Title: One Last Time, part 6/12
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer2000@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Paring: Haldir/Gildor; Glorfindel/Thranduil.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plotline. Even Gildor Inglorion isn't mine--Tolkien had him first.
Warnings: None, except that it's slash.
Archiving: OLAS and anyone else who wants it, just let me know.
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc (Unspoken/Revelations/Changes.)
Third Age, 180: Imladris
Haldir had collapsed beneath Gildor, looking a bit overwhelmed, once perfect blond hair more than a little mussed, face a delicate shade of pink, eyes half closed and smiling from ear to ear. "You never cease to amaze, gwador," he murmured, drawing Gildor down to his chest. "But I think it may be awhile before I can . . .arrange things as I had planned."
"Then let me." A wicked spark glowed in Gildor's brown eyes; a delightful mixture of provocation, warmth and pure mischief.
Haldir's eyes opened fully at that, and his expression registered considerable surprise. "Are you sure . . . that is, I have no objection, but I wasn't certain if you . . . "
"Oh, I think I can manage," Gildor said softly.
Haldir did not hesitate, pulling Gildor into another long kiss and smiling against his lips when they came up for air. "I'm at your disposal."
Gildor decided to take him literally. If this was his only chance to possess what he'd waited centuries for, then let it be something to remember for the long years ahead. He took the little tub of salve Haldir handed him from the nightstand, and looked it over carefully. Of course, in theory he knew what to do, but that was different from having practical experience. If Haldir noticed his hesitation, he said nothing, continuing to run light caresses down Gildor's back and smiling contentedly.
Gildor decided he liked the scent of the light green lotion--it had a spicy undertone, but mostly smelled of open air and herbs grown under a summer sun. He scooped a small amount onto his fingers and thought back as best he could with the distraction of Haldir whispering naughty suggestions. It was not, Gildor reflected, part in amusement and part in sadness, at all an exact parallel to his only other experience. However, he thought, enthralled by the sight of the stunning golden body lying submissively under him, he did think he could manage.
* * *
Second Age, 3121: Somewhere in Mirkwood
It had all happened so fast; but then, these things always did. They had ridden for several minutes in the direction of the path, passing through the dense, labyrinthine growth of trees and underbrush as quickly as possible. Perhaps they had been too relaxed, considering where they were, but Gildor doubted it would have made any difference. The spiders liked the night and moved with uncanny speed within it, and they had spent centuries learning every facet of the woods. The two elves found themselves surrounded before they realised it, a net of soft, sticky strands dropping suddenly from the overhanging trees, pulling them from the horse. Both had reacted immediately, drawing their bows, but their weapons became enmeshed in the billowing strands almost at once and were rendered useless. Seeing his bow pulled into the branches of a tree high over head, Gildor kept his knives in their sheathes on his belt as he waited for the strands to all descend; he was unwilling to lose them, too, and doubted they would have much effect on the encompassing web.
A spider the size of a pony dropped from its lair in the trees almost on top of him; only the fact that he had begun to thrash about unpredictably allowed him to roll to his feet, sidestepping its reaching pincers. By doing so, however, he only became more securely enmeshed in the web, just as several slightly smaller creatures dropped into sight around him. Haldir's beautiful black stallion was stung by one of the larger spiders and dragged off with the help of several more. The arachnids then turned their attention to the last two victims, and rushed them all at once.
Gildor lashed out with a knife in his one free hand, the other being trapped in the webbing, striking blindly at anything that moved. He knew in the back of his mind that it was hopeless, but he intended to take at least a few of the creatures with him. He glanced at his companion to see Haldir looking determined and utterly without fear, his face calm and still, his knives in his hands. The spiders seemed intelligent--at least they kept out of range of the daggers while more of the horrible creatures massed around them. Soon, Gildor knew, there would be so many that they could not all be fought off at once.
Haldir spoke coolly in his ear. "You hold them off and I will try to cut us loose." Gildor nodded, jabbing at a spider, which skittered back out of range at the last minute so that his knife sliced only air. He did not want to cause Haldir to lose his concentration by talking to him, but he really wished he'd hurry. More spiders, in sizes ranging from dog or cat size to ones almost as big as a horse, were gathering all about them. How much longer they would fear his two little knives was debatable, but he did not think they had much time left. "I think I have loosened it enough that we may be able to break through, if we work together," Haldir hissed in his ear, after what felt like an eternity. "On my mark, push forward." He counted down, and they pulled simultaneously, attempting to tear through the silken strands. The web was as strong as rope, but it had an elastic quality that defeated their efforts; the threads stretched, but they did not break.
They stopped struggling after a few moments, as another charge by the now frighteningly large group of spiders required deflection. Panting and exhausted, they rested back to back while the creatures regrouped, their black, cluster eyes staring at them with what looked to Gildor a great deal like hunger. Then, just as Gildor was certain they were doomed, something happened that he would remember in awe the rest of his life.
A low, menacing rumble shook the ground under his feet and echoed through the trees. He looked up to see a predator of the most dangerous sort looming overhead, its glowing torchlit eyes straight out of a creche-tale, with leathery wings and scales that glittered like diamonds in the pale moonlight. So, some part of his mind that wasn't busy screaming remarked conversationally, that's a dragon, is it? He had no time to voice any inanities, however, as the next instant the forest erupted in a rush of sound and strange, crimson flame. There was a sudden, ear shattering boom and a flash of painfully brilliant light, just before a fireball came right at them. It was beautiful, Gildor thought, red and orange, with little green tongues of flame lapping at the edges . . .
A hand jerked at his tunic, sending him sprawling onto the ground as the fire passed overhead, hitting a venerable old oak a few dozen feet behind him, causing it to explode in a cloud of burning bark and dried leaves. Gildor vaguely realised that the spiders were fleeing the area when several of them scurried past, within a foot of him, but they did not seem to even notice his existence in the urgency of their flight. He had no time to be thankful, however, as the dragon was on a rampage, devouring the larger spiders in a few gulps before beginning to pursue the smaller ones that darted in and out and up the trees in a vain attempt to escape. Haldir half pulled half dragged Gildor away from the area in the confusion, but before they had gone a dozen yards, he collapsed against a tree, clutching at it for support before sinking to the ground.
Gildor quickly realised that at least one of the spiders must have stung Haldir, who was exhibiting all the symptoms of poisoning. Sweat poured off him, yet he was clammy to the touch, his usual pale skin drained of all colour to the point that even his lips looked white. "Go, get away--I'll be fine," he managed to say, as his eyes went glassy and he fought to maintain consciousness.
"Of course you will," Gildor replied, rolling his eyes. Looping an arm about Haldir's waist, he dragged him further in what he hoped was the direction of the path. His sense of direction was usually excellent, but after everything that had happened, he was no longer certain of the way. However, anything had to be better than the place they had just been, from which sounds of carnage could still be heard.
Gildor found his companion to be almost a dead weight and, after a few minutes of struggling through dense undergrowth, he stopped to rest where a clump of smaller trees ringed a huge old oak. Haldir dropped to the ground like a sack of sand as soon as Gildor was no longer supporting him. Rolling him over, Gildor was confronted with the disquieting sight of half-open, unseeing eyes in a dead white face. Deciding that he needed to ascertain his companion's injuries before dragging him further, Gildor hauled him into the hollowed out trunk of the huge tree, spreading his cloak on the ground in an attempt to soften the underlying roughness. He supported Haldir's head and managed to get him to take a few sips of miruvoir while he checked him for injuries. There was a nasty looking gash in his side that could have been made by one of the spider's pincers, but no other serious wounds. Gildor carefully removed his tunic, then used his knives to cut his shirt into bandages, which he wrapped around the wound. Under the circumstances, there wasn't much else he could do except hope that Haldir's natural healing abilities could overcome the venom.
Having made his companion as comfortable as possible, Gildor sat beside him and tried to think. As terrifying as the dragon had been, it had mercifully scared away the spiders, but for how long? They must have nests somewhere nearby, for so many to have turned up so quickly. With considerable unease, he remembered the stories he had heard of them, such that they were like their smaller counterparts in habitually storing up food for lean times. Meaning that the two horses they had already taken that night would not satisfy them; as soon as they returned, he and Haldir were in serious danger, especially without their bows and with no horse to convey them quickly back to the path. That was, he thought, stifling an absurd urge to giggle, if the dragon didn't set them alight or eat them for dessert first.
Normally, they would have run for it, but as long as Haldir remained unconscious, they were at a distinct disadvantage, for he weighed as much as Gildor himself, thus making any rapid progress while carrying him impossible. Besides, Gildor realised nervously, getting back to the path was hardly a smart move as long as the dragon remained in the area, as it would only make it easier for it to see them. He sighed. If running and fighting were both out of the question, then hiding, at least until morning, was the only option.
All his well-developed instincts for danger were screaming at him, but he couldn't sit there mulling over options forever. Exiting cautiously from the hollow, Gildor quickly rounded up as much undergrowth as he could and arranged a camouflage in front of the opening as he had been taught. He then passed behind it, rejoining Haldir and scattering more branches behind him. He had no idea what other senses besides sight the creatures had, and could only hope that his work would be good enough to fool them. As he settled back beside his companion, Haldir began to move, arching his back and crying out indistinct, broken syllables. Gildor's blood ran cold at the thought of what would happen if he was heard; he darted a protective hand over Haldir's bandaged side, trying to hold him down so that he did not injure himself further, while at the same time attempting to calm him. He must be silent, or any chance they had of survival was gone.
It was harder to control his companion's violent movements than Gildor had expected. At one point, Haldir's arms closed tightly around the Gildor's ribs, hard enough to force the breath from his lungs; then he recoiled, thrashing violently enough to lift him partly off the ground. Between spasms he moaned and muttered incoherently, while Gildor lay still and gasped for air, trying to summon strength for the next spasm. Finally, Gildor managed to find a position that seemed to calm him, sandwiching Haldir tightly between his own body and the inner trunk of the tree.
Haldir looked completely different asleep, Gildor thought. Younger. Frailer. Hesitantly, he rubbed his cheek against the disheveled hair and found it as soft and fine as a baby's. His fingertips explored the pale upturned face, moving over the curve of his brow to the half closed eyelids with their thick gold tipped lashes and down the soft cheek. As his fingers passed over the pale throat, Gildor realised with concern that the heartbeat seemed very faint, and he clutched Haldir in sudden fear.
"Please, Haldir, be well. I need your strength," Gildor said, hugging him desperately. "I need your experience and serenity, your confidence and calm. Please don't leave me." He brought his cheek down and tenderly laid it on Haldir's forehead, while continuing the murmured entreaty. He felt Haldir sigh, and he turned to bury his face in Gildor's neck. He was quiet for a time after that, then suddenly began to moan loudly as if in the grip of a nightmare. Gildor, inches away from those unseeing cobalt eyes, his hands already occupied holding Haldir in place, did the only thing he could think of to shut him up--he kissed him. It was either the best or worst thing he could have done--Gildor would debate that point with himself many times afterwards, and fail to come up with an acceptable answer.
Haldir immediately deepened the kiss, tangling his hands in Gildor's hair and molding himself against him. Gildor tried to move away, afraid of causing further harm to his wound, but Haldir would not allow it, pulling him into a fierce, nearly brutal kiss. Before he fully knew what was happening, his shirt was open and Haldir's experienced hands were exploring his chest, sending new and unsettling vibrations through his body. He tried to tell himself that now was hardly the time for this, and to keep his attention on any possible threats from the forest, but when Haldir's mouth followed his hands Gildor's brain seemed to largely shut down.
He never knew how Haldir managed it, for he could swear those talented hands never left his chest, but somehow he found his leggings around his ankles and Haldir sliding a hand between his thighs. Looking down into those still clouded eyes, Gildor tried once again to move away. He did not want Haldir to take him unknowing, uncaring who it was he pleasured. But his actions pulled another groan, this one of protest, from his companion, and Gildor quickly kissed him again, trembling from nervousness and growing desire as he did so. Haldir grasped Gildor behind the head and kissed him back with soft lips moving sensuously against his skin, a silky tongue twining around his, sucking and exploring with increasing ardor. The combination of the intimate little bower, his heightened emotional state from their near miss, and the sensuality of Haldir's movements soon had Gildor in such a state that he no longer cared about the possibilities of danger.
Haldir reversed their positions, his body lithe and sinuous in its movements, until he pressed Gildir down into the blankets. The next few minutes were a confused muddle for Gildor, despite the many times he would later try to sort them out. He discovered both agony and bliss as Haldir claimed him, without the benefit of much preparation and with strength and passion. When it was over, Haldir almost immediately slipped back into insensibility with a soft sigh. Gildor ignored, as much as possible, his own extreme discomfort to curl up by his side and wait for dawn, a sense of loss and loneliness so deep it was overwhelming washing over him. He stared into the chilly night, eyes burning, breathing laboured, feeling like there was a heavy weight on his chest.
Morning finally came, dawning with a thin, watery yellow light that was all that was able to penetrate Mirkwood's denseness. Haldir looked much improved, Gildor noticed; some colour had returned to his face with the dawn and his eyes were clear again, showing that he had been able to overcome most of the effects of the spider's venom. Gildor had not thought he would remember anything of the previous night's activities, but something must have registered or perhaps Gildor did not hide his agitation as well as he had hoped.
"It happens. It is nothing to be distressed about," Haldir commented as they prepared to leave their makeshift camp.
Gildor turned his tearstained face away and regarded the dawn, fighting for control. It? He thought wildly. What did that mean? Being ensnared by creatures out of a nightmare? Nearly getting cooked and eaten? A quick grope in a dark forest? For a moment he was overcome with emotions--shame, anger and that same, deadening sense of loss warred for supremacy. Anger won, and he was grateful for the strength it leant him, dissipating his near panic and flooding him with an icy calm. "Then I hope we can put it behind us."
"Certainly," Haldir replied coolly, before striding off in the direction of the path. Gildor trailed in his wake, vowing never to bring up anything of that night's activities. It was a promise he kept for 500 years.
* * *
Third Age, 180: Imladris
Gildor had learned that, in the midst of joy, there could be great pain. It was a lesson he had had plenty of time to mull over in the centuries of haunting loneliness, of aching, ceaseless craving that followed. He had not forgotten the lesson, but found that it was no longer enough to deter him. He put his hands on Haldir's hips and spread them open, running an unsteady finger over the small opening that was revealed. All his senses seemed heightened, magnifying every small sensation a thousand times. He groaned, grabbing onto the hips before him and pulling the other man back, burying himself completely in one smooth motion.
The longing for intimacy now wracked him more than it had ever done, ironically just as he finally claimed his lover. Haldir was perfect--they fit together as if meant to be--but Gildor's desire was not quenched despite his rapid climax a few moments later. The physical was never all he had wanted, was not, even, the main thing. He wanted to scream that he loved and be told that he was loved in return. But Haldir didn't say it, had never said it. He had to give him that--there had never been any lies between them, except those he told himself.
"Are you sure . . . you have never done that before?" Haldir gasped when he was once more able to speak.
"No, never."
"Then you have an incredible natural talent." He turned over, sweeping Gildor into a lingering kiss. "Just incredible." He smiled at Gildor's flushed face. "Give me a few moments and it will be your turn."
Gildor melted into his companion's embrace, but his thoughts, for the first time that day, were far away. That morning in the forest, so long ago, he had decided that their affair must not continue because he didn't think he could survive being put aside afterwards. To have held and loved and be granted his greatest desire for a moment, then have it all torn away would be worse than anything he had previously felt. Yet he knew that was now inevitable, as soon as Haldir tired of him, which would probably not take long. Somehow, considering how long he had been expecting it, it almost came as a relief to feel his heart breaking.
TBC
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer2000@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Paring: Haldir/Gildor; Glorfindel/Thranduil.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plotline. Even Gildor Inglorion isn't mine--Tolkien had him first.
Warnings: None, except that it's slash.
Archiving: OLAS and anyone else who wants it, just let me know.
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc (Unspoken/Revelations/Changes.)
Third Age, 180: Imladris
Haldir had collapsed beneath Gildor, looking a bit overwhelmed, once perfect blond hair more than a little mussed, face a delicate shade of pink, eyes half closed and smiling from ear to ear. "You never cease to amaze, gwador," he murmured, drawing Gildor down to his chest. "But I think it may be awhile before I can . . .arrange things as I had planned."
"Then let me." A wicked spark glowed in Gildor's brown eyes; a delightful mixture of provocation, warmth and pure mischief.
Haldir's eyes opened fully at that, and his expression registered considerable surprise. "Are you sure . . . that is, I have no objection, but I wasn't certain if you . . . "
"Oh, I think I can manage," Gildor said softly.
Haldir did not hesitate, pulling Gildor into another long kiss and smiling against his lips when they came up for air. "I'm at your disposal."
Gildor decided to take him literally. If this was his only chance to possess what he'd waited centuries for, then let it be something to remember for the long years ahead. He took the little tub of salve Haldir handed him from the nightstand, and looked it over carefully. Of course, in theory he knew what to do, but that was different from having practical experience. If Haldir noticed his hesitation, he said nothing, continuing to run light caresses down Gildor's back and smiling contentedly.
Gildor decided he liked the scent of the light green lotion--it had a spicy undertone, but mostly smelled of open air and herbs grown under a summer sun. He scooped a small amount onto his fingers and thought back as best he could with the distraction of Haldir whispering naughty suggestions. It was not, Gildor reflected, part in amusement and part in sadness, at all an exact parallel to his only other experience. However, he thought, enthralled by the sight of the stunning golden body lying submissively under him, he did think he could manage.
* * *
Second Age, 3121: Somewhere in Mirkwood
It had all happened so fast; but then, these things always did. They had ridden for several minutes in the direction of the path, passing through the dense, labyrinthine growth of trees and underbrush as quickly as possible. Perhaps they had been too relaxed, considering where they were, but Gildor doubted it would have made any difference. The spiders liked the night and moved with uncanny speed within it, and they had spent centuries learning every facet of the woods. The two elves found themselves surrounded before they realised it, a net of soft, sticky strands dropping suddenly from the overhanging trees, pulling them from the horse. Both had reacted immediately, drawing their bows, but their weapons became enmeshed in the billowing strands almost at once and were rendered useless. Seeing his bow pulled into the branches of a tree high over head, Gildor kept his knives in their sheathes on his belt as he waited for the strands to all descend; he was unwilling to lose them, too, and doubted they would have much effect on the encompassing web.
A spider the size of a pony dropped from its lair in the trees almost on top of him; only the fact that he had begun to thrash about unpredictably allowed him to roll to his feet, sidestepping its reaching pincers. By doing so, however, he only became more securely enmeshed in the web, just as several slightly smaller creatures dropped into sight around him. Haldir's beautiful black stallion was stung by one of the larger spiders and dragged off with the help of several more. The arachnids then turned their attention to the last two victims, and rushed them all at once.
Gildor lashed out with a knife in his one free hand, the other being trapped in the webbing, striking blindly at anything that moved. He knew in the back of his mind that it was hopeless, but he intended to take at least a few of the creatures with him. He glanced at his companion to see Haldir looking determined and utterly without fear, his face calm and still, his knives in his hands. The spiders seemed intelligent--at least they kept out of range of the daggers while more of the horrible creatures massed around them. Soon, Gildor knew, there would be so many that they could not all be fought off at once.
Haldir spoke coolly in his ear. "You hold them off and I will try to cut us loose." Gildor nodded, jabbing at a spider, which skittered back out of range at the last minute so that his knife sliced only air. He did not want to cause Haldir to lose his concentration by talking to him, but he really wished he'd hurry. More spiders, in sizes ranging from dog or cat size to ones almost as big as a horse, were gathering all about them. How much longer they would fear his two little knives was debatable, but he did not think they had much time left. "I think I have loosened it enough that we may be able to break through, if we work together," Haldir hissed in his ear, after what felt like an eternity. "On my mark, push forward." He counted down, and they pulled simultaneously, attempting to tear through the silken strands. The web was as strong as rope, but it had an elastic quality that defeated their efforts; the threads stretched, but they did not break.
They stopped struggling after a few moments, as another charge by the now frighteningly large group of spiders required deflection. Panting and exhausted, they rested back to back while the creatures regrouped, their black, cluster eyes staring at them with what looked to Gildor a great deal like hunger. Then, just as Gildor was certain they were doomed, something happened that he would remember in awe the rest of his life.
A low, menacing rumble shook the ground under his feet and echoed through the trees. He looked up to see a predator of the most dangerous sort looming overhead, its glowing torchlit eyes straight out of a creche-tale, with leathery wings and scales that glittered like diamonds in the pale moonlight. So, some part of his mind that wasn't busy screaming remarked conversationally, that's a dragon, is it? He had no time to voice any inanities, however, as the next instant the forest erupted in a rush of sound and strange, crimson flame. There was a sudden, ear shattering boom and a flash of painfully brilliant light, just before a fireball came right at them. It was beautiful, Gildor thought, red and orange, with little green tongues of flame lapping at the edges . . .
A hand jerked at his tunic, sending him sprawling onto the ground as the fire passed overhead, hitting a venerable old oak a few dozen feet behind him, causing it to explode in a cloud of burning bark and dried leaves. Gildor vaguely realised that the spiders were fleeing the area when several of them scurried past, within a foot of him, but they did not seem to even notice his existence in the urgency of their flight. He had no time to be thankful, however, as the dragon was on a rampage, devouring the larger spiders in a few gulps before beginning to pursue the smaller ones that darted in and out and up the trees in a vain attempt to escape. Haldir half pulled half dragged Gildor away from the area in the confusion, but before they had gone a dozen yards, he collapsed against a tree, clutching at it for support before sinking to the ground.
Gildor quickly realised that at least one of the spiders must have stung Haldir, who was exhibiting all the symptoms of poisoning. Sweat poured off him, yet he was clammy to the touch, his usual pale skin drained of all colour to the point that even his lips looked white. "Go, get away--I'll be fine," he managed to say, as his eyes went glassy and he fought to maintain consciousness.
"Of course you will," Gildor replied, rolling his eyes. Looping an arm about Haldir's waist, he dragged him further in what he hoped was the direction of the path. His sense of direction was usually excellent, but after everything that had happened, he was no longer certain of the way. However, anything had to be better than the place they had just been, from which sounds of carnage could still be heard.
Gildor found his companion to be almost a dead weight and, after a few minutes of struggling through dense undergrowth, he stopped to rest where a clump of smaller trees ringed a huge old oak. Haldir dropped to the ground like a sack of sand as soon as Gildor was no longer supporting him. Rolling him over, Gildor was confronted with the disquieting sight of half-open, unseeing eyes in a dead white face. Deciding that he needed to ascertain his companion's injuries before dragging him further, Gildor hauled him into the hollowed out trunk of the huge tree, spreading his cloak on the ground in an attempt to soften the underlying roughness. He supported Haldir's head and managed to get him to take a few sips of miruvoir while he checked him for injuries. There was a nasty looking gash in his side that could have been made by one of the spider's pincers, but no other serious wounds. Gildor carefully removed his tunic, then used his knives to cut his shirt into bandages, which he wrapped around the wound. Under the circumstances, there wasn't much else he could do except hope that Haldir's natural healing abilities could overcome the venom.
Having made his companion as comfortable as possible, Gildor sat beside him and tried to think. As terrifying as the dragon had been, it had mercifully scared away the spiders, but for how long? They must have nests somewhere nearby, for so many to have turned up so quickly. With considerable unease, he remembered the stories he had heard of them, such that they were like their smaller counterparts in habitually storing up food for lean times. Meaning that the two horses they had already taken that night would not satisfy them; as soon as they returned, he and Haldir were in serious danger, especially without their bows and with no horse to convey them quickly back to the path. That was, he thought, stifling an absurd urge to giggle, if the dragon didn't set them alight or eat them for dessert first.
Normally, they would have run for it, but as long as Haldir remained unconscious, they were at a distinct disadvantage, for he weighed as much as Gildor himself, thus making any rapid progress while carrying him impossible. Besides, Gildor realised nervously, getting back to the path was hardly a smart move as long as the dragon remained in the area, as it would only make it easier for it to see them. He sighed. If running and fighting were both out of the question, then hiding, at least until morning, was the only option.
All his well-developed instincts for danger were screaming at him, but he couldn't sit there mulling over options forever. Exiting cautiously from the hollow, Gildor quickly rounded up as much undergrowth as he could and arranged a camouflage in front of the opening as he had been taught. He then passed behind it, rejoining Haldir and scattering more branches behind him. He had no idea what other senses besides sight the creatures had, and could only hope that his work would be good enough to fool them. As he settled back beside his companion, Haldir began to move, arching his back and crying out indistinct, broken syllables. Gildor's blood ran cold at the thought of what would happen if he was heard; he darted a protective hand over Haldir's bandaged side, trying to hold him down so that he did not injure himself further, while at the same time attempting to calm him. He must be silent, or any chance they had of survival was gone.
It was harder to control his companion's violent movements than Gildor had expected. At one point, Haldir's arms closed tightly around the Gildor's ribs, hard enough to force the breath from his lungs; then he recoiled, thrashing violently enough to lift him partly off the ground. Between spasms he moaned and muttered incoherently, while Gildor lay still and gasped for air, trying to summon strength for the next spasm. Finally, Gildor managed to find a position that seemed to calm him, sandwiching Haldir tightly between his own body and the inner trunk of the tree.
Haldir looked completely different asleep, Gildor thought. Younger. Frailer. Hesitantly, he rubbed his cheek against the disheveled hair and found it as soft and fine as a baby's. His fingertips explored the pale upturned face, moving over the curve of his brow to the half closed eyelids with their thick gold tipped lashes and down the soft cheek. As his fingers passed over the pale throat, Gildor realised with concern that the heartbeat seemed very faint, and he clutched Haldir in sudden fear.
"Please, Haldir, be well. I need your strength," Gildor said, hugging him desperately. "I need your experience and serenity, your confidence and calm. Please don't leave me." He brought his cheek down and tenderly laid it on Haldir's forehead, while continuing the murmured entreaty. He felt Haldir sigh, and he turned to bury his face in Gildor's neck. He was quiet for a time after that, then suddenly began to moan loudly as if in the grip of a nightmare. Gildor, inches away from those unseeing cobalt eyes, his hands already occupied holding Haldir in place, did the only thing he could think of to shut him up--he kissed him. It was either the best or worst thing he could have done--Gildor would debate that point with himself many times afterwards, and fail to come up with an acceptable answer.
Haldir immediately deepened the kiss, tangling his hands in Gildor's hair and molding himself against him. Gildor tried to move away, afraid of causing further harm to his wound, but Haldir would not allow it, pulling him into a fierce, nearly brutal kiss. Before he fully knew what was happening, his shirt was open and Haldir's experienced hands were exploring his chest, sending new and unsettling vibrations through his body. He tried to tell himself that now was hardly the time for this, and to keep his attention on any possible threats from the forest, but when Haldir's mouth followed his hands Gildor's brain seemed to largely shut down.
He never knew how Haldir managed it, for he could swear those talented hands never left his chest, but somehow he found his leggings around his ankles and Haldir sliding a hand between his thighs. Looking down into those still clouded eyes, Gildor tried once again to move away. He did not want Haldir to take him unknowing, uncaring who it was he pleasured. But his actions pulled another groan, this one of protest, from his companion, and Gildor quickly kissed him again, trembling from nervousness and growing desire as he did so. Haldir grasped Gildor behind the head and kissed him back with soft lips moving sensuously against his skin, a silky tongue twining around his, sucking and exploring with increasing ardor. The combination of the intimate little bower, his heightened emotional state from their near miss, and the sensuality of Haldir's movements soon had Gildor in such a state that he no longer cared about the possibilities of danger.
Haldir reversed their positions, his body lithe and sinuous in its movements, until he pressed Gildir down into the blankets. The next few minutes were a confused muddle for Gildor, despite the many times he would later try to sort them out. He discovered both agony and bliss as Haldir claimed him, without the benefit of much preparation and with strength and passion. When it was over, Haldir almost immediately slipped back into insensibility with a soft sigh. Gildor ignored, as much as possible, his own extreme discomfort to curl up by his side and wait for dawn, a sense of loss and loneliness so deep it was overwhelming washing over him. He stared into the chilly night, eyes burning, breathing laboured, feeling like there was a heavy weight on his chest.
Morning finally came, dawning with a thin, watery yellow light that was all that was able to penetrate Mirkwood's denseness. Haldir looked much improved, Gildor noticed; some colour had returned to his face with the dawn and his eyes were clear again, showing that he had been able to overcome most of the effects of the spider's venom. Gildor had not thought he would remember anything of the previous night's activities, but something must have registered or perhaps Gildor did not hide his agitation as well as he had hoped.
"It happens. It is nothing to be distressed about," Haldir commented as they prepared to leave their makeshift camp.
Gildor turned his tearstained face away and regarded the dawn, fighting for control. It? He thought wildly. What did that mean? Being ensnared by creatures out of a nightmare? Nearly getting cooked and eaten? A quick grope in a dark forest? For a moment he was overcome with emotions--shame, anger and that same, deadening sense of loss warred for supremacy. Anger won, and he was grateful for the strength it leant him, dissipating his near panic and flooding him with an icy calm. "Then I hope we can put it behind us."
"Certainly," Haldir replied coolly, before striding off in the direction of the path. Gildor trailed in his wake, vowing never to bring up anything of that night's activities. It was a promise he kept for 500 years.
* * *
Third Age, 180: Imladris
Gildor had learned that, in the midst of joy, there could be great pain. It was a lesson he had had plenty of time to mull over in the centuries of haunting loneliness, of aching, ceaseless craving that followed. He had not forgotten the lesson, but found that it was no longer enough to deter him. He put his hands on Haldir's hips and spread them open, running an unsteady finger over the small opening that was revealed. All his senses seemed heightened, magnifying every small sensation a thousand times. He groaned, grabbing onto the hips before him and pulling the other man back, burying himself completely in one smooth motion.
The longing for intimacy now wracked him more than it had ever done, ironically just as he finally claimed his lover. Haldir was perfect--they fit together as if meant to be--but Gildor's desire was not quenched despite his rapid climax a few moments later. The physical was never all he had wanted, was not, even, the main thing. He wanted to scream that he loved and be told that he was loved in return. But Haldir didn't say it, had never said it. He had to give him that--there had never been any lies between them, except those he told himself.
"Are you sure . . . you have never done that before?" Haldir gasped when he was once more able to speak.
"No, never."
"Then you have an incredible natural talent." He turned over, sweeping Gildor into a lingering kiss. "Just incredible." He smiled at Gildor's flushed face. "Give me a few moments and it will be your turn."
Gildor melted into his companion's embrace, but his thoughts, for the first time that day, were far away. That morning in the forest, so long ago, he had decided that their affair must not continue because he didn't think he could survive being put aside afterwards. To have held and loved and be granted his greatest desire for a moment, then have it all torn away would be worse than anything he had previously felt. Yet he knew that was now inevitable, as soon as Haldir tired of him, which would probably not take long. Somehow, considering how long he had been expecting it, it almost came as a relief to feel his heart breaking.
TBC