11. Chapter 10
Author notes: The little plot bunny popped up while listening to Loreena McKennit’s The Old Ways. Somehow, the song just screamed ‘Maglor’.
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Lindir thought hard on recent developments and by the time he returned to the cave, the minstrel was convinced that the Valar approved of his befriending the Noldo and maybe even his desire to be more to him. There was only one small problem: Maglor. Lindir was disappointed to see Maglor had returned to the point. Placing the water skins in the cave, the minstrel headed toward the jetty. Maglor sat with his knees pulled up and arms wrapped around them. A curtain of dark hair fell forward as his chin rested on his arms. Maglor stared out to sea. Not wanting to intrude, Lindir waited until the other addressed him.
“Will you sit with me?” Maglor asked. Lindir sat beside the quiet elf. The ensuing silence was heavy. Finally, the minstrel spoke.
“What happed last night?”
Maglor turned to study the elf next to him. The minstrel was so beautiful. Maglor could not remember ever seeing a more exquisite specimen of elf. Unbidden thoughts danced through the older elf’s mind. Visions of silver hair splayed over a pillow, a lean body writhing against his in passion. Maglor swallowed hard and quickly turned back to the sea.
“Maglor?” Lindir asked when the elf gave no answer.
“You will think me mad.” ‘And want nothing to do with me any more.’ He added in his mind. Still, he really wanted to unburden himself and Lindir seemed to truly care. With a sigh, Maglor began.
“I went to the point as always. As the day wore on and my grief and guilt began to consume me yet again, the mist rolled off the sea. I could hear a female speaking to me and as the mist thickened, I saw her form. She was ethereal, dressed in gray and not quite *solid*. I would swear it was Estë herself, if I thought she would bother with me.”
Maglor took a sideways glace to gage the young elf’s reaction. Seeing no condemnation or hint of amusement, he continued, “She spoke of my crimes and of forgiveness. She said the Valar forgave me.” Here he gave a cynical chuckle, “Can you believe that? The Valar just *forgave* me?” He rested his forehead on his forearm and sighed. “I even saw a Teler. I cried out and begged for forgiveness. He…” Maglor choked back a sob, “…He gave it to me.” Maglor turned his head to look at Lindir. With disbelief and question in his eyes, he continued, “Can you believe that? He forgave me. My crimes against the Valar and my kin are unforgivable!” He turned his eyes back to the sea.
Lindir thought hard before answering. He had been told that Estë came to Maglor last night. He knew the Valar forgave him and he truly believed that both sides held blame for the Kinslaying. Now he just had to convince the troubled elf of all this. In the end, he could only think of one response. Lindir looked across the sea. “I believe you saw the things as you say. I also think it was Estë who came to you. And, I think you are forgiven…by all but yourself.” Silence once more was their companion. With all the grace of the firstborn, Lindir stood and extended his hand to the dark-haired elf. “Come, let us take a walk.”
Maglor stared at the offered limb then looked up into those remarkable eyes, finding them full of compassion, understanding and something else…something he did not recognize. After a moment of hesitation, he took the hand and stood. He was surprised when Lindir did not release his hand immediately once he was up. The Silmaril had burned that hand and it was scarred and rough, but Lindir gave no indication of noticing. With a gentle tug, Maglor found himself following the minstrel. Maglor felt a warmth spread through his body, beginning in his hand. It was not the warmth that pooled in his groin when less than proper thoughts entered his mind. This warmth wrapped around him like a blanket, making Maglor feel safe and protected; he like this feeling.
Lindir felt the spark of energy when he took hold of Maglor’s hand. He knew it was scarred but it mattered not. Maglor was beautiful and alluring on so many levels. The young minstrel felt his body tingle at the thoughts flooding his mind. He began to wonder if Maglor would be a gentle lover or one driven by passion. He imagined how it would feel to be kissed by those pouting lips. How would it feel to be taken by the older elf and take him in return? Much to his chagrin and embarrassment, his body awakened and a throbbing began between his thighs.
Soon the two had left the jetty behind and walked in companionable silence, still hand in hand. They walked until the sun began to set, then turned back toward the cave. It was only then that Maglor broke the silence.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” Lindir countered
“*This*…walking with me, coming for me last night, holding me through the night?”
Lindir stopped and turned to his companion. “Because I care.” He left it at that and began to walk again. What Lindir had really wanted was to kiss Maglor breathless, let that be his answer; but he was afraid to scare the traumatized elf. No, he would wait for the perfect moment and then claim those delectable lips. Maglor would have stood there in stunned silence if it had not been for the fact that Lindir still clung to his hand. He was literally pulled from his musings and ran a couple of steps to catch up.
When they returned to their ‘home’, they prepared supper and spoke of music and inspiration. It was a comfortable, friendly exchange. They ate their modest meal and cleaned up. The sun left a crimson glow in the sky and a waxing moon began to give Arda a silvery glow. As Maglor threw a larger log on the fire, Lindir stood and made an announcement.
“I am going swimming. Will you come with me?” He asked the startled elf, all the while removing his clothing. Maglor could not answer as his eyes were riveted to the flesh being exposed. He had seen Lindir in this state before, however it was far more erotic when moonbeams danced on the pale skin, and there was not a potential drowning.
Shaking his head and hoping his voice did not betray the tremors coursing though his body, he countered, “You no longer fear the sea?” It seemed odd to him that Lindir suddenly wanted to swim when he had spent the last few days avoiding the sea. Still, if going swimming kept him close to the Teler, then swimming he would go. He began to walk toward the seashore.
Lindir stared after him and laughed, “Are planning on swimming in your clothes?” Maglor stopped and turned. He could not help smiling back at the amused elf, and returning to camp, he divested himself of all but his loincloth. It was fortunate for Lindir that Maglor’s back was turned, because the moment he bent to pull off his leggings, Lindir’s shaft went rigid. Thinking fast, Lindir began walking to the water. As long as Maglor was behind him…oh, the image that conjured…behind him thrusting in and out…ohh! Lindir made a break for the cold water.
Maglor watched as Ithil’s rays danced on the silver hair flying behind Lindir’s lithe body. There was no denying that Maglor’s body was attracted to the minstrel. Furthermore, if the Noldo was completely honest with himself, his heart and fëa also felt an attraction. A little voice inside his head whispered that it was time to move on, follow his heart; the rational part, however, knew that eventually Lindir would leave him. He certainly could not think that Lindir would live in exile with him. If he followed his heart, it would get broken, but he would have felt something akin to love for the first time in ages. If he listened to his head, he would live alone, and still suffer a broken heart.
Maglor folded his clothes and walked to the water. Lindir was already waist deep, letting the waves crash against his back. Lindir’s smile was contagious; the darkling elf smiled back. Once Maglor had reached the minstrel, they moved farther out together. With water near shoulder deep, it was hard to keep balanced as waves pounded into the swimmers. Maglor faired a little better, being more familiar with the rhythm of the sea. After a short while, Lindir began to move with the rhythm of the water. Soon they were diving and body surfing through the waves, laughing like elflings. Maglor had not felt happy in such a long time!
Lindir popped out of a wave in arms reach from Maglor. The older elf soon found his arms full of flesh as Lindir was thrust forward. An odd wave had appeared out of nowhere, not following the natural flow. Planting his feet in the sand, Maglor was able to keep them from toppling over. Feeling Lindir’s hands against his chest, Maglor groaned at the sensation. The groan was not lost on the minstrel who glanced into the water to see Ulmö smiling mischievously.
Although Lindir got his balance back, he did not move out of the older elf’s embrace. Instead, he looked up into the dark eyes and time stood still. Varda’s words drifted back to him. ‘He will not make the first move.’ Lindir smiled up shyly. If Ulmö went to the trouble of pushing him into Maglor’s arms, he was not about to let the opportunity pass.
Gazing steadfastly into the taller elf’s eyes, the minstrel stretched up. His lips gently brushed against the Noldo’s. Maglor’s eyes went wide before they closed and he accepted the kiss. Lindir slid his hands up over the wet chest, wrapping them around his neck and gently pulled Maglor closer to deepen the kiss. He could feel Maglor caressing his back and shivered. Lindir’s tongue licked at wind-chapped lips and his hands tangled in wind blown hair. The moan that escaped Maglor was just what Lindir was waiting for. He deftly slid his tongue into the hot sweet mouth and sought out its counterpart.
The two elves stood lost in the kiss as the sea around them stilled. Ithil’s beams glistened on the wet bodies, giving the elves a silver shimmer. Any who would have come upon them would be convinced that water spirits were locked in the tight embrace. The desperate need for air broke the spell as the two elves stared at each other, panting.
Maglor could feel Lindir’s heart pounding against his chest and could feel the effect of the kiss pressing against his thigh. Fearing he may never have an opportunity like this again, Maglor leaned down and kissed the gentle elf. This time, it was his tongue seeking entrance. This time he tasted every corner of Lindir’s mouth, moaning when tongues brushed.
Lindir felt his knees go weak and clung to the older elf. One of Maglor’s hands slid down the minstrels back to gently rest on a firm cheek. The other hand tangled in the young elf’s mithril mane. Lindir moaned and involuntarily rubbed his aching need against Maglor hardening shaft.
Maglor pulled away suddenly and stepped back, panic showing on his face. “Penneth, you can…*we* can not do this.”
Lindir stepped forward. “Why?”
The question should have been easily answered, but the dark haired elf found himself at a loss. Lindir completely closed the gap and stood chest to chest with the other elf, looking up expectantly.
Maglor shook his head, “Lindir…” A finger, which was quickly replaced with nipping lips, stopped his words. Lindir cupped Maglor’s soft cheek, getting the elf to lean into his touch. With a smirk, the soft lips began to explore the strong jaw and long neck. Lindir licked and nipped, pouring all his feelings into the actions. He knew he was rather innocent in the ways of the flesh, but he let instinct guide him and hoped it was enough. He pulled away and smiled as Maglor opened his glazed eyes.
Lindir took hold of both Maglor’s hands and began to lead him to shore. Maglor swallowed. He knew that once they reached the sand, any resistance would crumble. When they stood on the shore again, the minstrel continued to pull Maglor back toward the blazing fire. The older elf tried to object, tried to gain control of the situation, but failed. The creature before him was magnificent and sensual and bewitching. Maglor really wanted to lose himself, for even one night; he would deal with the heart ache later.