Glory and Hobbit
Open your mouth to fill you with delights. Age of the Dragon lasts, the Wolf days didn’t pass. And just like there is the dark in the light, and so there is the light in the dark. How in life and so in everything else that is surrounding the ecosystem and its biosphere. Thereafter, they both were enjoying themselves, savoring the life as it was last, in the deep pearled tub, the bubbly bath was taken by the two men. Ramsay had his heavy head leant on the powerfully built frame of the man who was taking everything that was offered or given by the life. Ah, candles were Gods.
- Mmm, that smell, do you sense it, my boy? – I do – both are dozing off, while Blackie was swimming here and there, diving and then splashing all around, spurting like the cutest menace ever, and he was such a hazard when he wanted to be, turning over to enjoy, not this time because he is tired of life, for this godlike place, the eldest of them all was doing something to him which he couldn’t depict what and why, since he was reveling in it, just like now, when he knows that the hardest tears that fall are those of the man. Always was, and always have been as such, while the shimmer and glow were the scented liberty even during the loneliest nights, we dream. – I have something to enquire you. My Lord – such a tease, was this boy of his. Never the adult man he has become.
- I am listening. – You are all ears? Let me touch them. – You know what happens, those ears of ours are a feeling sentience as voices. – And then you may take me in the hardest fashion. – So naughty – tightening God’s grip. – Anyway, I have a question. – I told you that I want to hear it, everything that comes from your human lips. Speak to me while we are having our eyes closed. Resting. – Well, thanks, but you Elves work so industriously, even to fit in, you take even faiths upon yourselves! – ringing a bell.
- Do not make me ring your head like a bell. – People are talking that you are going to receive it. – What? – Faith, even some Red Priestesses and High Priests, even Septas, are grooming selves for your anointment and…baptism. – They may brace themselves as long as they are yearning, there shall be no converting of mine. – But, everyone is speaking about signs? – It is just a message. I am not into their Lords of Dark, Light or even pensive and abstracted Forests of dreams. – But, there are rumors. – They can only humor me. – It would be a big deal. – I am King Regent, not Grand King who is another Elu Thingol. – You are an idiot. – So they say. – You would appease masses. – I do please only myself and duty and as long it is this way, it shall be ordained and canonized. – When are you going to stop doing what you always were marshaling and start…being reasonable? – Stop being childlike? – Something in between lines, it is a time to grow up.
- And when that happens, it is the end of dream, I am never having that taken from me.
- Aha, so, that is your last word? – Ramsay – he opens his crystal sky eyes to him – there is no word, and now, silence. Do not speak, and lean on me, let us rest, like we used to – he is holding him stoutly. Ramsay obeyed. After some time, he speaks up again, ah, it was such a godsend for him to be silent. – Tell me more about the Wombs? What are they like, I know that they serve for star travelling and faring, through dimensions and portals, this is how you were escaping from your shared birthworld Syrax, when the calamity struck you, but do you have one? How does it look like and would you call it for me to see? – Hm, every Elf has one, but they may be lost or to grow inside their selves even other life, or house the ones who shall never see the sunlight, due to evident reasons which are known only to those who have it. – But, how is yours? May I see it?
- Mine is growing anon, dear Ramsay, and I wouldn’t advise it or counsel it. The world I give, is much better than some grown out star ships. – How do you mean it? – It has been destroyed, each time I use my God powers, the price is paid. – You sacrifice the part of yourself? Your Wombs? – Yes, the cost is the same. – I do not believe it. You are sacrificing the living being? The most intimate part of yourself? – It re-embodies, that is the glam – he winks back, delighted in the satisfaction. – How so? – Ugh, you talk too much, I should gag you. – Wait, not yet, even though you may read me. – And I want to hear you speak, before you fall to my virtues. – Here you go again. – Well, Wombs may regrow themselves – he looks up at the candle chandeliers, beaming at him, flooding with the spare light, flashing through the folding night of crickets, hooting and fireflies. – Go on! – As the hair, or they do the removal of cleansing, of anything which other humans laid the claim upon, it is feasible if not the Elf, and no problem. They come to all Elves, at some point when they choose. The splicing and fusing, sealing started with the Dragon people, one and the same with their fully developed Dragons, growing where they feel like, bad tempered that they may keep the human bloods.
Ramsay heard how they may have humans to themselves or eat them, but they are in all fields of life, for every Elf whose sins were vindicated and those they wronged, having a given chance as Gollum gained. It was the only proper.
It was all getting back, he cannot change what he did or what he is even now, young-looking, his life force was pry and the power sprightly, he was in the springtime of his life, vigorous and fresh – faced, and wherever he trod, he brought along the winter and his sunny light, that lightening personality, bright and cheerful hunger for a life.
- Giving all to the life is the best way to live it. No matter how it ends up. Your wrongs shall be redeemed only if you pine for it. That is my lightness. What is yours? – Mine? I am supposed to have one? – Well, you are right, you have me, it is all you need…and dogs – he chuckles evilly, ruffling Ramsay’s Hobbit wet locks. – Just do not squeeze me that much, and I do not want to be leant on you for so much, I want to upheave myself. – Do so. – I cannot. You are holding me. – Oh, my bad. – Wake up. – I am woke up as you are. – So, let me go, I have to do my thing. – What thing? – Taking a leak! – Blackie does it in here with us. – Ew, I shouldn’t know that! – These are disinfecting waters. – Then, to relieve myself, with the solid stools. – You may do herein. – Yucky! – I tell you, these are purifying waters. – Oh, dammit! – You did it? It doesn’t smell. – You said it is purifying, so that I feel purified as well! – he was reddening and Glorfindel was laughing immensely, not letting go, free from his very hands into which he did fall, who stole him for the nesting, and that was his sole hold.
- By the way – he gave up, leaning back, having Glorfindel gloat for too much – are there devising designs to have the collective clusters of the traditional cut with other people? – It might happen. Some feel more in harmony when they are bled in this fashion. This is what people voiced out. It is too unsettling when it is executed on them while they are by themselves. – The same case. – You were not like that – he kisses the top of his Hobbit’s head – I did it with levity. – Still, there are those who need that extra preparing for the traditional cut of the approved tradition of your Queen of Stars, Varda and empowered by the King of hers. – My? You mean, ours? – Well, they are your Gods. – Our Gods. Ramsay, do not make me wrathful – he knows when he is strutting thinly. – Forgive me. – That is more like it. For it lasts. It must be gifted by the faint cut under your bare throats, it is both the marking and claiming by the imprint. Taking what you keep, what you took to yourself, owning what is yet to be taken for bedding. Turgon’s potions, of my King are easier, but with the risk, the most success were Narnia children. – Where are they presently? – Where they should be. With their Masters and Ladies. – Oh, My Lord. – That is what I want to hear also!
This game was taking its toll. Glorfindel is a possessive man. He may play with you, toy, dabble with your freedom, but once he sets you free, that is it. As soon as you give the word to him, you are his, and you live by his rules, under his house roof. He does his binding the souls, bonding with you in ways you may not catch on. It is understandable to him. Who adjusted to him, and in how more he gives, this is how much he had gotten. He was one rich and powerful guy by the human standards. He made the fortune by playing Game of Thrones with Glorfindel from day to a day, and he knows which button to push, when he oversteps, how far he may go or he is allowed, or what to extract to get what he wants. And there was the title of the Brood Mate for him.
Which is satisfyingly high for a human being to reach for such a short time. Relaxing some more onto his arcane skin, feeling his human heart and pumping of the blood vessels cheerily.
*
- I would like to bind your mouth, I may fix a gag so you may still speak. – What kind of gag is that? – You are right, we go full force. So, open for me – it appears before him. He opens wide.
*
Blackie makes a flip flop, diving anon…bubbles are left at the rear. He was having his time whiles the two men had theirs and it was just like Glorfindel thought it out. Renewed with the life.
*
So his Lord was in, imbuing him with his blood, scent, with his imprinting, it is forceful and passionate, and later, it is receding, softening, the after care, it was more to come. Glor is unsated.