The Love of His Life

Disclaimer - all the elves except for my original character, Lord Wolf, belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and the Tolkien estate. I make no money from writing fanfaction, and write it expressly for pleasure.



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What does Ecthelion do when Glorfindel finally shows up in Valinor, bonded to King Thranduil.



This is a work in progress, and I am mainly keeping it here right now in case my hard drive crashes. Would hate to lose the story. It may not make much sense right now, as there are lots of gaps that haven't been written  yet.



The Love of His Life



Fourth Age 120 – Valinor



Glorfindel and his bond-mate Thranduil stepped off the ship with the others who had remained in Middle Earth until Aragorn and Arwen had died. Along with Legolas and Gimli, and Elladan and Elrohir, they would probably be the last elves to leave Middle Earth for Valinor. Most of the Silvan elves would remain in Middle Earth.



Glorfindel scanned the group of elves who had come to meet long-awaited loved ones. He wondered if Ecthelion would be there, but he didn’t really expect him. He had bonded to Thranduil many centuries ago, and he thought Ecthelion would have moved on too. So he was surprised when a lone elf emerged from a small hovel on the beach.



Ecthelion spied Glorfindel and smiled, then he noticed that he was not alone. His arm was draped loosely around the waist of a tall blond ellon.  Ecthelion frowned as he walked up to them, and the frown turned to anger as he saw the ring on Glorfindel’s finger.



“Ecthelion.” The words were a whisper in a throat gone suddenly dry.



“Glorfindel.” One could hear the hard edge of anger in Ecthelion’s voice.



“Let me introduce my mate, King Thranduil of the Greenwood. Thranduil, this is Ecthelion.”



Ecthelion glared at Thranduil.



Trying to smooth over the awkward moment, Glorfindel asked “Do you live here on the beach, in this little hut?”



He should have known better. His former lover was furious and very hurt, if the tears in his eyes were any indication. He had dealt with his old lover’s moods many times in the past and he knew that an angry and upset Ecthelion was *not* a good thing.



“Yes. I waited for *you* Glorfindel. I wanted to build our home together. But obviously I misunderstood. I thought you loved me Glorfindel, as I love you. How could I have been SO wrong!?! I am *sure* that having a *King* in your bed is much more exciting than having a WHORE there! But that was always one of your games, wasn’t it Glorfindel? To further yourself, and your career!”



“No!”



“Well, it matters NOT! I am sure I can find *someone* here in Valinor who will find me useful,” he said through barely suppressed tears, the pain in his voice obvious.



Then he turned to Thranduil and looking at him as if he was some bug that he would like to squash under his booted heel he said, “And as for you Thranduil… *King* Thranduil, I do not know you. But then, I do not *want* to know you, do I?!



And with that he turned and left the two standing in the sand staring after him.



“Ecthelion.” The name escaped Glorfindel’s lips like a strangled cry.



He turned into Thranduil’s strong embrace. “What have I done?” he whispered against his lover’s chest.



Thranduil recovered first and swallowing hard looked at Glorfindel.  “So that was Ecthelion.” It was a statement rather than a question.



“Yes,” Glorfindel smiled wryly.



“I had heard the rumors that he was the fairest of the Noldor, but by the Valar, he is the most stunning elf I have ever laid eyes on Glorfindel,” Thranduil whispered, “except for you of course, meleth nin,” he added belatedly.



Glorfindel chuckled mirthlessly.  “He does have that effect on one, especially the un-initiated. And honestly, he is quite nice when he is not upset.”



Thranduil shook his head.



“I fully expected bolts of lightning to erupt from those stormy grey eyes and turn me into a pile of ash. He still loves you,” he observed. “And you still love him.”



“I love you, melethron nin,” Glorfindel answered.



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Meanwhile, Legolas was pulling on his Ada’s arm:



“Ada,” look, “there is Naneth.” Legolas ran to his naneth and threw his arms around her. Thranduil looked up to see Anoriel, his former bond-mate and wife. He had not expected to see her, but of course she would be here to greet Legolas. His sweet son Legolas, who had always hoped his parents would re-unite.

“Come, Ada,'he called. “At least say hello.”



Thranduil knew he could deny his son nothing, so with as much graciousness as possible he followed him and greeted Anor-el.



“Anor-el. You are looking quite lovely today.”



“You were always good with words, Thranduil. Thank you for keeping our son safe, and bringing him to me,” Anor-el replied.



Thranduil quickly introduced Glorfindel, who was pulling him towards another group of friends waiting to greet them. He took his leave of the two, promising to see his son later.



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Several weeks later –



Thranduil and Glorfindel, and the other recent arrivals from Middle Earth were settling in, visiting with many old friends, and generally enjoying life in Valinor.

Meanwhile no one had seen Ecthelion since that first day. Nor had any heard him playing his flute.  Many found that strange, for he was often heard playing during the day, or entertaining at the many parties in the evenings. Some in town missed him, but it was not strange for an elf to go off to find some solitude, so no one thought much of it.



Indeed, Ecthelion was no longer in town. He had walked to the other side of the island, where he stood on a tall cliff and threw his flute as far off into the ocean as he could. Then he turned and walked down the beach to a large, but rather shabby looking residence and knocked on the door.



The door was opened by a large and slightly flabby looking elf, who smiled a feral smile as he looked Ecthelion up and down. It was Salgent, his old and hated enemy.



“Come in, come in my *delicious* little elf,” he said. “Please, make yourself at home,” he smirked as he pulled out a chair from the dining room table and fairly pushed Ecthelion down into it."



“Would you like something to eat?” Salgent then asked.



“No, thank you."



“Well, truthfully, I just finished eating myself, but I would LOVE some dessert. And you are just in time. You were always my favorite dish. The bedroom is right through the door down the hall.”



“I just got here, Salgent. And these are my rules.”



“Rules? Rules, Ecthelion? Oh, no. The only rules in this house are MINE. And now that you are here, you are mine too. I have waited a LONG time for you to come to me. I am so glad you finally came to your senses and realized what an ass that blonde idiot Glorfindel is. Now where was I?  Oh, yes, the bedroom. You know what to do. Go and prepare yourself."



Ecthelion looked at Salgent with loathing. The very thought of being in bed with him made him sick to his stomach. But then, who really cared. There was nothing left for him now. He had made the only choice he felt that he could. At least he would be useful to someone.



Salgent was up to his usual little games. He often invited his cronies in for dinner and all night parties, in which Ecthelion was the main course. They were not gentle with him, often taking him with no preparation, leaving him sore and hurting, and hating himself.  This was not love-making, this wasn’t even sex. It was just torture. He no longer cared. But he wouldn’t allow himself to fade. He wouldn’t give Glorfindel the satisfaction of knowing he had caused him to fade.



One night a new guest came, who introduced himself as Lord Wolf. It was an unusual name for an elf.



“Ecthelion,” Salgent purred.



“Salgent!” Ecthelion snapped back.



“*LORD* Salgent.” Salgent stared pointedly at Ecthelion, who merely glared back at him.



“You will *not* disrespect me in front of my guests!” Salgent hissed. “But I will deal with your disrespect later. Come. Let me introduce you to Lord Wolf. He will be staying with us for a while.”



Ecthelion looked up into the eyes of a very tall elf, and a shiver of fear ran down his spine. It was none other than his old nemesis, Gothmog. He had a thousand questions. What was Gothmog doing here? How had he escaped the Halls of Mandos? He was a Maiar, so why was he posing as an elf? And most importantly, did Salgent not know who he was? But he didn’t let that fear or those questions reach his eyes. He nodded in acknowledgement, “*Lord* Wolf.”



Salgent moved on to greet other guests for the evening, but Lord Wolf stayed by Ecthelion. After Salgent left, he leaned over and whispered in Ecthelion’s ear, “Ernilen, if you were *my* slave, I would beat that stubbornness out of you."



Ecthelion huffed, “I am no one’s slave, and especially not Salgent’s!” He turned to look directly at Lord Wolf. “Nor am I a prince.”



“Are you not?” Lord Wolf cupped Ecthelion’s chin in his hand forcing him to look up into his eyes. “Then you do not know?” he said more to himself than to Ecthelion. “Well, it is not up to me to explain. Let us just say it gives me pleasure to call you ‘prince’. Ah, dinner is being served. Sit with me, Ernilen.”



It was a command, not a request, and Ecthelion dared not disobey.



The dinner conversation swirled around him as Ecthelion tried to concentrate on eating. Not an easy feat as he thought of the events of the night to come.



“Lord Wolf,” Salgent addressed the new elf. “I see you are enjoying Ecthelion’s company. Perhaps you would like to join me and a few of my friends in some after dinner delights. Ecthelion will be the main course.” Salgent gave a gloating laugh as he smirked at Ecthelion.



“Yes, that would be *truly* delightful, my Lord Salgent”, Lord Wolf replied as he looked hungrily at Ecthelion.



Ecthelion just sighed in resignation.



He often thought to himself that serving Morgoth could not be any worse than the life he was leading now. He ate little, and often threw that up. He lost weight and looked haggard. His hair was dull, and his eyes lifeless. But then he had to keep reminding himself, he had chosen to be here.



“Smile, Ecthelion”, Salgent stared at him, and sighed. Such a stubborn elf. “ I have a little gift for you.”



Ecthelion looked up warily, and Salgent handed him a long box. “Well, open it, open it, my boy. I promise you it won’t bite.”



Ecthelion opened the box, and stared at the contents in stunned surprise. It was a beautiful silver flute. He was very touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Salgent… Lord Salgent,” he whispered.



“You *will* play for us tonight, won’t you?” Salgent gave Ecthelion a look which brooked no arguments. Dinner was over, and the guests had wandered from the dining room into the main living area. Ecthelion followed with Salgent and Lord Wolf.



Finding a seat near the fireplace, Ecthelion took out the flute and began to play, as only he could. It was an old song which he had written in Gondolin. The music was soothing, and the notes soared into the night, lulling the guests and entertaining them far into the night. Slowly the majority of them took their leave, returning to their own homes. Finally only Salgent and Lord Wolf remained.



With a sigh, Ecthelion picked up his flute and walked into his bedroom, followed closely by Salgent and Lord Wolf. He laid the flute down on the stand by his bed and turned to find himself only inches from Lord Wolf. Standing as if frozen, he looked up into his black eyes as Lord Wolf leaned down to kiss him. Ecthelion could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to control his fear.



“I will not hurt you pen-neth,” Lord Wolf said.



“You killed me the last time I saw you,” Ecthelion said.



“And as I recall, you also killed me. However that is not my mission this time. You are worth more to my Master alive.” Lord Wolf gave Ecthelion a small smile and ran a finger along his lower lip. “And if I had known how kissable your lips were, I might not have killed you. I would have just dragged you off to Utumno and kept you as my prisoner."



Ecthelion looked over to see Salgent in his bed waiting for them. He had a feeling it was going to be a *very* long night. But there was no way to escape at the moment, so he resigned himself to the inevitable as Lord Wolf picked him up and deposited him on the bed by Salgent.



He woke the next morning to find himself sandwiched between the two. Salgent being a heavy sleeper was still sleeping soundly, but Lord Wolf was awake, and he found himself wrapped in his arms.



“Good morning, beautiful elf,” Lord Wolf smiled. “Would you like to join me in a nice long bath?”



Ecthelion thought that sounded like a wonderful idea, and leaving Salgent sleeping, he followed Lord Wolf into the bathroom. Ecthelion could feel his muscles relaxing as he sank into the warm scented water opposite Lord Wolf.



“Come, pen-neth,” Lord Wolf held out his hand, “let me wash your hair for you.”



Ecthelion moved over to sit between Lord Wolf’s legs with his back to him, and Lord Wolf poured water over his hair, then finding a bar of scented soap he proceeded to wash it. It felt good to have his head massaged, and he felt himself relaxing even more, almost drifting into reverie. Lord Salgent joined them then, and after bathing, they all went down to breakfast.

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Meanwhile, on Mount Taniquetil:



Manwe was sitting in his garden with his wife Varda when Illuvatar came to visit. They were both surprised, as it was rare to have the Lord visit.



He sat down with them, and Varda offered him some tea. 



“It is good to see you, Lord illuvatar? What brings you here today?” Manwe asked.



“I have missed my little flute player Ecthelion. Have either of you seen him recently?”



“I believe he is living with Lord Salgent and someone who calls himself Lord Wolf.”



Lord Illluvatar looked up in concern. “This is not a good thing. Isn’t he supposed to be with Glorfindel?”



“Well, yes” Varda said, “but unfortunately Glorfindel bonded with Thranduil in the third age. I gather Ecthelion was very upset when he found out. He threw his flute into the ocean and went to live with Salgent.”



“And we all know who Lord Wolf is. How did he escape from Mandos?” Manwe asked.



“How indeed? Well first we must resolve the problem with Glorfindel. And also, it is high time he finds out who his father is. That will help us resolve the problem with Lord Wolf.”



“You *know* how stubborn he is. He won’t even speak to Glorfindel. And Glorfindel is too noble to split up with Thranduil.”



“I don’t remember making him so stubborn.”



“That was Yavanna’s idea. She thought it would be interesting to throw stubborn in with the music. I think she rather overdid it though.” Varda replied.



(author's note: This scene is unfinished)



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On rare occasions Ecthelion escaped Salgen'ts watchful eye. Then he would sit on the cliff and look out at the ocean. And so it was that some six months later he was sitting on the cliff looking out to sea and meditating, when he felt someone standing behind him watching him. He knew immediately who it was, and without even bothering to turn around he greeted him.



“Hello, Uncle Mith.”



“Greetings, my child. You look horrible. What are you doing?”



“Ai, Mith, you were never one to waste words, were you? Thank you for your kind comments on my appearance, Ecthelion replied. As for what I am doing,  I am looking at the sea. Did you know it is the same color as Glorfindel’s eyes?”



“Ah, Glorfindel,” Mithrandir gave one of his famous two-word replies. Then he said “Did you ever wonder who your Adar was?”



Mithrandir’s conversations often did not make much sense, and Ecthelion wondered where this one was going.



“Of course I have. Who wouldn’t. You are not going to tell me it was Glorfindel, are you?”



Mithrandir laughed at that. “No, little one, Glorfindel is definitely not your Adar.”



Suddenly Mithrandir reached out a hand toward the sea, and Ecthelion’s flute flew into it. He laid it down by Ecthelion’s side.



Ecthelion looked at it, then picked it up and threw it back into the sea.



Again Mithrandir retrieved it, and again Ecthelion threw it into the sea. “I never want to see that flute again as long as I live, nor do I wish to play it¸” Ecthelion said, with a stubborn note in his voice.



Mithrandir ignored him, and retrieved the flute yet again.



“Would you please stop that!” Ecthelion screamed in exasperation.



“No.” Mithrandir replied. “Has anyone ever told you that you are the most stubborn elf ever born?”



“I think I have heard that a few thousand times.” Ecthelion actually had the grace to smile.



“Have you ever looked at the designs on this flute?”



“I have looked at them a million times, I am sure. Why?”



“Do you recognize any of them?”



Ecthelion picked up the flute and examined it closely. “This is the symbol of the high king’s house,” he said. “But I would assume this symbol is on everything that was made in his kingdom. Was it not?”



“No, it is not. It is only on possessions belonging to the royal family.”



“Oh, great! So I have been playing a flute that someone stole from the high king all of these centuries.”



“Perhaps. Or maybe it is one he gave to someone special.”



“Then why would anyone give it to me?”



“Why indeed? That is something which we must discover,” Mithrandir said. “Come. We are going to go visiting.”



Ecthelion looked at Mithrandir warily. “Who are we going to go see?”



“You shall see.”

“You’ve always loved your little mysteries, haven’t you Uncle Mith?”



Mithrandir just smiled and whistled, and suddenly Shadowfax came into view.



“We shall ride. It is a long way to the other side of the island, and I am an old man.”



“You have never been an old man Mithrandir. You are a maiar. And besides, Salgent is expecting me back.”



“Don’t worry about Salgent. Your.. service.. to him is done.”



“Why do you care about what happens to me?”



“I have always cared a great deal about what happens to you, dear child. You are very special to me. And it is time that the truth be told. Now come. Ride in front of me. Shadowfax will carry us both.”



Ecthelion jumped up on Shadowfax’s back, and Mithrandir climbed up behind, and the two rode off through the forest toward the town on the other side of the island.



“Do you remember anything about your early childhood?”



“You mean before my Naneth was killed and I was captured by humans? No, I don’t. Not really.”



“Close your eyes. I will help you to remember.”



Ecthelion closed his eyes as instructed, and smiled as visions flooded his mind.



“It is my third begetting day. I am still living in the Greenwood with Naneth and her people. Wow. I have a LOT of cousins, and aunts and uncles. It is a big family."



“Yes, it is," Mithrandir smiled as he shared the images with Ecthelion.



“Someone has given me a gift, and my Naneth is smiling at him. She is very happy.”



“Do you recognize him?”



“It is the high King. My lord Turgon. He has given me the flute.”

Ecthelion opened his eyes and turned to Mithrandir? Why did the High King give me a flute for my begetting day? Why is he smiling at my Naneth?”



“Why indeed?”



“Ai, Mithrandir. Where ARE we going?”



“We are where we are going.”

“But this is Turgon’s house."



“So it is”



Shadowfax stopped and Mithrandir dismounted, but Ecthelion just sat there.



“Well, are you going to get down and come in, or not?” Mithrandir asked.



“I guess I am.”



Ecthelion dismounted, and followed Mithrandir to the door.



He knocked, and the door was opened by Turgon himself.

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Author's note: Obviously to be continued.....



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