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LET THE SONGBIRD SING: 3. Silence Surrounding
Upon awakening, Maglor and Daeron lay for a while together, each relishing the warm comfort of the other's proximity. For the first time in many years, Maglor felt happiness of a pure, joyful kind, where all things that had been troubling him had washed away like mud beneath a waterfall.
"It is strange," he thought as he stroked Daeron's hair against his shoulder, "How a small thing can alter one's perception so dramatically that everything thus changes. The past now becomes far away and no longer stays in the present to fill one's thoughts with its unchangeable sadness."
"It is no small thing that of which you speak," Daeron said aloud as he turned to face Maglor, his hair falling through Maglor's fingers like mercurial oil.
Maglor started. "You can read my mind?" he asked, staring at Daeron in wonder. The younger Elf nodded and smiled sweetly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "But how?" asked Maglor. Daeron shrugged and leaned forward to kiss his lover's lips, letting his tongue protrude slightly to lick them first. Every part of Maglor's body became excited by that touch: everything became aroused and stirred. He felt completely alive again, a feeling he had not experienced for many years. He let himself fall into Daeron's caresses, abandoning himself to his emotions and the two made love again beneath the blankets.
Later, the two lovers walked to the falls by the Pools. They stood a while staring at the beauty of that place as the silvery water cascaded softly down the well-worn grayish rocks into clear pools below. Frothy foam rose up from the torrent and broke into the air, bits of white snapping off from the main suds and disappearing into the atmosphere like elusive butterflies. From the rocks on the other side grew tiny pink flowers of an intoxicating scent. It was sweet and light but quite insubstantial; there one moment, gone the next. Maglor turned and looked at Daeron. "Like you?" he wondered.
Maglor knew that the relationship could not last. They both had come from far away to this magical place where they had found each other. He knew that what he felt for Daeron was love, although he did not think that the Sinda's feelings for him ran as deeply. He feared that Daeron's true love was his first one: King Thingol's daughter, and that Maglor was merely a distraction while he was away from her. "I must prepare myself to lose him, just as I have lost everyone else that I have loved," Maglor thought, fiercely trying to hold onto his newfound happiness and to not let himself descend again into his old pit of despair.
Daeron spun around suddenly, his face a mask of anguish, a look of deep hurt within his soft hazel eyes as he gazed at Maglor's face in horror. "No!" he cried. "You cannot think such things! What must I do to convince you that I love you?" He put a hand to Maglor's face and brushed his fingers along the Noldo's prominent cheekbone, feeling for moisture, a tear, an outward sign of his distress. But there was none. Maglor's melancholy was deep. So superficial a thing as a tear could not easily break the surface of his pain. Daeron stood staring at him, shaking his head slowly.
"Why won't you talk to me?" he asked at length.
Maglor's lips twitched slightly, but he could not speak. His eyes held an expressive mix of profound confusion, loss, pain and despair; mingled with struggling hope and desperate love.
"Maglor." Daeron spoke so softly it was almost a whimper. "This feast will be over tomorrow. We have only a few hours left to be together until we depart. It will be terribly difficult for us to be together after that. We will be fortunate indeed if we can manage to see each other every few years. I would travel through dangerous lands without a care if I knew I would be with you at the end of my journey. Why do you doubt my love for you? How can I show you my feelings? I wish you could see their depths, as I can see yours. But I fear that nothing can penetrate your sorrow."
Maglor sighed before finding his voice. "You will be returning to your home and to her," he said, "Where you will be constantly in each other's company. How could you resist her then? Her beauty, which you have said is extraordinary, will captivate you once more when I am out of sight. You will see her daily. That is every day, Daeron," he said, emphasizing the last words. "You will not be able to resist her. Coming to visit me more than once every few years will be impossible. How would I be able to compete with her for your affection?"
Daeron uttered a strangled cry, his frustration with this stubborn Elf's oppressive melancholy that despaired of their newfound love. "Oh, you obstinate Goldion ass!" he spat. "You dwell too much on your pain! Live for now in the moment, can't you? It may be only one moment, but if you strive to make it the best of your life, then it shall last forever. You will have the memory of it to think on, and that will brighten your darkest hours, and warm the coldest nights."
Maglor stared at Daeron, shocked. No one had ever called him an obstinate Noldorin ass, not even Maedhros. Then as he watched in stunned silence, Daeron, who had burst into tears and was sobbing in frustration, began to disrobe. In front of the tall, Noldorin prince who stood still as a statue, the lithe little Sindarin minstrel stripped down to his bare skin and stood in the cold air of early spring. The slender beauty of his graceful form was a stark contrast to the dark green background of the misty, mossy riverbank upon which the two Elves stood.
"Come, Maglor," he said, and reached out for the Noldo's hands. "Come. Reassure me. Loosen your own clothing. Make love to me here by the falls, and afterward we shall sing of it, and you will remember it forever."
Maglor then loosened his robes and stripped bare before Daeron. He took the small, yearning Elf to his hard-muscled body, holding him closely. He pressed his face into the soft, yielding flesh of Daeron's upper arm, the Sinda's slender limb thrust upwards and his fingers clutched in the Noldo's silky hair. On the banks of the beginnings of the Narog River they made love, and it was as exquisite as Daeron had predicted. Daeron opened himself to Maglor completely. With a feverish passion, he needed to show and profess his love so that Maglor would never think that hecould give himself in this way to anyone else. No matter if it happened that he married the King's daughter, he would never again be able to make love such as he had this time.
He professed to Maglor that he was his alone, and that it did not matter how few times they would meet in the future. He had Maglor make love to him in every way possible, and then, passionately and completely, he did the same. He took Maglor orally, bodily, hands exploring every inch of stubborn Noldorin flesh. And finally, as Maglor knelt upon the soft cushion of cool moss on the riverbank, Daeron spent himself into the hard body of the Noldo as he lay across his back, arm stretched under Maglor, holding his hot, rigid flesh with a hand that never wanted to let go.
All sound ceased around them. The light grew static as the moment became a fixed point in time to which all energy was directed. The only sounds were the gasps and sighs of their voices as they whispered, "I love you."
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