For tackerama: (Dis)Chord (Olórin/Curumo [Gandalf/Saruman], R)
Title: (Dis)Chord
Author: Galadriel (caras_galadhon)
Pairing: Olórin/Curumo [Gandalf/Saruman]
Rating: R
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: I have a vivid fantasy life, but I do not pretend to be JRR Tolkien, nor do I pretend to own his characters.
Summary: Before the beginning of the world, the Maiar existed without form in the Timeless Halls.
Notes: Written for tackerama for lotr_sesa. Mitzi asked for a number of interesting pairings, but the one that really caught my eye was Saruman/Gandalf, "maybe as young Maiar before coming to Middle-earth." She also said she enjoyed first time fic, and I thought to myself, "What's more of a first time than before the beginning of the world?" I hope this is to your tastes, Mitzi! Hyvää Joulua! Much love and many thanks to both savageseraph and empy for acting as springboards and impromptu betas for this little tale.
(Dis)Chord
By Galadriel
Form and figure were such fluid things, as new to the Maiar as the Music had once been. Yet set outside of time as they were, only distantly aware of the shifting and shaping of things, of continents rising and falling, tides tugging and waves curling, everything was at once new and old. Everything simply was as it had always been because there was no time before the Timeless Halls, and thus no way to count or quantify, mark and note any change, however large or small.
But time and change mattered little to Olórin, as his most toilsome task in this time before time was to ride the wind, flicker through the stars, borne aloft by the breath of his lord, hung high amongst the jewels of his lady. When there was time, there would be time to coalesce like smoke, grey and white billows blown together and wrapped with starlight, firm and solid and set to earth to serve his masters' unknowable will.
For the moment, for all moments, he was content to coil close to Manwë, to breathe small, smoky rings of knowledge across his ear, to inhale his wisdom and grow a little larger on such seductive sapience. He was happiest settled next to Varda, stunned by the sparks that brought her light to darkness, painting the skies over Taniquetil silver and white, beckoning all of Arda to look up, look up and behold.
Yet as sated as he was on his service, his fellow Maiar still sang to him, never more than a chord away. Curumo whispered to him from the nooks and crannies of the world, spoke of metal and rock and solidity, things that could be moulded and manipulated, forged for the most pleasing outcome, the best effect that would most benefit its shaper.
And it was Curumo's voice that tugged most strongly at him, tempting him down from Taniquetil, bringing him low amongst Aulë's realm. They mingled there, half-in, half-out of body; and it was there that Curumo stole Olórin's breath, left him speechless, beyond the reach of even the words of the wise; there that Curumo conducted his first lesson; there that he first showed Olórin what it was to want.
Curumo gifted as often as he withheld, twined tightly around Olórin, gentle teasing by hands and mouths formed only to stroke spirit into flesh before fading, promises made but never quite kept. Curumo was quicksilver, his shifting form sliding, capturing Olórin for the space of an exhale before letting him go, his gliding touch trailing tails not unlike a comet across the sky. He sparked white, violet, indigo and blue, a seductive dance of a thousand colours, worn well enough to block out all thought of the rest of the Ainur until Arda narrowed down to a pinpoint: Curumo and Olórin, spirits besotted by flesh.
It was their first time, their last time, their every time, suspended beyond the reach of all but the notes and metres that measured their breaths, their bodies, their spirits.
Curumo wore all colours of the carnal, of bone and sinew hewn out of iron and stone, far removed from the airy incorporealness of his brothers and sisters, and he wielded the lusty earth with all the skill best suited to Aulë's Chosen. It was all Olórin could do to use the wiles of the air, brushes of wing and claw, skin and nail to draw each promise closer to its climax, meeting denial with hope.
They were well-matched, Earth and Air, the ripples of one ruffling the surface of the other. Yet taught by the Smith himself, Curumo knew how to hammer and hone desire to its sharpest peak. When Olórin tumbled, it was to the ground, all lightness fled. He drew Curumo to himself, promising to regain the heavens when they coupled once again.
When there was time, there would be time for consequences and explanations; but here in the Halls that stretched from infinite depths to immortal heights there was nothing but the Song, each chord and discord flowing one from the other in an unending dance.
END
(December 2008)
Mythological References:
Author: Galadriel (caras_galadhon)
Pairing: Olórin/Curumo [Gandalf/Saruman]
Rating: R
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: I have a vivid fantasy life, but I do not pretend to be JRR Tolkien, nor do I pretend to own his characters.
Summary: Before the beginning of the world, the Maiar existed without form in the Timeless Halls.
Notes: Written for tackerama for lotr_sesa. Mitzi asked for a number of interesting pairings, but the one that really caught my eye was Saruman/Gandalf, "maybe as young Maiar before coming to Middle-earth." She also said she enjoyed first time fic, and I thought to myself, "What's more of a first time than before the beginning of the world?" I hope this is to your tastes, Mitzi! Hyvää Joulua! Much love and many thanks to both savageseraph and empy for acting as springboards and impromptu betas for this little tale.
(Dis)Chord
By Galadriel
Form and figure were such fluid things, as new to the Maiar as the Music had once been. Yet set outside of time as they were, only distantly aware of the shifting and shaping of things, of continents rising and falling, tides tugging and waves curling, everything was at once new and old. Everything simply was as it had always been because there was no time before the Timeless Halls, and thus no way to count or quantify, mark and note any change, however large or small.
But time and change mattered little to Olórin, as his most toilsome task in this time before time was to ride the wind, flicker through the stars, borne aloft by the breath of his lord, hung high amongst the jewels of his lady. When there was time, there would be time to coalesce like smoke, grey and white billows blown together and wrapped with starlight, firm and solid and set to earth to serve his masters' unknowable will.
For the moment, for all moments, he was content to coil close to Manwë, to breathe small, smoky rings of knowledge across his ear, to inhale his wisdom and grow a little larger on such seductive sapience. He was happiest settled next to Varda, stunned by the sparks that brought her light to darkness, painting the skies over Taniquetil silver and white, beckoning all of Arda to look up, look up and behold.
Yet as sated as he was on his service, his fellow Maiar still sang to him, never more than a chord away. Curumo whispered to him from the nooks and crannies of the world, spoke of metal and rock and solidity, things that could be moulded and manipulated, forged for the most pleasing outcome, the best effect that would most benefit its shaper.
And it was Curumo's voice that tugged most strongly at him, tempting him down from Taniquetil, bringing him low amongst Aulë's realm. They mingled there, half-in, half-out of body; and it was there that Curumo stole Olórin's breath, left him speechless, beyond the reach of even the words of the wise; there that Curumo conducted his first lesson; there that he first showed Olórin what it was to want.
Curumo gifted as often as he withheld, twined tightly around Olórin, gentle teasing by hands and mouths formed only to stroke spirit into flesh before fading, promises made but never quite kept. Curumo was quicksilver, his shifting form sliding, capturing Olórin for the space of an exhale before letting him go, his gliding touch trailing tails not unlike a comet across the sky. He sparked white, violet, indigo and blue, a seductive dance of a thousand colours, worn well enough to block out all thought of the rest of the Ainur until Arda narrowed down to a pinpoint: Curumo and Olórin, spirits besotted by flesh.
It was their first time, their last time, their every time, suspended beyond the reach of all but the notes and metres that measured their breaths, their bodies, their spirits.
Curumo wore all colours of the carnal, of bone and sinew hewn out of iron and stone, far removed from the airy incorporealness of his brothers and sisters, and he wielded the lusty earth with all the skill best suited to Aulë's Chosen. It was all Olórin could do to use the wiles of the air, brushes of wing and claw, skin and nail to draw each promise closer to its climax, meeting denial with hope.
They were well-matched, Earth and Air, the ripples of one ruffling the surface of the other. Yet taught by the Smith himself, Curumo knew how to hammer and hone desire to its sharpest peak. When Olórin tumbled, it was to the ground, all lightness fled. He drew Curumo to himself, promising to regain the heavens when they coupled once again.
When there was time, there would be time for consequences and explanations; but here in the Halls that stretched from infinite depths to immortal heights there was nothing but the Song, each chord and discord flowing one from the other in an unending dance.
END
(December 2008)
Mythological References:
- Maiar: Spirits of Arda, and followers of the more powerful Valar (the fourteen spirits appointed by Eru, the creator of the world, to bring order to Middle-earth). There were many Maiar, and each was attached to a Vala and that Vala's People.
Music of Ainur: The song of creation that began before the beginning of the world.
Timeless Halls: The birthplace of the song of creation, and the dwelling of both the Valar and Maiar before they came to Middle-earth. The Timeless Halls exist outside of the universe.
Olórin: The name of the Maia that would become Gandalf. He was attached to both Manwë and Varda and their people, the Elves.
Manwë: The King of Arda and the spouse of Varda, Manwë is the most powerful of all Valar. He commands the air and all the winds of the world.
Varda: The Queen of the Stars and the spouse of Manwë, as the title suggests, she placed the stars in the sky. Varda is concerned with the creation of light in its myriad forms.
Taniqueti: The mountain upon which Manweë and Varda make their home.
Arda: The world and everything in it.
Curumo: The name of the Maia that would become Saruman. He was attached to Aulë and his people, the Dwarves.
Aulë: Known as the Smith, Aulë is the Valar's primary inventor and builder. He is strongly associated with metal and rock.
Ainur: Eru's spirits who helped him in the task of creation through the Great Music.