Owner Of A Broken Heart

Posted: October 31, 2008
Title: Owner of a Broken Heart
Sequel to: Owner of a Lonely Heart
Author: Elohir Mornedhel
Type: FCS
Characters: Ecthelion/Namo
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Alas none of them are mine and I don't make any money off them. Nevertheless, I DO enjoy playing with them.
Warnings: Angst. Slash
Beta: Tena Dennick 
Author's Notes: This is a sequel to ' Owner of a Lonely Heart'. Also I originally planned eight parts to this story but Námo and Ecthelion didn't want to wait so this is the finale. Pushy Elf, Pushy Vala and one non-complaining writer! El~

Summary: Ecthelion discovers his heart has room.

*****

Ecthelion did not wake upon the sea. He was lost in his own misery, barely feeling the rolling motion of the white ship or the hands that nursed him. On some subconscious level, his mind registered the soft deep voice that sang to him, soothing him when he became agitated.

As the vessel bumped gently against the dock, his lashes fluttered and his eyes opened. He sat up, letting the sheet and blankets fall to his waist. Confusion set in as he took in his surroundings. Absently he pushed back the unbound strands of his auburn hair. It slid over his shoulders and pooled around his waist. He vaguely noted the dent in the pillow next to his and then swung his feet to the floor. Standing, he had to catch the wall as his head spun.

A chill went through him and he glanced down to find his clothing not there. Strangely enough, this fact did not bother him. He leaned down to grab the sheet and huffed as his hair fell in his face. With a quick toss of his head, he flipped it over to one side and completed his task. Ecthelion wrapped the sheet around his waist, as he saw no sign of other more appropriate clothing. He left the cabin and slowly climbed the stairs.

Shock replaced the confusion and he rushed to the railing. Seagulls screeched overhead and other birds sang from the shore. The sands were white and the waves seemed to laugh as they crashed against the shore.

“Aman,” he whispered as he stared, the breeze pulling his hair all about him. “I am in Aman. How is this possible? Last I remember…”

The pain lancing through his heart stopped his words. He gripped his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. He raised his head once more and tears streamed down his face. He was in the Undying Lands but the thought did not comfort him. Instead, it reminded him of all he had lost and how alone he now was. He would be alone for the rest of eternity with only one thought that caused a rock of dread to settle in his stomach. Someday Glorfindel would come to these shores and he would bring Erestor with him. Ecthelion had only postponed this torture. He had not escaped it.

He returned to the cabin, sitting heavily on the bed. It was then that he noticed the trunk in the corner. Moving over to it, he lifted the lid and found his clothing inside. He snorted with derision. The Great Ecthelion, Lord of the House of the Fountain, came to Aman with only the clothes he had been returned in. How pathetic he was.

Quickly he dressed and exited the cabin. If he was lucky, he could slip ashore before anyone knew a ship had arrived. There didn’t seem to be anyone on the docks. He could not find his beads and the ties that had bound his hair so he left without them. His hopes were dashed, however, when he reached the top of the gangplank and saw the crowd standing there.

He could not see any familiar faces in the crowd before him. These ellyn and ellith stared at him with curiosity but no recognition. Immediately, he walked down the plank and tried to move past them.

“Mae Govannen (Well met), Híren (My lord),” the ellon (m. elf) before him said. “Welcome to Aman.”

“Hannon le (Thank you),” he said with a small bow.

Each greeted him even though he knew they had no idea who he was. In his turn, Ecthelion only wanted to leave, to separate himself from them. He did not wish to be around anyone. He nodded to the well-wishers and hurried up the banks. Turning off the path, he rushed headlong into the woods nearby. He would find a place among the trees to build his house. It would be in a place far from the other inhabitants of Valinor. It did not matter where he was.

There was nothing in Aman or all of Arda for him.

*****

“You take no joy here,” the deep voice said from the shadows.

Ecthelion looked up to see Lord Námo approaching him. Rising gracefully to his feet, he bowed before the Vala. Cool fingers caressed his cheek and lifted his head.

“Do not,” Námo whispered.

“I did not mean to offend,” the auburn haired elf answered.

“Again I say, you take no joy here,” the Vala lowered himself onto the bench.

“What joy can be taken without love to share it?” the former lord of Gondolin asked.

“Do you regret your decision to leave him?” Name asked, watching the young elf carefully.

“A part of me does,” Ecthelion answered honestly. “I love him. I will always love him and a part of me says I should have fought for him.”

“But?”

“But the larger part of me has always seen to Glorfindel’s happiness before my own. He would not have been content here with me. His heart would have yearned for Erestor. I could not put him through that pain,” the ellon answered.

“I could take the memories from you,” Namo offered. “I could take this pain so that you might find joy, happiness and perhaps even love on the white shores.”

Ecthelion chuckled.

“You ask me this every day, Híren (my Lord),” he said. “My answer remains the same. No. My memories, as bittersweet as they may be, are all I have left of my beloved.”

“Stubborn elf,” the lord grumbled. “I do not understand why you would willingly suffer.”

“That is because you have never been in love, Híren,” Ecthelion said. “You do not know what a gift it is to cherish and be cherished by another.”

“No,” the Vala said stiffly as he rose to his feet. Mist curled around him. “I do not. I know all that is, was and shall be. I see all who shall be born, whether they shall come to my halls and by what means they shall be sent. I know of being revered, of being feared, but nothing as tender as caring.”

“Híren… “Ecthelion began not realizing he stretched out a hand to the being next to him.

“I will leave you to your thoughts,” Namo said. “Rest well.”

The former lord watched the Vala leave, confusion coloring his face. What had just happened? Had he just offended Lord Namo? For the life of him, he could not see how he had accomplished such a task. The thought would bother him for many days.

In that time, Lord Namo did not visit him. He stayed away from the small house in the wood. Ecthelion had built there with the idea of maintaining his solitude. He did not want his sorrow to intrude upon anyone else’s.

The Doomsman watched the ellon (m. elf) every day though he maintained his vigil cloaked in invisibility. The words Ecthelion had spoken had caused a wrenching sensation in his chest. He had never known love as the lord spoke of it. The lack of which weighed upon him. He did not understand how such a thing would allow an elf to sacrifice his happiness for another’s. Of course, Mandos was rarely happy.

His position was a great weight on his shoulders. The things he knew tormented him with the fact that they could not be changed no matter how much he might wish it. It was his place to know all concerning the peoples of Middle Earth. His abilities set him apart from his fellow valar… even his brother Lórien.

There were times when it pressed him down and he became withdrawn, neither seeing nor speaking to anyone. He longed for peace and knew he would not have it until the end of Arda. There was nothing in his existence to make it more bearable. His wife tried but she was more of a friend than a lover. They had never shared a bed or even a kiss. It had never concerned him overmuch until recently.

He found himself drawn to the former Lord of the Fountain. He always had been. Something about Ecthelion made him want to be around the ellon. He could not put his finger on it and it frustrated him. A frustrated Doomsman was not a good thing.

*****

Ecthelion sat upon his porch, staring out across the little plain and into the forest beyond. Absently he played a little tune on the lute in his lap. It was a bit melancholy and sad, matching the former lord’s thoughts.

It had been weeks since his last conversation with Námo. Most times his thoughts were consumed with Glorfindel. He wondered if his beloved was happy and if Erestor was treating him well. He found himself turning to his side to make comment on these thoughts to the great being only to find the spot beside him empty. The lack of Námo’s presence saddened him.

Deep within the great Halls, Lord Mandos, known also as Námo and Doomsman of the valar, sat on his thrown. Mist surrounded him and the midnight blue curtain of the night sky seemed to cover the walls of his palace. His hair, normally bound, cascaded around his shoulders to pool at his waist in blue-black waves. His dark eyes, fathomless and deep, stared off, focused on nothing in particular.

“You seek to ease his worry,” Vairë said softly as she approached the dark throne.

“Perhaps,” came the short answer.

“You seek Glorfindel, to see if he is happy. You do this so you may tell Ecthelion his beloved is well,” she smiled. “You cannot fool me, Námo. We are too closely bound for that.”

“Not so bound that I welcome your teasing,” he snorted.

“Ah, but I am the only person who will tease you other than Lórien,” she chuckled. “So I do so at every opportunity. But in all honestly, mellon (friend), I worry about you.”

“There is no need for concern,” came the short answer.

“Do you wish to know what I think?” she asked as she perched on the arm of his throne and ran light fingers over his silken hair.

“No, however, you are going to tell me regardless,” he sighed, looking up into her sparkling eyes.

“I think you should explore your feelings for Ecthelion,” she said. “We are siblings and have never been more than that. I will take no offense.”

“There is no point to it even if I did have these feelings you claim I have,” he snorted.

“Because he still loves Glorfindel?” she said. At his nod she continued. “The Firstborn have a great capacity to love. Glorfindel proved that. He still loves Ecthelion but he has changed and he found his mate in Erestor. Ecthelion, newly returned, had no time to change from the warrior he once was. Yet, he misses you.”

“I know,” Námo whispered softly. “I can feel the pull of his mind. I can feel his desire to talk to me.”

“Then why do you deny him?” she asked.

“It… hurts,” came the simple yet profound answer.

“Oh, Námo,”

“He speaks of nothing but Glorfindel, of their time together. He talks of how much he misses him. Each word strikes a blow in my chest as strong as Aulë’s hammer and I have no defense,” Námo confided softly. “There is no point to it. He is not happy. He will not let me take the memories from him, free him of his pain.”

“His life experiences are what made him the ellon (m. elf) he is,” Vairë answered, laying a gentle kiss on the crown of her husband’s head.

“Why does he keep them when they hurt him so? What is this love they share that it would allow such a sacrifice? I have never understood it,” Námo growled, shooting to his feet.

“It is the greatest of Ilúvatar gifts,” Vairë said as she watched him pace back and forth, a small smile on her face. Oh, how the mighty have been brought low.

For a moment, she studied her husband objectively, trying to see him as someone else might. It was not an easy task for he was like a dear brother to her. There was no physical attraction between them and never had been. She desired his happiness and knew how heavily his position among their number weighed upon him. He needed the comfort of one who loved him; of someone who could ease the burdens he carried. Námo needed someone to make him forget those burdens every now and then.

She supposed he was not unattractive. He was tall and powerful. His broad shoulders and back spoke of his ability to wield a sword when the call arose. His strong legs carried him back and forth with firm yet silent steps. Muscles rippled beneath his alabaster skin. His hair flowed around him like a cloud. Yet, the most intense feature on the Doomsman was his eyes. Endless and dark, they held the knowledge of ages past and those to come. Yet, never had they held happiness or joy. Well that was about to change and she would make sure of it.

“I will leave you to your brooding,” she smiled to ease her teasing. “But think on this. Time, whether here or in Middle-Earth*, changes everyone and love is worth any pain that it may cause. It grants strength when one feels week. It brings hope where it has been lost and it carries one to the highest of peaks without letting their feet leave the ground. Love can cause one to the greatest of deeds. Truly it is the greatest of his gifts.” *Technically speaking, Aman is still a part of Arda, connected by the Belegaer Sea.*

With those words, Vairë left the Halls of Mandos and journeyed to the forests of Valinor. It seemed to her that Ecthelion was just as responsible for Námo’s despondency as the Vala himself. Sighing softly, she wondered at the stubbornness of males in general.

Ecthelion was sitting at the small desk he’d set before the large window in his home. Anor shined through no matter the time of day and he enjoyed the heat upon his face. When open, it allowed the breeze to caress his skin while he worked. Now he struggled to compose a song. Yet, he could not find the words. The music swirled through his head and heart but it was faint. He had thought to find the words, hoping the music would follow.

“Good day to you, Lord Ecthelion,” Vairë called through the open window.

“Mae Govannen (Well Met), Hirilen (my Lady),” he smiled as he rose to join her outside. “To what do I owe the honor and pleasure of your company? Is Lord Námo with you?”

“Ah, so that is the way of it,” she laughed softly. “You are more interested in my husband than in me?”

“Oh well, no. I mean… I meant you no disrespect nor did I mean to imply a greater interest in Lord Námo than that of friendship,” Ecthelion stuttered.

“Be at peace, Ecthelion,” she smiled touching his arm gently. “In truth, it is because of Námo that I am here.”

“How may I be of service, Hirilen?” the auburn haired ellon asked.

“Well, I shall be honest with you,” she began, taking a seat on the steps of his porch. “I am worried about Námo. He is not himself.”

“How so?” Ecthelion asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

He could control his facial expressions, but he could not control nor explain the trepidation in his heart. Had something happened to the great lord? It was not possible, was it?

“He is not himself. He is brooding… well brooding more than normal,” Vairë amended. “Something troubles his heart and he will not speak to me of it.”

“I hardly think Lord Námo would confide in me,” Ecthelion protested. “Neither does he visit anymore. I am afraid I may have offended him the last time he came by.”

“How so?”

“Every day he would come and each time he would ask if I wanted him to take my memories of my previous life. He does not understand why I cling to them,” Ecthelion said softly. “The love I have for Glorfindel, it is not something I want to forget. Yes, it causes me pain to know he does not love me that way anymore, but that pain is insignificant compared to the happiness we shared, to his happiness. I would keep those memories alive for they warm me when I feel lost and alone. How can I explain that to someone who has never known love?”

“I ask you this,” Vairë answered. “Why would Námo continue to put forward this relief from pain to you when he offers it to no one else? What makes you so special, Ecthelion?”

“I do not know, Hirilen. I have often wondered that myself. Just as I have wondered why he would visit me every day and how my words could have offended him.” The lord explained, tucking a strand of silken hair behind one delicately pointed ear.

“We are Valar, Ecthelion, but that does not mean we are without feeling. We suffer with the peoples of Middle-Earth because we care so greatly. Moreover, none suffer more than Námo, who must know all that was and all that will be, and he is powerless to change it no matter how much he may wish otherwise.” Vairë explained. “The very nature of his position separates him from the rest of us, even Lórien, his brother. How lonely his existence must be.”

“Yet he has you, Hirilen,” Ecthelion pointed out.

“Oh, pen neth (young one), you do not understand the nature and relationship of the Valar. While Námo and I are bound as husband and wife, we are more like siblings than anything else. He will neither share his burdens with me nor I mine with him. That is something one trusts only to the person who holds their heart.”

“I do not understand,” Ecthelion admitted.

“I know you do not,” Vairë smiled. “Perhaps one day you will. I must go, but I leave you with this one last thought. Love is infinite and the heart has a great capacity for it. Do not exalt one love only to blindly allow another to wither.”

*****

For many days, Ecthelion contemplated Vairë’s words. He sat staring out over the small glade trying to find the meaning in them. Yet, all he found was confusion. There was no other love for him. This he knew. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something. Perhaps it was not about him so much as someone around him. With that in mind, he turned his thoughts to Námo.

What would it be like, he wondered, to know the fate of everyone? How would it feel to have no one to share the weight of such knowledge much less to talk with? From Vairë’s words, Námo did not spend much time with the others. He knew of no instance in which the Doomsman visited another of the Firstborn. Nor had he ever heard tale of the mighty Vala offering respite to one. What made him so different? The questions circled around and around in his head until a golden voice whispered through his mind.

“’Thel, if you wish to know just ask,” Came Glorfindel’s voice.

He chuckled remembering the first time his beloved had said that phrase to him. They had been wondering about a lovely set of twins, ellith and ellon, that had caught their eye. The golden warrior had laughed at him and then pushed him forward to find the answers they both sought.

“It seems you were right once again, melethen,” Ecthelion smiled. “I shall simply ask him.”

After several false turns and bad directions, the former Lord of Gondolin found himself outside Námo’s home. He had been warned that the place might be empty. The Doomsman did not spend a great deal of time in Valinor. Ecthelion figured it was worth a shot to try his residence.

Slowly he approached the great stone house. It was almost as imposing as its owner. Yet, he didn’t feel threatened… he felt… alone, aloof; separate from the world around him. Then he realized he was reading the house. It did not quite set well within the structures around it. The design was similar but a crucial element changed the whole demeanor of the house. It was a bit like Námo himself.

Ecthelion approached the door and knocked. He could hear the sound echoing through the halls. Perhaps this was not such a good idea. However, he couldn’t retreat now. He needed to talk to Námo. Therefore, the auburn haired ellon waited patiently for some response. After a few moments, he heard light footsteps and the door swung open to reveal a dark haired elf. The ellon stared at him, clearly sizing him up as to whether or not he was worthy.

“Yes?” the ellon asked.

“Is Lord Námo in residence by chance?” Ecthelion asked.

“He is,” came the short answered. The lord waited for further information. When none was forthcoming, he continued.

“May I speak with him please?” he asked.

“Who are you?” came the sharp response. “No one sees Lord Námo unless he wishes them to.”

“I am Ecthelion,” he answered though he was a bit put off by the rudeness of this elf.

“AH, one of those that defied the Valar huh?” the ellon sneered.

“That very well may be,” Lord Ecthelion said, raising himself to his full height. “But it seems they found it in their hearts to forgive us. However, I will not be rudely left standing on his doorstep. Either inform Lord Námo that Lord Ecthelion of Gondolin wishes to speak with him or move out of the way,”

The ellon didn’t know how to respond. He simply stepped aside and watched the lord stride proudly into Námo’s house. If the Vala didn’t strike him down for his arrogance and pride, the ellon would be incredibly surprised.

Ecthelion didn’t spare the elf another glance. He simply walked through the foyer and up the right side of the grand staircase. His eyes never strayed to the many tapestries lining the walls. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew he was heading straight for Námo. Each time he came to an intersection of halls, he closed his eyes and listened. Whichever one had the strongest pull, he took that direction.

At the end of a long dark hallway was a large set of double doors. Ecthelion knew in that instant that behind those doors he would find Námo. He paused before reaching up and turning the handle. Slowly he pulled it open, just enough for him to slip through, and went inside.

The room was done in varying shades of midnight blue, giving it the feeling of perpetual twilight. Oddly enough, the same theme was in the halls, only with the addition of gray mist. It was a sparse chamber, holding only a few chairs by a fireplace and a large bed in some dark wood.

A gentle breeze flowed through the room, teasing the curtains and bed linens. Turning in that direction, Ecthelion saw large floor to ceiling windows covering the entire wall. In the center was an open set of doors. He slowly walked onto the balcony.

Námo stood facing the vast mountains shrouded in mist. His hands were clasped behind his back and his feet were braced shoulder width apart. His hair, ebony black, glistened with blue highlights as it danced around his shoulders, back and hips in soft waves. The midnight blue robe he wore was open and flowing behind him. His legs, long, lean and powerful, were encased in black leggings. His feet were bare. The dark clothing made a striking contrast to his luminescent skin.

Slowly, Námo turned to face the young lord. He studied Ecthelion for a moment. Then he reached out his hand to the ellon. Námo watched his obsession take each slow step towards him. He could not say why he did not immediately send Ecthelion back to his home or why he was torturing himself with the ellon’s mere presence.

When those warm fingers slid into his, he felt it to his very core. He could not bring himself to push Ecthelion away even though he knew there was no hope.

“I needed to speak with you,” Ecthelion said softly.

“So it would seem,” Námo answered, pulling him a bit closer than normal.

“I…”

“Do you find yourself at a loss for words now that you are here?” the Vala questioned.

“I find myself… captivated,” the former lord whispered as he brought one hand up to the intoxicating face before him. Slowly, he traced the high cheekbones and pale smooth skin. It was softer than any silk that had ever caressed his flesh.

“Captivated? By what?” Námo asked.

“By you,” came the whispered response. “I feel as if… blinders have been removed from my eyes. I do not understand it.”

“When I came to you, I changed how I looked. I did not want you to feel threatened by me as you had when you first came to my Halls. The… form that you see… it is only my physical outer shell. My true shape is that of pure spirit, like all the Valar.“ Námo explained softly as he savored the feel of Ecthelion next to him.

Lórien had been right. When he held this ellon close for the first time, it was pure sensation. He wasn’t sure he would be able to let go when Ecthelion remembered where his heart lay. This was folly on his part and Námo well knew it.

“What did you wish to discuss with me?” the Vala asked as he studied Ecthelion’s face.

“I wanted to know… if I had offended you in some way,” the ellon whispered. “You have not come to see me and I… I have missed you.”

“Missed me?” Námo questioned.

“Yes, I grew quite fond of your visits. I looked forward to them and then suddenly you stopped coming. I thought I had upset you and I wanted to make amends,” Ecthelion explained.

He couldn’t explain the shivers that raced through his body. His skin tingled wherever Námo touched and he found himself breathing a little faster than normal. The look in the Vala’s eyes made his breath catch and his cock harden. A flush of embarrassment flooded his cheeks and he tried to step away. It would not do at all for Námo to feel his erection pressing against the hard muscles of his thigh.

“I thought it best if I did not see you anymore,” Námo answered.

“Why?”

“Because the temptations were becoming even more than I could resist,” he answered.

“Temptation?” Ecthelion asked breathlessly. “What temptation?”

‘This one,” Námo answered.

His mouth came down on Ecthelion’s, fierce and passionate. All the pent up emotions, the things he’d never experienced before were held in that one kiss. He held the ellon to him; afraid to let him go yet knowing he had to.

Fire raced through him and Ecthelion could do nothing but cede to it. Passion flared deep within his core and he whimpered as he opened to the kiss. His arms snaked up around the Vala’s neck, as he pressed closer, needing to feel Námo’s body against his.

He feasted on Ecthelion’s mouth, savoring each taste of the ellon as his tongue swept through the sweet cavern. He could feel the rapid beating of his heart, the tremors that ran the length of his warrior’s body. He felt the press of rigid flesh against his leg and knew Ecthelion was as aroused as he was.

Easily Námo lifted him and carried him to the bed. He put one knee on the mattress before drawing away from the kiss and laying Ecthelion back upon the midnight blue covers. Staring down into those incredible eyes, Námo was lost all over again. So this was love… this overriding desire and need for one individual, one fea. This is what allowed Ecthelion to savor bittersweet memories of love no longer returned. It hurt with a deep sweet ache.

“Námo?” Ecthelion questioned breathlessly.

“Aye?” came the response.

“Have I… “

“It was never anything you did,” Námo interrupted.

“Then what is it?” the ellon asked reaching up to tuck a lock of silken hair behind one delicately pointed ear.

“It is nothing you need worry about, pen vain,” the Vala answered softly, leaning down to place an exquisitely gentle kiss on his swollen lips. “Would you… allow me to hold you?”

“Hold… “ Ecthelion looked at him in surprise, his green eyes dark with unrelieved passion. “Yes… but I thought.”

“Shhh,” Námo whispered.

The auburn haired ellon fell silent. He remained quiet as Námo shifted them on the bed until Ecthelion curled against his side, his head resting against the Vala’s shoulder. Despite his intention not to fall asleep, Ecthelion found himself dozing off. He cursed softly under his breath. He had wanted to ask the Lord what had stopped him. All too soon, he found himself fast asleep in Námo’s arms. The odd thing was, it felt… right.

Námo watched the elven warrior sleep, his red hair pooling around them in silken splendor. He let his fingers sift through the mass, savoring the feel of it. Several hours had passed and he should wake Ecthelion, send the elf home. Yet, the Vala found he did not wish to do so. He wanted the ellon here, with him, sharing his discoveries and his observations.

Even as he watched, those emerald green eyes opened and Ecthelion looked at him with naked desire. Hesitancy was pushed aside as the elf shifted to straddle the Vala’s body. Still unclothed, the warrior moaned softly as he felt the press of skin to skin, his eyes fluttering for a moment as he savored the sensation. Strong thighs spread his wide as he leaned down to capture one turgid peak in his mouth. He lifted his gaze to stare into Námo’s eyes. Slowly, he swirled his tongue around the bud until the Vala moaned and arched into his mouth. A surge of pleasure rocked Ecthelion’s body. To think his touch caused such a reaction in the powerful being beneath him was heady indeed.

The warrior’s eager mouth moved to the other nipple, laving it with the same attention he had given the other. Even as he held Námo’s gaze, Ecthelion moved down the Vala’s body. He nipped and bit and soothed until he reached the hard evidence of his lover’s desire. For a moment, he simply admired the strong pillar of flesh. Then he wrapped long fingers around the length as he lowered his head to the tip. He took just the head inside, circling it with his tongue as he suckled gently. The flavor burst upon his tongue and shot through his body like lightning. Bending all his attention to his task, Ecthelion soon had Námo writhing in pleasure, groaning and growling as his release approached.

Then he stopped and the snarl from the Vala was fierce indeed. With a small smile, the ellon moved back up Námo’s body. He pressed himself against the muscled body beneath him and let his lips brush his lover’s ear

“I yearn for the feel you within me, Námo.” He whispered softly, his breath teasing the sensitive shell.

The Vala stared into his lover’s eyes, searching for any signs of hesitancy or doubt. He saw none. He nodded once and then watched as Ecthelion lifted himself onto his knees. Reaching back, he gently grasped Námo’s shaft and guided it to his passage. Slowly he sat down, taking his lover deep within his body and moaning at the stretch. Though he had played the sheath on occasion many years ago, it had been some time since his body had been filled.

Námo watched the pleasure dance over the ellon’s face and the way Ecthelion’s body undulated on top of him. Strong warrior’s fingers dug into his forearms as he gripped his lover’s hips. Silken red hair danced around the elf’s muscled torso as he repeatedly raised and lowered himself on the Vala’s shaft. Soft moans and whimpers caressed Námo’s ears and he found the sound intoxicating. Yet, the exquisite feel of this elf surrounding him, made all other sensations pale in comparison.

The tension built within them and Námo growled as he felt his peak coming closer and closer. He shifted, rolling Ecthelion beneath him and increasing the pace. Long legs wrapped around his waist and he grinned down at the warrior beneath him. Watching those bright green eyes glaze over with passion thrilled him, tempted him to believe this was more than just simple comfort. He wanted it to be more, needed it to be more. And yet, he knew it was not. Though the thought saddened him, it did not take away the pleasure swamping him.

Strength and gentleness, Ecthelion felt them both in the being thrusting within him. He saw the quivering of Námo’s muscles as the Vala fought to hang on to his control. He felt the straining in his lover’s muscles and the tension building within his body for it mirrored what was taking place inside him. So much more than sheer pleasure raced over his skin. It was as if the very air itself was caressing him, stroking him even as Námo thrust deep inside him. Electricity danced across his skin and flowed directly to his groin. It felt as if the pressure was building behind a wall and the lock was breaking. Soon, it would give way and then Ecthelion knew he would experience the ultimate pleasure with Námo.

Music filled his ears, music the like of which he hadn’t heard since the beginning of creation, Ilúvatar’s song. No, he didn’t hear it as loudly or as clearly as he once had, that was Manwë’s prevue now. Nonetheless, Námo heard it as he felt the spray of hot seed against his belly and the clenching of Ecthelion’s muscles around his shaft. A tear streamed down his cheek even as he came, and he clutched the ellon to him, his movements slowing as he savored the sensations flooding his body.

Breathless and spent, the warrior lay against the silken sheet of his lover’s bed in utter bliss. Never had he felt so beloved or desirable and it was strange to him that he should feel this way. Glorfindel had loved him but not like this. Though he might have missed it had he not been turning to look at Námo, Ecthelion felt a drop of wetness against his skin. He reached up and cupped the Vala’s face in his hands, lifting it from where it had fallen to his shoulder.

Looking into those eyes, scattered with stars and the endless paths of the Eldar, the warrior gasped at the love he saw there, eternal, undying love. Gently, he wiped a tear from Námo’s cheek, kissing his lover gently and sweetly.

“I have been blind,” he whispered.

“You saw what I wanted you to see,” Námo answered. “You would not allow me to take your pain away. How could I burden you with mine?”

“And there is so much of it,” Ecthelion said as he stared into those starry depths. “You see so much and there is no one to share it with you.”

“I am as Ilúvatar created me. It is my duty and my purpose.” The Vala answered.

“It is lonely service. You alone of all the Valar care for the dead and it is a somber task rarely filled with joy,” the ellon whispered. “Yet, you love me. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I do.” Was the simple answer.

“Yet, you are married. This is… “ Ecthelion said.

“This,” Vaire said with an amused chuckle. “Is what I have wanted all along. I told you, Ecthelion. The bond between Námo and I is not as you think. He is more a brother to me than a lover and so I gladly give him to you.”

“Did you forget how to knock?” Name said drily as he covered Ecthelion with the sheet.

“No,” Vaire answered with a smile. “If I knocked, you would have known I was coming and I would have missed the opportunity to catch one of my brothers in a highly amusing and compromising position. Of course, if you had not been… what is that term? Ah yes. Pounding him through the slats, you would have sensed my approach anyway.”

“Is she always like this?”

“She is the bane of my existence.” Námo muttered.

“Well, now that you two have finally realized you love one another, I hope you will make good use of your time. Now, I am off. Have fun.” She called cheekily as she sauntered out the door. “I told you so.”

“Oh shut up,” Lórien called from beyond the door. “Miss Know-it-all.”

Námo flopped back onto the pillows with a sigh and shook his head. When would those two grow up? They were forever acting like children and it often drove him mad. In his musings, it took him a moment to realize Ecthelion was shaking. Immediately, he reached out for the handsome elf.

“Meleth are you?” he began only to have his words drowned out by his lover’s laughter.

“By Elbereth, that was hysterical!” He cried as he leaned against Námo’s chest.

“What ARE you cackling about?” the Vala demanded.

“Oh come now. You must see the humor in this situation,” Ecthelion chuckled. “Tell me you do.”

“I would not lie to you,” Námo answered honestly.

“Námo, melethron, we were just caught naked in bed together by your wife. In many societies that would be considered a bad thing. Yet, she wished us good luck and told us to have fun. It is hilarious. I truly expected to be fried on the spot for touching her husband. Instead she gives you to me, GIVES you to me like you were a precious gift.”

“I still do not see the humor in this situation,” the Vala answered as he leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Oh never mind,” Ecthelion said as he sprawled across Námo.” We have other things we could be doing.”

“Such as?” the dark-haired lord questioned as he eyed his lover.

“Well,” Ecthelion purred as he kissed his way up Námo’s chest to his mouth. “We could make love again, talk, make love some more, bath, eat, make love, figure out where to go from here… and did I mention make love?”

“Several times, I am surprised they were not in a row. You were always a rather randy ellon,” Námo pointed out with a rare smile.

“How… you spied on me and Glorfindel?” the ellon demanded in surprise.

“Yes,” there was no shame or embarrassment in the Vala’s voice.

“That was… well, it was rude and… and those were private moments, Námo.” Ecthelion pointed out.

“How is in the courtyard fountain a private moment? Half the house guard saw you… watched you avidly I might add.” The Vala snorted.”Perhaps Glorfindel should have worn a hat.”

Suddenly, they both stopped. Name could have torn his tongue out for carelessly reminding Ecthelion of his love. What had he been thinking? Obviously the problem was he hadn’t thought before he spoke. Now he’d ruined their one moment together.

“Oh, do not be silly,” Ecthelion said absently. “You have not ruined anything. I just… I do not feel the same when I think of him and it surprised me. That is all.”

“Since when have you been able to read my mind, pen vain?” Námo asked quietly. “I did not speak aloud.”

“Of course you did. I heard you.” Ecthelion said absently as he examined his feelings for both Glorfindel and the wonderful being beneath him.

“No, Ecthelion, I did not speak aloud. I only thought the words.”

“But… oh… well… um I guess… What does it mean?” the ellon asked softly as he stared at Námo.

“It means that we have been bonded,” the Vala answered just as softly. “Ilúvatar has chosen us to be soul mates.”

Though he held the words in check, inside his heart was singing with joy. He gave praise and thanks to his creator for granting his dearest wish. A soft breeze came through the window and with it his brother’s voice.

“Ever has he wanted you to be happy,” Manwe whispered on the wind. “It has always been a part of your song and Ecthelion’s.”

“You mean… I was destined to be your soul mate?” Ecthelion asked with surprise. “But what of Glorfindel?”

“No elf should be alone, pen vain.” The Lord of the Air appeared. “You and Glorfindel were so very important but the time was not right for either of you to have your mates.”

“Does ANY of my family believe in knocking?” Námo demanded. “Or entering through the door?”

“Oh hush Námo,” Manwe said with a smile. “Be at Peace, Tóren and savor the gift you have been given.”

With those words, the Lord of the Breath of Arda faded from view, his husky laugh the only thing that lingered after his departure. The two lovers looked at each other, Ecthelion with a blush and Námo with uncertainty. Would this beautiful ellon before him reject the bond between them?

“Of course not,” Ecthelion breathed as he launched himself at the Vala. “For the first time I feel a sense of wholeness I did not share with Glorfindel. It is YOU that completes me, Námo.”

“I did not realize I was incomplete, just lonely,” the Vala replied as he caught his lover. “I envied Glorfindel… so very much. I will not deny how pleased I was when he was returned.”

Chucking softly, Ecthelion placed one long elegant finger on Námo’s lips stopping his talk. Then he gasped as said finger was sucked into the Vala’s mouth where a deft and dexterous tongue wrapped around it in intimate suggestion.

“I believe,” the former Lord breathed. “I had some wonderful ideas before we were interrupted.”

“Mm,” Námo hummed sending shivers from that digit straight to his lover’s groin.

“Where do you wish to begin?” the ellon gasped.

“Making love of course,” the Vala whispered in his mind as his hands danced over the redhead’s pale skin.

From that point on no words were needed. They communicated through touches, caresses and whimpered moans. Coming together in a slow languid slide, they soared into the sky as if they had the wings of eagles dancing on the air. Joy wrapped around them, joy and peace. It was as it should be. The song was sung and nothing would change it. Námo and Ecthelion were one until the end of time and neither could be happier.

*****

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Elohir Mornedhel

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