He made love to her with despair, as if he wanted to have enough of her for later, for all those future days and hour. Even if it was impossible.
She was sitting on his lap, clenching her legs on his back. He kissed her neck, pulling her tight to himself, almost too tight for her to breath. His hands wandered over her body, stroking her breast and thighs. Caressing her, but there was no gentleness in his touch. When he entered her, she uttered the scream of pain rather than pleasure. He felt strike of remorse for being so harsh, but Idril pulled him to herself and bit the tip of his ear. They started to move faster and faster, until they could barely breathe and came at the same time, with Idril’s cry, muffled by snuggling in his arm.
Above the eastern ridge of Echoriath sky was painted with a faint glow, a sign of the coming morning, when Idril got up, quietly, to not wake him up.
“I hope you won’t leave without the goodbye.” He grabbed her hand when she tried to pass him without being seen.
“Lómion… There is no need to say goodbye. We will see each other tomorrow. Or rather today.”
“Don’t pretend that nothing changes, Itarillë.”
“I don’t. But... I don’t know what I suppose to say.” She sat next to him, muted and saddened. “Everything seems to be not right. Too trifling and meaningless.”
“This is the end, isn’t it? Our last shared night?”
“Yes. I’m getting married, Lómion. It had to stop.”
He was silent for a while. For him, it always had been like a beautiful dream. Too beautiful to be real. And it was time to wake up. As if it had never happened. As if they had never been so close. Once again he would be looking at her, from afar, like if she was a star that he couldn't reach.
“Do you love him?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “I love him. And I also love you.”
“But you’re going to marry him.” He said with bitterness. He knew he was childish, but he didn’t care.
“Lómion… You know I couldn’t marry you. Father would never approve it, he considers you almost a son. And what people would say? You’re my cousin, it's unthinkable! I wanted to spare us this, and you can’t blame me for that!”
“You’re right, I can’t. And you can’t blame me for being bitter about it.”
Colourful spots of sunlight, filtered through stained glass were dancing on Idril’s golden hair and white dress. She smiled brightly, beaming with joy. Had she ever been so happy with him?
King joined hands of his daughter and Tuor, speaking words of blessing. From this day until the day of Dagor Dagorath they were to be unity. Something that he will never know. That she had never wanted to give him.
When they were coming down from the platform Idril sent him an apologetic look, but she looked away when day eyes met. So what? No matter how long would she apologies, nothing changed. He had to forget about her, forget about her smile, addressed only to him, her playful look when they were alone… Oh, how much he envied that man, who took this away from him. And yet, he couldn’t hate him, if he made Idril so happy if he did what Lómion couldn’t.
* * *
Tuor felt anxious. Or rather his own thoughts disturbed him.
He had come out the council of Gondolin’s lords. They were discussing the budget for next year, a new arrangement of the city park, amount of food supplies they need to this year’s Tarnin Austa and other matters, too boring too remember them for longer than five minutes. But he remembered well how they discuss. Or, to be more precise, how to discuss one of them.
Lómion always was unyielding, especially when it came to arguing with Tuor. One might call him stubborn, but not Tuor. He thought the elf is confident, sure of his opinion, and admired it a little bit. And he was equally committed, no matter how trivial was the subject. Despite the fact that he kept his emotions in check, his dark eyes seemed to blaze, when he spoke. And when he raised his voice, almost unnoticeable, Tour felt something... definitely inappropriate for the council meeting. He shook his had. He didn’t want to think about it right now. In fact, he’d rather not think about it at all.
“What do you think about your cousin?”
They were already laying in the bed, ready to sleep.
“What do you mean?” Idril seemed to shook off the sleep immediately, perfectly composed.
“Nothing in particular… Just… I don’t know even where to start”
“At the beginning, preferably.” Now she was watching him with attention, whats made him feel even more awkward.
“I… It’s so hard to tell, even you, or rather especially you, but… I can’t stop thinking about him… When he looks at me, with his piercing glance... It's arousal that I can hardly endure..." he uttered, looking at his wife, ashamed. "I’m sorry, Idril...”
“You don’t have to be sorry, my love.” She smiled widely. “I have to say we have somehow similar taste in men.”
“What?” He looked at her with disbelief. He always thought she didn’t like her cousin, she seemed to avoid him. And this made him even more reluctant to admit his fascination.
“I’ve never told you about it, although maybe I should… But it isn’t only my secret”, she hesitated with every word. “Before I married you I had an affair with Lómion.” She looked in his eyes, afraid of his reaction.
“Really?” He laughed, not knowing even why he did it. It confused her. “I thought you hate him. You always keep him at distance.”
“I didn’t want anyone to find out. I’m the princess of the City, heiress to my father, I had to care about my reputation. And I didn’t want to continue this, now, when I have a husband. But… If you would like to… I may ask Lómion to join us sometimes. What do you think?”
Tuor, once again, was convincing himself that it was a good idea. He almost jumped, when there was a knock to the door. Idril gave him a quick glance and opened.
Lómion seemed to be as abashed as he when they exchange looks over Idril’s arm, but when he closed the door he kissed her passionately. Tuor felt sudden jealousy. It looked like, it was, he corrected himself, greeting of longing lovers. Who didn’t need anyone, but themselves. What if he was out of the place? He drove off this thought. Whatever was between them he was sure of Idril’s feelings.
“I hope you’re as passionate in bed as in discussion,” Maeglin said, stroking the hand through his bare chest, hooking hair with his fingers. Tuor was so aroused that he had problems with speaking.
“I can say the same about you.” He looked straight into this black, deep eyes. He moved his hand through Maeglin’s face, caressing his clearly outlined cheekbones.
“May I kiss you?” He felt incredibly stupid saying it, but at the same time, it was somehow… proper to ask.
“Did I not come here for this?” Maeglin kissed him before he managed to do anything. He felt elf’s erection through the fabric when they moved closer. He was dizzy when they got away from each other.
“Did you forget about me?” Idril said with rebuke in her voice, but she smiled playfully. She put hands on their shoulders, and kissed, first Tuor, then Maeglin. She led them to the bed and started to take off her dress, looking at them with an invitation in her eyes. And they responded. Tuor touched her hair, cascading through his fingers like if they were streams of liquid gold. Maeglin also took them kissing them up to Idril’s cheek. Idril turned to him, sharing her favours equally and granting him deep, passionate kiss. His eyes met with Maeglin’s and elf smiled. Man freeze for a moment - they were so different and both so beautiful, he didn’t even need their touch to be aroused. Maeglin’s arm rested on Idril’s, his white skin next to hers, almost golden. Perfection one may find only among Eldar. He wanted to join them, but not only as Idril’s lover or husband, sharing her with another man. He was too greedy for that. He reached out to Maeglin, unlacing his shirt and trousers. Idril, at the same time undid Tuor’s belt and helped him out his clothes. When both men were naked they turned to her, admiring her like if she was a goddess, shrouded in gold. Maeglin approached her from behind, kissing and licking her neck, burying face in her hair. Tuor caressed her breast going up and up until he shared a kiss with his wife, and then, he exchanged a kiss with Maeglin, above her arm.
He was so hard he felt like if he was going to explode. Idril touched his penis, briefly and gently. He groaned. She took it into her mouth and started to work with her tongue. Tour was on the edge of erection. Maeglin drew near him, embraced him and kissed. His fingers strayed through Tuor’s body massaged his nipples and sank in the hair on his chest. Under his touch, the man couldn’t hold anymore. He came with a loud cry. He pulled Idril up and wanted to kiss her, but Maeglin was first.
Meanwhile, Tuor went down between Idril’s leg to return the pleasure. Her cries were like the melody for his ears, even if they were moaned in Maeglin’s ears.
“I think you should take care of each other now,” Idril said when their faces again were on the same level. “Come on boys, I saw that glances. I won’t be jealous.”
Tuor looked at Maeglin somehow shyly. He thought elf was here only, or at least mainly because of Idril and didn’t even dare to think otherwise. But prince reached his hand to Tuor’s face and stroke his beard. He fixed those black, beautiful eyes of him on Tuor seemed to be fascinated. The intensity of his gaze was intimidating, but man endured. Maeglin’s face was getting closer and closer until he closed eyes and kissed him. Tuor thrilled. It was passionate, it was arousing and it was honest. He held him tight, his hands wandered through elf’s body. When their lips broke apart, Maeglin, still looking in his eyes, as if he wanted to hypnotize him, massaging his arms and chest, approached him from the back. His moves were so slow, Tuor wanted to ask for a hurry, but he had to be patient. Maeglin entered him, gently, but still, the first thing he felt was a pain. Followed by increasing arousal and pleasure. Idril was touching his penis, causing him to erect again and soon, both he and Maeglin released a cry of bliss.
After all, they fall asleep, cuddled, with his wife between them and Maeglin’s hand on his arm. He had never felt so fulfilled and calm in his whole life.
* * *
Idril stared into the dark sky. She was too worried to fell asleep. And cold wind or bright stars weren't soothing at all.
Maeglin came out soon after they finished, leaving the emptiness in their bed, warm from making love. He had never done so, always staying with them until morning, in each other embraces.
That day he acted strangely. He seemed to be absent and more silent than usual. He had never spoken much, but this night he didn’t speak a word, besides greeting and short responses to questions. No witty remark, no compliment, not even a word about his newest project. This she could blame overworking or quarrel at the court. But there was more. When they came together, and their minds joined for a minute she felt something dark, wicked and dreadful. Something she had never felt before. And then he separated from her, abruptly, leaving her alone without warning.
“Don’t you sleep?” Tuor approached her and put a hand on her arm. He was as concerned as she, it could be heard in his voice.
“I can’t. I can’t stop thinking...”
“Did you see it too? I’m worried, Tuor. When I think of it… He wasn't himself for the past few days… Since he came back. We should have talked to him, he wasn’t himself.”
“We still can. Everything will be fine.”
“You didn’t touch his minds, Tuor. I’m afraid.”
Her husband didn’t say anything, just held her tight, reassuring.
“We had to talk, Lómion.”
Idril heard her own loud heartbeat when they entered his room. Firstly, she wanted to go here alone, thinking that Lómion would be more eager to talk with her, but now she was glad that Tuor had insisted to go.
“What’s happened?” elf was speaking calmly, almost uncannily calmly, but she saw something in his eyes. Something beyond that impenetrable blackness. Fear? Confusion? Call for help? As good she was at reading people, she couldn’t reach beyond that. Not without Lómion’s will.
“I know something is wrong. We want to help you”
He didn’t speak, his face seemed to be blank, but she saw his expression change for a second, his fingers tightened.
“I… I…” he stumbled before he composed himself. “Nothing is wrong.”
She exchanged looks with Tuor, who stood silently behind her.
“Lómion, my love, allow me...” she grabbed his hand, but he withdrew it.
“No, I can’t… There is nothing you can do, Itarillë, leave me alone.”
She reached to him again, stroked his hair and cheek, trying to calm him down. She felt he was tense, almost shaking from restraining emotions.
“I won’t. I know that you need me, and I won’t leave alone. Not this time.”
He said nothing but looked at her with eyes full of pain. She didn’t have doubts. He suffered. Again. Although he suffered too much in his life.
“Itarillë…” she saw he wanted to say more, but he looked as if he was choking on his own words.
“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I will be with you anyway” she tried to sound reassuring, but Lómion started to shake his head.
“So what you want me to do?”
He didn’t say a word, but looked at her, as if he wanted to speak to her with his eyes only, as if he begged her for help. Suddenly, something came to her mind… It made her thrill, but… If it was to help Lómion, it could be worth giving a try.
“If you can’t tell me anything, allow me to enter your mind. Let me feel it if you can’t say it.”
“I don’t want you to be hurt.”
“I will be fine.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. She moved toward him, touching his forehead with hers. She heard Tuor pacing nervously, but she didn’t take notice. She entered Lómion’s mind gently. Elf shuddered when she got in deeper and deeper. She felt numbness, a thick cocoon of numbness. Then it hit her.
The tide of pain, of fear, an unbearable fear which took her breath. Flames, clamours, and those eyes. Piercing, making her... making Lómion feel naked, vulnerable. It all was a moment, stream of thought and sensations.
When she broke away from him, she was shaking.
“What’s happened?” Tuor approached them.
She looked around, confused. For a moment she didn’t know where she is, but soon everything came to her. She had no time to lose.
“Take care of him. I had to talk to my father.”
They were foolish when they decided to stay here. Even Gondolin, their beautiful, beloved city, wasn’t worth it.