Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the characters and the setting (sort of), but the slash is kind of mine
Pairings: Amras x Daeron
Characters: Amras, Daeron (mentions of Arien as well as Fëanor, Nerdanel and Amrod if you can catch them)
Warning: extremely AU, slash, barely-there sexual undertone, canon character death, mentions (possibly) unintentional filicide (by drowning), scarring, escapism, mentions murder
Song: Lullaby
Words: 1,107
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settle (verb): to place so as to stay; to come to rest; to become fixed, resolved, or established; to become quiet or orderly
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/settle
For so long, the essence of life was the next day, the next moment, the next breath. Time was a figment of the imagination, transient, beyond all comprehension when the next step defined the truth, when no friendly spirits waited in the distance to hear footsteps and receive kisses, when no bed waited with all the soft comforts and warmth of home.
For so very long, that was Umbarto's reality.
Every day was a new adventure, filled to the brim with the wide open sky, the thrill of the chase and the hunt, the satisfaction of surviving the wilderness to another night, and a new bed of dewy grass beneath the dome of the heavens when Arien's rays crept into the shadows of Arda.
His encounters with other sentient beings were few and far between. A brief trip through a village here or there, never staying, never buying, just walking. The occasional glance exchanged with a traveling ranger or elf on the road, but nothing substantial, and never words to contaminate his silent forgetfulness. Umbarto was the ultimate drifter, fleeing civilization, fleeing recognition and memories and anything that could possibly remind him of what had come before the freedom of throwing away identity and responsibility and all remembrance.
And then there was his dark-haired sinda, sensual and mysterious, his sometimes almost-mate. The afternoons without words to break the comfortable rest, sitting in the shade exchanging caresses and kisses in the lazy heat of summer or huddling together in the shelter of hidden glens in the winter, the white clouds of their breath mingling as their bodies tangled together for warmth, those moments remained as nets to ensnare his attention and hold him captive as one under a spell.
They never spoke. Umbarto relished lying beneath curious fingers, feeling them trace over his scarred cheek and trace down the straight length of his nose, brushing softly against his chapped lips and teasing the cleft of his chin.
Eventually, he did not wander as far. Always, his thoughts wandered back to the dark-haired beauty living amongst the towering canopies of the trees, giggling from the shadows of their thick arms, black eyes filled with fondness and wonder, a soft voice humming wordless lullabies with the chirping of the birds, tangling with the silver light of the moon and dragging Umbarto down into sleep within the ring of familiar arms, the beat of another heart in his ears.
Eventually, he barely dared venture a few leagues. A magnetic pull, more powerful than the raging, foaming waters of the ocean and more consuming than ravenous licks of flame, kept him near, kept him longing, kept him wanting.
He no longer thirsted for freedom, but for something at once more primal and intimate. Stable.
And when a soft voice--a lyrical tenor that danced over his skin with a living touch--whispered "Stay" in his ear, he could not help but obey.
---
They created their dwelling on the edge of a lake that had never been marked upon any map--far away from any known region--and which had never been touched by the hands of a stranger. Pure waters sparkled transparently, so clean that Umbarto could pick out the drifting of silt on the bed beneath the waves and refracted sunbeams. Quiet and peaceful. Perfect.
But more than that perfection, he loved the company. Loved walking up behind that slender form and putting his hands on rounded hips, pulling the smaller elf against his chest and nuzzling his lover's pale throat, taking in the unnamable scent that perfumed soft, dark hair. Loved receiving crooned words in return and long, dexterous fingers combing through the wilderness of his fiery mane, untangling leaves and twigs and tracing the sensitive shells of his pointed ears.
Loved waking to dark eyes staring into his own blazing emeralds and soft kisses pressing against his skin like the strokes of a butterfly's wings. Loved the bewitching voice that broke the barriers of his dreams and drove away the nightmares of screams and blood and fire that burned in the night.
There was no more drifting. Umbarto had never realized how tired he was of moving day-by-day, now lonely he felt without a single soul in the world waiting for him to return home each night, or how much he longed to feel safe and not worry and protect and fight and flee without thought.
The gentle touch of musician's hands manipulated him as they would a lyre or fiddle, coaxing free the tension and leaving his spirit singing with bliss. The words on the wind--inaudible and lost before they could pop the delicate bubble of their hidden little world--were a constant murmur in his ears, settling the roiling feelings that threatened to rise up and destroy him.
All that fear of the past and guilt for the death and hatred of fey eyes tied into tangled knots were pulled apart and straightened and tucked away, the volatile strands woven into little braids of acceptance, fit for the light of day.
Until he wasn't afraid to call himself "Umbarto" and remember the fire eating his blackened flesh and the waves sucking away his frantic breaths.
Until he didn't want to curl up and die at the memory of empty eyes from slack, terrified faces and crimson flashes off the sharpened blade of his sword.
Until his vehement, wild spirit--a reflection of all that he despised and resented--was tamed beneath the soft strokes and reassurances of his other half.
Settling his restless soul on that distant shore, with the sand between his toes and his One's melody echoing in his ears, Umbarto finally felt his roots sink into the ground, his home slowly bricking together from his new, tenuous foundation and up into the sky. Here, there were no insidious whispers or searing caresses or screaming matches in the next room, no turning over and reaching for someone no longer at his side or wishing for a kindred spirit to understand and soothe unconditionally.
There was a soft touch at his elbow, and he turned to endless eyes, darker than night's blanket but still glowing like stars reflected off motionless water, on and on forever. "Melethron," he was named, and fingers reached up to trace down his marred temple and cheek. Wherever they touched, his skin tingled pleasantly.
"Meldanya," he returned huskily, and scarred fingers touched flawless white skin and softer-than-silk lips.
There would be no more running. He was home.
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For fun. Let's just say that this pairing has grown on me, and I have ideas for them in the future. And, forgive me, but I'm a slash-writer and I'm actually surprised how little slash I actually write on this blog. Actually, I think it helps that Tolkien provides female characters who aren't empty-headed ninnies that make you feel ashamed to be the same gender like most animes do *sighs*. Still, I had to do it.
The song I was listening to really doesn't apply, but it's more of the timbre of it than the words (though the words are lovely, too, and the music video made me cry several times). So, without further ado, Lullaby by Nickelback. Not a band I particularly subscribe to, but they have their moments, and this is one of them. I was in the mood for rock over instrumental today.
And I found a picture of Daeron! 1000 by ~amiroprotein on dA. Just for fun <3.
Last thing:
Sindarin: melethron = my lover
Quenya: meldanya = my beloved
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