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thrihyrneContinued from here
Barach made it through breakfast, though he did so by keeping nearly silent. He was awed by the Elves, even the kitchen staff. They were all elegant and eloquent. Vocabulary failed him almost utterly. This was true especially when under Amras' gaze, or Hîthuldir's, the one who had nursed him after he'd been found in the forest, he discovered.
"Thank you," he found he was able to say, again and again. "Thank you."
"You unintentionally poisoned yourself," Hîthuldir reminded him.
"I should have known better," Barach insisted, ready to start berating himself once more.
"You could not have. Just be glad one of my scouts found you and that Hîthuldir is skilled in medicine," Amras retorted before giving his lover a fond look. The dark-haired Elf was his lover, Barach knew this from having stumbled across them lying in each other's arms in their hammock, just as he and Brindal had in their past under cover of darkness.
"I am."
Barach remained quiet after that, not trusting his own voice.
The morning passed in a blur. Elves were everywhere, busy with their tasks. Barach shouldn't have been surprised, seeing as how he'd been rescued by them, but it was all so novel. Elves. Their very skin sang with songs he could barely perceive. It was… otherworldly. He had no other word for it. Nóm — Finrod Felagund, he'd been told his Elvish name was — had sung with a voice from beyond their realm, it seemed, and yet Barach tried to emulate it. A throat had made those sounds that came from Felagund's mouth, had it not? An Elvish throat. One who had been born under starlight, before the Sun.
Barach listened attentively to the Elves of the household. The house staff spoke to one another in their tongue, and he tried to follow what they were saying. Things about food, which made sense, working in the kitchens. It was similar enough to Felagund's tongue, and the more he heard, the more he wanted to learn— everything. He knew enough to communicate passably, but he wanted to understand the nuance of their speech.
"I think you should have a bath," Hîthuldir said before lunch.
Barach all at once was aware of how dirty he must seem, and smelling of his illness.
"Yes, please." He nodded vigourously.
"Come back with me to our rooms. There we have a large tub. I will ask that water be drawn."
"Thank you," Barach breathed, a thrill coursing from chest to belly when the dark-eyed Elf gave him a warm smile.
Hîthuldir spoke quietly to one of the staff, and then motioned Barach to his side. He followed Hîthuldir through the house and up a wide staircase to where he and Amras resided. Even the curve of the pillars in the staircase was stately in comparison to their crude homes in Estolad. Hîthuldir escorted him out to the balcony to a pair of surprisingly comfortable wooden chairs.
"It will take a little time for the bath to be ready," he explained as Barach gave him a curious look.
"Oh. Of course."
He was burning with curiosity about the two Elves. The one with vivid hair was the other of the two Great Hunters, and he had a male companion. Did he dare bring that up?
"I can tell you have many questions," Hîthuldir said in a kindly voice. "I'll accompany you and you may ask what you wish."
Barach's face flushed. The Elves were beautiful, and masculine in a way he'd never seen among his own kind. The thought of being naked in front of Hîthuldir, especially given the kinds of inappropriate images that had formed vividly in his mind since seeing them together, did not bode well for him. His rescuer, however, either didn't notice, or chose not to say anything, and Barach with some trepidation trailed after him to their bathroom. An Elf with dark tawny hair stood by the side of the tub, set into the floor.
"Thank you, Amaldon. That will be all."
Barach thought he saw intrigue, or at least curiosity flicker on Amaldon's face before he bowed slightly and left the room. Hîthuldir gave him an expectant look, so Barach plucked up his courage, slid the slippers off of his feet, leaned over to take off his socks…
… and found himself in a heap on the floor. By the time he dimly recognised that he was lying against Hîthuldir's torso and there was a glass of water at his lips, he realised he must have become dizzy and lost consciousness, just for a few moments.
"I am so sorry, Barach," the Elf said as Barach drank. "I have encouraged too much activity. You are still very weak. Let me wash you."
Barach attempted a rebuttal, but it was no use. He did feel much like a wilted plant, or most of his body did. Alarmed, he put up more of a struggle as his clothes were removed, even though they weren't his clothes at all. Hîthuldir had already seen him naked. Maybe Amras too. Maybe the whole staff.
"But— but," he said feebly, trying to cover his arousal, his cheeks burning. "I must be so ugly to you. So hairy!"
To his surprise, Hîthuldir laughed, a light, infectious sound. Barach couldn't help a stifled snort in reply as he was eased into the water. Elves were stronger than they looked, given how slender Hîthuldir appeared.
"Unlike Amras, I have only seen one of the Edain, and that is you. Ugly is not a word that would ever have come to mind. You do have more hair in some places," he continued, sliding the back of his hand along Barach's jaw. "Some usually more hidden."
Barach had melted into the Elf's deft touch with his washcloth and soap that smelled heavenly. It had a mixture of the pine in his favourite hidden groves and also a faint flowery aroma. When Hîthuldir tentatively soaped his cock with his fingers, Barach stopped breathing for a moment. Unbidden, he let out a rather undignified moan.
"Am I hurting you?" Hîthuldir asked.
"No. Oh, no. But—"
"Let me join you."
Mesmerized, Barach turned around and moved away from the edge to see Hîthuldir shed his tunic, leggings and shoes before climbing in. He had no modesty, it seemed. He doesn't need it! Barach thought a bit dreamily, wondering if he would wake up and find this had all been a poison-induced delirium.
"You… and Amras," Barach said, his voice hushed as Hîthuldir came and sat behind him to soap up his back, the beginnings of his own erection brushing just under Barach's buttocks.
"Amras is my heart's love," Hîthuldir said, his soapy washcloth now cleaning Barach's most intimate places. "And a great joy to my body. He said you saw us asleep, and you gazed in appreciation."
Barach hung his head, panic fluttering in his chest. "Did I see something I shouldn't have?" he asked, his voice strained.
"No! Why would you think that?"
Barach was turned around to face Hîthuldir, concern on the finely-wrought landscape of his features.
"Among my kind, most men are drawn to women. Men are often like brothers to one another, but not… not as you and the Great Hunter."
Hîthuldir's insightful gaze was like a torch, shedding light in depths of his spirit where his shame and confusion lay.
"You would like such a companion."
Barach let out a shaky breath. "I would. But I don't think I'll ever have one." Melancholy filled him even as he tried to quash it. He should be grateful he was alive, and in the care of Elves whose healing skills were so advanced. It was indulgent to pine for another Brindal, one who wouldn't be ashamed.
"I will speak to Amras further on this matter," Hîthuldir said soberly. Barach started to protest, his gut clenching with anxiety of his true self revealed to the fiery-haired ruler.
"He'll kill me! I'm aroused by you!"
To his horror, Barach felt tears spring to his eyes, stinging and hot.
"Barach, child of the Sun, I'm flattered. Let go of your worries."
Hîthuldir's voice grew soothing, and he continued to murmur in the more complicated manner of his native tongue, all while guiding Barach out of the bath and toweling him off. Once dressed, Barach stood still, unable to move.
"Amras has always possessed an eye for beauty," Hîthuldir said, his flowing garments covering the body whose memorable form was now burned into Barach's memory. "Am I correct in assuming that you have never known the pleasure that two male bodies can bring one another?"
Barach could feel his face grow scarlet. "No. My former cherished friend, Brindal… we kissed, when younger, and felt… between… but always with clothes," he muttered, finding great interest in his feet.
"You innocent creature," Hîthuldir said gently, pressing two fingers under Barach's chin to raise his face. "Before we return you to your kin, Amras and I shall give you a taste of the joys two males may share."
Barach's mouth went dry. "I— that…" he stammered, then cleared his throat. His thoughts raced and his heart battered against his ribcage. "That's too precious a gift. It was enough by far to save my life, but to share yourselves with me…" His voice trailed off as the ramifications of such an act hit him.
"And if I did, then I'll go back to Estolad, and be alone," he continued mournfully as Hîthuldir placed his hand at the base of his spine. He let the Elf guide him back into the spacious bedroom and toward the main part of the house.
"You are young. The arrival of the Edain is new, yet. Many of your kind may choose to live and serve with Elves and there, perhaps, you will find a new companion for your heart."
"It's said that you live forever," Barach whispered. "No Elf would want me because I'll grow old and die." A profound sadness filled his heart. "I should go back without knowing, for it will only cause me to miss it. Miss you. More than I can tell I already will."
Hîthuldir made Barach take his arm for stability going down the wide staircase. "I will speak with Amras. For now, eat and rest. The staff will make sure you are tended to, as will I. You are my patient, after all, and I am pleased to see you recover so quickly."
The Elf's smile was a temporary salve, and Barach returned it. He hid his true feelings, or tried, listening attentively during lunch and trying to memorise the faces and gestures of the Elves at the wooden table, noting that the Great Hunter wasn't there. All too soon he would have to go back to the encampment, where he would probably be chained to his house by his father so he wouldn’t get lost again in the woods.
"Here. Drink this," Hîthuldir said, startling Barach away from his bleak thoughts. He handed him a glass of something that smelled delicious and fruity, and Barach dutifully drank it.
"Let us go back up to our rooms. I will string up the hammock and you can rest."
"My head is full of thoughts, all buzzing around like fireflies," Barach admitted after excusing himself from the table and thanking all of the kitchen staff.
"What troubles you?" Hîthuldir asked as he unrolled the hammock from its tucked-away space and began to string up one end and then the other.
"My father," Barach said through a yawn before covering his mouth, embarrassed. "I don't think he'll let me go into the woods anymore."
He was so fatigued! With a dampened sense of shock, Barach realised what must have been in the fruity concoction: a sleeping draught of some sort.
Hîthuldir took his arm and walked him to the hammock, helping him climb in and easing a pillow under his head. "You will rest now," he said in a gentle voice. "Your frenzied thoughts will be quiet for a time. Not for very long, just a few hours."
Barach wanted to protest, but instead he yawned again, barely able to keep his eyes open. Sleep tenderly came and claimed him.
* * * * *
"All three of us, together?" Amras clarified as he walked through the orchard at Hîthuldir's side. A scent of apples filled the air, bringing with it memories of an afternoon he and Hîthuldir had spent hidden away, enjoying each other's bodies to the fullest.
"Not exactly," Hîthuldir said, the smile evident in his voice. "Though if it came to that, I doubt you would mind, would you?"
"Mind?" Amras let his hand slide down from the small of Hîthuldir's back to cup a buttock, relishing the feel of muscle as it moved with each leisurely step. "This second-born, from what he revealed to you, he has barely kissed another. He is untouched, in every sense of the word. Do you not think it would overwhelm him?"
"You are evading my question."
Amras harrumphed, moving his arm to drape across the back of Hîthuldir's waist. "You know me in some ways better than my own twin. If you are encouraging both of us to teach Barach for one night, know that I will not feel we have in any way diluted our bond."
"Oh Rus." Hîthuldir stopped and turned to kiss him, the soft gesture soon growing deep and passionate. "Even if you bedded all of Amrod's comely staff, our bond would be no weaker. We respect our feä's exclusivity by doing the same with our bodies, but this is a unique moment."
Amras saw the mixture of amusement and love in Hîthuldir's eyes and had no doubt that he spoke truly.
"You have imagined us with others?" Amras asked provocatively, taking his lover's hand and continuing their walk to the house.
"Of course. As have you. I share your worry about Barach, though I sense in him a tremendous capacity for being a quick and enthusiastic learner."
Amras smiled widely at that. "Yes, beloved. But do not forget, he is first and foremost your recently recovered patient. We cannot so exploit the pleasures of his innocent body that he becomes ill again, this time due to exhaustion."
He could think of a great many ways to wear out the youth, and heat flooded his groin as details rose to mind. That the two of them could share their centuries of knowledge would be something new, and exciting.
"I will be certain that our affections wear him out only to the point that he sleeps soundly. And I have both salves and tonics, should he be sore."
"Should he?" Amras said, laughing as he opened the door to the back of the house, leading into a large sitting room. He switched to high Elvish for a moment, just in case Barach had been watching for them and was listening nearby. "He is a virgin, my love. That is when the soreness is sweetest. But sore he'll be, for certain."
Hîthuldir rolled his eyes, but a smile traipsed on his lips nonetheless. "We will offer ourselves, and let him decide."
"How could he say no?" Amras asked, wandering into the main kitchen to find something sweet to nibble on. "Why would he?" He was genuinely baffled, given Hîthuldir's description of what had transpired during Barach's bath.
"It could be too much."
Hîthuldir plucked a green apple from a bowl of fruit, nodding to one of the kitchen staff before taking a loud, crunching bite. Amras watched him chew, then replied, "I wager that he'll be willing to take that risk."
Amras spent the afternoon with Barach in decidedly non-amorous pursuits, showing him map after map of Beleriand, the different Elvish territories, and where his other brothers ruled. Barach seemed fascinated by all of the names, enclaves and cultures, and how vast and wild large sections of the land were. He was particularly interested in Círdan and his mariners in the western coastal lands of Falas.
"I've never seen the sea," he said, gazing at Amras with a look of awe. "Can you describe it to me?"
Amras thought back to his experiences on the waters and brought the positive memories to the forefront. Barach's expression was so earnest and curious, Amras found himself smiling.
"I assume you have seen lakes." He waited for Barach's eager nod. "The sea is a lake that goes on and on to the horizon, far off to the west whence the Elves first came into being. It is unknowable, how wide and deep the sea is. The waters are blue, or sometimes blue-green, or grey, turbulent and foaming. Ulmo rules over the ocean and all waters in the same way as Oromë is lord of the hunt."
Barach's eyes were wide with intrigue. "So have you always lived here? In Beleriand?"
"No, lómelindi, I have not. Come, let us go for a walk in the birch forest, a short walk," he amended, thinking both about Barach's strength later on that evening, but also the dinner hour, which was quickly approaching.
"What did you call me?" Barach asked as he pulled on a hat, one Hîthuldir had found rolled up in the Adan's belongings.
"Lómelindi. Dusk-singer, or nightingale. You do have a beautiful voice."
The young man blushed prettily, and Amras acknowledged to himself that perhaps he took an unhealthy pleasure in causing such reactions. During their walk, Amras told Barach an abbreviated version of his family's history, of his father and brothers, the Silmarils, how they had come to Beleriand by boat. He decided that Barach should know the true story of Amras' heritage, so he also told him of the kinslaying and burning of the boats at Losgar.
Barach had been enthusiastically munching on an apple as he listened with a keen ear until Amras came to the part where his father had acted against Fingolfin and abandoned his people to their fate.
"They are here now," Amras said, looking at Barach, whose expression was distraught. "They walked over the Helcaraxë, massive sheets of ice. Some were lost, but Elves are resilient. My brother Maitimo has only one hand now, and he wields his sword with more deadly force than he did when he was whole."
Amras began to regret having been so candid in his tales. The poor Adan stood mute, sorrow in his eyes, disbelief clinging to his features.
"When lord Felagund came to us and woke us up in a way, from our fear and ignorance, I thought all Elveswould be like him."
His voice cracked, and Amras saw a lone tear slide down his cheek before dissolving into the gleaming auburn bristles of his short beard.
"But you've fought and killed amongst yourselves. You and your brothers are exiled from parts of this land. And for all of that, I would stay with you, if I could. Hîthuldir," he said, sniffing and brusquely rubbing his eyes on the shoulder of his tunic. "He's been loyal to you no matter what, hasn't he?"
"From the very beginning," Amras said, taking the apple core out of Barach's hand and tossing it aside before enfolding him in his arms. "I wanted you to know my history from my mouth. If and when you do move on to more westerly settlements, you will hear very different perspectives on the past. I am not proud of much that I have done at the behest of my father, but I am bound to him, and I am proud to be a son of Fëanor. We are like comets, and I fear that Amrod and I will blaze and fall. I only hope that it is in battle against the evils to the north, not against other Elves."
Barach tightened his grip on Amras' tunic, and Amras rubbed his hand reassuringly against his back. "You should not carry the burdens of my kin. Your kind have only just come into these lands, and you will write your own tales. Please do not be sad of heart. Hîthuldir is going to have strong words for me, I'm afraid," he said half to himself.
The young man shook slightly with a muffled, bark of a laugh against Amras' chest, and then eased out of his arms. Amras stood still as Barach tentatively reached out a hand to cradle his smooth jaw, the melancholy in his expression appearing to change to acceptance.
"I'll go to Falas and the sea, if I can find a way, and if the shipwright will accept me," he said, letting his hand drop back to his side.
"Círdan is wise, and I suspect he would welcome men like you of stout heart and strong arm."
"Don't forget the beauty of his voice. And face," Hîthuldir said brightly from behind him, and Amras jerked his head around, having been momentarily caught off guard. "Sorry, Rus! I did not mean to startle you." Hîthuldir laid his hand on Amras' arm for a brief moment.
"Are you all right, Barach?" Hîthuldir asked with concern. "What have you two been discussing, if I may ask?"
"It started as a geography lesson," Amras said, "but then turned to history. I believe that I may have disillusioned our young guest."
"No, you haven't!" Barach insisted hotly. "And while I'm young, I'm no child, and no innocent. I haven't killed any orcs yet, but I'm trained to wield a sword and shoot arrows. I would stand by your side, just as Hîthuldir has, and defend you and your family's honour. Even if it cost me my life. You saved it, after all."
"My beloved did that. I would not have you pledge fealty to me and my house, though I am greatly moved by the offer."
Amras glanced at Hîthuldir and saw impatience in his gaze. He focused again on Barach, who looked dejected.
"There is no need to feel indebted," Hîthuldir said to Barach, his warm tones surely meant to be soothing. The youth looked at him, his lips pressed in a thin line. "What would please us both is for you to return to your people, whole and hale. Share with them what you have learned of the Elvish enclaves and realms, and when you are a bit older, venture forth to the west. Be a scholar and guide, and when you do leave Estolad, come and visit us. I believe that Amras will always welcome you with open arms."
Amras nodded slightly, pleased to see a glow of pride on Barach's face.
"My house is always open to you," Amras confirmed. "But there are many hours between now and tomorrow morn. Hîthuldir and I would like to gift you with knowledge I believe you have not yet experienced. There are skills and delights you will be able to share with another male, one who you deem worthy of your affections."
Barach looked startled at the change of topic, and Hîthuldir placed a hand on his shoulder. "We will not force you, of course," Hîthuldir murmured, and the flush Amras had begun to expect in the young Man made its telltale appearance in his cheeks. "It is an offer, and one you need not think on now. My whole purpose in finding you both was to bring you to supper. There are mouth-watering scents of veal cutlets, buttery rolls, and carafes of crisp wine."
"I am rather hungry," Barach admitted, his gaze darting from Hîthuldir's face and back to Amras. He took a deep breath, and Amras gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "You've given me so much already, but I think I would regret staying alone tonight and didn't learn what you wish to teach me."
He fixed them with a coy smile. Perhaps subconsciously, he wetted his lips, the first sign of desire Amras had witnessed with his own eyes.
"Food first. Carnal romps second," Hîthuldir said dryly, and the colour again crept up Barach's neck.
"You're always so practical," Amras groused with good humour. He smiled as Barach let out an embarrassed laugh, walking close to Amras' side as they made their way back to the house where supper awaited them.
* * * * *
Hîthuldir busied himself finding the small decanter of miruvor and pouring three servings into diminuitive glass flutes. Amras opened the doors to their balcony while Barach stood, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Hîthuldir walked over with a glass of miruvor, noting the ruddiness of his face, heated by the wine he'd had with their meal and also doubtless by the praise that had been heaped on him after he'd sung two songs by request after supper.
"You do have a lovely voice," Hîthuldir said now, handing the glass to Barach. "Sip this. It is very potent."
Barach did, his eyes fluttering closed as he swallowed the ambrosia. "That's like nothing I've ever tasted." He carefully placed the glass on the desk at his side.
"And here something else that will be new to you," Hîthuldir said in a low voice, wrapping his arms around Barach's upper back, pressing his lips to his slightly open mouth. He sent his tongue along Barach's lower lip before sucking on it, closing his eyes when he felt a moan breathed hotly into his mouth. With tongue and lips, Hîthuldir taught Barach the subtleties and passionate dance of kissing, the lesson continuing on until Hîthuldir felt Barach's arousal, steely and pressed against his hip. He drew back and surveyed his work on Barach's glistening, full lips.
"Amras has yet another unique flavour," he said a bit raggedly. "Rus? Come enjoy him."
"Gladly."
Hîthuldir began to move behind Barach, but Amras stopped him, kissing him soundly and possessively. Hîthuldir melted against him, their tongues darting and circling in well known patterns that never ceased to excite them both. Amras eased away from the kiss, his eyes hooded and full of short, urgent messages Hîthuldir could read as easily as any tome in their library: yours, mine, ours, now.
"He tastes of innocence, and ripe apples," Hîthuldir said, using a finger to trace down the middle of Amras' chest, his shirt unfastened and his torso bared to his navel.
"And you accuse me of words of high romance?" Amras said, his lips quirked. He glanced over at Barach, who was watching them, his fingers digging into his thighs near his groin, but not touching the obvious mound between them.
"You two," he said, struggling for appropriate words. "Two men. Warriors. Elves," he finally said, seeming exasperated with himself. "You're beautiful together. Why would anyone say it’s not just as natural as a male and female?"
"I do not know," Hîthuldir stated, his hands cupping Amras' backside. "I have only ever sought male company in matters of sex. Anything else is unnatural to me. Rus," he said, slowly rocking his hips against his lover's groin. "I think it's time our Adan sees you without hindrance of clothing."
"Indeed. I would see you both naked as well."
Hîthuldir made a pleased purring sound and stepped back from Amras, giving Barach a reassuring smile. "May I undress you? And then we'll all get on the bed. It is large enough for all three of us."
Barach nodded, his gaze riveted on Amras as the son of Fëanor quickly stripped and walked to the bed, arranging pillows against the headboard. Hîthuldir wasted no time in removing his own clothes. He was more leisurely as he undid Barach's shirt and then unlaced his leggings, easing them down his thighs and calves. Once naked, Barach seemed ashamed, highly aroused, and uncertain, a self-conscious storm of conflicting feelings.
"Should I… watch?" he asked in a hesitant voice.
"By Eru, no!" Amras declared from the bed, working himself with one hand. "Well, you can, but I would much prefer to have you join us. Intimately."
"May I?" Hîthuldir asked, letting his fingers graze along Barach's cock, which twitched in response.
"Of course! Oh, oh…" Barach choked out as Hîthuldir let his fingers play in the curls at the base before taking him in a firm grip.
"I want to taste you here, too," Hîthuldir said, pressing against Barach's torso so the hot skin of their cocks touched. "But first, let's join Amras. He is quite a skilled kisser. Between us you will discover just how much passion can be shared between two of our sex. You have brought yourself pleasure alone?" he asked, and Barach nodded, his hands still hanging at his sides as though afraid to touch him.
"Come, vibrant beauty." Hîthuldir breathed the invitation into his ear, so novel with its rounded top but evidently as sensitive as an Elf's, given the groan that escaped Barach's mouth. "Amras and I want you to explore our bodies. Obviously you find us pleasing."
"By the Sun, I do!" Barach said hoarsely.
"Then come here." Amras patted the coverlet. "Don't worry about hurting us, or using words. We will listen to the sounds you make, your sighs and gasps." He opened his arms in invitation.
Barach turned and gave Hîthuldir a deep, thorough kiss, then walked swiftly to the bed and crawled next to Amras. Hîthuldir followed close behind, wetting his lips in anticipation of taking Barach's bobbing erection into his mouth. He let Barach have a few moments with Amras, but he kept his fingers between Barach's legs. While they kissed and nuzzled each other, Hîthuldir's fingers kept busy, rolling the soft sacs with their peachlike fuzz, and then carding through the abundance of wiry curls at the base of his sex.
Amras eased Barach onto his back, still kissing him with abandon, and at last Hîthuldir leaned over and took the Adan in his mouth, the crown fitting sweetly against his palate. His excitement at pleasuring Barach with his tongue, taking him fully in his mouth until it neared his throat and humming his satisfaction at his musky-salt flavour lasted only a few moments. Sooner than Hîthuldir had expected, Barach's hips bucked and his thighs trembled. He cried out as he climaxed, a wounded and surprised torrent of sounds while Hîthuldir swallowed and then licked him clean. He slid up the bed and leaned across Barach, who lay panting, his face crimson, so he could kiss his lover, sharing the Adan's taste.
"Mmmmm," Amras said thoughtfully once Hîthuldir eased back on his side, looking tenderly at Barach. His eyes were wet, though he didn't wipe at them.
"Are you all right, precious sun child?"
Barach gulped and nodded, his gaze moving from Hîthuldir to Amras, and back again. "I've… well…" He sniffed, and Amras placed a hand on his hip, giving it a squeeze. "Touching myself never felt like that. Even imagining it was Brind— someone else. Nothing came close to how you just made me feel."
"The touch of another enhances all delights of the flesh," Hîthuldir murmured. "Due to our responsibilities, Rus and I often have spent months apart at a time, and we rely on memory and our own skill in the interim."
"I'd really like to try that myself," Barach said, his voice cracking as he glanced down at Hîthuldir's arousal. He cleared his throat and fixing his eyes on Amras' face, said more confidently, "I want to please you both, if you don't mind my inexperience."
Hîthuldir draped his leg over Barach's thigh, reaching over the youth's torso to grasp his lover's jutting cock.
"It has been hundreds of years since I was last with someone discovering such treasures for the first time. I consider this a privilege. After this night you will be an innocent no longer," Amras noted. "Whomever you take to your bed should consider himself fortunate beyond measure."
"I feel that way now," Barach said softly, watching as Hîthuldir expertly stroked Amras up and down.
"Then apply your knowledge of what felt good to you and use it on me. You and I shall trade places," Hîthuldir said, placing dry kisses on the freckles he found on Barach's shoulder. "Rus, you have the oil?"
"Yes."
Hîthuldir gave his lover's wide shaft a gentle squeeze, then released his grip. "Good. Then you will fuck me and Barach, use your mouth and hands as you wish. If you want to watch, that's fine. Much can be learned by observing, though you'll enjoy this night far more as a participant." Barach's expression of surprise at Hîthuldir's blunt language made the Elf chuckle as the Man crawled to Hîthuldir's other side. "It is always lovemaking because Amras is my beloved, but we don't always use pretty words."
"You two are unlike Felagund in so many ways," Barach said, avidly watching Amras as he applied a liberal amount of the unguent until his cock glistened from root to tip. "Much of what I've learned here I'll treasure as my secret. Unless another Man arrives who's like me…"
"Do not trouble yourself about the future," Hîthuldir said, using his fingers to guide Barach's gaze to his own face. "You are here now. My body is an instrument for you to learn to play, or if you prefer, you can watch us together. If you wish it, later, he or I can join you completely."
"I… maybe… thank you," Barach mumbled, scooting back so his mouth was poised over Hîthuldir's straining cock.
"Now, love," Hîthuldir commanded Amras, pulling up one knee to his chest and encouraging his lover's coupling. He closed his eyes at the familiar fullness, burning at first until it transformed to pleasure.
"I'll never forget this night," Hîthuldir heard Barach say before his lips became busy doing memorable things beyond the realm of speech.
* * * * *
In an early hour of pre dawn, Hîthuldir woke up, needing the chamber pot. As he returned to the bed, he gazed at the form of his lover holding Barach in his arms, the youth's mouth open slightly as he breathed in sleep. Hîthuldir was sore and a bit tender, but that would pass in a day or so. The enthusiasm of both Amras and Barach was worth any discomfort. He slid under the coverlet to spoon at Barach's side, careful not to wake him. He felt slightly conflicted feelings for the young Man: in some ways, he was like a son, someone he wanted to protect and instruct. But he would not have such feelings of erotic appeal to his own kin.
He was uncertain as to whether or not the Edain could receive Elvish blessings, but regardless, he sent one soundlessly to him. He invoked the protection of the Valar and the hope that he, though second-born with different customs and laws, would find someone worthy of his loyalty and affection. Hîthuldir brushed a kiss against the warm skin of his shoulder blade, and then drifted off to sleep.
. : ~ Epilogue ~ : .
Gelinnas turned his horse down the tree-lined path to lord Telufinwe's stately home. After so many decades with Círdan , his mariners and their kin with their houses evocative of the sea, the other Great Hunter's house of wood and stone seemed cumbersome to his eyes. That noted, he was certain he would adapt once again to life in East Beleriand. He heard a bird call, but recognised it to be a scout's disguised alert. Doubtless one of the household would ride out, or he would be met at the welcoming expanse of front stairs. No individual, whether friend or foe, approached Amras' or Amrod's realms undetected.
Reflexively he raised his right hand to the glass pendant that hung around his neck, his fingers tracing around the shapely dark silver pearl that adorned the stopper. Taking both reins again, Gelinnas hastened to the house, unsurprised to see Amras himself step out onto the landing as he pulled his horse to a halt.
"My lord— Amras," Gelinnas corrected himself, seeing both happiness and sympathy in the Elf lord's eyes. He laid a hand atop his heart and bowed slightly before dismounting and handing over the reins to an equerry who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
"Dear Gelinnas," Amras rumbled, taking the former squire into a warm, comforting embrace. "What a pleasure to see you. Amrod had notified me, so I knew to expect you some time this summer, and that you would return alone. How are you faring?"
Gelinnas gave Amras a gentle squeeze and stepped back. "Well enough. It was no surprise, though the permanence of it has added to my sorrow. I was able to share a lifetime with him. Well, his lifetime, but it was so short compared to ours, far too short. I've mourned Barach, and I don't live with regret for the choice that I made. I knew the time would pass too quickly, but I cannot help having loved him." He paused, and looked at Amras' concerned expression. "I did love him, from the depths of my soul. At times I have no consolation, for I don't believe he will be there to welcome me in the undying lands. I don't know where the spirits of the Edain go, and that sorrow I can't purge."
Amras gave him a rueful smile. "Come inside. You've had long journey, and rest and sweet wine will do you good."
"Thank you." Gelinnas felt a bit of the weight in his heart ease at being in Amras' presence again.
"Hîthuldir will return from the training ground later this afternoon. He and I both want to hear tales of your time with Círdan, what news came to you there on the western shores, and, of course, about your life with Barach. More Men came from over the mountains, swelling the numbers in Estolad. Many of the Edain have gone on to Dorthonion, and others to the slopes of the Ered Wethrin."
"He was unique," Gelinnas murmured, allowing himself to be guided into Amras' home and led to a canvas pavilion set up out on the expanse of lawn. "Such a voice, and generous heart. I wish he had been Elf-kind," he said in a rough voice, his emotions about the death of his lover at last rising to the surface. "But then he wouldn't have been himself. My life seems so long now." He turned to face Amras, feeling a hot tear slide down his cheek. "And yet I wouldn't change things. The gift was so tenderly given. I miss him, though he was so frail at the end. Ninety-four. That's all! I wonder how many years must pass before the pain lessens."
Amras let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "I dare not guess. Here, have this." He handed Gelinnas a glass of chilled wine, which he accepted gratefully. "And tell me, if it is not too painful, what life was like among the shipwrights, living on the shore of the sea."
Gelinnas felt the twinge of loss in his chest like a physical ache, but he also remembered the words his beloved had said a few days before he'd died in his sleep: "Remember me when I was young," he'd said, his voice a rasp. "When you go to Amras and Hîthuldir, tell them about our adventures, before I grew old. Keep our early years in your memory."
"I will treasure them all," he'd insisted, the words both a commitment and a vow.
"I've written about our time at the havens," he told Amras. "A recollection of skills learned, cycles of the seasons, of the vibrant personalities among his people. I wrote out a second copy when Barach's memory began to fade… will you keep it here, safe in your library?"
"Of course. His memory and story will become part of the legacy of our time here."
At dusk that evening he stood with Amras and Hîthuldir, the pendant holding the last of Barach's ashes cradled reverently in his hands. Per his lover's request, he was to release the final physical remnants of his life on the grounds where, as he'd said, he had come truly to know himself.
Hîthuldir chanted a soft prayer of protection and then sang a lament for the dead. As his clear voice rose into the twilight, Gelinnas took the cork out of the sea glass pendant, its teardrop shape only appropriate given the ceremony. He forced himself to remember Barach's face, beaming with pride and wonder during their first sail on the open waters, as he emptied the ashes into the caressing breeze and on the ground.
"May the Valar keep you, precious child of the Sun," Amras said, reaching out his hand to Gelinnas. He took it, looking over at Amras through eyes blurred with tears. Amras nodded, and Gelinnas put the pendant back over his head, refitting the pearl stopper, and envisioning the young Adan, the copper in his beard glinting under a mid-day sun.
"Come to me," he begged in a hoarse whisper, "when I am parted from this life. Loving Valar, let us be reunited. Until then, rest in peace, sun of my heart."
As Hîthuldir sang the last notes of his remembrance, Gelinnas look up at the sky. A star streaked across the violet expanse, and he took a ragged breath. Fervently he believed that such a portend meant his entreaty had been heard. Back in the house, he sat with Amras and Hîthuldir. With a heart that burned with the fire of remembered love, he told the tale of their unlikely courtship in Estolad and their subsequent life together.
That night he dreamed of their first time they swam in the ocean, and when he awoke, on his lips he tasted the salt of bittersweet tears.
. : ~ : .
Author's Notes:
Hîthuldir= mist/fog – man (an Elvish name I made up)
Amaldon= Quenya – gentle (found via Merin Essi ar Quenteli: http://www.realelvish.net/)
According to the chapter on The Coming of Men, the Men/Edain referred to Finrod as Nóm, or knowledge.
Title slightly modified from a line found in Shakespeare's Sonnet 55.
Barach made it through breakfast, though he did so by keeping nearly silent. He was awed by the Elves, even the kitchen staff. They were all elegant and eloquent. Vocabulary failed him almost utterly. This was true especially when under Amras' gaze, or Hîthuldir's, the one who had nursed him after he'd been found in the forest, he discovered.
"Thank you," he found he was able to say, again and again. "Thank you."
"You unintentionally poisoned yourself," Hîthuldir reminded him.
"I should have known better," Barach insisted, ready to start berating himself once more.
"You could not have. Just be glad one of my scouts found you and that Hîthuldir is skilled in medicine," Amras retorted before giving his lover a fond look. The dark-haired Elf was his lover, Barach knew this from having stumbled across them lying in each other's arms in their hammock, just as he and Brindal had in their past under cover of darkness.
"I am."
Barach remained quiet after that, not trusting his own voice.
The morning passed in a blur. Elves were everywhere, busy with their tasks. Barach shouldn't have been surprised, seeing as how he'd been rescued by them, but it was all so novel. Elves. Their very skin sang with songs he could barely perceive. It was… otherworldly. He had no other word for it. Nóm — Finrod Felagund, he'd been told his Elvish name was — had sung with a voice from beyond their realm, it seemed, and yet Barach tried to emulate it. A throat had made those sounds that came from Felagund's mouth, had it not? An Elvish throat. One who had been born under starlight, before the Sun.
Barach listened attentively to the Elves of the household. The house staff spoke to one another in their tongue, and he tried to follow what they were saying. Things about food, which made sense, working in the kitchens. It was similar enough to Felagund's tongue, and the more he heard, the more he wanted to learn— everything. He knew enough to communicate passably, but he wanted to understand the nuance of their speech.
"I think you should have a bath," Hîthuldir said before lunch.
Barach all at once was aware of how dirty he must seem, and smelling of his illness.
"Yes, please." He nodded vigourously.
"Come back with me to our rooms. There we have a large tub. I will ask that water be drawn."
"Thank you," Barach breathed, a thrill coursing from chest to belly when the dark-eyed Elf gave him a warm smile.
Hîthuldir spoke quietly to one of the staff, and then motioned Barach to his side. He followed Hîthuldir through the house and up a wide staircase to where he and Amras resided. Even the curve of the pillars in the staircase was stately in comparison to their crude homes in Estolad. Hîthuldir escorted him out to the balcony to a pair of surprisingly comfortable wooden chairs.
"It will take a little time for the bath to be ready," he explained as Barach gave him a curious look.
"Oh. Of course."
He was burning with curiosity about the two Elves. The one with vivid hair was the other of the two Great Hunters, and he had a male companion. Did he dare bring that up?
"I can tell you have many questions," Hîthuldir said in a kindly voice. "I'll accompany you and you may ask what you wish."
Barach's face flushed. The Elves were beautiful, and masculine in a way he'd never seen among his own kind. The thought of being naked in front of Hîthuldir, especially given the kinds of inappropriate images that had formed vividly in his mind since seeing them together, did not bode well for him. His rescuer, however, either didn't notice, or chose not to say anything, and Barach with some trepidation trailed after him to their bathroom. An Elf with dark tawny hair stood by the side of the tub, set into the floor.
"Thank you, Amaldon. That will be all."
Barach thought he saw intrigue, or at least curiosity flicker on Amaldon's face before he bowed slightly and left the room. Hîthuldir gave him an expectant look, so Barach plucked up his courage, slid the slippers off of his feet, leaned over to take off his socks…
… and found himself in a heap on the floor. By the time he dimly recognised that he was lying against Hîthuldir's torso and there was a glass of water at his lips, he realised he must have become dizzy and lost consciousness, just for a few moments.
"I am so sorry, Barach," the Elf said as Barach drank. "I have encouraged too much activity. You are still very weak. Let me wash you."
Barach attempted a rebuttal, but it was no use. He did feel much like a wilted plant, or most of his body did. Alarmed, he put up more of a struggle as his clothes were removed, even though they weren't his clothes at all. Hîthuldir had already seen him naked. Maybe Amras too. Maybe the whole staff.
"But— but," he said feebly, trying to cover his arousal, his cheeks burning. "I must be so ugly to you. So hairy!"
To his surprise, Hîthuldir laughed, a light, infectious sound. Barach couldn't help a stifled snort in reply as he was eased into the water. Elves were stronger than they looked, given how slender Hîthuldir appeared.
"Unlike Amras, I have only seen one of the Edain, and that is you. Ugly is not a word that would ever have come to mind. You do have more hair in some places," he continued, sliding the back of his hand along Barach's jaw. "Some usually more hidden."
Barach had melted into the Elf's deft touch with his washcloth and soap that smelled heavenly. It had a mixture of the pine in his favourite hidden groves and also a faint flowery aroma. When Hîthuldir tentatively soaped his cock with his fingers, Barach stopped breathing for a moment. Unbidden, he let out a rather undignified moan.
"Am I hurting you?" Hîthuldir asked.
"No. Oh, no. But—"
"Let me join you."
Mesmerized, Barach turned around and moved away from the edge to see Hîthuldir shed his tunic, leggings and shoes before climbing in. He had no modesty, it seemed. He doesn't need it! Barach thought a bit dreamily, wondering if he would wake up and find this had all been a poison-induced delirium.
"You… and Amras," Barach said, his voice hushed as Hîthuldir came and sat behind him to soap up his back, the beginnings of his own erection brushing just under Barach's buttocks.
"Amras is my heart's love," Hîthuldir said, his soapy washcloth now cleaning Barach's most intimate places. "And a great joy to my body. He said you saw us asleep, and you gazed in appreciation."
Barach hung his head, panic fluttering in his chest. "Did I see something I shouldn't have?" he asked, his voice strained.
"No! Why would you think that?"
Barach was turned around to face Hîthuldir, concern on the finely-wrought landscape of his features.
"Among my kind, most men are drawn to women. Men are often like brothers to one another, but not… not as you and the Great Hunter."
Hîthuldir's insightful gaze was like a torch, shedding light in depths of his spirit where his shame and confusion lay.
"You would like such a companion."
Barach let out a shaky breath. "I would. But I don't think I'll ever have one." Melancholy filled him even as he tried to quash it. He should be grateful he was alive, and in the care of Elves whose healing skills were so advanced. It was indulgent to pine for another Brindal, one who wouldn't be ashamed.
"I will speak to Amras further on this matter," Hîthuldir said soberly. Barach started to protest, his gut clenching with anxiety of his true self revealed to the fiery-haired ruler.
"He'll kill me! I'm aroused by you!"
To his horror, Barach felt tears spring to his eyes, stinging and hot.
"Barach, child of the Sun, I'm flattered. Let go of your worries."
Hîthuldir's voice grew soothing, and he continued to murmur in the more complicated manner of his native tongue, all while guiding Barach out of the bath and toweling him off. Once dressed, Barach stood still, unable to move.
"Amras has always possessed an eye for beauty," Hîthuldir said, his flowing garments covering the body whose memorable form was now burned into Barach's memory. "Am I correct in assuming that you have never known the pleasure that two male bodies can bring one another?"
Barach could feel his face grow scarlet. "No. My former cherished friend, Brindal… we kissed, when younger, and felt… between… but always with clothes," he muttered, finding great interest in his feet.
"You innocent creature," Hîthuldir said gently, pressing two fingers under Barach's chin to raise his face. "Before we return you to your kin, Amras and I shall give you a taste of the joys two males may share."
Barach's mouth went dry. "I— that…" he stammered, then cleared his throat. His thoughts raced and his heart battered against his ribcage. "That's too precious a gift. It was enough by far to save my life, but to share yourselves with me…" His voice trailed off as the ramifications of such an act hit him.
"And if I did, then I'll go back to Estolad, and be alone," he continued mournfully as Hîthuldir placed his hand at the base of his spine. He let the Elf guide him back into the spacious bedroom and toward the main part of the house.
"You are young. The arrival of the Edain is new, yet. Many of your kind may choose to live and serve with Elves and there, perhaps, you will find a new companion for your heart."
"It's said that you live forever," Barach whispered. "No Elf would want me because I'll grow old and die." A profound sadness filled his heart. "I should go back without knowing, for it will only cause me to miss it. Miss you. More than I can tell I already will."
Hîthuldir made Barach take his arm for stability going down the wide staircase. "I will speak with Amras. For now, eat and rest. The staff will make sure you are tended to, as will I. You are my patient, after all, and I am pleased to see you recover so quickly."
The Elf's smile was a temporary salve, and Barach returned it. He hid his true feelings, or tried, listening attentively during lunch and trying to memorise the faces and gestures of the Elves at the wooden table, noting that the Great Hunter wasn't there. All too soon he would have to go back to the encampment, where he would probably be chained to his house by his father so he wouldn’t get lost again in the woods.
"Here. Drink this," Hîthuldir said, startling Barach away from his bleak thoughts. He handed him a glass of something that smelled delicious and fruity, and Barach dutifully drank it.
"Let us go back up to our rooms. I will string up the hammock and you can rest."
"My head is full of thoughts, all buzzing around like fireflies," Barach admitted after excusing himself from the table and thanking all of the kitchen staff.
"What troubles you?" Hîthuldir asked as he unrolled the hammock from its tucked-away space and began to string up one end and then the other.
"My father," Barach said through a yawn before covering his mouth, embarrassed. "I don't think he'll let me go into the woods anymore."
He was so fatigued! With a dampened sense of shock, Barach realised what must have been in the fruity concoction: a sleeping draught of some sort.
Hîthuldir took his arm and walked him to the hammock, helping him climb in and easing a pillow under his head. "You will rest now," he said in a gentle voice. "Your frenzied thoughts will be quiet for a time. Not for very long, just a few hours."
Barach wanted to protest, but instead he yawned again, barely able to keep his eyes open. Sleep tenderly came and claimed him.
* * * * *
"All three of us, together?" Amras clarified as he walked through the orchard at Hîthuldir's side. A scent of apples filled the air, bringing with it memories of an afternoon he and Hîthuldir had spent hidden away, enjoying each other's bodies to the fullest.
"Not exactly," Hîthuldir said, the smile evident in his voice. "Though if it came to that, I doubt you would mind, would you?"
"Mind?" Amras let his hand slide down from the small of Hîthuldir's back to cup a buttock, relishing the feel of muscle as it moved with each leisurely step. "This second-born, from what he revealed to you, he has barely kissed another. He is untouched, in every sense of the word. Do you not think it would overwhelm him?"
"You are evading my question."
Amras harrumphed, moving his arm to drape across the back of Hîthuldir's waist. "You know me in some ways better than my own twin. If you are encouraging both of us to teach Barach for one night, know that I will not feel we have in any way diluted our bond."
"Oh Rus." Hîthuldir stopped and turned to kiss him, the soft gesture soon growing deep and passionate. "Even if you bedded all of Amrod's comely staff, our bond would be no weaker. We respect our feä's exclusivity by doing the same with our bodies, but this is a unique moment."
Amras saw the mixture of amusement and love in Hîthuldir's eyes and had no doubt that he spoke truly.
"You have imagined us with others?" Amras asked provocatively, taking his lover's hand and continuing their walk to the house.
"Of course. As have you. I share your worry about Barach, though I sense in him a tremendous capacity for being a quick and enthusiastic learner."
Amras smiled widely at that. "Yes, beloved. But do not forget, he is first and foremost your recently recovered patient. We cannot so exploit the pleasures of his innocent body that he becomes ill again, this time due to exhaustion."
He could think of a great many ways to wear out the youth, and heat flooded his groin as details rose to mind. That the two of them could share their centuries of knowledge would be something new, and exciting.
"I will be certain that our affections wear him out only to the point that he sleeps soundly. And I have both salves and tonics, should he be sore."
"Should he?" Amras said, laughing as he opened the door to the back of the house, leading into a large sitting room. He switched to high Elvish for a moment, just in case Barach had been watching for them and was listening nearby. "He is a virgin, my love. That is when the soreness is sweetest. But sore he'll be, for certain."
Hîthuldir rolled his eyes, but a smile traipsed on his lips nonetheless. "We will offer ourselves, and let him decide."
"How could he say no?" Amras asked, wandering into the main kitchen to find something sweet to nibble on. "Why would he?" He was genuinely baffled, given Hîthuldir's description of what had transpired during Barach's bath.
"It could be too much."
Hîthuldir plucked a green apple from a bowl of fruit, nodding to one of the kitchen staff before taking a loud, crunching bite. Amras watched him chew, then replied, "I wager that he'll be willing to take that risk."
Amras spent the afternoon with Barach in decidedly non-amorous pursuits, showing him map after map of Beleriand, the different Elvish territories, and where his other brothers ruled. Barach seemed fascinated by all of the names, enclaves and cultures, and how vast and wild large sections of the land were. He was particularly interested in Círdan and his mariners in the western coastal lands of Falas.
"I've never seen the sea," he said, gazing at Amras with a look of awe. "Can you describe it to me?"
Amras thought back to his experiences on the waters and brought the positive memories to the forefront. Barach's expression was so earnest and curious, Amras found himself smiling.
"I assume you have seen lakes." He waited for Barach's eager nod. "The sea is a lake that goes on and on to the horizon, far off to the west whence the Elves first came into being. It is unknowable, how wide and deep the sea is. The waters are blue, or sometimes blue-green, or grey, turbulent and foaming. Ulmo rules over the ocean and all waters in the same way as Oromë is lord of the hunt."
Barach's eyes were wide with intrigue. "So have you always lived here? In Beleriand?"
"No, lómelindi, I have not. Come, let us go for a walk in the birch forest, a short walk," he amended, thinking both about Barach's strength later on that evening, but also the dinner hour, which was quickly approaching.
"What did you call me?" Barach asked as he pulled on a hat, one Hîthuldir had found rolled up in the Adan's belongings.
"Lómelindi. Dusk-singer, or nightingale. You do have a beautiful voice."
The young man blushed prettily, and Amras acknowledged to himself that perhaps he took an unhealthy pleasure in causing such reactions. During their walk, Amras told Barach an abbreviated version of his family's history, of his father and brothers, the Silmarils, how they had come to Beleriand by boat. He decided that Barach should know the true story of Amras' heritage, so he also told him of the kinslaying and burning of the boats at Losgar.
Barach had been enthusiastically munching on an apple as he listened with a keen ear until Amras came to the part where his father had acted against Fingolfin and abandoned his people to their fate.
"They are here now," Amras said, looking at Barach, whose expression was distraught. "They walked over the Helcaraxë, massive sheets of ice. Some were lost, but Elves are resilient. My brother Maitimo has only one hand now, and he wields his sword with more deadly force than he did when he was whole."
Amras began to regret having been so candid in his tales. The poor Adan stood mute, sorrow in his eyes, disbelief clinging to his features.
"When lord Felagund came to us and woke us up in a way, from our fear and ignorance, I thought all Elveswould be like him."
His voice cracked, and Amras saw a lone tear slide down his cheek before dissolving into the gleaming auburn bristles of his short beard.
"But you've fought and killed amongst yourselves. You and your brothers are exiled from parts of this land. And for all of that, I would stay with you, if I could. Hîthuldir," he said, sniffing and brusquely rubbing his eyes on the shoulder of his tunic. "He's been loyal to you no matter what, hasn't he?"
"From the very beginning," Amras said, taking the apple core out of Barach's hand and tossing it aside before enfolding him in his arms. "I wanted you to know my history from my mouth. If and when you do move on to more westerly settlements, you will hear very different perspectives on the past. I am not proud of much that I have done at the behest of my father, but I am bound to him, and I am proud to be a son of Fëanor. We are like comets, and I fear that Amrod and I will blaze and fall. I only hope that it is in battle against the evils to the north, not against other Elves."
Barach tightened his grip on Amras' tunic, and Amras rubbed his hand reassuringly against his back. "You should not carry the burdens of my kin. Your kind have only just come into these lands, and you will write your own tales. Please do not be sad of heart. Hîthuldir is going to have strong words for me, I'm afraid," he said half to himself.
The young man shook slightly with a muffled, bark of a laugh against Amras' chest, and then eased out of his arms. Amras stood still as Barach tentatively reached out a hand to cradle his smooth jaw, the melancholy in his expression appearing to change to acceptance.
"I'll go to Falas and the sea, if I can find a way, and if the shipwright will accept me," he said, letting his hand drop back to his side.
"Círdan is wise, and I suspect he would welcome men like you of stout heart and strong arm."
"Don't forget the beauty of his voice. And face," Hîthuldir said brightly from behind him, and Amras jerked his head around, having been momentarily caught off guard. "Sorry, Rus! I did not mean to startle you." Hîthuldir laid his hand on Amras' arm for a brief moment.
"Are you all right, Barach?" Hîthuldir asked with concern. "What have you two been discussing, if I may ask?"
"It started as a geography lesson," Amras said, "but then turned to history. I believe that I may have disillusioned our young guest."
"No, you haven't!" Barach insisted hotly. "And while I'm young, I'm no child, and no innocent. I haven't killed any orcs yet, but I'm trained to wield a sword and shoot arrows. I would stand by your side, just as Hîthuldir has, and defend you and your family's honour. Even if it cost me my life. You saved it, after all."
"My beloved did that. I would not have you pledge fealty to me and my house, though I am greatly moved by the offer."
Amras glanced at Hîthuldir and saw impatience in his gaze. He focused again on Barach, who looked dejected.
"There is no need to feel indebted," Hîthuldir said to Barach, his warm tones surely meant to be soothing. The youth looked at him, his lips pressed in a thin line. "What would please us both is for you to return to your people, whole and hale. Share with them what you have learned of the Elvish enclaves and realms, and when you are a bit older, venture forth to the west. Be a scholar and guide, and when you do leave Estolad, come and visit us. I believe that Amras will always welcome you with open arms."
Amras nodded slightly, pleased to see a glow of pride on Barach's face.
"My house is always open to you," Amras confirmed. "But there are many hours between now and tomorrow morn. Hîthuldir and I would like to gift you with knowledge I believe you have not yet experienced. There are skills and delights you will be able to share with another male, one who you deem worthy of your affections."
Barach looked startled at the change of topic, and Hîthuldir placed a hand on his shoulder. "We will not force you, of course," Hîthuldir murmured, and the flush Amras had begun to expect in the young Man made its telltale appearance in his cheeks. "It is an offer, and one you need not think on now. My whole purpose in finding you both was to bring you to supper. There are mouth-watering scents of veal cutlets, buttery rolls, and carafes of crisp wine."
"I am rather hungry," Barach admitted, his gaze darting from Hîthuldir's face and back to Amras. He took a deep breath, and Amras gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "You've given me so much already, but I think I would regret staying alone tonight and didn't learn what you wish to teach me."
He fixed them with a coy smile. Perhaps subconsciously, he wetted his lips, the first sign of desire Amras had witnessed with his own eyes.
"Food first. Carnal romps second," Hîthuldir said dryly, and the colour again crept up Barach's neck.
"You're always so practical," Amras groused with good humour. He smiled as Barach let out an embarrassed laugh, walking close to Amras' side as they made their way back to the house where supper awaited them.
* * * * *
Hîthuldir busied himself finding the small decanter of miruvor and pouring three servings into diminuitive glass flutes. Amras opened the doors to their balcony while Barach stood, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Hîthuldir walked over with a glass of miruvor, noting the ruddiness of his face, heated by the wine he'd had with their meal and also doubtless by the praise that had been heaped on him after he'd sung two songs by request after supper.
"You do have a lovely voice," Hîthuldir said now, handing the glass to Barach. "Sip this. It is very potent."
Barach did, his eyes fluttering closed as he swallowed the ambrosia. "That's like nothing I've ever tasted." He carefully placed the glass on the desk at his side.
"And here something else that will be new to you," Hîthuldir said in a low voice, wrapping his arms around Barach's upper back, pressing his lips to his slightly open mouth. He sent his tongue along Barach's lower lip before sucking on it, closing his eyes when he felt a moan breathed hotly into his mouth. With tongue and lips, Hîthuldir taught Barach the subtleties and passionate dance of kissing, the lesson continuing on until Hîthuldir felt Barach's arousal, steely and pressed against his hip. He drew back and surveyed his work on Barach's glistening, full lips.
"Amras has yet another unique flavour," he said a bit raggedly. "Rus? Come enjoy him."
"Gladly."
Hîthuldir began to move behind Barach, but Amras stopped him, kissing him soundly and possessively. Hîthuldir melted against him, their tongues darting and circling in well known patterns that never ceased to excite them both. Amras eased away from the kiss, his eyes hooded and full of short, urgent messages Hîthuldir could read as easily as any tome in their library: yours, mine, ours, now.
"He tastes of innocence, and ripe apples," Hîthuldir said, using a finger to trace down the middle of Amras' chest, his shirt unfastened and his torso bared to his navel.
"And you accuse me of words of high romance?" Amras said, his lips quirked. He glanced over at Barach, who was watching them, his fingers digging into his thighs near his groin, but not touching the obvious mound between them.
"You two," he said, struggling for appropriate words. "Two men. Warriors. Elves," he finally said, seeming exasperated with himself. "You're beautiful together. Why would anyone say it’s not just as natural as a male and female?"
"I do not know," Hîthuldir stated, his hands cupping Amras' backside. "I have only ever sought male company in matters of sex. Anything else is unnatural to me. Rus," he said, slowly rocking his hips against his lover's groin. "I think it's time our Adan sees you without hindrance of clothing."
"Indeed. I would see you both naked as well."
Hîthuldir made a pleased purring sound and stepped back from Amras, giving Barach a reassuring smile. "May I undress you? And then we'll all get on the bed. It is large enough for all three of us."
Barach nodded, his gaze riveted on Amras as the son of Fëanor quickly stripped and walked to the bed, arranging pillows against the headboard. Hîthuldir wasted no time in removing his own clothes. He was more leisurely as he undid Barach's shirt and then unlaced his leggings, easing them down his thighs and calves. Once naked, Barach seemed ashamed, highly aroused, and uncertain, a self-conscious storm of conflicting feelings.
"Should I… watch?" he asked in a hesitant voice.
"By Eru, no!" Amras declared from the bed, working himself with one hand. "Well, you can, but I would much prefer to have you join us. Intimately."
"May I?" Hîthuldir asked, letting his fingers graze along Barach's cock, which twitched in response.
"Of course! Oh, oh…" Barach choked out as Hîthuldir let his fingers play in the curls at the base before taking him in a firm grip.
"I want to taste you here, too," Hîthuldir said, pressing against Barach's torso so the hot skin of their cocks touched. "But first, let's join Amras. He is quite a skilled kisser. Between us you will discover just how much passion can be shared between two of our sex. You have brought yourself pleasure alone?" he asked, and Barach nodded, his hands still hanging at his sides as though afraid to touch him.
"Come, vibrant beauty." Hîthuldir breathed the invitation into his ear, so novel with its rounded top but evidently as sensitive as an Elf's, given the groan that escaped Barach's mouth. "Amras and I want you to explore our bodies. Obviously you find us pleasing."
"By the Sun, I do!" Barach said hoarsely.
"Then come here." Amras patted the coverlet. "Don't worry about hurting us, or using words. We will listen to the sounds you make, your sighs and gasps." He opened his arms in invitation.
Barach turned and gave Hîthuldir a deep, thorough kiss, then walked swiftly to the bed and crawled next to Amras. Hîthuldir followed close behind, wetting his lips in anticipation of taking Barach's bobbing erection into his mouth. He let Barach have a few moments with Amras, but he kept his fingers between Barach's legs. While they kissed and nuzzled each other, Hîthuldir's fingers kept busy, rolling the soft sacs with their peachlike fuzz, and then carding through the abundance of wiry curls at the base of his sex.
Amras eased Barach onto his back, still kissing him with abandon, and at last Hîthuldir leaned over and took the Adan in his mouth, the crown fitting sweetly against his palate. His excitement at pleasuring Barach with his tongue, taking him fully in his mouth until it neared his throat and humming his satisfaction at his musky-salt flavour lasted only a few moments. Sooner than Hîthuldir had expected, Barach's hips bucked and his thighs trembled. He cried out as he climaxed, a wounded and surprised torrent of sounds while Hîthuldir swallowed and then licked him clean. He slid up the bed and leaned across Barach, who lay panting, his face crimson, so he could kiss his lover, sharing the Adan's taste.
"Mmmmm," Amras said thoughtfully once Hîthuldir eased back on his side, looking tenderly at Barach. His eyes were wet, though he didn't wipe at them.
"Are you all right, precious sun child?"
Barach gulped and nodded, his gaze moving from Hîthuldir to Amras, and back again. "I've… well…" He sniffed, and Amras placed a hand on his hip, giving it a squeeze. "Touching myself never felt like that. Even imagining it was Brind— someone else. Nothing came close to how you just made me feel."
"The touch of another enhances all delights of the flesh," Hîthuldir murmured. "Due to our responsibilities, Rus and I often have spent months apart at a time, and we rely on memory and our own skill in the interim."
"I'd really like to try that myself," Barach said, his voice cracking as he glanced down at Hîthuldir's arousal. He cleared his throat and fixing his eyes on Amras' face, said more confidently, "I want to please you both, if you don't mind my inexperience."
Hîthuldir draped his leg over Barach's thigh, reaching over the youth's torso to grasp his lover's jutting cock.
"It has been hundreds of years since I was last with someone discovering such treasures for the first time. I consider this a privilege. After this night you will be an innocent no longer," Amras noted. "Whomever you take to your bed should consider himself fortunate beyond measure."
"I feel that way now," Barach said softly, watching as Hîthuldir expertly stroked Amras up and down.
"Then apply your knowledge of what felt good to you and use it on me. You and I shall trade places," Hîthuldir said, placing dry kisses on the freckles he found on Barach's shoulder. "Rus, you have the oil?"
"Yes."
Hîthuldir gave his lover's wide shaft a gentle squeeze, then released his grip. "Good. Then you will fuck me and Barach, use your mouth and hands as you wish. If you want to watch, that's fine. Much can be learned by observing, though you'll enjoy this night far more as a participant." Barach's expression of surprise at Hîthuldir's blunt language made the Elf chuckle as the Man crawled to Hîthuldir's other side. "It is always lovemaking because Amras is my beloved, but we don't always use pretty words."
"You two are unlike Felagund in so many ways," Barach said, avidly watching Amras as he applied a liberal amount of the unguent until his cock glistened from root to tip. "Much of what I've learned here I'll treasure as my secret. Unless another Man arrives who's like me…"
"Do not trouble yourself about the future," Hîthuldir said, using his fingers to guide Barach's gaze to his own face. "You are here now. My body is an instrument for you to learn to play, or if you prefer, you can watch us together. If you wish it, later, he or I can join you completely."
"I… maybe… thank you," Barach mumbled, scooting back so his mouth was poised over Hîthuldir's straining cock.
"Now, love," Hîthuldir commanded Amras, pulling up one knee to his chest and encouraging his lover's coupling. He closed his eyes at the familiar fullness, burning at first until it transformed to pleasure.
"I'll never forget this night," Hîthuldir heard Barach say before his lips became busy doing memorable things beyond the realm of speech.
* * * * *
In an early hour of pre dawn, Hîthuldir woke up, needing the chamber pot. As he returned to the bed, he gazed at the form of his lover holding Barach in his arms, the youth's mouth open slightly as he breathed in sleep. Hîthuldir was sore and a bit tender, but that would pass in a day or so. The enthusiasm of both Amras and Barach was worth any discomfort. He slid under the coverlet to spoon at Barach's side, careful not to wake him. He felt slightly conflicted feelings for the young Man: in some ways, he was like a son, someone he wanted to protect and instruct. But he would not have such feelings of erotic appeal to his own kin.
He was uncertain as to whether or not the Edain could receive Elvish blessings, but regardless, he sent one soundlessly to him. He invoked the protection of the Valar and the hope that he, though second-born with different customs and laws, would find someone worthy of his loyalty and affection. Hîthuldir brushed a kiss against the warm skin of his shoulder blade, and then drifted off to sleep.
Gelinnas turned his horse down the tree-lined path to lord Telufinwe's stately home. After so many decades with Círdan , his mariners and their kin with their houses evocative of the sea, the other Great Hunter's house of wood and stone seemed cumbersome to his eyes. That noted, he was certain he would adapt once again to life in East Beleriand. He heard a bird call, but recognised it to be a scout's disguised alert. Doubtless one of the household would ride out, or he would be met at the welcoming expanse of front stairs. No individual, whether friend or foe, approached Amras' or Amrod's realms undetected.
Reflexively he raised his right hand to the glass pendant that hung around his neck, his fingers tracing around the shapely dark silver pearl that adorned the stopper. Taking both reins again, Gelinnas hastened to the house, unsurprised to see Amras himself step out onto the landing as he pulled his horse to a halt.
"My lord— Amras," Gelinnas corrected himself, seeing both happiness and sympathy in the Elf lord's eyes. He laid a hand atop his heart and bowed slightly before dismounting and handing over the reins to an equerry who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
"Dear Gelinnas," Amras rumbled, taking the former squire into a warm, comforting embrace. "What a pleasure to see you. Amrod had notified me, so I knew to expect you some time this summer, and that you would return alone. How are you faring?"
Gelinnas gave Amras a gentle squeeze and stepped back. "Well enough. It was no surprise, though the permanence of it has added to my sorrow. I was able to share a lifetime with him. Well, his lifetime, but it was so short compared to ours, far too short. I've mourned Barach, and I don't live with regret for the choice that I made. I knew the time would pass too quickly, but I cannot help having loved him." He paused, and looked at Amras' concerned expression. "I did love him, from the depths of my soul. At times I have no consolation, for I don't believe he will be there to welcome me in the undying lands. I don't know where the spirits of the Edain go, and that sorrow I can't purge."
Amras gave him a rueful smile. "Come inside. You've had long journey, and rest and sweet wine will do you good."
"Thank you." Gelinnas felt a bit of the weight in his heart ease at being in Amras' presence again.
"Hîthuldir will return from the training ground later this afternoon. He and I both want to hear tales of your time with Círdan, what news came to you there on the western shores, and, of course, about your life with Barach. More Men came from over the mountains, swelling the numbers in Estolad. Many of the Edain have gone on to Dorthonion, and others to the slopes of the Ered Wethrin."
"He was unique," Gelinnas murmured, allowing himself to be guided into Amras' home and led to a canvas pavilion set up out on the expanse of lawn. "Such a voice, and generous heart. I wish he had been Elf-kind," he said in a rough voice, his emotions about the death of his lover at last rising to the surface. "But then he wouldn't have been himself. My life seems so long now." He turned to face Amras, feeling a hot tear slide down his cheek. "And yet I wouldn't change things. The gift was so tenderly given. I miss him, though he was so frail at the end. Ninety-four. That's all! I wonder how many years must pass before the pain lessens."
Amras let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "I dare not guess. Here, have this." He handed Gelinnas a glass of chilled wine, which he accepted gratefully. "And tell me, if it is not too painful, what life was like among the shipwrights, living on the shore of the sea."
Gelinnas felt the twinge of loss in his chest like a physical ache, but he also remembered the words his beloved had said a few days before he'd died in his sleep: "Remember me when I was young," he'd said, his voice a rasp. "When you go to Amras and Hîthuldir, tell them about our adventures, before I grew old. Keep our early years in your memory."
"I will treasure them all," he'd insisted, the words both a commitment and a vow.
"I've written about our time at the havens," he told Amras. "A recollection of skills learned, cycles of the seasons, of the vibrant personalities among his people. I wrote out a second copy when Barach's memory began to fade… will you keep it here, safe in your library?"
"Of course. His memory and story will become part of the legacy of our time here."
At dusk that evening he stood with Amras and Hîthuldir, the pendant holding the last of Barach's ashes cradled reverently in his hands. Per his lover's request, he was to release the final physical remnants of his life on the grounds where, as he'd said, he had come truly to know himself.
Hîthuldir chanted a soft prayer of protection and then sang a lament for the dead. As his clear voice rose into the twilight, Gelinnas took the cork out of the sea glass pendant, its teardrop shape only appropriate given the ceremony. He forced himself to remember Barach's face, beaming with pride and wonder during their first sail on the open waters, as he emptied the ashes into the caressing breeze and on the ground.
"May the Valar keep you, precious child of the Sun," Amras said, reaching out his hand to Gelinnas. He took it, looking over at Amras through eyes blurred with tears. Amras nodded, and Gelinnas put the pendant back over his head, refitting the pearl stopper, and envisioning the young Adan, the copper in his beard glinting under a mid-day sun.
"Come to me," he begged in a hoarse whisper, "when I am parted from this life. Loving Valar, let us be reunited. Until then, rest in peace, sun of my heart."
As Hîthuldir sang the last notes of his remembrance, Gelinnas look up at the sky. A star streaked across the violet expanse, and he took a ragged breath. Fervently he believed that such a portend meant his entreaty had been heard. Back in the house, he sat with Amras and Hîthuldir. With a heart that burned with the fire of remembered love, he told the tale of their unlikely courtship in Estolad and their subsequent life together.
That night he dreamed of their first time they swam in the ocean, and when he awoke, on his lips he tasted the salt of bittersweet tears.
Author's Notes:
Hîthuldir= mist/fog – man (an Elvish name I made up)
Amaldon= Quenya – gentle (found via Merin Essi ar Quenteli: http://www.realelvish.net/)
According to the chapter on The Coming of Men, the Men/Edain referred to Finrod as Nóm, or knowledge.
Title slightly modified from a line found in Shakespeare's Sonnet 55.