#imlad lalaith

[tolkien-obsessed]

[loremastering]

Never

Fandom: Lord of the Rings Online

Warnings: None

Chapters: 1/3

Summary:

Maedoron longs for someone he can never truly have...

~~~~~ It hadn’t been love at first sight. Maedoron never believed in such. 

His realization just...happened one day. 

They had met as kids the first time. Halordin (then called by his father name before he took the epesse Daerhovan) sulking at the edge of a fountain, while his amme watched over him with a keen eye nearby. He looked so lonely, staring at his reflection while tracing patterns on the water’s surface. There weren’t many elf children born in the latter days of their kind. Those who were considered young were already well into their fifth or seventh hundred century. Maedoron himself had just recently moved to The Golden Wood from Eryn Lasgalen to be tutored in scholarly arts by his aunt. But it was a painful parting as his twin brother, Maedhrohir, had to stay behind. It felt as though a part of himself had been torn from him. Perhaps the company of another his age could ease his own loneliness.  

With his uncle in tow, he had approached the silver haired elfling with a shy greeting. Halordin had looked up, seemingly amazed at seeing another his age, and a little smile tweaked his lips. Maedoron would always remember that first smile. Though it was overshadowed by the memory of the child’s amme suddenly looming over him with a questioning eye. She had looked ready to swat the other elfling away from her own. Or maybe that was just what her face always looked like...

She softened when his uncle, whom apparently had met the woman before, introduced Maedoron, and made introductions herself. Maedoron felt less intimidated, but there was always something in her eyes that gave him pause. It looked like fear...

It was tentative at first, moreso on Halordin’s side. But the two established a fast friendship. Often talking to each other by the Big Fountain near the Great Mallorn, pestering the flet vendors for treats, or daring one another to climb to Lady Galadriel’s flet. Maedoron tried to get his new friend to come outside the hedge walls, but his amme would get that fearful gleam in her eyes again, and forbid the ventures. It wasn’t until later that Maedoron learned of the cruel deaths of Halordin’s ada and elder brother outside the forest some years before from his uncle. 

“But the woods are safe, even outside the walls of the city.” Maedoron countered. 

“They are indeed. But fear and past trauma can cloud the mind. Gaelwen is desperate to make sure her son doesn’t meet the same fate before his time.” His uncle had explained. 

Maedoron could live with that. Halordin on the other hand...His friend would often stare wistfully over the hedge that marked the borders of Caras Galadhon and the rest of the Golden wood beyond. They even fought once over the subject, when Halordin grew terribly jealous that Maedoron was allowed outside. But the anger quickly faded and his apologies were given. Though Maedoron sensed that envy still quietly burned within him. Maedoron made it his mission to keep his friend entertained. Their restlessness led to often boisterous adventures. He had tried to sneak his friend out the gates, but the guards keen eyes always caught them. Gaelwen went so far as to even forbade the learning of plants and animals to her son, fearing it would incite him further to rebel, but the lack of learning had only incentivized Halordin. 

The children grew into adolescence, and both Halordin and Maedoron feared the former would never be allowed outside the city. But eventually his amme did relent. As long as they were supervised. (Which was quite irksome, as they felt they were being treated like children still.) Maedoron had never seen Halordin so happy, so full of life. It was like his true self had been lying dormant all this time. Maedoron was glad for it, and was pleased to show him all of his favourite spots. The Circles of Meditation, the Quiet Garden, or Imlad Lalaith. Halordin was delighted, of course, but his heart seemed to be drawn to the more untamed places. Maedoron would go with him to the banks of the Anduin, or near Cerin Amroth. He would witness Halordin trying to talk to the wildlife, saddened when they wouldn't answer back.  

Their growth continued rapidly in their adolescence, (as rapidly as elves could) and were approaching young adulthood. The want for supervision from his amme became less. Maedoron advanced in his studies of ancient ruins and relics. Halordin expressed interest in caring for the flora, and Orthir, the Scholar of the trees took him under his wing. Maedoron witnessed the interest his friend had in the land around them grow stronger. The wilder corners of the region were like a beacon to the young ellon, as if they were calling him. On some days Maedoron thought his friend looked more like he belonged in the wilderlands, than in the fair city he was born in. He found himself drawn to that...They saw each other less, but always made time for one another when they could. 

On one such day, They took a walk along the banks of the Anduin, Halordin droning on and on about the types of plants he was studying and their unique features. Maedoron was just glad to be beside him after hours of pouring over tomes alone, and that his friend’s love for the natural world was growing. He sensed he always had loved it, but it came alive when Halordin was finally allowed outside. As they walked, Halordin, possessing none of the grace that was said to be ingrained within elves, tripped over a protruding root and fell face first into a muddy bank. 

Maedoron bit his lip in a valiant effort to control his mirth. Halordin reminded him of some lost wild thing trying to process what happened. His efforts to contain his laughter failed as Halordin turned to look at him, face and hair covered in mud, his bright eyes a stark contrast against his new skin. Halordin swiped at Maedoron’s legs in retaliation, but he had anticipated the movement, and bounded nimbly out of the way. The tables turned as Maedoron’s footing found an equally muddy spot, giving a yelp as he too went down. Halordin laughed, more of a bark than a musical sound. “If amme could see me, I would be confined to our flet for eternity.” 

Maedoron chuckled halfheartedly. He could see Gaelwen doing just that…”What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. We’ll find a spot to wash up.” 

They discarded their clothes on a dryer, more grassier bank. Sticking to the shallow parts of the Great River where the current wasn’t as strong. Maedoron watched the dark, far shores of Mirkwood with longing. How was Maedhrohir doing? Did his brother miss him as much as Maedoron did? Perhaps it was time to pay a visit soon…

“You seem far away, Mellon.” Halordin’s voice did indeed sound distant. Eyes still trained on Mirkwood, Maedoron merely nodded. “I was thinking about paying an overdue visit to my brother. It has been so long, you know.” 

“You will see him again soon, I am sure. The look in your eyes had me convinced you were about to swim over with nothing on but the skin of your back.” Halordin answered, flicking droplets of river water at him. 

Maedoron flinched to escape the onslaught, laughing lightly at the mental image the words invoked. He turned his attention back to Halordin.  “That would give him pause for su-” His breath hitched at the sight of the other’s figure. Halordin’s normally dark silver hair had turned almost black from the dampness, draped like a heavy curtain over one shoulder, glossy and soft. Rivulets of water dripped from the lean muscles of his chest and abdomen, his skin seemed to glisten in the sunlight, smooth and flawless. It was as if Maedoron had been struck dumb. What was wrong with him? He had seen him topless before. Maedoron’s mind threatened to short circuit as his gaze drifted further from Halordin’s navel, the murky water thankfully covering...other parts. 

Maedororn forced a cough, climbing out before Halordin noticed his lingering gaze upon him. Feeling bashful of his exposed underparts, whereas he wasn't before, Maedoron quickly pulled on his breeches, expecting Halordin to follow out. Would he dare look….?

But his friend made no move, nor did he seemed intent on finishing his bath. Maedoron watched with rapt attention as Halordin waded to a cove where rocks and fallen logs had created a place where the water stood still, trying to touch the water striders that skimmed across the placid surface. But they always skittered away just in time. Some feeling Maedoron couldn’t name blossomed in his breast. Halordin’s curiosity was...rather adorable.

Halordin looked up from his study of the critters. “So soon? I thought you enjoyed the water.” 

Maedoron smiled softly, waving a reassuring hand. “It was getting too cold for me. I’d rather relax here.” 

Halordin shrugged, crouching lower to find other forms of life beneath the surface of the water. Maedoron couldn’t keep his gaze away from the play of muscles that stretched and bunched on his friend’s back as his arms roved for whatever it was he hoped to find. 

Maedoron knew from an early age that he was attracted to other elven men. He portrayed no interest in the women around him (They never sought him out anyway), rather, he would watch the male warriors train, admiring their masculine beauty and the way their muscles flexed as they parried and thrust. He had no want for a spouse just yet, and he didn’t mind waiting for however long. So when had Halordin become special? Thinking back, Maedoron recalled how much he would have rather spent time with his friend than anyone else, but surely that’s because they were close in age. Was he drawn to the way Halordin didn’t seem to fit the mold of a typical elf? Was he even attracted to men? Maedoron had caught him on more than one occasion watching the warriors too. But was the awe in his eyes trained on their technique? Or their bodies? Maedoron let out a gusty sigh, drawing his knees up and resting his head upon his arms as he tried to pierce through the murk of his thoughts. 

His ears pricked up as the sound of splashing heralded Halordin’s return to shore. Keeping his gaze down as his companion pulled on his clothes. A soft tap on his shoulder brought his russet coloured head back up, nose itching as Halordin’s long hair tickled it. “Ready to head back? I’m already late for a lesson with Orthir.” He chuckled. 

Maedoron felt as if butterflies were fluttering within at the sight of Halordin looming so close over him. How had he never noticed how long his dark eyelashes were? How his lovely, bright, pale green eyes seemed to sparkle with the mirth and joy of a young elf, not yet burdened by the toils of this world. Clearing his throat, Maedoron nodded in compliance. “You really need to work on your time management.” 

They set off on a trot to the Hill of Cerin Amroth, where Halordin’s mentor awaited him. Maedoron let himself fall back a bit, admiring the way Halordin’s mane swayed as he moved. When had it gotten so long? It was nearly reaching his waist.

Oh Maedoron, quash this attraction before it grows too complicated...