Lindir's Adventurers 13 & 14
Part Thirteen
Gildor bode his time until Erestor was riding alone. An easy stride caught him up to Theru’s shoulder and the chance to broach his challenge, “Erestor, he’s ready for a lover, you know.”
“Elrond will string me out for bait if I let that happen with you, of all people. Absolutely not.”
“And you? Shall he approve you as Lindir’s choice?”
“Me? I have never made the least advance on him, Gildor!”
“It’s his choice at issue,” chided Gildor gently. “He’s ready and wanting. You know it as well as I. And you know too that Elrond should be helping, not hindering, him - and so should you. We all come to it in time. When we are ready.”
“Elrond has strong opinions, small blame to him. You know how it is with him.” A little pause acknowledged the meaning of that, the story long ago but well within their recall.
Eyeing Gildor, Erestor underscored his point carefully. “Lindir’s people were of Eregion and the journey hard, before they came to Imladris. He was yet a minor then, his parents gone. Perhaps Elrond is right, maybe Lindir does need to sleep with someone who can love him back, someone who could be in love with him. That’s not me, and it’s certainly not you, to be dragging him all over the hinterlands with your wild tribe for gentle company.”
“They? Who did he travel with?”
Gildor was not overly impressed by Elrond’s concerns. Everyone knew - well, actually, they didn’t, seeing only superficialities, but Gildor and others of his cadre knew - Erestor’s loyalty and fierce upholding of his lord meant he would never be persuaded to overlook Elrond’s wishes. Yet so far as Gildor was concerned, in choices lawful and not entirely immoral, Elrond’s opinion mattered not one jot when misapplied.
Still, he wasn’t such a lackwit as to say so. Erestor might be colourful. He was not negligible, no matter what fools thought.
“Brothers. Three in all. Lindir took but one step in hall at the twilight hour and you could see his hunger for the music. Elrond introduced him to some of the musicians who invited him to play and so it went on.
“You know the sort of effort we have been making to create a workable permanence for Imladris? I fancy Tallath misliked pulling his weight. Whatever the reason, when the elder siblings preferred to move on to Lórien, Lindir accepted an invitation to stay. I gather there was some falling out over opinions on the matter at least on the part of the eldest, Lindir being barely of age. It took older people than Lindir to elicit the elder’s resignation to the separation. He saw himself as familial authority and was bent on exerting his influence to the contrary.”
“And this trip?”
“It was much on Lindir’s conscience, the more so when they wrote,” said Erestor simply, “So now he visits them. He thinks he misses them. I’m not so sure. Guilt - can eat away like canker in an apple. Best to find a remedy early.”
Gildor eyed Erestor askance. “And meanwhile he hankers for you and you will refuse him?”
Erestor faced him squarely without hint of blush or misgiving. “Guilt is no proper bed-fellow for one his age. The other is - a natural thing. A little delay, just as natural. Part of him knows it: trackside wilds are no fit place for what he wants.”
Gildor left off his needling save for an eyebrow permitted to quirk at the prospects that raised. The comment about guilt found him in cordial agreement. And about venue, he had to admit Erestor had a point…
Part Fourteen
He wondered how he could dare ask. He wondered what to say. He wondered how he could wait another day. Impelled by that imagined agony, he took the plunge.
“Erestor, have you a moment?”
“Surely,” came the ready return.
Lindir, search his face as he might, could not read beyond behind the bright smile.
“I have been meaning to ask you. I am looking about me for - I have not yet…” He took a breath. “I am not that long of age, Erestor,” he said, managing a considerable dignity, “and I am in need of advice. I wondered - I think you are quite experienced?”
Erestor wanted to shout with laughter. Instead, he trod gently. “By your standards, Lindir, yes.” Gildor’s laughter was ringing in his ears - and so were Elrond’s words.
“I have been meaning to ask for a while,” he repeated, twisting long graceful fingers in his lap.
Erestor stilled them with his own. “What is it Lindir?” He kept his eyes on the hands thus imprisoned, knowing already both question and answer already - to his regret.
The usually musical voice sounded a little high-pitched, almost strained. “I have been looking about me and decided to ask you for advice about taking a lover for the first time. I thought you might not mind - might not mind if - ”
The enormity of what he was saying crawled up Lindir’s spine like cold-footed clutching spawn from some murky stagnant pool. He had known it would come out wrong. Mortified he made to stand up and excuse himself, but found himself stayed by gentle fingers and a smile more of rueful fellow-feeling than patronising kindness.
“Don’t go. Sit down, talk with me some more. You’ve thought a lot on this, I take it? Such a time of change, and so daring a thing, the first opening to such possibilities.” He inclined his head. “It’s a fine adventure, and your trust honours me.”
Then his smile lightened into something glinting. “Would you believe I remember how it was with me all too well? Shall I tempt you to stay by offering a story - or two?”
Lindir could not help himself in grinning back, amused by the soft delivery hinting at some kind of licensed deviltry or maybe even a joke at Erestor’s expense.
So when Erestor added, “And perhaps - you might like first to tell me a little more?” it was somehow easy to look at him, even easy to confess as to a co-conspirator the strangeness of the urges that had grown into seeming necessities, and the uncertainties of their requiting.
The two heads bent closer and their voices lowered. Sometimes Erestor’s broke on a chuckle that Lindir answered with his own laughter, sometimes there followed more anxious looks on Lindir’s part and pauses to search for words. Erestor held back himself from words oftentimes, head tilted to listen, face angled slightly toward to the ground but eyes glancing up attentive, leaving plenty of space for Lindir to have his shy and eager say.
Perhaps there had rarely been a greater testament to Erestor’s adept kindness than Lindir’s parting from him that night without the answer he wanted and yet hardly cast down and certainly not spurned. Lindir felt unburdened.
He had the feeling of being on the inside of a thing, of sharing in a thing common to - well, to everyone, pretty well - and if Erestor could not presently say him yea, there was nothing whatever wrong with the wanting.
He felt no longer an outsider to a rite unattainable. On the other hand, the consequent possibilities heightened feelings already pent in anticipation.
Thus happier but no less longing and surely no less keyed up for the evening’s proximate intimacy with Erestor, Lindir retired befriended with much to contemplate and more to hope for.
Gildor bode his time until Erestor was riding alone. An easy stride caught him up to Theru’s shoulder and the chance to broach his challenge, “Erestor, he’s ready for a lover, you know.”
“Elrond will string me out for bait if I let that happen with you, of all people. Absolutely not.”
“And you? Shall he approve you as Lindir’s choice?”
“Me? I have never made the least advance on him, Gildor!”
“It’s his choice at issue,” chided Gildor gently. “He’s ready and wanting. You know it as well as I. And you know too that Elrond should be helping, not hindering, him - and so should you. We all come to it in time. When we are ready.”
“Elrond has strong opinions, small blame to him. You know how it is with him.” A little pause acknowledged the meaning of that, the story long ago but well within their recall.
Eyeing Gildor, Erestor underscored his point carefully. “Lindir’s people were of Eregion and the journey hard, before they came to Imladris. He was yet a minor then, his parents gone. Perhaps Elrond is right, maybe Lindir does need to sleep with someone who can love him back, someone who could be in love with him. That’s not me, and it’s certainly not you, to be dragging him all over the hinterlands with your wild tribe for gentle company.”
“They? Who did he travel with?”
Gildor was not overly impressed by Elrond’s concerns. Everyone knew - well, actually, they didn’t, seeing only superficialities, but Gildor and others of his cadre knew - Erestor’s loyalty and fierce upholding of his lord meant he would never be persuaded to overlook Elrond’s wishes. Yet so far as Gildor was concerned, in choices lawful and not entirely immoral, Elrond’s opinion mattered not one jot when misapplied.
Still, he wasn’t such a lackwit as to say so. Erestor might be colourful. He was not negligible, no matter what fools thought.
“Brothers. Three in all. Lindir took but one step in hall at the twilight hour and you could see his hunger for the music. Elrond introduced him to some of the musicians who invited him to play and so it went on.
“You know the sort of effort we have been making to create a workable permanence for Imladris? I fancy Tallath misliked pulling his weight. Whatever the reason, when the elder siblings preferred to move on to Lórien, Lindir accepted an invitation to stay. I gather there was some falling out over opinions on the matter at least on the part of the eldest, Lindir being barely of age. It took older people than Lindir to elicit the elder’s resignation to the separation. He saw himself as familial authority and was bent on exerting his influence to the contrary.”
“And this trip?”
“It was much on Lindir’s conscience, the more so when they wrote,” said Erestor simply, “So now he visits them. He thinks he misses them. I’m not so sure. Guilt - can eat away like canker in an apple. Best to find a remedy early.”
Gildor eyed Erestor askance. “And meanwhile he hankers for you and you will refuse him?”
Erestor faced him squarely without hint of blush or misgiving. “Guilt is no proper bed-fellow for one his age. The other is - a natural thing. A little delay, just as natural. Part of him knows it: trackside wilds are no fit place for what he wants.”
Gildor left off his needling save for an eyebrow permitted to quirk at the prospects that raised. The comment about guilt found him in cordial agreement. And about venue, he had to admit Erestor had a point…
Part Fourteen
He wondered how he could dare ask. He wondered what to say. He wondered how he could wait another day. Impelled by that imagined agony, he took the plunge.
“Erestor, have you a moment?”
“Surely,” came the ready return.
Lindir, search his face as he might, could not read beyond behind the bright smile.
“I have been meaning to ask you. I am looking about me for - I have not yet…” He took a breath. “I am not that long of age, Erestor,” he said, managing a considerable dignity, “and I am in need of advice. I wondered - I think you are quite experienced?”
Erestor wanted to shout with laughter. Instead, he trod gently. “By your standards, Lindir, yes.” Gildor’s laughter was ringing in his ears - and so were Elrond’s words.
“I have been meaning to ask for a while,” he repeated, twisting long graceful fingers in his lap.
Erestor stilled them with his own. “What is it Lindir?” He kept his eyes on the hands thus imprisoned, knowing already both question and answer already - to his regret.
The usually musical voice sounded a little high-pitched, almost strained. “I have been looking about me and decided to ask you for advice about taking a lover for the first time. I thought you might not mind - might not mind if - ”
The enormity of what he was saying crawled up Lindir’s spine like cold-footed clutching spawn from some murky stagnant pool. He had known it would come out wrong. Mortified he made to stand up and excuse himself, but found himself stayed by gentle fingers and a smile more of rueful fellow-feeling than patronising kindness.
“Don’t go. Sit down, talk with me some more. You’ve thought a lot on this, I take it? Such a time of change, and so daring a thing, the first opening to such possibilities.” He inclined his head. “It’s a fine adventure, and your trust honours me.”
Then his smile lightened into something glinting. “Would you believe I remember how it was with me all too well? Shall I tempt you to stay by offering a story - or two?”
Lindir could not help himself in grinning back, amused by the soft delivery hinting at some kind of licensed deviltry or maybe even a joke at Erestor’s expense.
So when Erestor added, “And perhaps - you might like first to tell me a little more?” it was somehow easy to look at him, even easy to confess as to a co-conspirator the strangeness of the urges that had grown into seeming necessities, and the uncertainties of their requiting.
The two heads bent closer and their voices lowered. Sometimes Erestor’s broke on a chuckle that Lindir answered with his own laughter, sometimes there followed more anxious looks on Lindir’s part and pauses to search for words. Erestor held back himself from words oftentimes, head tilted to listen, face angled slightly toward to the ground but eyes glancing up attentive, leaving plenty of space for Lindir to have his shy and eager say.
Perhaps there had rarely been a greater testament to Erestor’s adept kindness than Lindir’s parting from him that night without the answer he wanted and yet hardly cast down and certainly not spurned. Lindir felt unburdened.
He had the feeling of being on the inside of a thing, of sharing in a thing common to - well, to everyone, pretty well - and if Erestor could not presently say him yea, there was nothing whatever wrong with the wanting.
He felt no longer an outsider to a rite unattainable. On the other hand, the consequent possibilities heightened feelings already pent in anticipation.
Thus happier but no less longing and surely no less keyed up for the evening’s proximate intimacy with Erestor, Lindir retired befriended with much to contemplate and more to hope for.