alexs_storybook (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alexs_storybook) wrote2015-12-18 07:25 am
alexs_storybook) wrote2015-12-18 07:25 am
Entry tags:
FIC: Those Who Wander (LOTR)
Title: Those Who Wander
Author: Alexcat
Type: FCS
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I Profit from the use of these characters.
Warnings: None
Beta: Ignoblebard
Pairing: Erestor/Gildor
Archive: OEAM Ao3, Alex's Story Book
Author’s Note: This for the 2015 Ardor in August
Spoilers: Yeah
Summary:The High King of the Noldor sends Erestor andf Gildor on a secret mission into a land far, far away.
~~~
Erestor stared open mouthed at Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor.
“You want us to go where?” Surely he’d heard wrong.
“I want you and Gildor to travel to Far Harad into the Great Desert. There is an elf there who can read the runes on this map.” Gil-galad held up an opened scroll.
“It’s a damned map of Barad-dûr! I can read it!” Erestor, after glancing at the scroll, shot back at the king.
“It is not just a map of Barad-dûr! It has descriptions of different secret hideaways and such. It also has the passwords for several gates but I can’t read the runes.”
“Just burn the whole place and kill Sauron and you won’t need to read runes.”
Gil-galad merely smiled that irritating smile that he used when he was about to make people do things simply because he was king.
Erestor harrumphed at him. Gil-galad might get his way because he was king but that certainly did not mean Erestor had to like it.
“Where is the wandering boy, by the way?” Erestor asked nonchalantly, as if everyone didn’t already know they’d been lovers for more than thirty years.
“He is on his way here. You will go by wagon until you reach the border of Harad.”
“Then what?”
Gil-galad’s smile was pure evil this time. “Camels.”
Erestor had no time to react before all could hear Gildor and his caravan of wanderers coming, singing as their wagon rattled along. Erestor may have looked calm but his heart pounded in his chest the same way it did every time Gildor rode into Lindon.
The king and his counselors all ran out into the street to greet the newcomers. Gildor leaped down from the wagon and landed on his feet in front of Gil-galad. He dropped to one knee and bowed before the Noldor king.
“My king!”
Gil-galad couldn’t help but smile. Gildor might be a lot things, vagabond, spy, entertainer, courier among them, but he was always a delight. Gil-galad motioned for him to rise. The trappings of royalty meant little to the king in most cases.
“I have already spoken to Erestor about your mission. We will talk more about it after dinner.”
Dinner was always a banquet with music and conversation. Erestor drank too much and laughed too loudly, but he sobered up quickly enough after the banquet was done and he and Gildor were summoned to King Gil-galad’s private study.
Gil-galad shut the door after the three of them entered the room.
“You must leave as soon as possible. We need the information to march on Sauron. Our victory depends on it. I must have all the information I can get before we set out,” Gil-galad said as he brought out three tumblers and poured a shot of his finest brandy into each one.
“But how are we to get through Harad and all the way into the desert of Far Harad? They do not exactly welcome strangers,” Erestor asked. “Do you think envoys of an elven kingdom will be allowed entry, not to mention further access to their lands?”
“You will be posing as traders. Even the Haradrim deal with traders.”
“I’m sure I have some appropriate clothing in my wagon. Will my people be allowed to stay here in safety while I am gone?” Gildor always took care of the band of elves who traveled with him. He loved and protected them as if they were his children.
“Yes, of course they will. They may camp if they like or they may stay here in one of the inns or even in the palace if they prefer. I will provide for them.”
“I want to see this map again.” Erestor was always the skeptic; this was his contribution to Gil-galad’s kingdom. He always asked questions, sometimes even unanswerable questions.
Gil-galad retrieved the rolled up map and spread it upon the table. It was a fairly detailed layout of Sauron’s fortress. The language of the runes was unknown to Erestor. These were not any human or hobbit characters that Erestor had ever seen, nor were they the Black Speech.
“Do either of you know this language?” Erestor asked both his lover and the king.
“I do not. I believe it to be runes used by wizards, perhaps. At least that is the rumor,” the king answered.
“Is it a wizard we seek then?” Erestor asked.
“I believe he is an elf, a very old one. I know not his name.”
“Where did you come by this map?” Erestor looked suspiciously at the king.
“It was given to me by another elf. That is all that I know.” Or all you’ll tell, thought Erestor.
“How do we know it’s real?” Erestor asked.
Gil-galad sighed. “We don’t, but I’m sure you’ll have some idea if it is or not by the time you return.”
Gildor steered the conversation away from why to how. “If we are to be merchants, do we have something to trade or sell?”
“Of course. We will send you into Harad with a wagon of trade goods. Salt and maybe some medicinal herbs since Erestor knows a great deal about them from his work with Elrond. Perhaps a few bolts of fine silk for the Haradrim women.”
Gildor nodded. “But we must ride camels through the desert?”
“It’s too dry and hot for horses. The old elf is near an oasis in the farthest south region of the desert,” Gil-galad answered.
“Of course he is!” Erestor said. He was not anxious to go on this trip even if it was a chance to be alone with Gildor.
*
It took about a week to outfit Gildor and Erestor for their journey. They had a wagon with trade goods, as well as gear for the desert and plenty of gold and jewels for payment and bribes if need be. They had maps and charts as well. Gildor packed his portable ‘kitchen’ from his wagon. It contained pots, utensils, plates, cups, herbs and a small stock of lembas bread.
On the evening before their departure, they sat and drank wine with Gil-galad, Círdan and Elrond late into the evening. Círdan told stories of Arda before any of them had been there except for him. He had actually been one of the elves who’d risen from the waters of Cuivienen as one of the very First Ones. Elrond told stories of his life with Maglor and Maedhros, stories that were often more pleasant than the others would have expected.
Gildor began to talk of his travels and all were amazed at how far over Arda he’d actually been. He’d been into Harad, travelling through the lands of men as well as the lands of elves. He’d been many places but never to the Great Desert.
Yet.
They set out just after sunrise. Gil-galad, Círdan and Elrond were there to see them off. Gildor was his usual sunny self while Erestor was in a bit of a foul mood. That mood seemed to lift as soon as they left the confines of Lindon.
“You know that we could just ride away and come back in a few weeks and tell the king that we didn’t find the old elf?” Erestor said as they headed south.
Gildor laughed. “You think he wouldn’t find out?”
“How could he?”
“Our king sees far more than he lets on and Elrond sees more than anyone knows. We might as well do as we were bid. No one says we can’t enjoy the journey.” He leaned over and kissed Erestor’s cheek and winked at him.
Erestor grudgingly smiled and they traveled in silence for a long while.
Several days travel had them nearing Bree, a town peopled with many folk of all sorts. Gildor had often spent time there selling his wares and gathering information. They set up their tent on the outskirts of town and made a fire. Erestor had killed a couple of rabbits earlier and they roasted the rabbits while a strong tea brewed in a kettle over the fire.
“I figure we shall be gone three months if all goes well,” Gildor said as he turned the spit.
“Does all ever go well?”
Gildor laughed. “Ever the optimist, my love.”
“Realist is what I am.”
Gildor stopped turning the spit and sat down on the ground beside Erestor. He kissed his cheek then turned Erestor’s head so he could kiss his lips. “If I weren’t so hungry, I’d have you right here on the ground.”
“After we sup, that can be arranged.”
Gildor slid a hand up Erestor’s leg and caressed him until he felt a response. He grinned wickedly, kissed Erestor again and went back to his cook fire.
After dinner, Erestor held Gildor to his promise and after a rather frantic few minutes, they lay sated in one another’s arms. Gildor sighed rather happily. “I’m not sure I can manage that pace every night for three months.”
Erestor said nothing, just rolled him over and showed him that there were slower paces to move at as well.
They packed up and moved on early the next day and made good time. They were heading to Gondor then south into the unknown lands held by the Haradrim. Most of their journey would be in this hostile territory. Even Gildor had never traveled as far south as they would go.
They made a rather steady thirty miles per day and stayed at a village or town if possible at night. Gildor did a bit of trading and Erestor plied the medicines that Elrond had taught him to use. Not much of the news they heard was good. Orcs were all about in Arda and both Men and Elves feared traveling much after sundown.
They did not encounter orcs until their third week on the road.
This night had not found them near a town so they’d camped in the woods, not daring to make a fire or even speak above a whisper. They sat in silence, eating leftover bread from the town they’d left a day ago. Erestor had cut some dried meat to go with it when he heard something that sounded like a twig. He touched Gildor’s arm and shot a glance in the direction of the sound when Gildor turned and looked at him.
He drew his sword while Gildor pulled two razor sharp knives from somewhere on his person. Four foul smelling orcs came out of the wood.
“I smell dinner,” one of them crowed to his companions.
None of them ever said another word. Gildor and Erestor hit them with sword and knives and an hour later, they buried what was left of them in the forest and loaded up and left the area.
Had they not been in love, the trip would have been sheer tedium, but since they did have great affection one for the other, that was not the case. They found many pleasant ways to pass the time.
It did not take long to be out of the land populated by Elves and moving into the lands of Men. They planned on stopping at Osgiliath to resupply. Gildor knew the sons of Elendil and they would stay a few days before going farther south.
When they crossed from Gondor into Harad, it was as if a line had actually been drawn on the earth. Signs of civilization dried up. The forest became denser and the road harder to follow. They both knew that there were people out there, but none were evident as they made their way slowly south.
They became aware that they were being watched.
“Who do you think watches us?” Erestor asked.
“There are Númenórean lords here, but none are very friendly with people to the north of them.”
They were not openly bothered by anyone as they made their way south. The forest gradually gave way to a drier, more arid land until they realized they were in the edge of the Great Desert.
“We must find camels. The horses won’t last three days,” Gildor said.
“I see something in the distance, a town perhaps?”
“Probably just a well in the desert. There are a few and settlements tend to grow up around them. We’ll need to be merchants there. And that is where we may find camels to complete our journey.”
They headed toward the settlement.
It was little more than a collection of tents around a few trees and a patch of green. People stared as they drove their wagon slowly through the main thoroughfare. They stopped in front of a large tent and Gildor asked a man who stood outside it, “Is there a place to buy camels?”
He spoke in Westron and the man said nothing in reply. Finally, the man jerked his head toward the large tent.
Gildor bowed at the waist and thanked him. He motioned for Erestor to stay in the wagon while he went inside the tent. Erestor sat calmly as his mate slipped through the tent flap. His heart was pounding. The people here were unlike the Men he’d met before. These were all swarthy and dark eyed, unlike the fair-haired men he’d met in Imladris or the sons of Elendil. They spoke a language strange to his ears, though he listened hard trying to tease out any meaning. He could pick up a word that sounded like the Westron spoken in Gondor now and again, but not enough to know all they said.
The one who’d nodded at Gildor said to a shorter man, “—look like elves to me. Why are such here in our land?”
His companion laughed and said, “Perhaps they are here to steal our women.”
The man nodded in the direction of a woman coming toward the big tent and Erestor followed his gaze. She passed by the wagon without so much as a glance. She, too, was swarthy but she did not have the rough look of the men. She wore a garment that, while loose, was thin and clung to her curvy body. Her face was covered except for eyes so dark they looked completely black. They were rimmed in thick dark lashes and flashed dangerously as she talked to the large man.
“I wish to speak to the chieftain!” she barked at the man.
“He is busy with important business, Lady Yusraa.* Go back to your women.”
Erestor watched as she spat at the man and barged into the tent.
“Dirar!* I would have a word with you!” She shouted so loudly that everyone in the whole settlement could hear her.
Erestor heard a mumbled reply and assumed that the woman would return to her own tent, but she did not come out. He smiled. Galadriel would like that one, he thought. Celeborn might as well.
After what seemed like hours but was more like half an hour, Gildor came out followed by Lady Yusraa and a man he could only presume was Dirar. The man was not rough as the others either. He was dark and dressed in clothes more like Yusraa than the simple cotton that the big man wore. From his ears hung shiny gold earrings and he wore jeweled rings on his fingers.
The group came over to the horses.
“Yes, Master Bran, they are fine horses. I can see that they are of Elvish breeding. I will gladly trade you three camels but you must throw in the wagon and something special for the Lady Yusraa.”
“It is a deal then, my lord.”
Erestor wondered what he would give the woman, but it seemed that Gildor had come prepared for anything. He rifled around in the back and came out with a length of fine elven silk in a blood red color that would enhance Lady Yusraa’s considerable beauty.
“Will this please the lady?” He held it out to her.
“It pleases me well, Master Bran.” Erestor could have sworn she winked at Gildor before casting her eyes down.
“I need some time to unload our goods into packs for the camels, then we wonder if we may presume upon your kindness for one night?”
Dirar nodded. To the large man, he said, “Find our friends a tent and have the cook bring them some food and drink. We will expect you both at dinner tonight in my tent.” He nodded to them, took Yusraa gently by the elbow, and the two of them disappeared into his tent.
This man is more than a camel merchant, perhaps he is the chieftain of the entire area, Erestor thought to himself.
Gildor and Erestor retired to their tent as soon as they had unloaded the wagon. They kept only some of their trade goods, and most of their camping gear. They had water skins that needed filling before they left and they hoped to barter for some dried fruits with more cloth and some herbs that Gildor had packed.
There were water bowls for bathing and water pitchers for drinking. A sweet bread made from nuts, dates and honey was placed on a plate, along with a carafe of sweet red wine.
They refreshed themselves and changed from their dusty clothes to clean ones then sat on pillows placed on the floor for that purpose. Erestor had poured them both a goblet of wine and Gildor picked up one of the sticky treats and tasted it.
“Mmm. This is wonderful.” He held it out to Erestor who took a bite then licked a drop of honey from Gildor’s fingers.
At dusk, a servant came for them and led them to Dirar’s tent.
Dinner was a sumptuous feast of roasted lamb with many fresh vegetables and warm, chewy flatbread. They sat around the table and dipped their bread in the various dishes, both elves oohing and ahing over the delicious flavors their host served them. There was plenty of wine, and a honey drink a lot like the beer that the hobbits made.
Dirar knew they were from the north and asked many questions about their homeland. Both elves answered as truthfully as possible without giving too much detail.
One question stopped them in their tracks.
“Do you seek the old man of the desert?”
“We are but tradesmen, my lord.”
“No one trades here, my friend. Our people have little but what you see, but it is enough. What would we need with fancy goods from the north?”
Gildor nodded but said nothing.
“He is many days from here. They say he sometimes turns visitors away without seeing them. He lives there with his wife, who is very beautiful, with hair of spun gold.”
Gildor still said nothing but took a sip of his wine.
“I have met with him upon occasion and he may treat you with favor if I send a token for him to see.” He removed a small ruby ring from the many on his fingers and handed it to Gildor. “Perhaps this will grant you safe passage. My people have no love for the ones from the sea kingdom nor for the one who speaks the Black Tongue. Others in the desert think differently but most respect me and leave us alone.”
Gildor finally spoke. “Thank you, my lord. We do seek the old man and appreciate your help.”
Much later, in their tent, Gildor and Erestor slumbered, aware when they went to sleep that they were being listened to. So they said nothing of import, just chatted about the day and went to sleep.
When the dawn came, Dirar had found them three fine camels for their journey. He had as much water as they could carry loaded into wineskins and packed for them. They had dried fruits and meats as well.
The large man who’d greeted them when they came into the settlement held each camel as it knelt down for its rider to climb up and into the saddle.
“Safe journey, my friends,” Dirar said to them as they headed south and deeper into the white desert of Far Harad.
The desert was hot, hotter than either elf had imagined.
“If I’d known that it was hotter than the fires of Mount Doom, I’d have stayed at home,” Erestor said as they rode their lumbering mounts through endless sands.
“And miss being alone with me?” Gildor was ever of good cheer, much to Erestor’s everlasting annoyance and also everlasting joy. It was one of the things he loved the most about his partner. Not even a trip through this blistering desert could make him lose his optimism.
“Well, there is that.” Erestor looked overhead at the endless stretch of sky. “Have you noticed that we have company?”
“Ah, you must mean the hawk. I expect he’s hoping for some easy eating soon.”
“Well, that’s comforting,” Erestor grumped.
Days stretched into weeks and still they trudged on. They came across several small settlements, trading herbs and medicines for water from their wells. The ruby ring was kept in reserve as well, just in case they ran into hostile folk.
The hawk still followed them.
“Does that seem natural to you?” Erestor asked as they left another oasis.
“I am not sure, but he is keeping his distance so we will wait and see what he wants.”
“Could he be a spy of Mordor?”
“I doubt it. They do not believe we can harm them so they are not afraid, thus no need to spy on us.”
“Can we harm them?” Erestor had lots of time to think about what Gil-galad meant to do when they returned.
Gildor stopped his camel and looked Erestor straight in the eye. “I do not know. With the Ring of Power, I expect Sauron is almost invincible.”
“Could we sue for peace?” Erestor was a diplomat, after all.
“No. The only way we will have peace from him is to vanquish him. If we sue for peace, he will enslave us, those of us that he doesn’t destroy.”
Their water began to run low and there was no oasis in sight anywhere. They rationed it, making it last as long as they could. Then they were out.
The horizon was empty, nothing but more sand as far as the eye could see. Their hawk friend was still circling above though even he seemed a little slower than before.
Gildor was quieter too. He said little as they moved along.
Erestor saw her first. It was a woman on a white horse. She was too far away to see details yet. He wondered if he was seeing a mirage. “Do you see her?” he asked Gildor.
“Yes. She’s coming toward us on a white horse.”
They slowed to a stop and watched the woman approach.
“You are the elves?” she asked when she came close enough to talk to them.
Gildor nodded.
She reached into a pack hanging across her saddle and produced two heavy water skins. Both elves drank deeply then got down and offered water to each camel.
“You will follow me,” she said, her voice lyrical with an accent that neither elf could recognize.
Wordlessly, they did, mounting their sturdy rides and lumbering behind her prancing white stallion. The horse danced from side to side as if he could barely contain his excitement. Erestor’s camel bellowed in answer to the horse’s nicker.
They had only gone a few short miles and there it was, a small hut with one tree and a well. The old elf stood by the well, winding up the windlass and bringing up a fresh bucket.
“Hello, my friends. I have been expecting you.”
The two elves looked at one another. He wasn’t as elf at all. Perhaps he was a small man... or… something.
“Come into my home. Your camels will be fine. They have water and food right here.”
They stepped inside and found the hut much larger than it appeared. The little man had a long beard and was dressed in clothes much like the Hobbits wore. He did have on shoes, odd brightly colored ones at that.
“Tea?” he asked. “Darling, pour our guests some tea and offer them some of those lovely cakes too if we still have some.”
The woman smiled and went into the small kitchen while the elves sat down by the table as their host indicated.
“So what do you have for me?” He asked.
“Maps. King Gil-galad has some maps and floorplans and he believes you can read the strange runes on them,” Erestor told the old man as their tea and a plate of honey cakes arrived.
“Eat! Drink! I am sure you are hungry and thirsty after your long journey.”
The honey cakes were divine and they ate all of them and drank several cups of tea while the old man chattered about this and that, about the birds of the desert, the spring rains and how lucky he was to live here.
Finally it was time to get down to business. Gildor took the maps out of his pack and spread them on the table.
“Ah, Sauron’s keep. Why ever would you want to go there?”
“We will besiege him soon and the king wishes to know all he can before we do so,” Erestor answered.
The old man stood and bent over the maps, looking carefully here and there, touching one place then another and muttering under his breath as he did so. Neither elf could understand the language he spoke.
“The key to defeating Sauron is the Ring, not the keep, but I shall endeavor to read these runes anyway.”
He looked closely at the map and ran his finger along the runes.
“‘All who enter are bound by blood to the Lord Sauron to do his bidding and his bidding only. Enemies will burn forever in the fires of Mount Doom.’ A promise? Ahhh, here is the inscription on the Ring:
‘One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.’”
He looked up at them. “There is not much else here, I’m afraid, but I will look again tonight after I have napped and eaten some dinner. I suggest you rest as well. Nessima** will show you your beds.” He nodded to his beautiful companion.
There was nothing left to do but follow her to a small room with a large bed that took up almost the entire space.
“I will come for you at nightfall. There is water for drinking and a basin for washing.”
After she left, Gildor stripped all his dusty clothing off and began to clean himself with water from the basin. Erestor watched, appreciating his lover’s fair form. Gildor lay on the soft bed when he was done and Erestor stripped and bathed.
“So now what shall we do?” Gildor asked with a wicked glint in his eyes.
Erestor sat on the edge of the bed and reached for him. “Come here and I’ll show you.”
And he did.
The two elves dozed on and off all afternoon, interspersing their sleep with kisses and touches and more. As the sky began to darken, their door opened and Nessima entered, unmindful of their nudity. Indeed she seemed to expect it.
“Dinner will be ready soon and Onónion** is always hungry so don’t be late.” She smiled a knowing smile and left the room.
Dinner was every bit as elaborate as it had been in Dirar’s oasis, with succulent meats and tender roasted vegetables. The bread was fragrant and fresh made and the wine was the best they’d ever tasted. They ate until they were actually uncomfortable from too much food.
“I have studied this map and the runes and I have only this to say. The best chance you have is to surround the enemy and not allow them freedom come out, lay siege to them. I have marked the exits and secret passages on the map so troops can keep them inside the fortress. The other thing that will have to happen is to get the Ring from Sauron. I know not how but this must be done if you have any hope at all of defeating him.”
“I think the king was hoping for more,” Erestor said.
“The king was hoping for some magic or spell to aid him but there is none. Keep the faith and persevere no matter what. That is the secret.”
Much later, when they were abed, Gildor asked Erestor, “Who do you think they are?”
“I know not. He looks very old but acts and moves like a younger man. She looks young enough to be his granddaughter but I believe her to be his mate. I saw him touch her bottom in a very ungrandfatherly way when she served dinner.”
As if to illustrate his point, they heard a loud moan of female pleasure coming from elsewhere in the house.
Gildor grinned at Erestor and shoved him back onto the bed and crawled on top of him.
They stayed a fortnight, talking to Onónion by day and making love every night to the sounds of the other couple’s pleasures.
The day they headed home was hot and dry, as all the days had been for a very long time, but they had plenty of water and food, at least enough to get them back to Dirar’s settlement. They set out at daylight, with Onónion and Nessima standing in front of their little hut to see them off.
The old man said to them as they began to move away. “Watch the bird. It will guide you if you become lost.”
They rode away, noticing later that day that the hawk was back, flying high in the sky above them.
“Did we accomplish our mission?” Erestor asked Gildor. “Did we find out anything important?”
“I am not sure that was our mission. I think Gil-galad wanted to know about the old man in the desert and the map was an excuse. There was not much there that you and I could not read, was there?”
“No, but then I didn’t think so when Gil-galad asked us to come here.”
“Do you know the old man?” Gildor asked.
“I think he is familiar, perhaps, but not as a short old man in funny shoes.”
“I think neither of them were what they appeared to be.”
“Perhaps we shall never know,” Erestor said finally.
*
After several months, the travelers arrived home in the wagon they left in. It was almost empty but that had been the price for using Dirar’s camels. Gildor still wore the ruby ring though. Dirar had insisted he keep it. A banquet was set for their homecoming, but the king wanted to speak with them in his study before the festivities began.
“So what did you find out?” Gil-galad asked them as soon as Elrond closed the door.
Gildor smiled at Erestor then spoke. “We found out little. Our only hope is to separate Sauron from the Ring. There are some escape routes marked on the map but the old man said there are no secrets in the runes.”
“Old man? Not an Elf?” Gil-galad’s eyebrow shot up.
“Not an Elf nor was his companion,” Erestor said.
“Companion?” Elrond asked.
“A beautiful golden haired woman, a young one.”
Círdan smiled but said nothing.
Gil-galad clapped Gildor on the back. “At least Erestor got to go on an adventure. There is always that.”
Gildor hid his smile and agreed with the king.
*
The siege of Barad-Dûr was long and cost many lives, including that of the High King of the Noldor, but the Ring was finally separated from Sauron and the Dark Lord fell.
For a time.
*
Many years later on a ship bound for the West, Erestor sat beside Gildor. They watched as Arda disappeared behind them.
“So what do you have to say, here at the end of our lives in Arda?” Gildor asked him.
“I have seen much, a great deal of it tragic, but I shall never forget that long journey through the desert.”
“Nor the old man,” Gildor said.
Erestor smiled. “Nor the old man.”
Neither of them saw the hawk circling high above them.
~end~
*The names come from this rpg site: http://www.darkshire.net/jhkim/rpg/lordoftherings/names.pdf
**The names come from this elven name list:
http://www.arwen-undomiel.com/elvish.html
Author: Alexcat
Type: FCS
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I Profit from the use of these characters.
Warnings: None
Beta: Ignoblebard
Pairing: Erestor/Gildor
Archive: OEAM Ao3, Alex's Story Book
Author’s Note: This for the 2015 Ardor in August
Spoilers: Yeah
Summary:The High King of the Noldor sends Erestor andf Gildor on a secret mission into a land far, far away.
~~~
Erestor stared open mouthed at Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor.
“You want us to go where?” Surely he’d heard wrong.
“I want you and Gildor to travel to Far Harad into the Great Desert. There is an elf there who can read the runes on this map.” Gil-galad held up an opened scroll.
“It’s a damned map of Barad-dûr! I can read it!” Erestor, after glancing at the scroll, shot back at the king.
“It is not just a map of Barad-dûr! It has descriptions of different secret hideaways and such. It also has the passwords for several gates but I can’t read the runes.”
“Just burn the whole place and kill Sauron and you won’t need to read runes.”
Gil-galad merely smiled that irritating smile that he used when he was about to make people do things simply because he was king.
Erestor harrumphed at him. Gil-galad might get his way because he was king but that certainly did not mean Erestor had to like it.
“Where is the wandering boy, by the way?” Erestor asked nonchalantly, as if everyone didn’t already know they’d been lovers for more than thirty years.
“He is on his way here. You will go by wagon until you reach the border of Harad.”
“Then what?”
Gil-galad’s smile was pure evil this time. “Camels.”
Erestor had no time to react before all could hear Gildor and his caravan of wanderers coming, singing as their wagon rattled along. Erestor may have looked calm but his heart pounded in his chest the same way it did every time Gildor rode into Lindon.
The king and his counselors all ran out into the street to greet the newcomers. Gildor leaped down from the wagon and landed on his feet in front of Gil-galad. He dropped to one knee and bowed before the Noldor king.
“My king!”
Gil-galad couldn’t help but smile. Gildor might be a lot things, vagabond, spy, entertainer, courier among them, but he was always a delight. Gil-galad motioned for him to rise. The trappings of royalty meant little to the king in most cases.
“I have already spoken to Erestor about your mission. We will talk more about it after dinner.”
Dinner was always a banquet with music and conversation. Erestor drank too much and laughed too loudly, but he sobered up quickly enough after the banquet was done and he and Gildor were summoned to King Gil-galad’s private study.
Gil-galad shut the door after the three of them entered the room.
“You must leave as soon as possible. We need the information to march on Sauron. Our victory depends on it. I must have all the information I can get before we set out,” Gil-galad said as he brought out three tumblers and poured a shot of his finest brandy into each one.
“But how are we to get through Harad and all the way into the desert of Far Harad? They do not exactly welcome strangers,” Erestor asked. “Do you think envoys of an elven kingdom will be allowed entry, not to mention further access to their lands?”
“You will be posing as traders. Even the Haradrim deal with traders.”
“I’m sure I have some appropriate clothing in my wagon. Will my people be allowed to stay here in safety while I am gone?” Gildor always took care of the band of elves who traveled with him. He loved and protected them as if they were his children.
“Yes, of course they will. They may camp if they like or they may stay here in one of the inns or even in the palace if they prefer. I will provide for them.”
“I want to see this map again.” Erestor was always the skeptic; this was his contribution to Gil-galad’s kingdom. He always asked questions, sometimes even unanswerable questions.
Gil-galad retrieved the rolled up map and spread it upon the table. It was a fairly detailed layout of Sauron’s fortress. The language of the runes was unknown to Erestor. These were not any human or hobbit characters that Erestor had ever seen, nor were they the Black Speech.
“Do either of you know this language?” Erestor asked both his lover and the king.
“I do not. I believe it to be runes used by wizards, perhaps. At least that is the rumor,” the king answered.
“Is it a wizard we seek then?” Erestor asked.
“I believe he is an elf, a very old one. I know not his name.”
“Where did you come by this map?” Erestor looked suspiciously at the king.
“It was given to me by another elf. That is all that I know.” Or all you’ll tell, thought Erestor.
“How do we know it’s real?” Erestor asked.
Gil-galad sighed. “We don’t, but I’m sure you’ll have some idea if it is or not by the time you return.”
Gildor steered the conversation away from why to how. “If we are to be merchants, do we have something to trade or sell?”
“Of course. We will send you into Harad with a wagon of trade goods. Salt and maybe some medicinal herbs since Erestor knows a great deal about them from his work with Elrond. Perhaps a few bolts of fine silk for the Haradrim women.”
Gildor nodded. “But we must ride camels through the desert?”
“It’s too dry and hot for horses. The old elf is near an oasis in the farthest south region of the desert,” Gil-galad answered.
“Of course he is!” Erestor said. He was not anxious to go on this trip even if it was a chance to be alone with Gildor.
*
It took about a week to outfit Gildor and Erestor for their journey. They had a wagon with trade goods, as well as gear for the desert and plenty of gold and jewels for payment and bribes if need be. They had maps and charts as well. Gildor packed his portable ‘kitchen’ from his wagon. It contained pots, utensils, plates, cups, herbs and a small stock of lembas bread.
On the evening before their departure, they sat and drank wine with Gil-galad, Círdan and Elrond late into the evening. Círdan told stories of Arda before any of them had been there except for him. He had actually been one of the elves who’d risen from the waters of Cuivienen as one of the very First Ones. Elrond told stories of his life with Maglor and Maedhros, stories that were often more pleasant than the others would have expected.
Gildor began to talk of his travels and all were amazed at how far over Arda he’d actually been. He’d been into Harad, travelling through the lands of men as well as the lands of elves. He’d been many places but never to the Great Desert.
Yet.
They set out just after sunrise. Gil-galad, Círdan and Elrond were there to see them off. Gildor was his usual sunny self while Erestor was in a bit of a foul mood. That mood seemed to lift as soon as they left the confines of Lindon.
“You know that we could just ride away and come back in a few weeks and tell the king that we didn’t find the old elf?” Erestor said as they headed south.
Gildor laughed. “You think he wouldn’t find out?”
“How could he?”
“Our king sees far more than he lets on and Elrond sees more than anyone knows. We might as well do as we were bid. No one says we can’t enjoy the journey.” He leaned over and kissed Erestor’s cheek and winked at him.
Erestor grudgingly smiled and they traveled in silence for a long while.
Several days travel had them nearing Bree, a town peopled with many folk of all sorts. Gildor had often spent time there selling his wares and gathering information. They set up their tent on the outskirts of town and made a fire. Erestor had killed a couple of rabbits earlier and they roasted the rabbits while a strong tea brewed in a kettle over the fire.
“I figure we shall be gone three months if all goes well,” Gildor said as he turned the spit.
“Does all ever go well?”
Gildor laughed. “Ever the optimist, my love.”
“Realist is what I am.”
Gildor stopped turning the spit and sat down on the ground beside Erestor. He kissed his cheek then turned Erestor’s head so he could kiss his lips. “If I weren’t so hungry, I’d have you right here on the ground.”
“After we sup, that can be arranged.”
Gildor slid a hand up Erestor’s leg and caressed him until he felt a response. He grinned wickedly, kissed Erestor again and went back to his cook fire.
After dinner, Erestor held Gildor to his promise and after a rather frantic few minutes, they lay sated in one another’s arms. Gildor sighed rather happily. “I’m not sure I can manage that pace every night for three months.”
Erestor said nothing, just rolled him over and showed him that there were slower paces to move at as well.
They packed up and moved on early the next day and made good time. They were heading to Gondor then south into the unknown lands held by the Haradrim. Most of their journey would be in this hostile territory. Even Gildor had never traveled as far south as they would go.
They made a rather steady thirty miles per day and stayed at a village or town if possible at night. Gildor did a bit of trading and Erestor plied the medicines that Elrond had taught him to use. Not much of the news they heard was good. Orcs were all about in Arda and both Men and Elves feared traveling much after sundown.
They did not encounter orcs until their third week on the road.
This night had not found them near a town so they’d camped in the woods, not daring to make a fire or even speak above a whisper. They sat in silence, eating leftover bread from the town they’d left a day ago. Erestor had cut some dried meat to go with it when he heard something that sounded like a twig. He touched Gildor’s arm and shot a glance in the direction of the sound when Gildor turned and looked at him.
He drew his sword while Gildor pulled two razor sharp knives from somewhere on his person. Four foul smelling orcs came out of the wood.
“I smell dinner,” one of them crowed to his companions.
None of them ever said another word. Gildor and Erestor hit them with sword and knives and an hour later, they buried what was left of them in the forest and loaded up and left the area.
Had they not been in love, the trip would have been sheer tedium, but since they did have great affection one for the other, that was not the case. They found many pleasant ways to pass the time.
It did not take long to be out of the land populated by Elves and moving into the lands of Men. They planned on stopping at Osgiliath to resupply. Gildor knew the sons of Elendil and they would stay a few days before going farther south.
When they crossed from Gondor into Harad, it was as if a line had actually been drawn on the earth. Signs of civilization dried up. The forest became denser and the road harder to follow. They both knew that there were people out there, but none were evident as they made their way slowly south.
They became aware that they were being watched.
“Who do you think watches us?” Erestor asked.
“There are Númenórean lords here, but none are very friendly with people to the north of them.”
They were not openly bothered by anyone as they made their way south. The forest gradually gave way to a drier, more arid land until they realized they were in the edge of the Great Desert.
“We must find camels. The horses won’t last three days,” Gildor said.
“I see something in the distance, a town perhaps?”
“Probably just a well in the desert. There are a few and settlements tend to grow up around them. We’ll need to be merchants there. And that is where we may find camels to complete our journey.”
They headed toward the settlement.
It was little more than a collection of tents around a few trees and a patch of green. People stared as they drove their wagon slowly through the main thoroughfare. They stopped in front of a large tent and Gildor asked a man who stood outside it, “Is there a place to buy camels?”
He spoke in Westron and the man said nothing in reply. Finally, the man jerked his head toward the large tent.
Gildor bowed at the waist and thanked him. He motioned for Erestor to stay in the wagon while he went inside the tent. Erestor sat calmly as his mate slipped through the tent flap. His heart was pounding. The people here were unlike the Men he’d met before. These were all swarthy and dark eyed, unlike the fair-haired men he’d met in Imladris or the sons of Elendil. They spoke a language strange to his ears, though he listened hard trying to tease out any meaning. He could pick up a word that sounded like the Westron spoken in Gondor now and again, but not enough to know all they said.
The one who’d nodded at Gildor said to a shorter man, “—look like elves to me. Why are such here in our land?”
His companion laughed and said, “Perhaps they are here to steal our women.”
The man nodded in the direction of a woman coming toward the big tent and Erestor followed his gaze. She passed by the wagon without so much as a glance. She, too, was swarthy but she did not have the rough look of the men. She wore a garment that, while loose, was thin and clung to her curvy body. Her face was covered except for eyes so dark they looked completely black. They were rimmed in thick dark lashes and flashed dangerously as she talked to the large man.
“I wish to speak to the chieftain!” she barked at the man.
“He is busy with important business, Lady Yusraa.* Go back to your women.”
Erestor watched as she spat at the man and barged into the tent.
“Dirar!* I would have a word with you!” She shouted so loudly that everyone in the whole settlement could hear her.
Erestor heard a mumbled reply and assumed that the woman would return to her own tent, but she did not come out. He smiled. Galadriel would like that one, he thought. Celeborn might as well.
After what seemed like hours but was more like half an hour, Gildor came out followed by Lady Yusraa and a man he could only presume was Dirar. The man was not rough as the others either. He was dark and dressed in clothes more like Yusraa than the simple cotton that the big man wore. From his ears hung shiny gold earrings and he wore jeweled rings on his fingers.
The group came over to the horses.
“Yes, Master Bran, they are fine horses. I can see that they are of Elvish breeding. I will gladly trade you three camels but you must throw in the wagon and something special for the Lady Yusraa.”
“It is a deal then, my lord.”
Erestor wondered what he would give the woman, but it seemed that Gildor had come prepared for anything. He rifled around in the back and came out with a length of fine elven silk in a blood red color that would enhance Lady Yusraa’s considerable beauty.
“Will this please the lady?” He held it out to her.
“It pleases me well, Master Bran.” Erestor could have sworn she winked at Gildor before casting her eyes down.
“I need some time to unload our goods into packs for the camels, then we wonder if we may presume upon your kindness for one night?”
Dirar nodded. To the large man, he said, “Find our friends a tent and have the cook bring them some food and drink. We will expect you both at dinner tonight in my tent.” He nodded to them, took Yusraa gently by the elbow, and the two of them disappeared into his tent.
This man is more than a camel merchant, perhaps he is the chieftain of the entire area, Erestor thought to himself.
Gildor and Erestor retired to their tent as soon as they had unloaded the wagon. They kept only some of their trade goods, and most of their camping gear. They had water skins that needed filling before they left and they hoped to barter for some dried fruits with more cloth and some herbs that Gildor had packed.
There were water bowls for bathing and water pitchers for drinking. A sweet bread made from nuts, dates and honey was placed on a plate, along with a carafe of sweet red wine.
They refreshed themselves and changed from their dusty clothes to clean ones then sat on pillows placed on the floor for that purpose. Erestor had poured them both a goblet of wine and Gildor picked up one of the sticky treats and tasted it.
“Mmm. This is wonderful.” He held it out to Erestor who took a bite then licked a drop of honey from Gildor’s fingers.
At dusk, a servant came for them and led them to Dirar’s tent.
Dinner was a sumptuous feast of roasted lamb with many fresh vegetables and warm, chewy flatbread. They sat around the table and dipped their bread in the various dishes, both elves oohing and ahing over the delicious flavors their host served them. There was plenty of wine, and a honey drink a lot like the beer that the hobbits made.
Dirar knew they were from the north and asked many questions about their homeland. Both elves answered as truthfully as possible without giving too much detail.
One question stopped them in their tracks.
“Do you seek the old man of the desert?”
“We are but tradesmen, my lord.”
“No one trades here, my friend. Our people have little but what you see, but it is enough. What would we need with fancy goods from the north?”
Gildor nodded but said nothing.
“He is many days from here. They say he sometimes turns visitors away without seeing them. He lives there with his wife, who is very beautiful, with hair of spun gold.”
Gildor still said nothing but took a sip of his wine.
“I have met with him upon occasion and he may treat you with favor if I send a token for him to see.” He removed a small ruby ring from the many on his fingers and handed it to Gildor. “Perhaps this will grant you safe passage. My people have no love for the ones from the sea kingdom nor for the one who speaks the Black Tongue. Others in the desert think differently but most respect me and leave us alone.”
Gildor finally spoke. “Thank you, my lord. We do seek the old man and appreciate your help.”
Much later, in their tent, Gildor and Erestor slumbered, aware when they went to sleep that they were being listened to. So they said nothing of import, just chatted about the day and went to sleep.
When the dawn came, Dirar had found them three fine camels for their journey. He had as much water as they could carry loaded into wineskins and packed for them. They had dried fruits and meats as well.
The large man who’d greeted them when they came into the settlement held each camel as it knelt down for its rider to climb up and into the saddle.
“Safe journey, my friends,” Dirar said to them as they headed south and deeper into the white desert of Far Harad.
The desert was hot, hotter than either elf had imagined.
“If I’d known that it was hotter than the fires of Mount Doom, I’d have stayed at home,” Erestor said as they rode their lumbering mounts through endless sands.
“And miss being alone with me?” Gildor was ever of good cheer, much to Erestor’s everlasting annoyance and also everlasting joy. It was one of the things he loved the most about his partner. Not even a trip through this blistering desert could make him lose his optimism.
“Well, there is that.” Erestor looked overhead at the endless stretch of sky. “Have you noticed that we have company?”
“Ah, you must mean the hawk. I expect he’s hoping for some easy eating soon.”
“Well, that’s comforting,” Erestor grumped.
Days stretched into weeks and still they trudged on. They came across several small settlements, trading herbs and medicines for water from their wells. The ruby ring was kept in reserve as well, just in case they ran into hostile folk.
The hawk still followed them.
“Does that seem natural to you?” Erestor asked as they left another oasis.
“I am not sure, but he is keeping his distance so we will wait and see what he wants.”
“Could he be a spy of Mordor?”
“I doubt it. They do not believe we can harm them so they are not afraid, thus no need to spy on us.”
“Can we harm them?” Erestor had lots of time to think about what Gil-galad meant to do when they returned.
Gildor stopped his camel and looked Erestor straight in the eye. “I do not know. With the Ring of Power, I expect Sauron is almost invincible.”
“Could we sue for peace?” Erestor was a diplomat, after all.
“No. The only way we will have peace from him is to vanquish him. If we sue for peace, he will enslave us, those of us that he doesn’t destroy.”
Their water began to run low and there was no oasis in sight anywhere. They rationed it, making it last as long as they could. Then they were out.
The horizon was empty, nothing but more sand as far as the eye could see. Their hawk friend was still circling above though even he seemed a little slower than before.
Gildor was quieter too. He said little as they moved along.
Erestor saw her first. It was a woman on a white horse. She was too far away to see details yet. He wondered if he was seeing a mirage. “Do you see her?” he asked Gildor.
“Yes. She’s coming toward us on a white horse.”
They slowed to a stop and watched the woman approach.
“You are the elves?” she asked when she came close enough to talk to them.
Gildor nodded.
She reached into a pack hanging across her saddle and produced two heavy water skins. Both elves drank deeply then got down and offered water to each camel.
“You will follow me,” she said, her voice lyrical with an accent that neither elf could recognize.
Wordlessly, they did, mounting their sturdy rides and lumbering behind her prancing white stallion. The horse danced from side to side as if he could barely contain his excitement. Erestor’s camel bellowed in answer to the horse’s nicker.
They had only gone a few short miles and there it was, a small hut with one tree and a well. The old elf stood by the well, winding up the windlass and bringing up a fresh bucket.
“Hello, my friends. I have been expecting you.”
The two elves looked at one another. He wasn’t as elf at all. Perhaps he was a small man... or… something.
“Come into my home. Your camels will be fine. They have water and food right here.”
They stepped inside and found the hut much larger than it appeared. The little man had a long beard and was dressed in clothes much like the Hobbits wore. He did have on shoes, odd brightly colored ones at that.
“Tea?” he asked. “Darling, pour our guests some tea and offer them some of those lovely cakes too if we still have some.”
The woman smiled and went into the small kitchen while the elves sat down by the table as their host indicated.
“So what do you have for me?” He asked.
“Maps. King Gil-galad has some maps and floorplans and he believes you can read the strange runes on them,” Erestor told the old man as their tea and a plate of honey cakes arrived.
“Eat! Drink! I am sure you are hungry and thirsty after your long journey.”
The honey cakes were divine and they ate all of them and drank several cups of tea while the old man chattered about this and that, about the birds of the desert, the spring rains and how lucky he was to live here.
Finally it was time to get down to business. Gildor took the maps out of his pack and spread them on the table.
“Ah, Sauron’s keep. Why ever would you want to go there?”
“We will besiege him soon and the king wishes to know all he can before we do so,” Erestor answered.
The old man stood and bent over the maps, looking carefully here and there, touching one place then another and muttering under his breath as he did so. Neither elf could understand the language he spoke.
“The key to defeating Sauron is the Ring, not the keep, but I shall endeavor to read these runes anyway.”
He looked closely at the map and ran his finger along the runes.
“‘All who enter are bound by blood to the Lord Sauron to do his bidding and his bidding only. Enemies will burn forever in the fires of Mount Doom.’ A promise? Ahhh, here is the inscription on the Ring:
‘One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.’”
He looked up at them. “There is not much else here, I’m afraid, but I will look again tonight after I have napped and eaten some dinner. I suggest you rest as well. Nessima** will show you your beds.” He nodded to his beautiful companion.
There was nothing left to do but follow her to a small room with a large bed that took up almost the entire space.
“I will come for you at nightfall. There is water for drinking and a basin for washing.”
After she left, Gildor stripped all his dusty clothing off and began to clean himself with water from the basin. Erestor watched, appreciating his lover’s fair form. Gildor lay on the soft bed when he was done and Erestor stripped and bathed.
“So now what shall we do?” Gildor asked with a wicked glint in his eyes.
Erestor sat on the edge of the bed and reached for him. “Come here and I’ll show you.”
And he did.
The two elves dozed on and off all afternoon, interspersing their sleep with kisses and touches and more. As the sky began to darken, their door opened and Nessima entered, unmindful of their nudity. Indeed she seemed to expect it.
“Dinner will be ready soon and Onónion** is always hungry so don’t be late.” She smiled a knowing smile and left the room.
Dinner was every bit as elaborate as it had been in Dirar’s oasis, with succulent meats and tender roasted vegetables. The bread was fragrant and fresh made and the wine was the best they’d ever tasted. They ate until they were actually uncomfortable from too much food.
“I have studied this map and the runes and I have only this to say. The best chance you have is to surround the enemy and not allow them freedom come out, lay siege to them. I have marked the exits and secret passages on the map so troops can keep them inside the fortress. The other thing that will have to happen is to get the Ring from Sauron. I know not how but this must be done if you have any hope at all of defeating him.”
“I think the king was hoping for more,” Erestor said.
“The king was hoping for some magic or spell to aid him but there is none. Keep the faith and persevere no matter what. That is the secret.”
Much later, when they were abed, Gildor asked Erestor, “Who do you think they are?”
“I know not. He looks very old but acts and moves like a younger man. She looks young enough to be his granddaughter but I believe her to be his mate. I saw him touch her bottom in a very ungrandfatherly way when she served dinner.”
As if to illustrate his point, they heard a loud moan of female pleasure coming from elsewhere in the house.
Gildor grinned at Erestor and shoved him back onto the bed and crawled on top of him.
They stayed a fortnight, talking to Onónion by day and making love every night to the sounds of the other couple’s pleasures.
The day they headed home was hot and dry, as all the days had been for a very long time, but they had plenty of water and food, at least enough to get them back to Dirar’s settlement. They set out at daylight, with Onónion and Nessima standing in front of their little hut to see them off.
The old man said to them as they began to move away. “Watch the bird. It will guide you if you become lost.”
They rode away, noticing later that day that the hawk was back, flying high in the sky above them.
“Did we accomplish our mission?” Erestor asked Gildor. “Did we find out anything important?”
“I am not sure that was our mission. I think Gil-galad wanted to know about the old man in the desert and the map was an excuse. There was not much there that you and I could not read, was there?”
“No, but then I didn’t think so when Gil-galad asked us to come here.”
“Do you know the old man?” Gildor asked.
“I think he is familiar, perhaps, but not as a short old man in funny shoes.”
“I think neither of them were what they appeared to be.”
“Perhaps we shall never know,” Erestor said finally.
*
After several months, the travelers arrived home in the wagon they left in. It was almost empty but that had been the price for using Dirar’s camels. Gildor still wore the ruby ring though. Dirar had insisted he keep it. A banquet was set for their homecoming, but the king wanted to speak with them in his study before the festivities began.
“So what did you find out?” Gil-galad asked them as soon as Elrond closed the door.
Gildor smiled at Erestor then spoke. “We found out little. Our only hope is to separate Sauron from the Ring. There are some escape routes marked on the map but the old man said there are no secrets in the runes.”
“Old man? Not an Elf?” Gil-galad’s eyebrow shot up.
“Not an Elf nor was his companion,” Erestor said.
“Companion?” Elrond asked.
“A beautiful golden haired woman, a young one.”
Círdan smiled but said nothing.
Gil-galad clapped Gildor on the back. “At least Erestor got to go on an adventure. There is always that.”
Gildor hid his smile and agreed with the king.
*
The siege of Barad-Dûr was long and cost many lives, including that of the High King of the Noldor, but the Ring was finally separated from Sauron and the Dark Lord fell.
For a time.
*
Many years later on a ship bound for the West, Erestor sat beside Gildor. They watched as Arda disappeared behind them.
“So what do you have to say, here at the end of our lives in Arda?” Gildor asked him.
“I have seen much, a great deal of it tragic, but I shall never forget that long journey through the desert.”
“Nor the old man,” Gildor said.
Erestor smiled. “Nor the old man.”
Neither of them saw the hawk circling high above them.
~end~
*The names come from this rpg site: http://www.darkshire.net/jhkim/rpg/lordoftherings/names.pdf
**The names come from this elven name list:
http://www.arwen-undomiel.com/elvish.html