Eldarion
As the day goes on Estel grows quieter. His joyous chatter slows then ceases, he reaches out to the leaves more frequently.
The sun shines directly above us when he stops and turns to me.
"Are you sure Father told you he would follow in the morning?"
"Yes. One night only he said he would give me."
"Hmm. . . " He stands head tilted contemplating. "Well he gives us more than that obviously."
"Why do you say that? We had a head start. It is early yet."
He sighs and I think he may well be counting to ten at my slowness.
"He is not here. He is not in the woods at all and he knows I would travel here in preference to the road. The trees would know the instant another Silvan set foot in their woods, especially if it was my Father. They have told me nothing except how pleased they are to see me."
"Perhaps he has been delayed then? Perhaps they wasted time arguing amongst themselves instead of following?" I can see that happening.
"Not my Father. Not when it is me he follows. He would walk away from an argument rather than allow it to delay him."
"But I told you, Estel, he was not the slightest bit concerned for your safety, only that you may be unhappy, and he knows I am here."
Estel laughs out loud at that.
"What he knows is that you have attempted to find me, a woodelf, amongst the trees, in the dark. The odds of you succeeding at that are remote. And after all, as it turned out, I found you!"
I can not argue with that. My attempts at tracking him down were abysmal.
"He does not come to the woods on purpose." Estel declares. "He gives us more time. He leads them home upon the road."
"You can not possibly know that." The thought of it though is a relief. I have been dreading the descent of that tension swirling around our fathers upon us again all morning. To know they will not appear . . . It is almost thrilling.
"I know my Father." Estel is adamant. "If he is not in the woods by now then he has led them another way." He bounces upon his toes as if the thought of that is a joy to him also. "This is an escape no longer, instead we have ourselves an adventure, a journey. He glances at me with his mischievous grin. "Eldarion Aragornion, will you come on an adventure with me?
One of the things I love about Estel is how he manages to make me feel so joyful. After a lifetime lacking joy it is a revelation.
"That is not my name!" I laugh.
"Is it not?" He is genuinely confused.
"Eldarion, son of Aragorn is how you say it."
"Is that not the same though?" he frowns, "It seems the same. I do not understand you men. Father said I would not. He said you burned brightly and that it would scar me. If I can not even get so much as a name right . . . " he sighs then, defeated and it hurts me. To hear Legolas describe me thus is unnerving. It is not how I see myself, nor is it how I wish Legolas to see me.
"Eldarion Elessarion is probably what they would call my Elven name, if I was to have one," I tell him gently. I want him to see our similarities, not upset himself with our differences, "or Eldarion Estelion, but given your own name that seems a bit strange."
"Eldarion Elessarion." He repeats it, rolling it around his tongue trying it out for size. "I like that. I will use that. Anyway," he tosses his head as if discarding all his concerns about us. "I happen to like your brightness and your fire. In this my father knows me not at all. How boring is it to know everything about everybody. That is what Valinor was like. There was not a single scrap of mystery about my lovers there. Everything was an open book. Their childhoods, their parents, their grandparents and great grandparents. I knew it all. We were all the same. I am enjoying having to puzzle you out and discover you."
He is as flighty as Legolas can be. Just as I am thinking how best to reply to that he is on to the next thing.
"I hear a stream, Eldarion, perhaps we shall have fish for dinner!" Then he is skipping away from me, light and buoyant, joy and sunshine. He called me lover. He makes my heart sing.
By the time I catch up to him on the banks of the river he is discarding his clothing and stands, naked as the day he was born, on the riverbank, laughing across at me, beckoning me in.
He is beautiful. Every bit of him is beautiful. He takes my breath away.
He dives into the river and looks back at me when he emerges, wet hair framing his face in gold. Droplets of clear, blue water slide off every perfect muscle.
"I promise I will turn my head," he laughs up at me. "I will not look. Come join me. Elrohir is not here to lecture us." He laughs about my previous reticence to undress in front of him but things have changed now.
"I care not, you have seen it all anyway now and more! Let Elrohir do his worst. Let him try."
The water is cold and refreshing as it hits me. Estel, when I come up for air, is across the other side of the river and I head straight for him.
"So bold, Elessarion" he chuckles. "Who would have thought? Swimming with no clothes on!"
I do like this new name we have discovered for me, and he is right, I feel bold.
It is he who emboldens me and the freedom the touch of ice cold water upon my skin gives me makes me invincible. He stands before me in all his glorious exquisiteness and I cannot resist him.
Before I know it, before I stop to consider what it is I do, his face is in my hands and I am kissing him. His lips upon mine are at once both soft and strong as for a moment he returns the kiss. It is a heady, exhilarating mix of breathlessness.
And then it becomes entirely the wrong thing to have done at all.
A disaster.
"No!" He pushes me away, casts me off and backs away, hands help up defensively to ward me off. "I said no to this Eldarion! You are not ready!"
It stings. It stings deeply.
"Who are you to tell me if I am, or am not ready? I am the master of that Estel. I am not totally inexperienced. It is not as if we have not been here before at any rate. I know what I want. I know what I am ready for."
And he puts even more distance between us.
"I am not ready then!" he cries. I told you your intensity frightens me. I told you I do not know what to do with it. You lay your heart open for me and I am afraid I will break it. Respect the boundaries I lay for us!"
He turns his back on me and swims back to the other side, towards our clothes, each stroke cutting through the water with an unspoken fury.
I can only stand and watch.
Back ramrod straight he strides out with not so much as a backward glance.
"I am sorry."
It is only when I call out those words as he struggles into his clothes, the wetness of his skin making them cling to him as if they wish to prevent him succeeding, that he looks across to me.
"It is not no forever, Eldarion," he says sadly, "only for now." Then he turns away, begins walking along the bank away from me.
"Where are you going?" I am scared for a moment he is leaving me, that I have, in my clumsiness, destroyed it all.
"To find us some food. Spend some time in the water. Relax, reach out to the nature around you, practice using that fëa of yours. I think it will do you good." It is not with anger but with fondness and care he speaks to me now.
But I am left feeling I have trampled all over something precious and crumpled it into the dust.
I try to do what he tells me. There is wisdom in his words and I am suddenly desperate to please him. I lie myself back in the water, feeling it's caress against my skin, watching the clouds above, reaching for a responding echo from the natural world around me but I may as well be a Man without any trace of Elven blood for all I get in return. It is as if I am locked behind glass. I am full of turmoil and guilt. My fëa is deaf to anything but that.
I give up in the end for it is so obviously hopeless, returning to shore to pull dry clothes over my wet skin. Without him the water has lost all allure. Without him the beauty has bled out of my surroundings, out of my life. I sit on the shore and berate myself over my idiocy as I watch the river swirling past me. He was clear with me what he wanted and I ignored him. What was I thinking? Where was my self control? I knew he wished to slow the pace and return to something less physical, more like friendship. How could I forget that?
"I have fish!" He announces it as a triumph behind me, voice light and merry and I imagine he holds them aloft but I cannot look. I am too shamed and I do not want to see the disapproval on his face which I know must be there, even though no trace of it remains in his words.
I sit instead, head in my hands, and wish the ground would swallow me whole. I do not want to be here. I do not know what I should do to wipe this clean and start again.
He hesitates, I feel it, but then he moves away, lights a fire, begins his cooking while I say nothing. Whatever it is he does with that fish smells delicious. It is hot and steaming when he deposits a serving in my lap and sits beside me cradling his own.
"Do not be angry, Eldarion," he says quietly. "Please do not make me feel bad about this."
"I am not angry with you!" I cry. "I am angry with myself. I am such a fool!"
Then his arm is across my shoulder. The ease of his touch surprises me after the pain of his previous aggressive withdrawal from my own.
He reaches across to brush the curls from my eyes where my hair has dried wild and uncontrollable, tumbling across my face like a shield.
"Ah," he sighs softly, with an unexpected love I do not deserve in this moment, "I cannot deny that . . .
But you are my fool."