Disclaimer: They're Ursula K. LeGuin's. I just think they're cute together. ^^;
I Knew Thee First
"He stopped, but in his eyes as he looked at Arren and the sunlit hills there
was a great, wordless, grieving love. And Arren saw that, and seeing it saw
him, saw him for the first time whole, as he was.
'I cannot say what I mean,' Ged said unhappily."
- Ursula K. Leguin, The Farthest Shore
But Arren knew what it was that Ged meant to say, knew what it was that he
felt, because the look in Ged's eyes spoke to him in deeper and truer tones
than his words. And as Arren saw the whole man, he saw the things that he loved
about that man, and saw that he was not alone in his love. And he despaired yet
again, but this time it was not for the land, or for their fates, but for he
had realized that yet again he had doubted his leader and his lord, and that he
should have learned better than to doubt the archmage long, long ago.
"But you do not need to say any more, my lord" Arren replied softly, the wind
playing through his hair and turning it golden like a crown in the flames of
the sun as it rose ever higher in the sky. "For I know in my heart what you
mean, and I am sorry to have angered you yet again with the weight of despair."
And Ged looked upon the boy's face, and saw the pure love that he had always
seen there, but now it was different, changed, as Arren had changed during
their journey. As Arren had become a man, so too had his love matured; it was
changed now from the simple worship it had been on that first day, when they'd
met and talked beside the fountain far away on Roke, changed now into a
respectful and ready love that Ged found all too easy to return.
"When we first met on Roke, I saw in your eyes what you thought of me, plain as
day," Ged said to the boy, watching the skin of his cheeks flush hot in the
cool breeze of Selidor even as the sun now began to climb ever higher in the
sky.
"I still believe there are none who walk this earth, nor sail these seas, nor
come from beyond them that could hide anything from you, lord," Arren replied,
eyes downcast to the short, coarse grass and voice coming to Ged as a leaf
floats upon the wind.
And Ged smiled, gently, though the boy could not see it, and reached out with
one hand, white beneath the singed skin that had suffered the presence of Orm
Embar, and touched it to Arren's chin. He lifted the flushed face away from the
grass, forcing their eyes to meet and watching the emotions play like shadows
and light chasing across his companion's face.
"You do not need to call me 'lord', Lebannen, for I am no one's lord, least of
all the descendant of Morred, the one whom I have come to love for who he is,
for he has given me all his love and his life and his loyalty from the day he
first laid eyes upon me, and if you are to call me your lord than so too must I
call you my own."
The joy came slowly, but fully, to Arren's face there in the grasses of
Selidor, and all thoughts of their journey were cast aside, at least for a
time, before the delight of the two companions who shared too few, too-brief
moments all but alone at the edge of the world. And when night came, and Arren
woke to gather wood for a fire, he felt that he saw the world anew, and did not
fear for the lack of stars in the dark vault of the sky above them.
Ged awoke to the soft, warm light of the fire Arren had built and looked upon
the man who sat beside him, the dancing flames reflected in dark eyes nearly
devoid of iris in the night air, and for the first time felt as though he had
come home. Here, in the man beside him, were the mountains of Gont, wreathed in
cloud and skirted by fog and forests. Here were the small towns of goatherds
who lived simple lives, here was the end to his journey and the warmth in his
heart that told him that after all his years of searching, of conquering, of
spells and runes and greatness, here, here, he was finally home.