Mithrandos had not taken more than a dozen steps into the Hall of Records yet when Samus, the Warden of the Records, was already approaching him. “Lord Captain, we have heard of the Guardians’ great victory at the southern borders!” he exclaimed, beaming. “A most excellent achievement! You must give Kandaar a first-hand account of the battle so he can illustrate it properly for the archives…” He paused when he saw Mithrandos’ face.

“Captain?”

“Kandaar,” Mithrandos said. “Have you seen him, Milord Keeper?”

The bewildered expression still on his face, Samus nodded. “He arrived not long ago, seemingly in a hurry, for he went straight to the backroom archives.” Suddenly the Keeper’s eyebrows drew together. “Is something wrong? Has he displeased you in any way? If he did, I shall…”

“No, not at all,” Mithrandos said quickly, eyes already traveling towards the far side of the room. He stepped around the portly Warden. “But I must speak to him privately, Milord, of matters that cannot wait. Please excuse me.” He gave a curt bow and stalked off in the direction of the storage alcove, the curious glances of the Keeper of the Records following him.

He was about to step over the threshold of the storage room when he saw Kandaar. Half-concealed by shadows, the scribe was leaning against a tall scrollcase, shoulders slumped, staring at the ground as if contemplating which spell would be best used to make the earth open up and swallow him.

He looked miserable and the sight made Mithrandos' heart ache. He took another step and Kandaar apparently sensed his presence that same moment. His head shot up and grey locked with green.

"Milord!"

“Quite some time ago I told you that my friends call me Mithrandos,” the blond warrior said softly as he slowly came closer. “Do you now not consider me your friend anymore?”

“Mil...Mithrandos, please!” Kandaar all but cried. “How can you consider me your friend still, after what I did? I crossed a sacred line! But you were so close and so…so…”

Kandaar hung his head, the last word trailing off into a low mumble, but Mithrandos heard it nevertheless. “…beautiful.”

Heart hammering in his throat, Mithrandos stared at the other Guardian. So it was true! Kandaar did feel the same way!

He took another step forward and cupped Kandaar’s chin, gently turning his face upwards until those dark eyes reluctantly settled on him. “Did I say I minded?”

"I..."

"For I did not." Mithrandos’ gaze bore into Kandaar. “Please. Speak to me of what is in your heart, I beg you.”

Kandaar let out a shuddering breath, the look in his eyes every ounce as miserable as when Mithrandos first found him in here. “How can I, Mithrandos?” he all but whispered. “If I did, things would be revealed that would surely anger you and would put an end to our friendship. A friendship I value above all else.”

“I shall not be angry, I give you my word,” Mithrandos reassured him and the urge to wrap his arms around the despondent young man suddenly hit him with startling force. He fought against the desire, though, and instead settled for grasping his shoulder with a gentle grip.

Kandaar closed his eyes briefly at the contact and seemed to slightly lean into the touch. Yet his face remained closed off as he muttered, "The kiss...it was untimely, if naught else."

Mithrandos did not miss a beat. “After almost three seasons of being in each other's presence near daily, I would not call it untimely."

Kandaar's eyes cast were downward once again and he watched his hands clench and unclench while he whispered, “You were not meant to know…Please think not ill of me for my lack of control, Mithrandos.”

Mithrandos couldn’t help but smile. “And here I was hoping you would not think ill of me for my lack of response.” And with a quick, silent prayer to the spirits of Ithrandar, he spoke what was in his heart. “For if you had not been quicker, it would have been me kissing you.”

Kandaar blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“Yes,” Mithrandos said, his steady gaze on Kandaar’s face. “It is true, I would have. I would like it still, if you will have me.”

Kandaar's eyes went round. "If I will have you?" he exclaimed incredulously. "Milord, you give me a gift I do not deserve. A dream I did not dare dream..."

Before he could ramble on, Mithrandos silenced him with a kiss of his own, long and deep this time. He gently parted Kandaar’s lips with his tongue and promptly, a tremor ran through the scribe. The quiver sent a spike of desire through Mithrandos and he wrapped an arm around the slightly shorter man’s waist to pull him close. Kandaar’s hand came around his neck, shaky fingers combing through his hair and his soft, full lips pressed against Mithrandos’ with quickly growing passion. A groan tore lose from his throat when their tongues touched and in response, a wave of heat and pleasure washed over Mithrandos.

Eventually they had to part to breathe. Panting, they gazed into each other’s eyes until Kandaar whispered, “Your eyes...All those seasons of your slumber I have always wondered what color they were.”

"Then I hope you were not too displeased," Mithrandos said with a hint of a smile.

“I love them,” was the scribe’s reply. “Just as I...love you.”

Mithrandos' heart rate suddenly seemed to triple. "Kandaar..."

"No, I must speak," Kandaar injected quickly. "You asked for what was in my heart, so now the truth shall finally be revealed."

Kandaar paused and swallowed once before he spoke again. "You have had my love for many seasons, Mithrandos son of Angaroth. Since long before you awoke from your sleep.

“Forgive me for my boldness, but please, you must understand: Like most novices I came to this temple at an early age and I grew up here with the knowledge that in the uppermost chamber of the Guardian Tower lay two legends; one famous, one infamous. And any time I wanted to I could climb the stairway to visit the sarcophagus. I cannot tell you how many times I did just that – but it was never the Dark Sorcerer I would gaze upon.”

Kandaar did not need to elaborate any further, for Mithrandos understood. A warm feeling rushed through him and he pulled the dark-haired Guardian into a hug as the full impact of just how long Kandaar must have harbored feelings for him hit him. Kandaar stepped into the embrace more than willingly, tightening his own hold around Mithrandos’ waist and for a moment the two Guardians simply stood holding each other.

“I shall hope against hope that it is not only the legend you love,” the captain said quietly and Kandaar shook his head with a vehemence that startled the blond warrior.

“No, no. That I know! I have read countless legends, have committed many to memory, and never have I loved any of the heroes within. Admired, yes! But loved?" Kandaar's voice had fallen to a whisper. "No. Never until now."

Mithrandos touched his hand to the artist’s curls. "I may be considered a legend by others, but I am but a man, Kandaar," he said and Kandaar surprised him by taking his hand in his. The Guardian’s smoke-colored eyes were on him; intent, unblinking, honest.

“Once, my heart may have beaten for Lord Mithrandos, legendary captain of the Guardians of the Seventh Era while he still lay in charmed slumber, but for quite some time now it has beaten for Mithrandos, fellow Guardian and friend,” he said. “So you see that it is the man whom I love.”

Mithrandos stood, stunned into speechlessness by this simple and honest declaration.

Kandaar reached out and gingerly touched Mithrandos’ cheek. “Forgive my frank words, but...if you were a stable hand, I would feel no different.”

Mithrandos cocked his head. "Horses like me not, nor I them."

They looked at each other, then grinned, wholly unguarded for once, and this time it was Kandaar who closed the distance between them. Mithrandos’ heart skipped a beat when he felt the scribe’s tongue against his lips, bolder now, demanding entry – a demand to which the captain gladly yielded.

Bodies pressed together, the heat between them rising by the moment, they stood in the middle of the small records storage room, clinging to each other with a growing desperation as time ceased to hold meaning.

When their mouths parted again, Kandaar’s eyes remained closed. Mithrandos saw him swallow, then take a breath and when his eyes opened, that grey gaze was direct and unflinching.

“Take me to your bed, Mithrandos.”

Mithrandos’ heart swelled at those softly spoken words. He gazed into Kandaar’s upturned face and saw all the love he held for the young Guardian mirrored in Kandaar’s eyes.

“Only if you will stay,” he whispered back hoarsely. “Tonight and every night that follows.”

Kandaar kissed him once more. “I would like nothing more.”

Mithrandos’ smile was beatific as he took Kandaar’s hand and led him from the Hall of Scrolls.

---

He awoke to the feeling of a warm hand on his back, gentle fingers tracing along the edges of the scar and Mithrandos had to restrain himself not to flinch. Then Kandaar's voice was by his ear.

"The scar...does it pain you still?"

The whispered words held no trace of repulsion, but of course Kandaar had known about the infamous scar for a long time; he was a keeper of the scrolls, after all.

Mithrandos turned his head, but otherwise stayed in his position on his stomach. He gazed into the eyes of his new lover and saw only curiosity and affection there.

"No," he murmured back. "These days it is more of a bother than a pain."

"Maybe one day you will tell me about it?"

"Surely you know all about it. It is in the scrolls."

"That it is. But it only tells of the agony of your body. It says naught about the shadow on your heart. The one that is still there and connected to this wound, so clear to see for me.”

At that, Mithrandos stiffened yet did not deny his companion’s words; weariness came over him, a mental fatigue that suddenly made it clear to him just how tired he was of hiding his secret.

‘Maybe it would be for the best to speak of it, to finally get the real story off my chest…’

Mithrandos could not help but suck in his breath when suddenly a mouth replaced the hand on his back. He let Kandaar place a few gentle kisses along the scar before he turned over onto his back and brought his arms around the other Guardian, pulling him close enough to look into the face of the man he had grown to love over the past year.

“The shadow has lightened since my return,” he said softly. “And it has all but disappeared since you came into my life.”

Kandaar held his gaze, but grinned as Mithrandos reached up and playfully pulled on a brown curl that stubbornly kept on falling into the scribe’s face. Kandaar rolled his eyes. “My bane,” he sighed in mock exasperation and Mithrandos let out a chuckle.

“No, it is beautiful,” he said as he ran his hand through the rest of Kandaar’s shoulder-length curls. “It is you.”

The expression on the artist’s face was a stunning mixture of love, desire and poignant gratefulness and Mithrandos would have been happy to stare into that face for time unreckoned, but Kandaar lowered his head until their lips met.

They had done so much more than kissing last night and yet, each one of the scribe’s kisses lifted Mithrandos to heights he never wanted to come down from again. He dragged the kiss out as long as possible before he took Kandaar’s hand, kissed his palm, then placed it over his own thumping heart.

"You do not regret what happened this night past?" he asked carefully.

“Never.” Kandaar peered into Mithrandos’ eyes. “I am in your arms and would not change it for all the magic in Ithrandar. There I have woken from the most joyful night of my life - thanks to you." A kiss later he added. "And if the spirits - and you - are willing, it was but the first of countless such nights."

Mithrandos buried his face into Kandaar’s hair. “Oh, I am willing. No need to worry about that.”

He smiled; the past night was one he would never forget. They had made it to his room and were undressing each other even before the door had completely fallen shut. Mithrandos’ belt had for some reason resisted Kandaar’s efforts until the scribe made a noise of impatience and waved his hand before it. The belt simply disappeared and Mithrandos couldn’t help but laugh. “That was my nicest belt,” he chuckled. “You better bring it back later.”

“Mmmm,” was Kandaar’s muffled reply between kisses. “Later.”

They made short work of the rest of their uniforms and once naked, each man took a moment to take in the sight of the other’s body.

“Spirits, you are beautiful,” Kandaar said and Mithrandos smiled.

“Again, you are too fast for me, for I was going to say the same thing about you.” His smile turned impish. “What other things are you going to be fast about, I wonder?”

“From now on, nothing,” Kandaar gave back. “I want to cherish and savor all I see, touch and feel.”

And see, touch and feel was exactly what they did. From the moment Mithrandos pulled Kandaar down onto the mattress, their hands never left each other’s bodies. Kandaar was eager and passionate, but even all his enthusiasm could not fully cover for the scribe’s obvious inexperience. Mithrandos did not want to embarrass his new lover with probing questions of whether he was still untouched, so he simply took the lead, exploring Kandaar’s body and letting him explore in return; and although he ached with need, he did not hurry the other Guardian.

So they took their time, and by the time they finally found their releases in each other’s arms, the sun was setting in the western skies amidst brilliant colors of yellow, burnt orange and red, and Mithrandos thought that, apart from the man in his arms, there was no more beautiful a sight.

And this was how the new dawning day found them still in the captain’s bed with Kandaar’s gentle hands running along Mithrandos’ scar until the blond warrior pulled the scribe into his arms. He lifted his hand to Kandaar's brow and traced the outline of his lover's Guardian tattoo with a gentle finger, then touched it to the smile on those beautiful, full lips. A moment later he replaced his finger with his mouth and while still kissing, flipped Kandaar over until he was lying on top of him. When he finally pulled his head back, his long blond hair spilled over his shoulders like a veil, the ends touching Kandaar’s collar- and breast bone. The artist’s gaze was searing and he was panting slightly; whether that was from the lengthy kiss or in anticipation of things to come Mithrandos didn’t know – but he had every intention of making him pant much more. Kandaar's chest was lightly dusted with a feathering of hair that tickled Mithrandos' lips as he kissed his way down his lover’s torso.

Kandaar arched his back in pleasure, then gave a slight cry, his hand fisting into the bed sheet when Mithrandos’ mouth arrived between his thighs. Kandaar squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on breathing and the exquisite pleasure his love’s gentle ministrations evoked. He submitted himself wholly to Mithrandos’ lips and hands and sent a silent Thank You to whichever spirits had bestowed him with a gift so priceless.

---

It was only later, when they lay wrapped in each others arms once more, spent and pleasantly drowsy, that Kandaar broke the comfortable silence between them.

“You are still an enigma to me, Mithrandos son of Angaroth,” he whispered and moved his head to look at his lover. “I wonder - what is your tale? Your entire tale?”

Mithrandos’ eyes went towards the window. “It is a dark one and most parts are not for quill and paper.”

Kandaar’s brows furrowed just slightly. “You need not worry about that. I know when to write and draw, but I also know when just to listen."

Under his head, Mithrandos' chest rose and fell in a wordless sigh. Kandaar simply waited, following up on his promise to listen while Mithrandos continued to stare at the window, watching the sun ascend through the undraped opening.

In a little while they had to rise to get ready for their deployment to the countryside. There was no way of predicting how long they would have to stay out there or what – if any - dangers they would encounter. Potentially dangerous situations had so far never disquieted Mithrandos much, but now he had someone else to think of and to worry about and before they could leave this room to face the new day, there was now indeed something Mithrandos had to get off his chest.

His fingertips trailing lightly over the smooth skin of Kandaar’s back, he said, "If you still insist on going on patrol, then please allow me to stay close to you. We are not up against honorable warriors and the wounds of Cursed Blades carry grave dangers."

“Aye, I know,” Kandaar returned and Mithrandos had to give him credit for not so much as batting an eye at the sudden topic change. “And yes, we will stay close to each other; not because I fear for my well-being, but because I will be parted from you no more from now on.”

“I want you by my side as well,” Mithrandos said. “Always.”

Always.

And with a start Mithrandos realized that this was true indeed. He wanted, needed Kandaar in his life and if the Guardian scribe was the man he was destined to spend the rest of his seasons with, then now was as good a time as any to reveal to him the hidden tale between the lines of the lore of Mithrandos and the Dark Sorcerer.

Kandaar had every right to know the truth.

Mithrandos closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but it was really just to draw out the moment a bit longer. In his mind, the decision was already made. He fixed his lover with what he was certain must have been an imploring look.

"I ask you only to not judge in haste what you are about to hear, love.”

Kandaar just nodded and pillowed his head on his chest. Mithrandos tightened his arm around him and let his fingers stray through his companion's hair, playing with the strands of curls while he thought of the best way to begin his tale.

“You already know that in our Guardian-novice days, Luthien and I were friends. But what no one else ever knew was that we were much more than that…”

THE END