It Binds Them

Played by
AelKennyr Rhiano
Rhun Darkmoon


Nasi sighs and restlessly turns onto his side, the fresh linen of the bed rustling at his movement. In the dim light that filters up from the taproom below, he stares at the empty space in the bed next to him and listens for those familiar footfalls to tell him Fafnir has returned. Around him there are the usual coughs and sighs as the others settle for the night. On the far side of the room Aztryd and Hjalmarr seem intent on competing for the honor of the loudest snore. He holds his breath a moment as Nizl grizzles fretfully in her sleep, but the babe seems to settle again, and he relaxes a little. Small she may be, but that one has a sturdy pair of lungs on her and little respect for what time of day or night she uses them.

...he stares into empty space..

Nasi listens to the murmur of lyrical voices below that drift up through the floor boards, interspersed now and then with eruptions of musical laughter as the elven patrons enjoyed their evening, but still he does not hear the voice he seeks.  He slides a hand up under his cheek. The newly healed scars, still slightly raised, scrape softly against the crisp linen of the pillow, but he barely notices for his mind is on Fafnir.  It was not yet late enough to worry, but it was so unlike him to be gone for so long.  His absence leaves not only an empty space in their bed, but an empty ache inside the dour stonemason that is both unfamiliar and unwelcome.

The night air is cool, the heat of the day long leeched from the cobblestones by the time Fafnir reaches out and tentatively touches the door of the inn.  His eyes still widen with wonder as the door disappears at the touch of his hand.  Still he stares, open mouthed, at the abundance found in Mithlond. He wanders in the day in their marketplace, making sparse purchases, but constantly amazed by the sheer volume of goods found here. Things taken for granted by elves and men -- like the docks, the warehouses, the methods of accounting the merchants use to tally their goods and give credit to buyers -- it boggles his imagination.

Inside elves and men crowd around the bar, the fireplace, and cram into seats upon the benches.  About him is an explosion of movement, speech, laughter, sight, sounds, and he blinks after the darkness of the night, clutching tightly a small box.  The elven maid who works the tavern at night rushes by him, both hands clasping mugs of frothy ale, though watery by dwarven standards.  She comes back past him and murmurs, her voice tinkling like many bells, making common speech a song of notes more exquisite than any voiced by birds."How did it go?"

...he blinks after the darkness of the night..

Fafnir stretches out the hand with the box, at which the maiden nods in approval. "He is expensive, but good in his craft," she says, stacking empty mugs upon the counter.

"But I...I," he whispers, suddenly more uncertain of this than any other point in his life. "But Ear-lay-wen," He tries to pronounce her elven name, but instead his tongue trips upon the vowels, and thickens upon the consonants.

"Up with you," She answers, taking his hand and plowing a way through sea of bodies until he is at the foot of the first set of stairs. "He waits." Then she turns and sails back into the press of customers.

Nasi feels his breath catch in his throat. Was that him?  He strains his ears to catch the timber of the voice he so desperately wants to hear, but another burst of loud laughter drowns any other sound.  The elves are more rowdy than usual tonight, abuzz with the excitement of the arrival of a Swanship in the harbor and rumors of a visiting elven King.  Nasi lets his eyes wander to the sleeping forms nearby.  Bigger than the dwarves, taller indeed than most of the local elves, they lay lost in their dreams.  He smiles a little to himself, wondering what the crowd below would do if they knew the object of their speculation lay snoring lightly just above their heads.  Maybe that's what Fafnir was doing, maybe he was down at the harbor gazing in awe at the Swanship?  Should he go search for him? By the Maker, anything would be better than lying here wondering.  Impatiently he pushes himself upright and swings his legs off the bed.

...anything would be better than...wondering.

A sudden burst of laughter makes Fafnir jump, his nerves jangling.  Hours he has spent, watching, fretting, chattering inanely as the elven craftsman -- at first with good humor and later with rising frustration and irritation--tried to both answer his questions and circumvent Fafrnir's many efforts to supervise. Finally, finally the product of all that time is in his hands, but his throat is dry and his body trembling as he mounts the stairs that leads to the sleeping quarters, the sounds of Aztryd's and Hjalmarr's snores more precise and consistent than any timepiece.

...he mounts the stairs...

Nasi hesitates on the edge of the bed, caught in indecision. A part of him, the new and strange part, wants to boldly dash out, sword at his hip, ready to protect if the need arise. Yet part of him, the older, more familiar part, wonders at his audacity. After the attack and on the road to Mithlond, Nasi had felt so sure, so sure of himself, so sure of Fafnir. But here, here in the elven city he felt less sure. Again he feels the outsider, the silent one on the fringes, watching the more witty take center stage. There is no doubt in his mind that Fafnir is definitely one of the witty. He has courtly manners. He has smooth words and a sharp mind. Is it really realistic to expect such a one to seek out the company of a tongue-tied stonemason? Uncertain of what to do, Nasi stares down at the floor and whispers a single word forlornly: "Fafnir."

Again he feels the outsider..

Slowly, Fafnir ascends, trying to peer up to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. Trying also to be quiet, lest he awakens the child, Nizl, who greets such interruption in its sleep  with a very loud and usually successful attempt to rob others of theirs.  He frowns as he reaches the top.  Although far from knowledgeable about babes, he felt a strange concern for the child's well-being, and he recalls seeing other children Nizl's age off the teat and walking.  Has her travels and travails marred Aztryd's child, the youngest of their group?  His musing leads him to step upon the board that creaks loudest.  The child awakes and with a thin wail, alerting everyone to Fafnir's presence.  He sighs, waiting for the curses sure to be heaped upon his head.

He sighs...

Nasi's head shoots up at the creaking floorboard and the accompanying wail from the babe.  Lost in his doubts he had not heard the quiet footfalls upon the stairs.  "Fafnir!" His name is but a whisper upon an intake of breath.  Again the war continues inside him. Should he run to him and scoop him in his arms? What if he has stayed away just to avoid such a thing, embarrassed to be so claimed?  Held by the bounds of his uncertainty, Nasi resorts to an old and familiar habit of simply waiting and watching.

'Fafnir!'

A snore is cut off in mid aspiration, and across the room, a person lifts themselves off the cot enough to whisper hope-filled curses upon the future of the young dwarf's manhood.  No hope for it now. Even the dwarf mother is awake as the shift on her cot tells him, and he can feel her stare as he crosses the room quickly.  "He is waiting," the elven barmaid had said. Is he?  And how will he greet Fafnir after his absence of hours.

Fafnir strides up to the bed he shares with the stonemason, his legs weak and trembly.  Nasi is sitting there, silent on the bed, waiting for Fafnir, clothed only in his small clothes. As Fafnir takes in the fine play of muscle and sinew in the other dwarf, the sleek, soft dark hair, shiny even in this darkened room, the curve of the lips, the taut, well exercised body, he feels giddy with the realization of how much Nasi means to him.  Even now, after what he has endured, even now to have  the powerful, shy and capable stonemason as friend, as lover, and as companion, it is a headiness that causes him to sit down heavily beside Nasi.

...the realisation of how much Nasi means to him.

 Nasi sits as still as the stone that is his craft as he watches Fafnir make his way across the room to him.  The dim wails of Nizl, the soft muttered curses of the others fade to nothing for here at last, safe, is Fafnir.  Is he still "his" Fafnir though, or have the wonders and glamor of the city stolen him away? His ebony eyes take in the short hair, standing in tufts and spikes where it had been cut after the dragon attack, giving him a young and vulnerable look despite his well-trimmed beard and stylish attire.  He takes in, too, the tall, and to him, elegant build of the other dwarf, and his heart hammers a little as he settles so close beside him.  Nasi knows some of the ambitions and desires that live within this tall, far-from-ordinary dwarf. He knows the things, too, that could lead this one into trouble if he is not careful.

Nasi turns a little and regards Fafnir silently for a long moment and as he does so his doubts fall away, and his resolve settles.  He has stood and faced a dragon.  He is not about to let this one go easily.  With a swift and strong movement, Nasi snakes an arm around Fafnir to drag him back onto the bed with him and gives a half growl. "My Fafnir keeps me waiting alone in bed, does he?  Methinks there should be a price to pay for that!"

Nasi...regards Fafnir silently...

Fafnir nearly drops the box clutched so tightly in his hand as Nasi wraps his arms around him and drags him down.  He gives a surprised gasp, and when another voice shouts at Nasi to be quiet, Fafnir struggles up to one elbow to  growl back, "You old goat, go milk your mother and be quiet yourself!", which earns him a few more complaints but also a few guffaws.

Turning to face the stonemason, he presses a forefinger against the other's lips until the room grows quiet again.  Looking around, the faint light shows a few more of the beds occupied, but he cares not.  Now, in the hush of the room, he presses closer to the stone mason and nestles against the warm, firm body, positioning his lips to mere inches from Nasi's ear. "So, my Handsome has missed me?" he asks, his voice both playful and at the same time uncertain.

"So, my Handsome has missed me?"

Nasi's lips curl into a small smile beneath the bush of his mustache as he listens to Fafnir give as good as he got with the curses.  His arms curl around him, drawing him closer, and he feels the chill of the night air upon the clothes that press against his bare chest. His breath is warm against his ear as he leans close to whisper to him.  Nasi's entire being is vibrantly aware of the other, yet he holds it in check.  Away so long unexplained, and now he returns full of cheek?  He leans close, his lips almost brushing Fafnir's ear as he gives his reply. "I fretted about you. I wondered about you. I worried about you.  I came to be alone, without you.  Aye, I missed you."  His strong white teeth suddenly close upon the tender flesh of Fafnir's ear as he nips it sharply, "But did my Fafnir, gadding about out so late, miss me?"

'But did my Fafnir...miss me?'

The stuffing of the bed rustles, overloud in the now quiet room as Fafnir jumps and trembles at the nip.  He catches his breath, words failing, thought failing.  He who was so ready with speech, struck dumb in the warm and firm embrace of this dwarf who is both part of him and a mystery, one he did not know a mere two moons ago.  He tries to clear his mind, for above all Fafnir loathes to admit himself without ready retort.  But there is none, here, in the circle of strong arms.  So he settles for kicking off his boots, and letting them drop to the floor, the sound drawing sighs and grunts throughout the room.  At some point the baby has grown silent, too, and there the sounds of someone -- presumably Nizl's mother-- settling back in bed.

He leans in and whispers as a hand goes up to touch the wavy hair. "I gad poorly without you," he answers now. "I think I shall never gad properly without my Handsome beside me."

"I gad poorly without you."

Nasi gives a small snort. "Yet you have managed it quite well without me until recently, and clearly did so again today."  He pauses a moment, hesitant to give voice, and thus life, to his doubts.  Never one to speak overly much, still he has never held back when he thought words must be said.  Dropping his eyes to stare at the stitching on Fafnir's jerkin his whisper is hoarse as he continues. "Fafnir..."  He stops and swallows before trying again. "Fafnir, have you ever thought that.. that maybe what we feel is not real and lasting?  That maybe what has grown between us is just a thing born of our shared tragedy? That perhaps, the further removed we are from those events, the further we might drift apart? "

'...maybe what we feel is not real and lasting?'

Not lasting.  The words cause Fafnir's blood to chill, and for a moment, he tenses. The arms, so warm and welcoming a moment before are still encircled about him, but it feels like a chasm has opened.  Not lasting.  He feels his breath catch. Is this the stonemason's way of hinting to Fafnir to not count upon this relationship as more than of the moment?  His head spins, and the room grows that much colder for the young dwarf.

Fool, fool, fool! screams Fafnir's doubts.  All this effort, all these nights enlisting the barmaid's help finding the finest craftsman, of her teaching him in secret, the right words to say to bend the craftsman to take on the commission and produce such workmanship as Fafnir's eyes teared to gaze upon the beauty. Fool to think this handsome dwarf could want such a...a...he swallows...a perversion such as Fafnir.

The box, once feeling so small, feels as big as the chasm that is opening up for the young dwarf.  He pulls away and drops the hand that was caressing Nasi.  "Is that what you behold, Nasi?" he asks, his voice sounding distant in his ears.  "Nothing more than a dalliance while we wait for some aged elf to come take us some place beyond that sea out there?"  He drops his gaze and pulls away a bit more. "I am no one's casual toy."

"I am no one's casual toy."

Nasi feels the sudden tension in Fafnir's body.  His eyes are shrewd as he watches the emotions behind his words play across Fafnir's face.  He slips a hand down to Fafnir's waist, holding him firmly in place as he tries to pull away and his tone brooks no argument as he whispers, "You are no one's casual toy? Then do not behave as one.  You cling to my side during our journey, yet once we reach the city you spend your time whispering with elven maids and then today vanish without a word of explanation."

He stops and sighs, loosening his grip on the other, and his voice is gentler when he continues. "Fafnir, MY Fafnir, I am older than you, sweet love.  I.. I have seen how it is with the young, how they are slow to settle and often change their mind.  This dour old dwarf who holds you has been accused of being as stubborn and solid as the rock he works with, and he is.  I know my heart, and I know it will not change.  It is yours for the having, so long as you will have it, but.. but you must not feel bad if that is no longer what you want now we are in the city, and the danger has passed."  His voice drops to a mere whispering of breath as he continues. "I.. I will understand."

'...I have seen how it is with the young..'

Fafnir hovers between the desire to press closer and the urge to stumble from the bed.  An anger at Nasi's first words sweeps over him, and the palm in which rests the box grows sweaty. A pounding in his ears drowns out the sudden burst of laughter down below them, and the discordance between the  emotions he is feeling and the laughter is almost more than he can bear.

But Nasi does not let him go, though the hold upon Fafnir relaxes. Once Nasi has finished speaking, Fafnir takes several breaths to steady himself.  "So, tell me," he says with some heat, "Whose gabber have I been pressed against all these nights?  Where are the children of your children? Do you dye the hoarfrost of your beard with black walnut to hide the passage of your years?"  He pauses, and a small part of his mind screams at him to stop, but the weight of the box  also screams out, too.  "Tonight I am slow to come to this bed...this bed, I thought, was ours. I thought was becoming ours, and what thoughts whip through your mind?  I seek to gain a little knowledge from a kindly maid, and what do you make of the exchange?"  He struggles to sit up.

He opens his hand and extends it between the two of them. "I asked the barmaid to help me find the finest craftsman in Mithlond.  Do you remember the stories of Gimili, the noble dwarf who saved the hobbits and the elves by being one of the ones who helped destroyed some..."he stops a moment... "something she called a ring of power?" He swallows and plows on, not stopping. To stop means he may not be able to finish.  "So..so, it seems to me that a ring of power, real power, doesn't destroy people. It ...binds them."  The hand holding the box shakes slightly. "I had her teach me how to write a phrase in elven.  It is hard, all those curly letters. And I went to the craftsman's shop today to commission him this. But it was intricate, and I made some of the letters backwards.. and...and..." He stops and pushes his hand a little more toward Nasi. "Take it, please. It's for you."

Nasi listens to the rush of words and smiles a little to himself at the heat of them.  Slowly though the heat dies, and as Fafnir opens his palm, revealing a small velvet covered box, his words take on a nervous uncertainty.  Curiously he listens as the other babbles through the tale of Gimli's adventures and the words continue to tumble forth until finally they end with, "It's for you."

Nasi's eyes move from the delicate box he offers to stare into Fafnir's amber eyes.  This isn't the Fafnir he shows to the rest of the world, the assured, glib, courtier.  This is the Fafnir he knows, the one who stood by him as together they faced a dragon.  This is the Fafnir who has whispered to him in the dead of night his fears and uncertainties, his dreams and most of all, his heart.

Nasi looks down again at the box, proffered on a hand that shakes with the intensity of the other's emotion. "For me?" he asks as he lifts a hand and gently takes it, handling it as though it were something infinitely fragile.  His fingers feel the cunningly hidden hinge and he triggers the mechanism that opens the lid.  Inside, nestled on a bed of more velvet lies a ring.  His own hand shaking now, as Fafnir's words "It.. binds them." echo through his head: he lifts the ring from the box, and as he does so, notices an inscription inside the band.

'It...binds them.'

Nasi sets the box aside and props himself up on his elbow so he can turn the ring to the meager light, the better to read the words written upon it.  He murmurs them aloud: "The greatest power in this world would be my love for you and my Nasi's love for me." The last few words were read through a blur and he swallows hard before looking up at Fafnir, heart hammering, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "This is for me?  You.. you said it binds them.  You .. you would bind yourself to me?"

Fafnir nods softly as his eyes find Nasi's in the darkness.  "I don't have my father's wedding band nor my mother's gold beard wedding bands.  They ...they are lost." He reaches out and takes the ring from Nasi's hand, unable to meet the other's gaze, now. "I am no one's casual toy,"  he says, reaching out and taking Nasi's hand, slipping the ring on the proper finger. "But I could be your Fafnir, for all time, even when we are done with this life. We," he pauses, his eyes drawn to the band of gold on Nasi's hand. " We can be each other's.  That ...that Old-way, he is an Elder, of sorts, and so is Adelsteinn. Why can't we say the words once we are there, in that land beyond the sea.  It's not Gamilfun, but it will be our new home, and in it, we could be each other's home."

Nasi feels a tight knot in his chest, a knot that rises to this throat making speech impossible.  The tears that had glistened unshed now trail unashamed down the cheeks of the once dour stone mason.  How this young dwarf has touched him, reached into the very core of him and settled himself there.  His eyes follow Fafnir's movements as he places the ring upon his finger, and he nods slowly as he stares at it resting bright and gleaming upon his dark skin.  "It.. it is beautiful," he whispers hoarsely and then more strongly as he lifts that hand to cup Fafnir's face. "My Fafnir.  I.. I want that. I want you to always be my Fafnir. "  He drops his hand to slide it around the other's waist and once more draws him down next to him. "We.. we can say the words once we are there, in that strange new land, but.. but you hold my heart, my Fafnir.  In your arms, I am already home."

'...in your arms, I am already home.'