Idrial's Quest

By Lady Annalease

WARNING! Fluff, kisses and a ton of insinuation WARNING!

(if your mommy lets you watch prime-time TV, then you're right for this)

--

Chapter Three - Eastern Moria:

We awoke in the morning and entered the Chamber of Records, which had also become Balin's Tomb. Another fight awaited us there, along with a dead cave-troll and the bodies of many other dead goblins. The Fellowship had passed there. We defeated the living goblins, but the room began to tremble and the air turned like fire. I feared I knew what was about to happen. The wall was suddenly torn open.

"The Balrog has found us!" Elegost cried.

"Seek shelter!" I commanded, but I could not make my own feet move. Berethor snatched me at the last moment and dragged me behind a pillar to avoid the searing flames. He held me as the heat abated and the Balrog retreated. I had to take a deep breath before I could make myself stop trembling.

"Are you well?" he murmured in my ear. I shivered then for an entirely different reason. I pulled out of his arms and straightened myself, forcefully reminding myself of the vow I had made to end my foolishness.

"Yes, thankyou," I replied, hopefully sounding properly Elven and aloof. The Man frowned at me but stepped past.

"We must follow," he said, "it is the only way out of here."

--

The ground spasmodically trembled beneath us as we continued. It was easy to see where the beast had passed, for the stone was melted and all else was aflame. Hadhod moved at point, while the rest of us scattered out behind him. I played rearguard, I was beyond happy to let someone else have the honour of encountering the Balrog first. Goblins climbed from the cracks in the ground to confront us as we continued along. I have never known them to be so bold. Soon they climbed down even from the columns and quickly surrounded us. Obviously, their fear of the Balrog was swiftly passing. It took all we had to defeat them this time. However, victorious but winded and wounded we continued on. We were attacked again and again as we tried to find somewhere to rest, but we finally emerged from the burning hall onto a ruined stairway that extended above a large chasm. We happily rested at the top for a time while we ate and I tended the party's wounds. I kept well away from Berethor, unless I had dire need to go near him. I took my eyes off him for one moment as we were readying to leave and he seized my wrist. He looked at me, plainly confused.

"Have I done aught to anger you, Idrial?" he asked.

"No," I replied, trying to be properly distant, "no, of course not."

"Then why do you act as if I have some horrible contagion?" I put an appropriately blank stare on my face.

"I do not know what you are speaking of." He made an indignant sound.

"Fine. I do not have time to indulge you in your games, my lady." He strode off at the head of the group once more. It hurt to hear him say that, but I guess it was what I had wanted. Elegost stopped me before I could follow.

"When I said we all needed to work together, that included you," he spoke. I glared at him.

"I cannot possibly stress how much of your affair this is not," I snapped. He made a resigned sound.

"Very well, my lady, I shall stay out of it, but think on what I have said."

--

We rid another hall of Orcish scum and came upon a statue of one of the Dwarven lords. Hadhod begged for forgiveness for the desecration of this place and vowed that we would cleanse it. I made a silent promise to help him in that task. We kept on, running thoughtlessly over kilometres of stone. One moment my feet were firmly on the ground, the next I was teetering over the edge of a chasm - the bridge in front of me had collapsed beneath my feet.

"Watch out!" Berethor cried. It was too late. I could not jump back fast enough. I lost my footing and fell. "Idrial!" he cried. Thank the Valar I managed to grab onto the ledge at the last moment. Berethor, eyes wide with terror, reached down to me.

"Do not worry, I am well," I spoke as I grabbed onto his arm and he helped me climb up. We stood close, breathing each other's air. Before I could contemplate it, I pulled him forward and kissed him. "Gerich veleth nín," I murmured. I pulled away from him just as suddenly, realising what I had done and cursing myself as a fool. Berethor just stood there staring, on the edge of the crumbling abyss. I grabbed his arm and pulled him away. "Come! It is not safe here."

--

I made certain Berethor and I did not have the opportunity to talk as we ran from the crumbling bridge. I was still cursing myself as several kinds of idiot for what I had done. I was happy enough for the distraction when we ran into another band of goblins, which fell easily beneath our might. We reached another of the massive halls, though this one was worse for wear and had a mighty rift in the centre, which was where we would need to go next. Elegost, not Berethor or I, called a halt. We did not truly need one, we had not be running for so very long yet.

"Why are we stopping?" I asked. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Your hands need to be tended." I looked down at my palms; they had been torn bloody even through my gloves. They had not begun to pain until that moment. I tried to concentrate and summon the magics to heal them, but the stinging and feel of blood dripping from my skin distracted me too much. Elegost knew. "Berethor, help me get her gloves off." One Man went for each glove and carefully pulled them off over my bleeding palms. The Ranger went through my healing gear and found distilled water, fresh bandages, linen pads and antiseptic salve. He used the water to clean the wounds, and then instructed Berethor to cover my hands with the salve while he cut the bandages to size. I wondered if Elegost got some sort of sadistic pleasure out of making Berethor touch me, forcing me to be so close to him, or whether this was some demented attempt at match-making on the Ranger's part. He knew only too well that I did not need more than the wounds cleaned - they would heal swiftly, for I was indeed an Elf and they were only scrapes. The bandages and the salve were a waste and probably would have been better saved for later. I could not bring myself to complain, however, as Berethor gently spread the salve across my skin and accepted the bandages and linen pads from Elegost to bind my hands. I gave a heavy mental sigh. I was so very, very, deeply in trouble. I knew the answer to my suspicions about the Ranger when he discreetly, or at least he thought it was discreetly, went to examine something with Hadhod as far away as they could possibly get from us without it being likely we would be separated. I was not sure whether I wanted to hug him or hit him.

"Done," Berethor murmured as he pulled the second bandage tight. I looked down at my hands, they had been bound well, I still had a fairly free range of movement and I thought I could even possibly wield my sword with them on.

"You have done this before," I commented. He gave a terse nod. His brevity hurt, but it was really more than I deserved. He took a deep breath.

"My lady...Idrial…" he began. I met his eyes; I knew the hard questions came now, and I was not sure I could give him answers to his questions when I could not even answer my own. "Why did you kiss me?" he asked. I was stunned. Whatever I had expected him to ask, and was not entirely sure what I had expected, it was not that. I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times, trying to answer, probably looking like a gasping fish.

"I…I do not know," I finally replied softly. I knew that answer was not good enough. He frowned at me.

"Right," he murmured evenly and made to get to his feet. I could see that I had hurt him but, still, I should have let him leave in a huff, I should have let him think anything we might have had was done, I certainly should not have called him back….

"Berethor, wait," I spoke. He turned back to me.

"What is it now, my lady?" he demanded, his voice cold. Until that moment even I was not entirely sure what I was going to do. In a split second decision, the words 'to the Void with it' echoed in my mind, and I grabbed him, a hand on the back of his neck, and crushed my lips against his. He held rigid for a moment, before melting and sliding his arms easily about me as mine found their place about him. Now I knew I was doomed, but I could not bring myself to care even slightly. We only broke apart when it became necessary to breath. He was panting lightly. "Idrial," he murmured huskily, "…why did you do that?" I smiled at him, having finally worked out the answer.

"Because I wanted to," I replied. "And because I am tired of being good and hiding my attraction toward you," I leaned up and whispered in his ear, "and because I want you to do it to me." He was happy to oblige. His kiss was gentle and sweet and stole my breath…until Elegost cleared his throat from across the room, knowing very well that I would be able to hear him. I pulled away with a soft giggle. "Because of all of that…and because I wanted to know what this felt like." I ghosted the tips of my fingers across the stubble on his cheek. He laughed. "Come, we have to go, Elegost wants to move on."

"I thought I was the leader," he murmured.

"You are," I replied, "but a good leader knows to acquiesce to his party's requests now and again. Besides, it is not safe to stay here."

--

As we descended into the rift, we came upon a goblin chieftain, standing upon an altar that looked be a mock-up of the Balrog's head and the sound of drums began to echo all about us. The spirit wielder and his companions proved a challenge, but they soon fell prey to us. We came upon the drummer at the end of a long run, swarming with small bands of goblins. He was perched some ways above us on a pedestal - the only way to reach him was magics or ranged attacks. He proved difficult only in that he kept summoning more defenders. In the end, Elegost's arrows proved his undoing. The next area was full of deep rifts in the stone and if the goblins had not constructed catwalks out of skins and shields we would not have been able to proceed. The structures creaked and groaned alarmingly, but held until we were all safely across. We reached the great mausoleum of the Lords of Moria, great statues watched over us and I knew ancient magics were imbedded in the stone visages. We came upon the tombs of the last of Hadhod's kin while passing through the mausoleum. I fear I may have offended him some when I did not recognise his emblem immediately upon the tombs and asked over casually what might be in them. I apologised, of course, and he acknowledged it but I think seeing the tomb rattled him more than he is willing to let on. I whispered prayers for the Dwarf's kin and also for Hadhod himself, hoping that the Valar might help him find some small measure of peace.

--

We decided to camp near Hadhod's tombs, I knew it was not an evil place with malignant spirits and I hoped his kin would help keep watch over us this night. I did not think Hadhod able to carry on, in any case; he seemed to be lost in his own memories. Elegost took charge of him and, more discreetly than he had managed before, retreated to the opposite side of the chamber to where Berethor and I obviously intended to be. He muttered something about keeping watch because he had to keep an eye on Hadhod anyway. I knew what he was trying to do. I stopped him as he was about to turn away.

"Le hannon, mellon nín," I murmured. He gave a nod and turned away.

"How are your hands?" Berethor asked as he came to sit next to me, removing his helmet as he watched me unwind my bandages.

"Almost healed," I replied, showing them to him. It was true; my hands looked only slightly red and raw now. I bundled the used bandage up and put it in my pack, it would either need to be burnt or thoroughly washed. He pulled off his gloves and traced his fingers over my palms.

"How is it possible?" he asked.

"I an Elf, we heal fast and do not scar," I replied. "Call it a gift from the Valar, if you wish, like our tolerance for the elements and our immortality."

"The Valar," he questioned, "Elven deities?" I shrugged.

"Well enough."

"Will you tell me what you just said to Elegost?" he asked. "I know nothing of your language and I would like to learn." I nodded.

"Le hannon is 'I thank you' and mellon nín is 'my friend'," I supplied.

"What about what you said to me when I pulled you up from the ledge? Ger…geri-." I flushed; I was almost hoping he had not remembered that.

"Gerich veleth nín," I murmured softly. He nodded. Even up until that point I was not entirely sure why I had said it, the only explanation I could come up with at that time was a mix of adrenaline and attraction…it was not possible I was falling in love with him.

"It…it means…means," I took a deep breath, "it translates to 'you have my love'."

"Gerich veleth nín," he parroted; his pronunciation and accent were abominable, but it was the sentiment that counted. "Gerich veleth nín, Idrial." I smiled softly.

"Gerich veleth nín, Berethor."

"How would you say 'kiss me'?" he asked. I chuckled softly. I still knew that we should not be doing this; he was so human and so young, the childish word-game we were playing proved it beyond doubt, and yet, I could not bring myself to stop.

"Mîbo nín." It was an easy continuation of our kiss from earlier, soft and oh so very sweet. His stubble scraped against my skin, probably causing a burn, but I did not care about that either. My hands found his soft coppery hair, sinking happily into it. He pulled the tie from my plait, loosing my own hair to his hands. For an elleth, I did not keep my hair very long, nor did I keep it in elaborate braids and ornaments. I usually could not stand such fripperies, but at that moment, I would not have minded looking a touch more pretty. He laughed breathlessly as he broke the kiss and shook his head slowly, as if to clear it.

"That was…" he murmured, "mîbo nín, I need to remember that." He spread my hair over my shoulders as he freed it from his hands; I flinched when his hand came close to my ear. He looked at me quizzically.

"Do not like them being touched?" he asked. He could not possibly know how wrong he was.

"How…how far are you intending on taking this?" I asked.

"I do not understand." It was time to be blatant.

"Did you just want to kiss, or would you take it further than that?" I asked. "Elves' do not allow others to touch their ears lightly; it is a deeply and blatantly intimate act. To be blunt - do not start something here that you do not intend to finish."

"And if I do?" he asked quickly, his eyes flashing hotly. I grabbed his head in my hands and made him meet my eyes.

"Be sure," I replied firmly. "I want you, Berethor. I am very, very much attracted to you, but I will not have it said that I forced you into anything or enchanted you. And you must understand that I am an Elf and you are not. I am many times your age and have seen and know things you cannot even dream of; I have been in more relationships than you can count years, some more serious than others, and, if the Valar will it, I shall live forever. Whatever we start here can never be anything more than a tryst, for pleasure, it cannot and will not last. Though you may love me as a friend…and more, as I love you, you cannot ever fall in love with me. I would only have to break your heart. So, if you have any doubts, speak them now so they may be allayed, or be away." His answer was to kiss me. This kiss was nothing like the ones we had shared previously, but passionate beyond anything I had encountered before. Sounds of pleasure escaped me. Now I knew why Elves trysted with mortals, why they enjoyed it so much. It was not that Elves were devoid of passion, for certainly we were not, but we had all eternity to express our ardour, mortals did not. This was the only way they could communicate such deep and profound emotions when words seemed lacking at best. I understood that now. I did not stop him when he went to touch my ears this time; it was he himself who hesitated.

"You never answered my question," he whispered breathily. "Do you like having your ears touched?" I gave gasping laugh.

"See what happens," I replied. I fulfilled every mortal man's secret fantasy that night, so it was only right that Berethor indulge in one of my own - I got to find out what that stubble felt like against my ears. I dearly hoped we did not cause Elegost and Hadhod too much embarrassment or loss of rest, though it was the least of things on my mind at the time and I still cannot bring myself to feel over-much regret if we did. That night was the night I stopped counting the times that he had shared my bed, and started counting, instead, the nights on which he was absent from it.

--

More narrow stairways awaited us in the morning and Berethor hung close to my side, remembering my earlier experience. I should have found his mothering annoying, but instead I found it endearing. The heat, even in this expansive carven, was extreme. I knew we would soon face the Balrog. Upon reaching the next landing, we saw the beast in all its fury, battling against Mithrandir. Even from this distance it terrified me; however I was more scared for the lone and, apparently, so fragile figure of Gandalf standing before the shadow and flame on the bridge.

"We must help him," I cried. "We have to find a way down these stairs." I have never faced a creature such as the Balrog before and I hope never to again. Hadhod, Elegost and Berethor were quickly overwhelmed by its fury and the heat. It was on by the grace of the Valar that Mithrandir and I were able to keep our feet and survive. We fought for what seemed like decades. The heat was overwhelming, but I could think about nothing more than getting to my lover and making sure he was well. The Grey Pilgrim reigned supreme and we managed to wound the creature far enough for it to be momentarily overcome. Mithrandir seized his chance and rushed forth just as my companions began to regain their senses; he strode to the centre of the bridge and raised his staff high.

"YOU CANNOT PASS!" he proclaimed and slammed the staff down. There was a flash of light so bright that it momentarily blinded me. It seemed, for an instant, as if nothing had happened and then, as the beast tried to renew its attack, the bridge began to give way beneath it, sending it plunging into the gorge below. My companions and I cheered. Mithrandir turned to us with a smile upon his face, seemingly coming to greet us. However, the Balrog was not quite finished. With its last ounce of strength it threw its whip up one final time, seized the Grey Wizard about his feet and hauled him back into the ravine. I screamed and ran after him. The only thing that stopped me plunging into the ravine myself was that Berethor caught me and wrapped his arms around me, holding me back. I screeched and thrashed and scratched and kicked like a madwoman, trying to get free, but Berethor's calm voice finally got through to me.

"Come, Idrial, there is nothing we can do. We must leave this place," his voice quavered as he spoke. Exhausted, I finally fell sobbing against his chest, the battle finally catching up with me. He scooped me up in strong arms. I remembered nothing else after than until I awoke in the daylight with sparse clouds floating by overhead….

--

Translations:

Gerich veleth nín - you have my love

Le hannon - I thank you

Mellon nín - my friend

Mîbo nín - kiss me

Elleth - female Elf

Ellon - male Elf

Mithrandir - Gandalf, literally Grey Pilgrim

--

A/N: Sorry if I'm laying the Idrial/Berethor on a touch thick, but I love writing romance, terribly cliché or not, and I'm sorry if I have turned Idrial into a Mary-Sue or stepped on your own ideas about her, but that's just how she turned out in my mind.