Beleg and Turin Fic.......

[sildil]

This was actually written for Anu a long time ago,after he challenged me one evening to do it.

Title: Love Divided
Rated: NC17
Disclaimer: All characters are JRR Tolkien's, I am just playing with them and will put them back nicely.
Pairing: Beleg/Turin
Warnings: slash (of course), minor character death, some violence
Summary: Turin has loved Beleg since the moment he first saw him.



“It’s bloody cold,” complained the young, slightly built man, pulling his cloak tightly around his body.

His tall, elven companion didn’t seem to hear him and continued walking ahead, apparently preoccupied with his thoughts.

“I said, it’s bloody cold, Beleg. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Hmm? No I did not. I am sorry,” Beleg said mildly and sighed, looking back at the man. “What would you like me to do about it?”

The young man frowned at his friend. “Well, nothing.....you can’t ‘do’ anything.....I was just making conversation.”

Beleg looked away and continued on his path, but gave a little smile to himself, “I see no need for idle chat. Your company is enough for me, and I was enjoying the silence.”

“Hmmph,” grunted the man and muttered something under his breath, “Bloody elf.....can hear when it suits him, I bet.....he has no idea how bloody freezing I am.”

Beleg suppressed a chuckle at his friend’s outburst. Of course he could hear every word the young man had spoken, every curse at every tree root he tripped over and every whine at the cold, or the damp or the lateness of the hour. He had chosen to ignore it though. His human friend and travelling companion, Turin, had been complaining about the wintry weather, the lack of a clear path and the heaviness of his pack for at least the last four days.

They ploughed on into the early winter’s evening, the tall, powerfully built elf leading them in the gathering gloom.

“We shall stop here for the night,” said Beleg Strongbow as they reached a shallow hollow within a low cliff, not quite a cave, but sheltered enough against the cold easterly wind. The elf immediately began to pull together the makings of a fire, while Turin unpacked their bedrolls and started preparing a small supper with the practised ease of friends well used to travelling long distances together.

It was not long before the elf and the man lay wrapped in their cloaks beside the fire in companionable silence, the glowing embers casting a warm light over their faces.

“I was glad to see you, you know.....when you arrived in the middle of our company. I had never seen a sight more welcome in fact,” said Turin softly after some time.

Beleg smiled, “ I was glad to have found you. I have been looking for you for some months.
You were difficult to find.”

“I wanted to be,” said Turin with a frown.

“Yet you are glad now that you were? “

Turin looked at the dark elf before him, his skin rich and golden in the half-light and nodded, then swallowed nervously and looked away. How could he not be glad to see Beleg?……..




……..The elf had haunted the young man’s dreams and most of his waking thoughts ever since he was a young boy, having been met by the tall, powerful marchwarden at the borders of Doriath where he sought refuge.

Turin had grown and found the safety he needed in the halls of King Thingol, who had fostered him as his own son, and in the happier, early years that he lived in Menegroth the young man was often to be found somewhere in the vicinity of Beleg. If Beleg was practising with his great bow, Turin would be there, retrieving arrows. If the elf went riding, Turin would be waiting on his return to care for his horse. If Beleg was heard to say that he was thirsty, somehow a drink would be there, by his hand, courtesy of Turin. He was besotted with the elf and slowly, over the years, his hero worship had turned into a deep love, though he spoke of it to no one.

Beleg surprised many by his tolerance of the young man’s infatuation.

“You should not encourage him so, he quite plainly adores you,” said the elf’s close friend, Mablung, one day after Beleg had happened to mention that his favourite fruits were wild strawberries, and lo and behold a small basket of bright red fruits appeared by his place at supper.

Beleg picked at the fruit and sighed, “I do not wish to lose his affection.” He raised his eyes to Mablung, “is that so wrong?” he said softly, his gaze then turning to Turin, who sat beside Thingol at the high table.

Mablung shook his head as realisation dawned, “Oh, my friend, I see you are already in too deep with this child. Be careful. Remember, he is mortal and his feelings and moods will be like his life, swift and passionate. I do not think that good will come of this.”

“Is this foresight or good advice, Mablung? Though I confess it does not matter. I am already lost to whatever the Valar have in store for me,” said Beleg sadly. He frowned and dragged his eyes reluctantly from the young man. How could he begin to explain that it was Turin’s very impetuousness and fierce brightness that held him captivated?

Then came the day when Turin heard no news of the mother and sister he had left behind in Hithlum and sought King Thingol’s permission to return to them to find out what had happened to his family.

When Beleg heard that the young man was getting ready to leave Menegroth he immediately began making preparations for his own departure. Mablung came upon him as he was packing and stood in the doorway to Beleg’s chambers with his arms folded and a concerned expression.

“What are you doing my friend?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yes, I can see perfectly well that you are making ready to leave, but it is the reason why that worries me.”

Beleg sighed, but carried on with his task, ignoring his friend.

“Beleg? Does King Thingol know what you are doing?”

“Yes, he does. I have promised to go with Turin to protect him. I have his permission and blessing to do so.”

Mablung shook his head, “but does he know ‘why’ you are so keen to go with his foster-son?”

“I would not think so. Even Turin does not know that,” said Beleg sadly.

“Are you going to tell him?”

Beleg sighed and shook his head, remaining silent.

Mablung left his position by the door and came over to throw an arm about his friend’s shoulders.

“I know that I advised caution Beleg, but I can see that you are lost to the boy. “

Beleg sat heavily on the bed, his shoulders sagging. He played with the fabric of a spare tunic that he was about to pack, running it through his fingers absentmindedly.

“He is in my thoughts constantly, Mablung. My heart beats faster when he draws near, if he speaks within a crowd it is his voice that I hear above all others, these feelings that I have for Turin…..they frighten me. I have never wanted someone so much. But you were right. He is young, impetuous…..and mortal. I cannot give in to my desires.”

“Yet you are putting yourself in the way of temptation even now? Travelling with him, seeing him at close hand every day? Is this wise?”

“No, it is not, but since when have I been the wise one Mablung? Of the two of us, that is your role to play.”

Beleg got up, put the tunic that he held into his pack and fastened it securely. “There, I am ready.” He paused and smiled sadly at his friend, “I know that you mean well, that you do not wish to see me hurt, but I cannot live without him you see. Even if I cannot have him, I cannot bear to see him go.”

Mablung pulled his friend into a warm embrace, “then I pray that the Valar protect you both, and bring you home safely. Take care my friend.”

“I will, Mablung, and thank you.” Beleg hoisted his pack to his shoulder and left without a glance back.

*****

“Turin has returned!” came the cry ringing out throughout the halls. Mablung ran through the corridors to find the young man. He had had no word from Beleg for some time and had begun to worry about them both.

He pulled up short, shocked at Turin’s condition. The hardships of the past three years were clearly visible in his travel worn clothes and untidy, ill-kempt hair, and written in the faint scars and premature lines on his face. Turin gave a wry smile at the look on Mablung’s face.

“I am not the child that left here Mablung, I have changed.”

“That I can see, come here and be welcomed!” said the elf and pulled Turin into a warm embrace.

“Is Beleg with you?” Mablung said after releasing the man from his grip.

A slight shadow passed over Turin’s features, “no. We parted two months ago, he headed north.”

Mablung frowned but did not press the matter. But something had happened between his two friends that had caused pain. He decided to wait and to ask Turin about it later but unfortunately never had the opportunity.

Everyone was gathered for the evening meal in the great hall. Turin had taken his seat in his rightful place as King Thingol’s foster-son and sat toying distractedly with his goblet of wine. Mablung watched from his place lower down the table, he could see that the young man had returned under a black cloud and suspected that Beleg’s absence had something to do with it. Had they quarrelled? Or perhaps one of them had declared their true feelings and the other had rejected him? Mablung made up his mind to offer Turin his support and advice and rose from the table, moving towards the young man when there was a sudden disturbance.

The sound of Turin’s goblet clattering across the table and smashing into the side of the head of one of the King’s counsellors, an elf named Saeros, and his resulting cry of pain brought the hall to sudden shocked silence.

“You will pay for this injury, Turin!” shouted the wounded elf angrily, clutching at his head as Turin glared unrepentantly across the table at him.

“I think not, Saeros” said the King mildly, approaching the table having just seen the incident as he entered the hall.

Saeros stood up and made as if to return the blow to Turin, but on seeing the King he sat down again sulkily. He knew that Thingol had probably heard his muttered insult to Turin regarding his ill-kempt appearance and whether or not the women of his land were as untidy and wild. Mablung could see that it had been the final insult and hurt and that the young man could not take any more.

While two of Saeros’ friends pulled the angry elf to one side, attempting to calm him down, Mablung came and stood beside Turin and spoke quietly. “Come with me, Turin. Let us go to my rooms and talk. I sense that there is something that troubles you? Perhaps I may be able to help?”

Turin stood in a barely controlled rage, his chest heaving and his face red. Slowly Mablung’s words filtered through his anger and he calmed a little and nodded, allowing himself to be led away as Saeros’ head wound was being treated.

*****

Mablung ushered Turin into his rooms, sat him down beside the fire and poured him a glass of wine.

“Here, take this. You look as though you need it,” the elf offered the drink to the young man, who took it and drank it down quickly.

Mablung sat opposite Turin and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“What happened young one? I can see that you are distressed, and it is not over the incident with Saeros. Something else is bothering you.”

Turin looked away and sighed. He shook his head unconvincingly, “I do not know what you mean, Mablung. Saeros insulted my family, my kin, is that not enough?”

“Yes, it would be enough but I believe that it is not all. Tell me, where is Beleg and why did you not return together?” Mablung asked gently.

Turin glanced back to Mablung with a look of guilt and sorrow as the shadow played over his face again at the mention of his friend.

“We parted.....I.....we quarrelled.....it was stupid.....” Turin suddenly buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

“Oh, Mablung, I do not know what to do! We were following the trail of some orcs and Beleg wanted me to hold back, to let him go first to see what they were doing. I was angry, I felt that he kept treating me as a child and I thought that I would prove to him that I was quite old enough and experienced enough to decide what to do for myself,” Turin gave a humourless smile, “I was wrong. Because of my rushing ahead and disturbing the orcs, I nearly got us both killed. We barely escaped and Beleg was injured.”

Mablung gave a horrified gasp but Turin shook his head. “Do not worry, it was not a severe wound, merely a cut to his forearm, but Beleg was justifiably furious with me. He told me that I had behaved like an infant, which I had, and that I would be the death of him one day......” the young man’s voice faltered and he looked miserably at the elf before him, “I could not bear it,” he said in a whisper, “it would surely kill me if any harm came to him due to my carelessness. I.....I love him, Mablung.”

Mablung smiled sadly at Turin, “did you tell him this?”

“No! I could not!..I would not dream of it, he would be horrified!”

“But Turin, do you not know that.....” began Mablung

“.....I left.....I ran away.....I did not want to cause Beleg anymore pain and trouble. It was for the best,” interrupted Turin.

Mablung frowned. What should he do? Perhaps this was for the best. He had always thought that no good would come of a relationship between his elven friend and this youth. Perhaps this way was the answer. Both their loves remained unrequited and unknown. It was true, that Turin was obviously hurting, and no doubt so was Beleg, but wounds often hurt more, just before healing. They would recover, both of them, and perhaps one day would both look back at their ‘youthful’ crushes and laugh. He decided that the Valar had stopped him from speaking of Beleg’s love for the boy and so he would not enlighten Turin further. Let things stay as they were.

“You did the right thing Turin, I am certain of it.”

Turin looked wretched, “then why do I feel so miserable? I want to return to Beleg and throw myself at his feet and beg him to forgive me and give me another chance. I want to tell him what I feel for him, even if he rejects me, at least he will know that I care deeply.”

Mablung firmed his resolve and ignored the tiny voice that told him that he what he was about to say was wrong. He smiled sympathetically at Turin.

“My dear child, Beleg is aware of your infatuation with him. He has spoken of it to me, and even asked for my advice on what to do...” (at least that much is true, thought Mablung) “... he did not want to hurt your feelings, but you are so young, so impetuous. A relationship between the two of you would never work.” (And that is also true, thought the elf).

Turin looked crestfallen, all his desperate hopes and ridiculous dreams utterly destroyed. For a brief moment Mablung felt guilty but then reminded himself that what he was doing was best for both of them, and threw a comforting arm around the young man’s shoulders.

“Do not despair. You are young, you will meet someone you truly care for someday, I promise. Do not lose heart.”

Turin smiled weakly at Mablung and shook his head, “I do not think so, but thank you for your honesty, and your kind words. I am such a fool.”

“No, you are not my friend, just young,” said Mablung.

Turin rose from his seat, “I am tired. I think I will retire to my rooms, and in the morning I will return to my duties in the marches. Thank you Mablung, you have been a true friend and a great help. Please do not speak of this to Beleg, when you see him?”

“I will not,” promised the elf. The two friends embraced one another warmly and Turin left.

Mablung poured himself a glass of wine and drank it swiftly, “I know that I did the right thing,” he thought, “so why do I feel so wrong?”


The next day started badly and steadily got worse. Turin had barely slept the night before thinking over what Mablung had said, and berating himself for his foolish fantasies. As if such an elf would be even the slightest bit interested in him, a mortal, and a very young one at that. He cringed with embarrassment when he thought how lovesick he must have appeared to Beleg. No wonder he had been cross.

Turin arose and dressed quickly. He intended to leave Menegroth as soon as possible and return to the marches. But he would make sure that he did not return to Beleg. At least, not until he had put a good amount of time between them and had rid himself of his infatuation.

He did not wish to see anyone before he set out. He had said his farewells to King Thingol late the night before and did not feel that he could face Mablung knowing that the elf knew of his secret desires, he was far too ashamed. And, as for the rest of the company, although he knew that no one blamed him for his over reaction to Saeros’ slur on his family, he still felt that he should not have lost his temper so easily and regretted the incident.

The sky was heavy with threatened rain as Turin set forth, which did nothing to dispel the young man’s black mood. He had not gone more than a couple of miles when he became aware of someone following him. He turned, half hopeful that perhaps Mablung had decided to follow him to bid him farewell, but his face fell when he saw that it was Saeros.

The young man sighed heavily, “what do you want Saeros?”

“Satisfaction,” said the elf, his voice slurring the word slightly.

“You are drunk!” exclaimed Turin, “and at this hour of the morning! I think that you should return to Menegroth at once and sober up.”

“S’what if I am drunk?…..What do you care? Sitting there at the King’s table as if you own the place…..scruffy, dirty little urchin…..who d’ye think y’are?” the elf lurched towards Turin angrily.

“Saeros, I do not want to fight. I am sorry about yesterday, I regret losing my temper, but I cannot stand by and take insults to my kin. Go home. You are in no fit state to quarrel with.”

Turin dismissed the inebriated elf and turned to walk away, but Saeros grabbed him by the arm, pulling him round to face him again.

“Your kin?…..Your kin are no better than animals!” spat the elf, “an’ you sit there, all ‘high an’ mighty’…..should be me, I’ve served the King hun’reds o’ years, an’ then you come along, you little upstart!……” Saeros lunged at Turin again, his hands reaching for the young man’s neck, but fortunately for Turin, the elf was so drunk that he was unable to carry out his intentions of throttling the man.

Turin grabbed Saeros’ arms furiously and pushed him away, “that is enough! I will put up with you no longer. I have given you a chance to leave, but you still attack my family and now you try to kill me. I will send you home in the manner you deserve. You are not honourable enough to call yourself one of the Eldar! You call my kin animals, yet you behave no better than one yourself!”

Turin easily overpowered the alcohol-weakened elf and threw him to the ground. Sitting astride his back he quickly stripped Saeros of his tunic and leggings, throwing the clothes into the undergrowth beside the path. He sat up and released the elf and backed away.

“Now go! Run Saeros, before I hunt you like the beast you are!” yelled the enraged man.

Saeros shook. The sudden chill of the cold air on his skin, and the first icy drops of the threatened thunderstorm snapped him out of his drunken state. He looked at himself, horrified at what he had been doing and saying, and raised frightened eyes to Turin.

“I…..I am…..” he began, but Turin did not wait to hear the elf’s apology and, blinded with anger, leapt towards Saeros ready to beat him for his insults.

Saeros knew that his only hope was to run away from the furious young man. He began to sob as the forest flew past, realising at last what a fool he had been. Turin was right, he had behaved abominably. He deserved the humiliation of returning to Menegroth, naked and beaten. The rain fell heavily now, and the mud from the ground splashed up his legs, coating him with filth. He ran blindly on, hearing Turin calling him but taking no notice until the last moment when it was too late. The slippery mud oozed from under his feet and he fell.

Turin had followed Saeros at first in anger, then in sorrow as he watched the once proud elf slipping and sliding on the muddy track. He felt that he had behaved no better than Saeros, taking his revenge in this way. He called for the elf to wait but Saeros did not stop and so Turin grabbed the elf’s clothes from where he had thrown them and began to run after him.

“Wait, Saeros! Wait, please!” Turin cried breathlessly as he pounded along the path. He saw the elf veer suddenly to the left as if trying to evade capture and then he watched, horrified, as Saeros slipped in the mud and disappeared from view.

Turin followed to see what had happened to the elf and froze when he saw the deep ravine before him. He stepped close to the edge and peered over, his heart pounding in his chest. He gave a cry that sent the birds flapping from the trees as he saw the broken, naked body of Saeros stretched across a rock below, the foaming waters of the swift flowing river lapping at his feet. Turin sank to his knees, shaking and weeping, and it was there that Mablung found him several hours later, exhausted and silent.

*****

Mablung had spent an equally disturbed night, unable to rest, his mind constantly seeking to justify his words to Turin. By the time dawn broke he had decided to throw caution to the winds and tell the young man the truth, that Beleg returned his affections. He could not interfere with his friends’ lives in this way. If they loved each other, then so be it. It was for the Valar only to decide their fate.

He went in search of Turin as soon as he could, but was disappointed to learn that he was too late and that the young man had already departed Menegroth. “Oh well,” he thought, “perhaps I have done the right thing, and this is confirmation from the Valar.” Mablung had business to attend to and set about it with a slightly lighter heart, until he heard the rumours that Saeros sought revenge for Turin’s behaviour the night before, had been drinking all night and had now followed him to waylay him and kill him.

Mablung quickly gathered together a small group of friends and set off hurriedly. He knew that Saeros had left in no fit state to fight the young man, but was aware that time had passed since then and that the coldness of desired revenge could sober him up by the time he found his victim.

He prayed that he was not too late to save Turin from the elf’s wrath, but did not think to pray for Saeros.

The small party arrived at the point at which Saeros had left the path, heading unwittingly to the edge of the cliff. Mablung instantly saw the muddy trail leading to where Turin knelt, bowed over and still, and rushed to embrace the young man, thinking that he was too late after all, and Turin had been hurt. When he saw that he was unharmed, he breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

“Oh, Turin! I feared the worst. I must warn you, Saeros is looking for you, he was drunk and threatening to kill you. Come back.....”

“.....I know. He found me,” interrupted Turin in a whisper.

“But you are not hurt?” asked Mablung, swiftly checking the youth for injuries.

Turin shook his head, numbly, “he.....he fell.....I tried to stop him.....but he fell.”

“Who fell? Saeros? Where did he fall?” asked Mablung, a chill grabbing his heart as he saw Turin’s eyes stare at the ravine in front of them.

Turin nodded, “Saeros.....there.....he slipped.” The young man’s face crumpled and his tears fell again.

Mablung swallowed and cautiously edged to peer down into the darkening gully. He closed his eyes tightly at the sight of Saeros, still spread-eagled on his bed of stone. He held Turin tightly.

“Return with me, Turin. No one will blame you for this, many of us heard Saeros threatening to hunt you down and kill you. He brought his doom upon himself.....”

“.....no! It was as much my fault as if I had deliberately pushed him over the edge of the ravine to his death. I should not have treated him so badly, I wanted to humiliate him, to make him suffer, but I did not wish him dead.” Turin gave a choked cry and stood up suddenly, pushing away from Mablung, “I am not.....I cannot stay.....I.....I am sorry!” The distraught young man backed away from his friend, “I must leave, I must go now.....do not follow.....”

“Turin, please, do not do this. Come back to Menegroth. Talk with the King, and when Beleg returns.....”

Turin shook his head frantically when Mablung mentioned Beleg, “no, I cannot see him again. Mablung. I do not deserve to see him. I killed one of your kind! An immortal, one of the Eldar!”

Turin moved to the edge of the path and looked sadly at Mablung, “promise me you will not try to find me.....” Mablung shook his head. He could not make such a vow.

“Promise me!” cried the young man, “or I will throw myself down onto the rocks!”

Mablung swallowed anxiously and nodded. He could see that his friend meant what he said.

The elf watched as Turin ran sobbing into the woods and disappeared from sight.

*****

It was a sombre group that returned to Menegroth, bearing Saeros’ body. The elf was mourned, and laments were sung asking Mandos to take pity on him. King Thingol, however, felt more grief at the departure of Turin and worried about him, fearing what the death of Saeros might do to the young man.

Two days later Beleg returned. The elf strode into the palace completely unaware of the drama that had unfolded in his absence. Mablung met him as he neared the great hall and hastily pulled him into an adjacent room.

Beleg laughed, “what is this? What are you doing?” but then the smile left his face as he saw the serious expression on his friend’s face.

“Beleg, something happened involving Turin while you were away.”

“He is here?” said Beleg eagerly, grabbing Mablung’s arm.

“No, he left, he is no longer in Menegroth, he.....”

“.....where did he go?” Beleg looked sadly at Mablung, “he left me so suddenly. There was a battle and we thought we had cleared the orcs, but just after he disappeared, more came and I could not follow him. This is the first chance I had to return here. I had hoped to find him.”

“I do not know where he is, my friend. None of us do,” said Mablung softly.

Beleg looked puzzled and frowned, “I do not understand.” Suddenly Beleg realised that his friend had been trying to tell him something when he first took him to one side, “Mablung, what did happen here?”

Mablung told him everything.

A little while later Beleg sat with his head in his hands, “oh my poor Turin.”

He sighed heavily and got up, wandering the room distractedly, “I will go to the king and offer my help. Someone must go after Turin, even if he did not want it. He is young, impetuous. He will be in danger from all sorts of men and fell creatures. He cannot survive by himself. He is just a child.”

Mablung grabbed Beleg by the shoulders, stopping him in his anxious babbling.

“He is a man, Beleg. He does not want to be found, least of all by you.”

“What do you mean, ‘Least of all by me’?”

Mablung hesitated. How much did he dare tell his friend? He was still torn between discouraging Beleg from pursuing the young man that he loved and telling him all that Turin had told him earlier before he left. He swallowed anxiously and Beleg saw the reluctance of Mablung to speak and immediately reached the wrong conclusion.

“He does not want me any longer?” He gave a humourless laugh, “it explains much; why he ran away, why he did not wish to be near me.” Beleg sighed sadly, “he is a man. He has grown up, He must have realised that all he felt for me previously was a childish crush. That is why he does not wish me to follow him. What a fool I have been.”

Beleg sat down heavily and rested his head in his hands.

Mablung winced inwardly at his friend’s words. He opened his mouth to speak, he could not mislead Beleg anymore, but the elf went on, “well, so be it. I will offer my services to the king in trying to track his foster son, and when I find him, I will merely pass on any message that King Thingol wishes, and then I will leave. But at least I will know that he is well.”

Mablung nodded and watched as Beleg left in search of the king. A tight knot of unease and guilt was steadily growing inside him, but he had left it too late to begin to unpick it now.


It was dark and Beleg cautiously approached the campfire. It had been a year since he had left in search of Turin. A year of false leads and dashed hopes. Recently the elf had heard rumours of a band of fearsome outlaws led by a reckless young man, living and hunting in the woods south of Teiglin. He had found the remains of their camp several times, but had always been a day or two behind. Now at last he had caught up with them.

Beleg’s heart began to beat fast as he drew near, hoping that at any moment he might see Turin once more and he shook his head angrily, “I am still a fool,” he thought to himself, “ I must not let him see that I hold him so dear. He will hate me all the more for being reminded of his youthful infatuation.” The tall elf suppressed his longings, and walked carefully but unguarded into the camp. He trusted that Turin would not harm him.

The moment he realised he had made a mistake was when he found himself swiftly seized, bound efficiently and surrounded by a dozen or so hostile faces, none of which was that of his friend.

“What have we here? A spy from Doriath?” said one of the men, and gave Beleg a hard punch to the stomach, doubling him over in surprised pain.

Beleg drew a ragged breath, “I am no spy! I am looking for Turin, he is one of you!”

“We know no ‘Turin’!” shouted another, slapping the elf across the mouth and splitting open his lip.

“He is your leader and my friend,” said Beleg, trying not to antagonise the men further. He realised with a sinking feeling that he was extremely vulnerable and unlikely to get out of this alive.

“Our leader is Neithan. He hates your kind. I doubt that he would call you ‘friend’, friend!” The last was said with a wicked jab to Beleg’s ribs and his cry of pain made all the outlaws laugh.

The next hour or so was cruel beyond belief as the men stripped, beat and tortured Beleg, insisting that he was a spy from the King of Doriath and ignoring all his cries to the contrary,
until his suffering became too great and the elf passed out. The men cast him to one side, into the shadows, to torment later and sat drinking and talking around the campfire.

It was late into the night when Neithan returned, and save for the two guards on watch, all were asleep.

“Any news?” asked their leader as he passed by the guard post.

“Nothing, all is quiet,” replied one of the men, forgetting about the prisoner they had taken earlier in the evening.

“Good,” said Neithan and went to his tent to rest.


At first light the camp began to stir. The men went about their routine tasks of cooking breakfast, dismantling the tents ready to move on and packing their horses. Neithan stood, stretching and yawning under the awning of his tent, and looked around. When his eyes caught sight of the large, dark figure lying tied up on the ground at the edge of the camp, he froze. As if the figure knew it was being watched it gave a groan and, released from a spell, Neithan rushed over and threw himself down beside the prostrate form.

With trembling fingers, he brushed aside the tangled and dirty hair and gave a gasp when he saw who it was.

“Come here! Release this elf!” he barked furiously, “who did this to him? Tell me, now!”

Three of the men came at once when they heard their leader call and hastily cut Beleg’s ropes.

“He crept into our camp late last night, Neithan. We did not know who he was, we thought him a spy.”

“He is not, he is my friend!”

“But he asked for someone called ‘Turin’…..”

“That is my name…..or, at least, it was…..” Turin’s voice trailed off as he removed the ropes from Beleg’s wrists and ankles, and saw the damage that had been done to him.

“Oh, Beleg, I am so sorry,” he whispered softly, and tears came to his eyes, “why did you follow me?”

“Turin?” Beleg murmured.

“Hush, yes, it is me. I will take care of you,” soothed the young man and turning to the three men beside him he issued instructions.

“Take him to my tent at once, bring water and bandages and food. Do not strike camp. We will remain here a day or two longer until this elf can travel.” The outlaws nodded and two of them gently carried Beleg to the shelter while the third busied himself gathering the requested articles.

Once Beleg was settled on Turin’s camp bed, the young man took a cloth and the water and set about washing the elf’s various injuries. Beleg winced and moaned but did not wake. Turin sobbed quietly to himself, muttering all the while.

“Why did you come here, foolish elf? How can I face you, after all that I have done? It breaks my heart to see you this way…..”

As Turin examined his friend’s ribs, the elf gave a sharp cry of pain and opened his eyes.

“Turin! It is you, I thought I had dreamt it!”

The man nodded, “yes, it is me.” He looked grimly at his friend. He felt so guilty for what he had done and what had happened, that he could not speak for fear of falling apart. Beleg closed his eyes again. He could not bear to look Turin in the eye. His body hurt everywhere that it could, and now his heart hurt too. He saw Turin’s guilt and shame but read it as indifference and dislike.

“Why did you come and follow me?” said Turin after a long pause, “I told Mablung that I did not want you to.”

Beleg steeled himself to answer calmly, “do not worry, Turin. I merely came to give you a message from King Thingol. He has pardoned you of the death of Saeros. If you wish you may return to Menegroth, and would be most welcome.”

Turin kept his back to Beleg and his head bowed over his work as he cared for the elf. He did not want his friend to see the tears in his eyes as his control was failing fast. He longed to throw himself at his friend’s mercy and beg for forgiveness and love, but believing that Beleg would be horrified at such a confession, he kept it to himself. He shook his head.

“When you return, please tell the King that I am grateful. But I cannot go back to Menegroth. My men need me. More so than before, we have done…..terrible things. It will change,” said Turin firmly. The capture and torture of Beleg had been almost more than Turin could stand. He did not want anything like that to happen again to an innocent victim.

“I have finished.” Turin got up and looked down at the elf he loved. He swallowed and tried to calm himself before going on, “you can stay here for a day or two, until you can travel. My men will see you on your way safely.” He quickly turned to leave. He had to leave, to get away before he broke into pieces.

“Turin?…..” Beleg’s voice was soft and full of sorrow.

“I am sorry,” said the young man quietly without looking back and immediately left the tent.


Beleg rested for three days and on the morning of the fourth he declared himself fit enough to travel. He had journeyed on foot the last couple of months, tracking the outlaws through the forest, and so they lent him a horse to ease his return to Menegroth.

Turin rode beside Beleg for a little part of the way until they came to where their paths diverged.

“I hope that your return journey is uneventful Beleg. I…..” Turin looked as if he wanted to add something but then frowned and did not speak.

Beleg nodded, “I will be fine. I will return directly. I need to give the King your message.” The elf hesitated and then added, “are you sure you will not return?”

“No.” Turin looked towards the west and sighed, “the mountains call me. I will take my men there.” He smiled sadly, fighting the urge to embrace his friend one last time, “perhaps one day we will meet again,” he said, with little real hope.

“Perhaps.” said Beleg softly, adding his hope in his heart. With a slight nod to Turin, he turned his horse and galloped off swiftly, as if trying to put as much of a gap between them as quickly as possible.

Turin watched until Beleg had long gone and with tears in his eyes and a dead feeling in his heart, he rode away.


The ride back to Menegroth was a hard and bitter one for Beleg. The further he drew away from Turin the more sorrowful he felt. Several times he thought to turn back, and he imagined how it would be if he rode up to the young man, grabbed him in his arms and kissed him passionately. But then he remembered the look of dislike that he thought he had seen in Turin’s face and forced such hopeless images from his mind.

By the time the elf had reached the stone bridge over the river Esgalduin, and seen the guards at the gates, he had managed to push his regrets and his longings deep within himself. He would give Turin’s message to the King and then return to his duties in the Northern Marches.

He entered Menegroth late in the evening and rather than seek out Thingol, disturbing his rest, he decided to head straight for his chambers. He would deliver his message at the King’s Morning Council.

He entered his bedroom and threw himself down on the bed, enjoying the luxury after the hardships of the previous year. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

He must have dozed for an hour or two when he suddenly woke at the noise of someone opening the door and entering in the dark. He had grown unused to the safety and security of the caves and sat up instantly, drawing his sword.

“Do not be alarmed, it is me, Mablung.” said a familiar voice, and light flickered into the chamber as the elf brought in a candle and proceeded to light the lamps.

“Mablung! It is good to see you again!” cried Beleg, rising to greet his friend warmly.

The two elves embraced and drew apart. Mablung narrowed his eyes and looked closely at his friend. Beleg evaded his friend’s scrutiny and pulled away.

“Beleg? Did you find Turin?”

Beleg could not hide the slight wince at the mention of the young man’s name. He nodded.

“Yes. I did, I have a message from him for the King. I will give it to him in the morning.”

“You did not part as friends. I can tell.”

The dark elf shook his head sadly, “no, we did not. I found him…..with his men. They…..they did not believe that I knew their leader at first…..”

“…..they hurt you.”

Beleg had not wanted anyone to know of his rough treatment at the hands of the outlaws. He still did not. He feared that a party would be sent in revenge of such abuse, but he needed to talk to someone about his breaking heart and knew that Mablung would not betray his confidence.

He nodded, “it was my foolish mistake. I came upon them unexpectedly and trusted that my knowing who their leader was would be enough to protect me. Unfortunately Turin was using a different name, Neithan the Wronged, and they did not believe me, they thought me a spy. Turin…..he was not there, not that night, not until the morning.” Beleg spoke in a whisper, the memories of his cruel treatment still raw in his mind.

“What did they do to you?!” asked Mablung in alarm.

Beleg swallowed and shook his head, “I will not say. Do not press me. But Turin returned in the morning, made them release me and took care of my injuries.”

“What happened then? Was he not sorry for what had happened?”

“Yes, he was very sorry and apologised. But he looked…..unhappy at my being there,” Beleg sighed heavily, “it was a mistake, I should not have tried to find him. I fear my presence embarrassed him.”

Mablung felt the knot of deceit that gripped his conscience tighten and twist. He realised that he would most likely never have another opportunity to put right the wrong he had done to his two friends. His mouth was dry and he swallowed anxiously. He knew that if he told Beleg all that Turin had said, it could well mean the end of their friendship. But he could not live with himself any longer if he did not speak the truth.

“Beleg. Your presence will not have embarrassed him, at least, not in the way that you believe,”

“What do you mean?”

Mablung drew a deep breath and looked at Beleg nervously, “he loves you. With all his heart and soul. He believes that you do not love him and that there is no hope…..because…..because I told him that you did not.”

Beleg frowned, “I do not understand. Why would you tell him that? You know that I love Turin. I have always loved Turin.”

“I…..I thought it for the best. B…But I was mistaken,” whispered Mablung.

Beleg shook his head, “I am sorry, I still do not follow. You are my friend, why would you say such a thing? Why would it be for the best? The best for who? For me? For the love of my life to think that I hate him?”

“I did not wish to see you hurt!”

“And this does NOT hurt me?” cried Beleg angrily

Beleg grabbed at Mablung’s tunic with a fist, raising the other hand to hit his friend. The elf flinched and closed his eyes, but did not try to defend himself. Beleg shook with fury, his muscles tense and his teeth clenched.

“I should hit you, for what you have done!”

“Then hit me. It cannot make me feel worse than I do already,” said Mablung quietly.

Beleg pulled back his arm and clenched his fist but then with a cry, swung wildly and threw his friend to the ground. Mablung fell and curled his body, bracing himself against Beleg’s wrath. He lay there shaking for a moment until he became aware of the other elf’s soft sobs and sat up.

Beleg was sitting on the bed, his head in his hands, “I am sorry Mablung, I should not have done that. You were my friend. I know that you did what you thought was best.”

Mablung trembled, “I ‘was’ your friend? Am I not still? Please believe me, only did what I did out of love for you Beleg.” His voice broke and he wept.

Beleg frowned, “I know, but the reason why you did it makes no difference now. It may be too late to save what we might have had together.” The elf got up and began to gather his things together, “I will speak with the king at first light and then I will seek out Turin and tell him how I feel. Perhaps, if it is not too late he will have me. Please leave me Mablung.”

“But I…..”

“…..Go. Please.”

Mablung fought back his tears and made as if to embrace his friend, but drew back when he saw Beleg stiffen slightly. He walked to the door and turned, “I know that I have hurt you, and that you hate me for what I have done, but I will always be here for you Beleg, I promise,” he whispered, and left closing the door behind him.

As his friend left, Beleg howled in pain, picked up a nearby goblet and threw it at the door where it crashed and fell to the ground. The elf stood there, breathing heavily for a moment, tears running unchecked down his face, until he gained control of his feelings again. He went over to the door and picked up the dented and broken goblet, holding it carefully in his hands as though it were a precious object. He set it down gently upon the table, gathered his things and went to find King Thingol.

*****

Beleg stood before King Thingol and told him how he had found his foster son but that Turin would not be coming back and had taken his men into the mountains. The king was saddened by the news. He had hoped so much that the young man would return. He sighed sadly and gestured to dismiss Beleg, but the elf interrupted.

“Your Majesty, forgive me, but grant me permission to return to Turin. I would see that he is safe and offer myself in his service.”

King Thingol nodded, “I would be grateful, Beleg, to know that Turin has you by his side. And I would give you a gift to show my gratitude. Name it, it shall be yours.”

Beleg thought for a moment and then said softly, “I would ask for a sword.”

The king smiled, “ a wise choice, and I will be glad to know that you wield it in my foster son’s service.”

Beleg bowed and chose the sword, Anglachel, made of iron from a falling star. But Melian, the wife of Thingol saw it and said that it was an evil sword. “It will not love you,” she said “and neither will you have it in your possession for long.”

“Then I shall use it while I can, my Lady,” said Beleg with another bow and then left Menegroth in search of his friend and his love.

The year passed, autumn came, then winter and the first snows and still Beleg did not find Turin. But unlike his desperate search for the young man nearly a year ago, this time he did not feel anxious. He knew that Turin loved him, and he intended to let the boy know exactly how he felt in return.

Word came to him when he reached the mountains that Turin and his men now lived in the hidden house of Mim the dwarf. The tale was that one of Turin’s men had killed the dwarf’s son, Khim, that Mim had been caught by Turin and pleaded for his life and that in spite of the wrong that had been done to him, the dwarf had been impressed with Turin’s honesty and regret and had now guardedly accepted him and his men into his house. Beleg did not trust the dwarf. But then, he did not trust any dwarves. He was glad that he was going to be by Turin’s side these coming months.

At last, one evening, Beleg appeared in the middle of Turin’s camp. He walked up to the campfire, startling the men who had not heard or seen his approach. This time, however, when he threw back his hood Turin was there and he was recognised.

When Turin looked into the elf’s eyes his breath caught in his chest. He looked away, scared to believe what he saw in them. The last time that they had met, the awful time after Saeros’ death and Beleg’s cruel treatment at the hands of the outlaws, Turin had been too wrapped up in his own misery to see into Beleg’s heart, and the elf, in turn, had been guarded in his manner to the young man.

But this time? This time he thought he saw affection, desire, even love. He swallowed anxiously and glanced at Beleg again. This time the elf’s expression was one of wry amusement.

“Beleg, I did not expect to see you again and certainly not here,” Turin said, rising to his feet and embracing his friend.

The tall elf smiled, “I like to surprise you. It keeps you alert, and therefore safe.”

Turin suddenly felt exposed, nervous. He hastily made a space by the fire, “come and sit down, tell me of your travels,” he said, nodding at one of his men to bring food and drink to them both.

Beleg sat close to Turin and began to talk. He reminded him of King Thingol’s pardon and of how much he was welcome to return to Menegroth, but Turin shook his head.

“I cannot return. I have my men now who need me….. and I have changed. I have grown up Beleg.”

The elf smiled sadly. He could see how much the boy had changed, how the pain and trouble of the recent years had taken their toll. No, he was not a boy any longer. Suddenly Beleg saw how fast and fleeting were the lives of men and a chill gripped his heart. Mablung had been right to warn him. This child would be gone in the blink of an eye and Beleg would be left alone, comfortless through the rest of his many years. For a moment the elf wondered if he would be able to bear it, but then he saw Turin give him a shy smile and the years fell away and Beleg was reminded of the youth he fell in love with and who he had searched for all this time.

The two friends talked on into the night until the fire died down to embers. The first pale wintry light found them both curled up against one another and sharing their warmth.

Beleg was the first to wake and gently smiled at the man curled with his back to the elf’s chest. He resisted the temptation to throw his arm about Turin. He felt his friend needed more time to accept him before he declared his feelings. But Beleg knew that he would have to say something soon, for he did not feel that he could restrain himself for very much longer. The years of longing and waiting finally had an end in sight, and the elf grew impatient. He longed to grab Turin and kiss him, to finally find out what he tasted like. He gave a little groan at the thought and Turin woke.

When he realised how close he was to the elf, Turin blushed and moved quickly away, “ I am sorry, I must have rolled against you in the night.” He got up hastily and began packing up his bedroll.

Beleg grinned. He was enjoying Turin’s sudden awkward shyness, “it was no problem, I did not mind. Not one bit in fact,” the elf teased, and watched Turin’s blush deepen.

One of the many things the two friends had discussed the night before were reports of some trouble from a loose knit band of men roaming the countryside nearby. Beleg had offered to go with Turin to investigate and so later that morning they pulled together the necessary gear and set off. The wintry weather was beginning to clamp down. Another two weeks and it would be impossible to travel far.

*****

They covered ground quickly for the first two days, but then several sudden snow showers slowed them down, the cold flakes drifting into collars and under cloaks and soaking them thoroughly.

“It’s bloody cold,” complained Turin, pulling his cloak tightly around his body.

His tall, elven companion didn’t seem to hear him and continued walking ahead, apparently preoccupied with his thoughts.

“I said, it’s bloody cold, Beleg. Didn’t you hear me?”

Beleg had heard, and chuckled to himself. He no longer cared about the weather or the cold. He had Turin by his side at last and that was all that mattered.

Later, when they had set up their camp they lay beside the fire watching the warm flames flickering on the roof of the small hollow in the cliff that was their shelter for the night.

“I was glad to see you, you know.....when you arrived in the middle of our company. I had never seen a sight more welcome in fact,” said Turin softly after some time.

Beleg smiled, “ I was glad to have found you. I have been looking for you for some months.
You were difficult to find.”

“I wanted to be,” said Turin with a frown.

“Yet you are glad now that you were? “

Turin looked at the dark elf before him, his skin rich and golden in the half-light and nodded, then swallowed nervously and looked away. Beleg moved a little closer.

“Are you glad because you no longer feel the need to hide, or are you glad because it was me that found you, Turin?” asked Beleg boldly. He would not hold back his feelings any longer.

Turin stared at the elf and at the decreasing gap between them, “Um…..a bit of both, I think.”

Beleg edged much nearer,“you think? Are you not sure?” he said softly, so close that he almost whispered against Turin’s lips.

Turin trembled and nodded. Surely this could not be happening? The thing he had dreamt of and longed for all his adult life? Was Beleg truly making love to him? For a moment he did not know how to respond, fearful that it was a trick or a mistake, but then Beleg inched closer still and finally closed the gap between them. As soon as Turin felt the elf’s lips against his own all his fears and worries vanished in the gentle heat of their first kiss.

Turin pulled back, “Beleg, why are you doing this?”

“Do you want me to stop?” the elf said with a smile.

“No, I don’t,” Turin sighed and leant forward for another kiss. This time Beleg opened his mouth and gently pushed his tongue between the young man’s lips. Turin gladly allowed him entrance and moaned slightly as their tongues met and slid against each other. The sudden intimacy after such hopeless longing was almost too much for the man and his eyes filled with tears.

Beleg saw a tear escape from his love’s eye and make its way down his cheek.

“Hush, don’t cry, it’s all right, I am here now,” he murmured and followed the salty trail with his tongue ending at Turin’s jaw. Turin relaxed and gave in to his desires. Even if this only happened once, this one night, it would be enough. He reached up and put his arms around Beleg’s shoulders, holding him close.

Beleg continued licking and nipping along the man’s neck until his face was buried in the delightful hollow between neck and collarbone. The elf nuzzled his way beneath the collar of Turin’s outer tunic to reach as much skin as possible, and breathed in deeply.

“You smell of wood smoke…..” Beleg sucked and bit gently into the soft skin again, “…..and you taste of salt and honey.”

“Do I? Then what do you taste of, elf?” Turin said with a chuckle, suddenly taking control and pushing Beleg over onto his back.

Beleg’s eyes flashed with excitement and he grinned, “why don’t you find out?”

“I fully intend to,” smiled Turin and set to work, rapidly undoing the fastenings to Beleg’s tunic and removing it.

As each inch of skin was exposed to the cold night air, Turin kissed and tasted the elf beneath him. Beleg lay there shaking slightly, his gaze fixed on Turin as the man explored his body. He had not expected this side of the young man and it thrilled him. When Turin licked his way across to one brown nipple and took it gently in his teeth, Beleg groaned and grabbed at his lover’s hair, anchoring himself to the man. Turin did not stop there for long and made his way with open-mouthed kisses to suck at the other nipple in turn.

When he was satisfied that he had reduced Beleg to whimpering with need, Turin began to nuzzle and lick his way further down the elf’s body until he reached his navel. He sighed, his breath blowing slightly across Beleg’s stomach. Beleg shivered and gasped.

Turin lifted his head, “Oh dear, are you cold? Perhaps we had better stop?” he suggested, with an innocent expression.

“ No! Do not tease me so! I never dreamt that you would be so…..”

“…..so cruel? Or so delightful?” smirked Turin, dipping his tongue into the hollow of Beleg’s stomach and wiggling it until the elf squirmed beneath him.

“Both!” cried Beleg, “enough! Your turn,” he growled and flipped Turin over and onto his back and started a similar process of undressing and tasting, only Beleg was more vigorous in his approach and had Turin writhing and begging the elf not to stop, ever, within minutes.

“I do not mean to stop,” said Beleg with a gleam in his eye, and he reached down and felt the man’s arousal through his leggings. Turin moaned and could not help but push himself into the elf’s hand.

“Then don’t, please!” he cried, desperate to feel his lover’s touch. He pulled the elf down for a heated kiss, plunging his tongue into Beleg’s mouth, ravaging it, showing his need.

Beleg deftly untied the laces of Turin’s leggings and slid his hand along the man’s taut stomach, pushing beneath the loosened fabric. Turin cried out as he felt Beleg’s fist close around his hardened shaft and he clutched at the elf’s shoulders. Beleg closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of holding his lover’s firm silkiness within his hand. He stroked him gently, relishing the groans and whimpers that came from Turin’s lips and the way that the man helplessly thrust into his grip.

“Oh Beleg, stop, please, or it will be over too soon!” begged Turin. But Beleg did not stop, instead he slid his body further down between Turin’s legs until his lips were almost touching Turin’s hardness.

As Turin writhed and moaned Beleg gently lapped at the head with his tongue, licking around the crown, still stroking the shaft with his hand. Turin shrieked in pleasure as the elf licked along his length and took him into his mouth. The elf immediately set up a voracious pace, sucking and taking the man’s arousal deep into his throat until Turin was mumbling incoherently and thrashing his head from side to side.

The young man felt as though he was about to fly, every nerve was tingling and his body sang with pleasure. With a wail of ecstasy, Turin came, crying out words of love and clinging to Beleg as if he were drowning.

Beleg scrambled back up to hold Turin close as he recovered from the overwhelming sensations that flooded his being. The elf gently kissed his lover’s face repeatedly, stroking his hair and chest soothingly. Turin smiled as Beleg’s kisses grew more passionate, tasting himself in the elf’s talented mouth. He was only too aware that his lover had still to find release as he felt Beleg’s own arousal press against his thigh.

Turin reached down between them both and found the laces to the elf’s leggings. He untied them quickly and pushed the garment down over Beleg’s hips, moaning slightly as he felt the elf’s hard shaft against his stomach. Beleg rolled onto his back and Turin sat up, swiftly removing both his and Beleg’s leggings altogether. This time Turin lay across Beleg, both of them hissing as they felt their bodies touch from shoulder to thighs. Turin shivered slightly as a gust of wintry air blew across his naked back.

“You are cold,” said the elf, and grabbed at a blanket, throwing it over the pair of them. The heat that their desire generated rapidly warmed Turin. The feeling of having Beleg moving beneath him and the elf’s torrid, needy kisses quickly aroused the man again. With a sudden shift their hardened lengths rubbed against each other and both groaned.

“Turin, I need you!” gasped Beleg as he ran his hands along his lover’s back and down his smooth sides.

“Then have me,” whispered Turin into the elf’s ear, causing Beleg to shudder with anticipation.

The young man sat up, threw off the blanket and, straddling Beleg’s thighs, he reached across to search inside his pack for a small flask of oil. Beleg gave an amused glance as he saw Turin removing the lid and pouring some over his hands.

“I see you are prepared for our tryst!” Beleg said with a chuckle.

Turin blushed, “tt is oil that I use to sharpen my sword,” he said, defensively.

“Then put it to good use my love, but hurry, please.”

Turin’s heart gave a leap when he heard Beleg’s endearment, perhaps this wasn’t going to be just one night of bliss. He rubbed his hands together to warm them and spread the oil, and then smoothed it over the elf’s arousal. Beleg grunted and tried to push into Turin’s hands, but the man’s weight had him pinned to the ground and he could not move his hips. Turin took his time, stroking the hard length until Beleg was almost crying with need.

“Ai, please, Turin, I cannot take much more, I need to be inside you, I need you now!”

Turin reached for the oil again and he poured some into Beleg’s outstretched hand. The young man leant forward, pressing himself down over his lover and kissing him passionately as Beleg dribbled the warm liquid into Turin’s cleft and used his fingers to spread the oil around his entrance. Turin moaned into the kiss as Beleg penetrated him with first one, then two fingers, stretching him and making him ready.

Both were shaking and gasping with their desperate need as Beleg guided his arousal to pierce his lover and Turin raised himself up and carefully lowered his body down onto Beleg’s hardness, taking him in completely in one steady go. They both paused for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, and breathing heavily. Neither could believe that it was true, that they were joined, body and soul. Then Beleg whispered, “move, my love,” and Turin did, rising and falling, slowly and smoothly, his gaze trapped by the elf’s look of complete and utter bliss.

Beleg was lost in both the sublime sensation of feeling his lover’s tightness and heat, and in watching Turin moving above him, impaling himself again and again and again, sighing and crying out words of love to the elf. He ran his hands up the smooth, powerful thighs until they reached Turin’s arousal and he took it in his grasp, stroking the firm shaft in the same hypnotic rhythm.

“Beleg! Faster!” groaned Turin and leant forwards again, braced himself with his hands and began to rock vigorously back and forth as he felt the pressure building within him. The elf obliged, matching the speed, as he was also so very close to the edge.

Turin began to shudder and gave a loud cry, a wail of completion and delight, and released his creamy seed all over Beleg’s hands and chest. The sudden heated tightness that rippled and gripped around Beleg’s shaft was so exquisite that the elf could scarcely breath. With three more firm thrusts into his lover he came deep within his core, moaning words of pleasure and love.

Turin collapsed onto Beleg’s body and the elf quickly pulled the blanket back over them again against the cold night air. Beleg wrapped his arms around his lover and held him close, planting tender kisses in his hair, and within moments they both drifted into a gentle, exhausted sleep.

When they awoke a short while after Beleg took some water and a cloth and washed them both, taking delight in bathing Turin and patting him dry.

“You had best not do this for me, I can do it myself!” pleaded Turin as he began to feel aroused again, “please, or we will never break camp in the morning!”

Beleg chuckled, “and would that matter? A day will make no difference to our plans......”

“…..aye, but a week might!” Turin laughed, then grew serious and added softly, “ I do not want this to end, Beleg.”

“Nor I, my love. I will stay by your side until death separates us. This I promise, Turin.”

Turin looked deep into the elf’s eyes and saw that he spoke the truth. How could he ever express to Beleg his equal feelings of love and devotion?

“I love you so much, Beleg. I will never leave you, it would break my heart.”

Their pain and their desperate longings of the years gone by had vanished, melted away like snow in a thaw. Sighing and content at last, they held each other close, once more under the blanket and under the clear, starlit sky where they slept and dreamt until the cold, grey dawn.


The End

Comments

[sildil]

I am so glad! I loved writing it too.