a wicked smile, Gildor looked over his shoulder and crooked his finger at one of the mounted travelers. As the dark elf who traveled with him dismounted, the other rider grinned, his shoulders shaking in laughter. Very calmly, the brunette strolled to the leader of the party, and paused only when he was standing very close beside Gildor.
The bold silver-blond elf smiled as he licked his lips. Moments later, nearly the entire company was gasping, and two of the guards had fainted. Glorfindel’s eyes were extremely wide as he took in the sight of two male elves kissing. It was something he could not seem to look away from, and an image that he would never forget.
“We are citizens of Doriath,” stated Gildor as a few of the soldiers began to warily draw their weapons. “Your king knew of us before we came, and he has given us clearance. If you do not believe me, then ask him yourself.”
At a loss for words, Glorfindel motioned to the nearest pair of guards. “Please, escort Lord Gildor and his party to King Turgon.” The warriors nodded and walked to join their guests. Glorfindel snapped his fingers, and a stable hand came to take the reigns of the horses.
As Gildor passed by, he stopped before Glorfindel. “Thank you for greeting us. It is a pleasure to meet you-?”
“Glorfindel. I am Glorfindel, of the House of the Golden Flower,” he managed to say without stuttering.
“Glorfindel. Aye.” Gildor locked his eyes with those of the captain, and after a few seconds, his lips curved in an almost obscene fashion. “Glorfindel. I shall remember your name.” The elf then, it seemed, winked at Glorfindel, causing the Gondolin elf’s cheeks to flush, and then he was gone, entering the city with the escort.
It was then that Glorfindel realized he had practically stopped breathing. Filling his lungs with air and excusing himself quickly, he escaped to the stables. For the first time, he felt as if he had been standing before the company of soldiers naked, with his thoughts and soul bared to all who stood there.
Hiding himself in an empty stall, Glorfindel could not clear from his mind the events that had just occurred. Especially prominant was the kiss he had witnessed. His fingers had already loosened his belt, and his hand was hidden down the front of his pants. Closing his eyes and hoping that no one would hear him, Glorfindel began to pleasure himself. The scene replayed, over and over. After a while, Glorfindel knew not when, the elves he had seen with his eyes changed in his mind.
Hastily, he rose upon his knees and shoved his leggings down, stroking furiously as he watched the erotic imagery again. No longer did he see Gildor and his companion. It was him, standing so confidently at the front gate, and in his arms, a beautiful, dark creature. Tall and lithe, proud and mysterious. Glorfindel clenched his teeth as he imagined himself kissing Erestor, holding Erestor, touching Erestor, fucking Erestor.
“Ugghn!” Swallowing the sound as soon as it came forth, Glorfindel panted quietly as he watched through hooded eyes as his seed spilled into the straw . Wiping his hand upon the ground, he sat back to calm himself once more.
Things were going to be more difficult from now on.
