Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ever since the incident with the paper shirts, Egalmoth had hit a wall with his writing.  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t even pen a short but sexy Glorthelion fic.  Whereas usually, if he so much as sneezed, one would magically manifest into one of his notebooks. 

So, Egalmoth considered.  How could he get some inspiration for a new story?  And preferably not one about those traitors who had defaced his works so shamelessly.  He was trying to forgive them, but really.

Maybe he should just invent some fictional people.  That would be different for him, after all.  Egalmoth tried to conjure images of fantasy-elf-males both with and without gleaming golden hair and, nothing. 

“What’s your idea of an ideal partner?” Egalmoth asked Turgon, desperate for any ideas, or insights that might trigger ideas.

Turgon stared at him strangely for a few moments then slowly answered, “you.”

“No, I mean, like, what characteristics?  Tall?  Strong?  Beautiful?  Smart?”

“You,” Turgon emphasized.

Egalmoth remained unconvinced at the unhelpful offering until, well, Turgon decided to show him what he meant, instead.

Still, Egalmoth decided that maybe his current line of questioning was in fact a good way to gather ideas–provided he didn’t ask Turgon again, that had proved far too distracting.

Since he was, really, trying to forgive Glorfindel and Ecthelion for their little prank, why not enlist their help, especially if they weren’t able to inspire him in the usual way.

“Ideal partner,” Glorfindel mused and his expression took on a thoughtful cast.  “Ideally brave, selfless, loyal.  Very courageous and willing to fight for what–for whom–he loves.  Smart, artistic, musical.  I’ve always liked dark hair, too.”

Egalmoth was nodding, “hmm, hmm, yes that’s good.  A warrior, and a leader, but with a softer side.  That could work, thank you.”

Glorfindel smiled, “happy to help, and, uh, sorry again.”

Egalmoth nodded vaguely, chewing the end of his quill thoughtfully as he walked away.  Not long after he ran into Ecthelion and repeated his question.

“Nice ass, like, very muscular and, shapely, hard to resist touching, and long, golden hair, and, uh,” Ecthelion’s face was fully red by now, “excuse me I have to go.”  But Ecthelion was gone almost before his sentence was finished. 

Well, that was interesting but not exactly helpful.  Egalmoth next started to approach Galdor to ask the same question. 

Galdor, however, walked away without a word.

Egalmoth frowned.  Salgant, who was nearby, stepped forward to offer his unsolicited advice.   “I heard you talking to Ecthelion, is this for a new story?  I dearly miss your stories.  Maybe I can help?  I think, an idea partner should be someone who is wise and caring, maybe a little protective.  Someone who remembers the small things about you, and goes out of their way to do little things to remind you that they care, like leave you a little romantic note when they’ve left on an errand.  Someone not afraid to say I love you, and show it.  Someone very charming and well spoken, who has a way with words, and maybe music too.  Someone who has an inner beauty they are willing to share with you and no one else.  Someone who–”

Egalmoth held up his hand, “uh, yes, thank you Salgant.  That’s, that’s a lot of ideas right there, let me just.  Take some notes, I will get working on this.”  He backed away slowly, careful to avoid further eye contact or any additional sentimental suggestions.

Egalmoth wasn’t really paying much attention, but he did notice a shadow flit in and out of the corner of his vision.  Then somehow, Maeglin was in front of him.  And Egalmoth only just realized it right after colliding with him.

“WHAT?”

Maeglin caught Egalmoth and steadied him, “ah, Egalmoth, hello.  How are you on this fine morning?”

“Um, I am well, thank you.  And you?”

“Hmm, yes, very well.  As well as I can be.  You know, I do miss your stories.”

Egalmoth nodded, “yes, I’m trying to come up with an idea for a new one, it’s just been slow going.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Maeglin offered eagerly.

Egalmoth considered, “well, I was asking people their ideas on an ideal partner–”

“Ah yes.  An ideal partner, like, someone beautiful inside and out.  Graceful, confident, caring, wise… I’ve always liked blondes, and bare feet–”

Egalmoth, once more, nodded vaguely and started to back away, pretending to take notes, “hmm, yes, thank you.  Very helpful, I’ll just, go home and start working right now.  Thanks.”

After successfully evading Maeglin, Egalmoth eventually ran into Rog on his way home, and thought, well, could Rog possibly have a stranger answer than Maeglin?  Or Salgant for that matter?

“Ideal partner?” Rog repeated.  There was a long pause.

“Yes, what would your ideal partner be like?” Egalmoth waited.  He waited some more.  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  Still waiting.

Rog looked at him blankly.

Egalmoth wondered if he understood the question or not, “like a romantic partner.”

Rog nodded.  More silence.

At length, “maybe… someone who likes hammers.”

Right.  Someone who likes hammers?  What did that even mean?  Hammers, feet, and that was probably enough for today.  Egalmoth went to find Turgon.

The next day, Egalmoth decided to give it another try.  Why not?  He had nothing to lose at this point.

He came upon Duilin knitting a pair of socks while sitting under a tree.  Egalmoth wanted to be surprised, but, he wasn’t.

“Oh hello, beautiful day, isn’t it?” Duilin said by way of greeting.

Egalmoth came and sat down next to him, “it is.”

“I hear you’ve been asking around about everyone’s ideas about an ideal partner.”

“You heard?  How?”

“Gondolin is small, news travels fast.  You should know that, especially given your relationship with our king.”

“Ah, right,” Egalmoth relented.  “Well, yes I have been asking around.  Trying to get ideas for a new story you see…”

“I’ve been thinking about my answer, since I assume you mean to ask,” Duilin began and Egalmoth merely nodded.  Duilin paused, “it’s hard, since—since the one I loved did not make it to Gondolin.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Duilin nodded, “no, I know.  Well, he was… Kind, funny, but humble.  Possibly not the brightest and a little impetuous, but brave and very loyal.  I miss him, still.  Always.  I hope we’ll meet again, though, perhaps, not yet.”

Egalmoth frowned, not sure what to say.  They had all lost someone, to exile, or war.  But Egalmoth could feel Duilin’s grief as though it were his own.

“I did have a rather unusual encounter in the wilds once, maybe that would make a more fitting story for you if mine is a little too, well, tragic.”

“I don’t think I’m worthy to tell your story…”

Duilin smiled sadly, “I think you could, but if you want something lighter, as I said, I have another.”

Egalmoth nodded and gestured for Duilin to continue.  “I was on an errand for the king, after, the Nirnaeth,” his voice faltered slightly as Egalmoth frowned, “no, I promise it’s not sad.  Listen, Galdor and I were sent to bear a message to Thingol in the Hidden Kingdom.  I did not ask the contents, but guessed Turgon sought an alliance of some kind even where Maedhros failed.  So we traveled in secret, crossing the Dry River to the Sirion, and thence into Dimbar, and the marches of Doriath.”

Egalmoth nodded when Duilin paused to make sure he was following.  Duilin continued, “we made camp under the eaves of the forest, knowing we would not be able to venture any further due to The Girdle.  But we hoped, at least, to meet some marchwardens.”

“Did you and Galdor—?” Egalmoth implied, eyebrows raised.

Duilin rolled his eyes, “no, of course not.  You know what he’s like.”

Egalmoth shrugged.  Galdor, though of course the bravest of them all, had not much else in the way of personality.  “Still he’s very handsome…”

“Yes, but he’d also sooner take notice of a tree—”

Egalmoth fell into a fit of giggles imagining Galdor romancing a tree.

“EGALMOTH!”

“Sorry, sorry, please continue.”

“Anyway, this is not about Galdor.  But sometime in the night we heard the tramp of marching feet—an orc pack.  We concealed ourselves, but the marchwardens of Doriath did indeed come forth and there was a battle.  In the melee, Galdor and I were both drawn into the fighting and were eventually separated.  I had pursued an orc trying to break free of the forest.  I managed to fell him with an arrow to the throat, but I found myself alone in a clearing.”

Egalmoth really wondered where this was going, but stayed silent to allow Duilin to continue.

“It was almost dawn, but the light was still quite dim.  I think, perhaps, that may explain what happened in part.  But I heard a deep voice from the direction of the forest, ‘a mighty shot indeed, though I would expect no less from you.’ The accent was strange, and I assumed he was one of the Doriathrin elves we had chanced to fight alongside.  Still, I wondered how he knew me.  When he stepped into the clearing, I saw that I had been—somewhat—mistaken.  He was one of the Doriathrim, but he was man, though he looked almost as one of the Eldar.  He was tall, strong, with dark hair and grey eyes.  Very fair, and very handsome.  I was, I confess, immediately taken with him and could think of no fitting answer as my words failed me.  He approached me then, with a familiarity that excited me though I did not understand it.”

“Who was he?” Egalmoth asked in spite of himself.

Duilin smiled knowingly, “Túrin, son of Húrin.”

“Ah, I have heard he is indeed very handsome.”

“Yes, now shhh.” Duilin waited to confirm Egalmoth was not going to interrupt him again, “anyway, he approached me as though I were a friend.  Or, perhaps more than a friend, though I did not realize it until his arms were about my waist.”

Egalmoth’s jaw dropped, though he managed to stay silent this time.

Here, a faint blush started to paint Duilin’s cheeks, “I was shocked, though I did not have it in me to resist.  I could say, perhaps, that I was confused, but the truth is I felt the desire radiating off him and it kindled something in my own heart.  He kissed me, and the warmth of his lips, and his hands—” Duilin paused to collect himself, “anyway, I know not how long we stood there, or, lay there, but, eventually I heard someone else call him.”

“Lay there,” Egalmoth gaped.

“Not like that.  Exactly.  Or, nearly.  Well, someone called his name, ‘Túrin.’ And Túrin stopped immediately, realizing then his mistake.  Before I knew it, he was standing while I still lay there almost in a swoon, and another elf entered the clearing.  He was tall, though slighter of build than Túrin, and I confess, we did look rather alike.  He too bore a bow with him.  It was Beleg Cúthalion.  ‘Who is this?’ he asked Túrin of me, and Túrin looked at me then with utter confusion, ‘I know not.’  ‘Is he injured?’ Beleg asked, and I realized I still lay on the ground with my head pillowed on the root of a great tree.  I stood and declared myself, and my errand.  Túrin looked at me strangely then, by now the light was better, but I noted he was squinting.  ‘I’m sorry, I took you for Beleg,’ he offered by way of explanation.  ‘His vision isn’t very good,’ Beleg added, though he regarded me with an air of suspicion.  Before he could inquire further as to what I was doing there—or what had just happened—Galdor joined us.  And he very cordially, very properly introduced himself and bowed and delivered up the message from Turgon.  Despite a, friendly enough, exchange we were of course denied entrance into the Hidden Kingdom.  Nevertheless, Beleg took the message and I believe it made its way to Thingol for whatever good that will do us.  But, Túrin I never saw again.”  Duilin cleared his throat, “though perhaps sometimes in dreams…”

Egalmoth was now furiously taking notes, engrossed in the story, “you lay with Túrin Turambar.”

“I did not lay with him, I merely, lay, near him—or nearly—look, I told you the story.  Do with it what you wish.  It was a strange encounter, I do not expect I will experience anything like it again.”

“Hm, no indeed.  Well, thank you.  That was most… enlightening.  I had not considered the race of men, quite, like that before.  Tragic in and of itself, in a different way.  And his vision…” Egalmoth trailed off.

“He truly could not see well, though I have to say, I consider Beleg lucky.”

“Indeed.  And Túrin, for that matter,” Egalmoth agreed.

“Perhaps,” Duilin countered.

Egalmoth smiled, “anyway, thank you again.  I think this has given me exactly what I needed.”

Duilin nodded and smiled, “you are quite welcome.”  Not far away, Penlod was approaching them, but Egalmoth was gone by the time he reached Duilin.

Penlod frowned, “I thought he would ask me about a partner…”

“He may yet, but I think I’ve given him a lot to think about for the moment.  To write about, too, most likely.”

“Oh?”

Duilin smiled mysteriously, “you’ll see.”