Is a "sword" a euphuism? (BL)

"It's too silent," I said. Shouldn't there be a whooshing sound?

It had been some time, and I did get two new sets of memories inserted in my head, but I still remembered that sound. It was one of my favorite series.

"Do you recognize it?" Archer sharply asked. He had already projected his favorite pair of swords.

Shouldn't he recognize it too?

Then I took a moment to review Rin's, the Magus not the Elf, memories and found that either there was no Doctor Who there or I just didn't watch that World's version.

So maybe Archer didn't know about it.

"It's not native to this World. I could sense the disturbance."

This was both the truth and an excellent excuse. Perhaps I should have come clean to him, but it was easier to lie.

We both kept a wary watch on the intruding item. But as time passed nothing happened, the door of the police box didn't open, it didn't begin to move or vanish.

It was hard to keep alert when there was no evident danger. And I felt quite safe with Archer beside me.

My thoughts began to wander. I mean, what the fuck would Doctor be doing here. This was a universe filled with magic. Or was it?

I mean if we took local magic as a branch of science that came from the interaction of two widely different parallel planes of existence, one of matter and one of spirit, and take all of Ainur as outsiders to the universe that primarily inhabited spiritual plane while within the universe...

Wait, if I remembered right Shire was supposed to be past Britain. So that Rift in Cardiff. Perhaps Old Forest?

"Use the key," Archer interrupted my wandering thoughts.

"What?" I asked. 

"It appeared when you said, and I quote: I really want to find out what this key unlocks," he replied. I could almost see sarcastic air quotes. He would have so done it with his fingers if his hands were not being occupied by white and black falchions. "So use that key on it."

"Right. But first," I said and went to the pile of items he had brought. I first took the cloak and shifted it into the amulet form.

Briefly conceding with it found that it was full of magical energy. I assumed that like me, it had been recharged when we switched Worlds. 

I put it on. Then I picked up my sword.

I could feel the vibration, and more, as I grasped the hilt. Seeking clarity, I shifted it to the form of the device I made from theomechanical diode.

I left the occult tome alone for now. I would need to examine it more before I could safely use it. 

"At least now I know it works," I muttered, observing the dials on the device. 

I really should have built a screen on it, but I was short on material. And it was not as if the display of the device mattered.

The device itself was an amplifier, like a magnifying glass just not for vision but for the sense that I gained as part of Sorcery. Or perhaps a better analogy would antenna? 

Practitioners of magecraft could sense contractions of magical energy. It was not a spell, though spells that helped with sharpening that sense existed. Rather it was a side effect of using magical energy.

In the same fashion as a side effect of my Sorcery, I could sense disturbances in space-time.

Turning the dial, I attuned more to the specific - well, the closest word would be frequency, but that was not quite correct.

Now I could sense more of the unnatural nature of the police box. "This is disturbing," I said, frowning, and took a second Elven sword from the pile. "Here, take this."

"I already have two. Where would I put a third? In my mouth?" Archer asked.

I already knew what kind of "sword" I would like to put into his mouth, but now was not the time to be distracted.

"What if we run into something resistant to magecraft?" I asked.

"Very well," he said, then chanted a brief aria. "Trace On."

With a telltale glow, a scabbard manifested and was attached to his belt.

"Put it in," he said with a suggestive tone.

I chuckled and did what he said. I guess that was one way to ease the tension.

After that, sword gripped firmly in my right hand and the mysterious key in my left, I advanced toward the police box with deliberate caution. Now I was getting more used to it, I could use an amplifier even in sword form, although I couldn't change the settings.

As I reached the box, the key slid into the lock with an almost predestined ease. A gentle turn, and the door creaked open, inviting me into its secrets.

Peering inside, I braced for the familiar sight I had pieced together from fragmented memories and half-remembered images: a control console, a towering central pillar, an array of buttons and screens, and the odd chair strewn haphazardly. This was the moment of truth, where expectation met reality.

Reality as it often did, declined that meeting. 

Instead, an immense expanse of white stretched before me, bisected by a slender, towering black pillar. The pillar, soaring like a skyscraper yet as fine as a needle, was composed of a uniform black material so deep it seemed to devour the surrounding whiteness.

The white itself was disconcerting in its purity — it resembled natural light, soothing yet overly pristine, as if too perfect for this world.

I nearly dropped the sword from nausea.

Looking at it with bare eyes was bad enough, but I could sense the very fabric of spacetime.

It was not supposed to be twisted like that.

Curvature was neither uniform nor constant.

If I could measure in numbers, I was sure that some would verge into complex ones, and some would be numbers that no human nor elven mathematics ever described. 

Yet, it wasn't wholly unpleasant. In some strange way, it was almost familiar. Like I had come home at last. 

That made it even more disturbing.

The white space seemed vast, but how true that was I couldn't say. Space was just too twisted. And there was something more about that white light. Like a hidden secret that was just at the edge of understanding, It wasn't unpleasant, just strange.

"Well it's bigger on the inside," I couldn't resist saying that, even if it wasn't quite true. The door was a portal that led somewhere else. A small adjunct World, that did not conform to the laws of a larger one. "Much bigger"

"You don't say," Archer commented, startling me. I didn't know why.

Perhaps I was too distracted by sight? Instinctively I turned my head and was captivated by the sight of him.

His long pretty red hair framed his face, some of spilled in the front. As my eyes were drawn to follow it, one thing I was still getting used to was that Elves had a sexual attraction to hair of all things, I noticed a small jeweled pendant reflecting this strange light, on his neck. Now we matched. I didn't know that he liked jewelry. Perhaps that was the Fano influence.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts then turned back to the pillar and marched towards it, Acher following me.

With each step, the pillar seemed to shrink and widen, finally standing only as tall as the average coffee table.

The walk felt surprisingly short; though it was hard to judge distance here, it seemed only a few meters. Standing beside the pillar now, I observed five doors: the one we emerged from and four others, each of varying size. Having been deceived once by this place, I was cautious not to trust my eyes too readily again.

Studying the pillar more closely, I realized it was actually a small podium. Upon it rested two items: a second key and a keyhole.

I picked up the key, examining it. It was a mirror image of the one I already held.

"Should I try it?" I asked, nodding towards the keyhole.

"What else is there to do?" Archer replied, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"We could explore the doors," I suggested.

"Let's deal with this first," he decided.

"Ready for whatever this does?" I asked, seeking affirmation.

"Go ahead," he said, a note of readiness in his tone.

I inserted the key into the keyhole and turned it.

"Disengaging primary access door to Host Reality," announced a soft, genderless voice from an indiscernible source. The door we had entered through closed abruptly. "Seeking alternate access points. None found. Reconnecting to the only recorded access point."

The door swung open again, revealing the unchanged Workshop beyond.

"Who's there?" Archer demanded sharply.

Silence followed.

"Identify yourself," I suggested, though I wasn't convinced it would be effective. It might have been just an automated message.

"Central Command," the voice replied, its tone immense yet neutral.

"What is Central Command?" Archer probed.

No response came.

"What is Central Command?" I echoed his question.

"Information not available," the voice, or Central, responded.

"Why haven't you answered his questions?" I inquired.

"Query could not be parsed. Please rephrase."

"Why did Central Command refuse to answer my companion's questions?"

"The guest lacks authorization," it replied succinctly.

"How can we grant him authorization?"

"Spare Keys are used to register secondary users. Current inventory holds... one Spare Key."

"Is this the spare key?" I asked, holding up the key I had taken from the podium.

"Yes."

I handed the key to Archer. "Try now."

"Secondary user registered," Central announced.

"Now you ask something," I suggested, curious to see if it would respond to him.

He nodded, then asked, "Is there any danger here?"

Central's reply was prompt but not entirely reassuring. "No intruders detected. No autonomous dangerous objects in the inventory."

Interesting. It didn't say there was no danger, just listed and discarded two possible sources of peril. Was I overthinking things? This was also the second time it mentioned inventory.

I shifted the sword back to my amplifier and noted that Archer had dismissed his swords.

"List inventory," I commanded. Since it mostly sounded like some sort of operating system I decided to treat it that way and avoid any ambiguity in my speech.

"Two camp uniforms, one Bible, one Ainulindalë, one canteen/cell phone, one jacket, twelve sirens, one complete seed and seedling package."

Apart from two items, everything listed by Central Command was already in our possession. The Ainulindalë, known as the Song of the Ainur, was an elven religious text describing the creation of Ea. The other unfamiliar item was the seed and seedling package.

"What's behind this door?" I heard Archer inquire, drawing my attention. He had moved to one of the doors. Despite the apparent distance, his voice sounded as if he were only a few meters away.

"Anchor point to the Host Reality," Central Command responded.

Archer methodically repeated his question for the remaining doors. One led to a greenhouse, another to the main storage area, and the last to cleaning supplies.

The mention of a greenhouse seemed to align with the purpose of the seed and seedling package.

Observing him traverse the space, approaching each door in turn while I remained near the podium, I began to piece together a mental map of the room's layout. My perception of space, aided by the strange dimensions of the room, led me to a conclusion.

The room was significantly smaller than its initial appearance suggested. I estimated that it spanned no more than thirty square meters, though the exact height remained elusive, beyond my capacity to gauge.

We went to the main storage area next. It looked like a typical industrial warehouse, only designed by Escher with lighting done by Lovecraft.

The twisting walkway and stairs, ringed with mostly empty shelves, spreading in all three, and probably more, dimensions. 

And worse were the shadows. The light and whiteness of the previous room banished all shadows from it. Not so here.

The shadows here looked less like an absence of light, and more like holes in existence. 

It almost made me nauseous just looking at it.

"How are you feeling?" I asked Archer.

"Why do you ask?"

"I think prolonged exposure to this place may have some unfortunate side effects."

"Headache, nausea, vertigo," he listed symptoms. He was worse than me then.

"We should limit our exposure then." 

We stayed just enough for me to pick a book, the Ainulindalë. Central Command was kind enough to lead me to it.

And then we exited it.

The police box remained in my workshop.

I left Archer at the house and headed to the forge to continue working on his wedding ring. It was a bit overdue, supposed to be ready before our matrimony was consummated, but as they say, better late than never.

Upon entering the smithy, I transformed my amulet into its radio form. In the previous world, 109.8 FM was the channel that hosted God. Here, it played only music.

The music was reminiscent of a classical orchestra, yet it flowed as one continuous piece. Despite certain sections sounding familiar, there was no repetition. It was unique and endlessly evolving.

I always enjoyed having music as my companion while working. Though my preference leaned towards the harsher tones of Death Metal, classical music held a special place in my heart.

The ring was nearly complete. The design and casting were done; it only needed a bit more hammering and then some engraving. Unlike swordsmithing, this didn't require an anvil. Instead, I used a metal pole equipped with a finger-like extension, specifically designed for ring-making.

I rummaged through the storage for the necessary tools. Rings weren't commonly fashioned, except for weddings, due to their unfortunate historical associations.

The design was a simple gold band, unadorned with stones, following the Noldor tradition for wedding rings.

This brought to mind the One Ring's design. Sauron had spent considerable time among the Eldar of Eregion, predominantly Noldor, and must have been familiar with their customs. Perhaps he chose a wedding ring's likeness for concealment or, more symbolically, as a metaphor for his binding commitment to tyranny.

Engraving should be something meaningful. Eldar used engraving to strengthen their enchantments, whether it was just a name or a short poem. It was also the reason why most famous swords, and other weapons, had a name. It helped with visualization, since the process of enactment was partly mental. 

As I stuck the ring with a hammer, I fell in rhythm with the music.

I thought about what to carve on the ring while I formed it.

The only thing that came to my mind were additional verses I used to summon him. After all, that was how we came to be bound together.

Once I wrote it in TengwarI saw that it was a bit too long to properly engrave on a ring. So I decided to shorten it a bit.

Ar sina ni ormo iluvátar, ar sina ni eruanno iluvátar,

o i yesse ana tyelde, acsa napella coivar faire

Two rows were just the right size.

I carved the words and soon the ring was finished. Those words helped shape the final enchantment. I just now had to wait for Archer to acquire his own and we could exchange them.

Then I moved to commissioned work. In this World, I had a paying job. It was mostly repair work on arms and armor, although that was also a big order for arrowheads.

I suppose the War for the Ring was slowly approaching, and even in this refuge, we needed to be armed.

I worked until midday, then returned home. Archer had prepared lunch, and we ate together in comfortable companionship. Afterward, I resumed my work in the workshop.

The first thing I did was to set up a simple alarm Bounded Field, using the rope made of female Magi hair around the police box. There was one in my Workshop. I knew better than to ask how and from whom had it been acquired. 

I should have done that immediately after we left, but I guess I forgot. 

Then I began to experiment with enhancements for imbuing the gems with the ability to accumulate other types of energy save for visible light.

The enchantments for visible light were something Feanor had solved ages ago. And though his greatest work was never repeated, Elves had since perfected the craft.

As it was seen from lamps in my home. Since it was experimental work, I began with cheap gems. Even with some rocks I just picked near the river.

I also prepared one of the gems, a ruby, using standard methods. I wanted to have some security while I figured out how to combine magecraft and elven enchantments.

Then I put most of my magical energy into the gem.

Luckily there was another source. While Archer had been my Servant I had routinely transferred most of my reserves of magical energy to him. It was time for him to pay me back.

So I went to look for him.

It would be fun to be on the other side of the prana transfer ritual.

He wasn't in the first place I looked, the kitchen.

In truth, he wasn't anywhere in the house. I guess he had things to do outside.

I wasn't in the mood to look all over Imladris for him, and neither for going back to the workshop. So I just turned the radio on and waited for him to come back home.

That music was so relaxing. But in end, I was a bit tired, so I turned the radio off. There was a nice sofa in the entrance hall. Just the right place for a quick nap. 

"I am home," Archer woke me up. That sounded kind of weird in Sindarin. It was nice that he considered this his home. I knew that Fano had another home in this valley, but Archer stayed here. 

"So you are," I said, stretching "Welcome back. I have been waiting for you."

For a moment he looked a bit surprised. Like he didn't expect me to be there. Did he say that every time he entered? I suppose some habits carried over. I saw that he was still weakening scabbard with the sword. He was very good with his brand of Gradation Air.

"You have? Why?" His hand went to gently touch the hilt of the sword as he asked that. As if he was reassuring himself that it was there.

"Well I am a little short on Od," I said slyly, walking provocatively towards him. "Could I have some of yours?"

"Always," he replied, visibly relaxing. 

I moved to kneel, inform him and open his breaches.

In truth, I was skilled enough with transfer rituals to take what I need with just a simple kiss.

But where would be fun in that? 

Now revealed Archer's penis started out soft and squishy and kinda fleshy and then after I gave it some well-placed licks on the tip and then some more around the head his cock waked up and began to swell and throb with every lick and suck.

Soon it was completely erect.

I moved to the balls then.

Gently, but not too gently, I wrapped a thumb and index finger around his balls to pull them away from his body and then ran my tongue in a circle.

I alternated between that and shaft until I felt his cock expanding in size in my mouth, it began to throb and then stiffened and jets of creamy semen filled my oral cavity. The words were not the only thing that could be used to initiate a spell. Gestures, like in this case swallowing, could also be used.

As I devoured his tasty cum, I also began to take his magical energy.

Intellectually I knew that his reserves were much larger than mine, even with my Magic Crest included, but it was quite another to regain my full capacity, while barely putting a dent in his. Well, there were many reasons why dragons were considered apex Phantasmal Species, but possession of Magical Core was chief of them.

And now he had one. 

"I could help with that?" He was referring to an erection tenting my pants. I didn't even notice I was standing. Too distracted.

"No."

"No?"

"No, I am going pour all this energy into a gem I prepared. Then we going to repeat the process. Several times. And when I have drained you sufficiently, only then I am going to push against the nearest wall fuck you raw."

By the third time, I stripped naked. Moving all that magical energy through my circuits generated a lot of heat, and I had become a bit feverish. 

By the fifth, both my magical circuits and jaw felt pretty sore, and my dick was very impatient, so ended my little harvesting operation. By fucking him up the wall, with my slime familiar acting as a condom. It needed to eat too.

So much of my promise to drain him completely dry. I took less than half of his reserver.

Maybe a fourth of is if I was being generous.

Since I was still feeling a bit hot, I went to soak until it was time for the evening meal.

After dinner, I sat and read the book I had taken from that eldritch storage space.

Music of Ainur. It recorded the creation of Ea from the very beginning In Timeless Halls.

In a way, it was like the Bible, if the Bible was also a science text. Because, for example, when it describes how stars were sung into being there was a definite explanation of fusion. Very poetic, but I think accurate enough to design an H-bomb. 

And more, it often explained how Ainur had affected Seen, by action in Unseen. Much of it would be impossible for any Elf to perform, but I could see how the enchantments mirrored those actions.

Like that Gideon Bible I received at that Jesus camp It came with clear indexing and tables of contents, along with extensive annotations, errata, cross-comparisons, footnotes, and version histories.

Like a correction that said the Sun had been here before Arda and that the Moon rather than being a product of the fruit of Two Trees was created when Morgoth had reaped a piece of Arda to create a flying fortress.

I guess in this case the Moon was a battle station. Fortunatly now abandoned. 

There was one more thing. I also found pamphlets with Aratar, including Morlgoth, paired with frequencies.

I shared the pamphlet with Archer.

We had time to try only two that night: Manwe, which turned out to be mostly news and weather forecast, and Aule's station that more to my liking.

It had mostly talk shows about crafting and building. And music. Both of them had music. Although very different ones.

Songs that came from Manwe's station were light and airy with just a hint of storms, while those originating in Aule's were deep likes caves and rumbling like an avalanche.

I resisted the temptation to listen to Morgoth station. For now.

The next day, I woke up a bit late.

I had strange dreams. I dreamt of a sunken spiral city. It seemed deserted but I could feel something waiting within. And then it shifted, or just my perspective shifted and saw that it was the underwater ruins of a great fortress with the bones of a great dragon spread over broken towers. I dreamt of amorphous figures larger than suns, playing strange, yet beautiful melodies on enormous flutes, and then the largest of them somehow had an electric guitar and started to play 'Fallen Angel of Doom' by Blaspheme.

While I would not quite say that they were nightmares, dreams were a bit unpleasant. The excellent breakfast Archer made helped restore my equilibrium, but from his looks, I could see that he also had bad dreams. Not that had any influence on the food he made.

Perhaps we should further limit exploration of… Whatever that thing in my workshop was. But it wasn't as if leaving it alone was a good option.

Immediately after breakfast, Archer brought both of our swords and one picnic basket and dragged me out to the forest for training. This time he also brought their scabbards with them.

We never did that before, mainly because I never used swords before. I had used either magecraft or martial arts. Now that I knew how to use a sword I suppose that he was interested in us training together.

Combat training was always useful. And I was a bit too busy these last few days so it was good to find things we could do together.

He seemed in some rush, as we traveled the forest path. Also, a bit preoccupied. Must be those dreams

I, on the other hand, enjoyed the sounds of the nearby river. And the sight of the forest in the morning. It made the memory of last night's dreams even fainter. 

We soon reached a sunlit glade, perfect in size and terrain for our training – a flat expanse of soft green grass. Ideal for a session of swordplay.

To my surprise there was an Elf already in the glade, his long golden hair swaying in the morning breeze was a nice glade, but the population was not so dense that I expected to find anyone at a random spot in the forest.

What's more, I recognized the Elf, not only was he one of the notables of Imladris, but I was also personally acquainted with him.

Well truth to be told, I knew every Elf on sight in Imladris. Not that there were that many of them.

Probably.

Maybe.

Well at least most...

Some of them.

I was bad at remembering names and faces.

But this was Glorfindel, one of the mightiest Elves of Middle-earth. His face looked the same age as Archer's and mine, but he was in truth ancient. A being of Elder Days. Old enough to have personally seen the Light of Two Trees.

I could almost see marks of such radiance left on him. There was if I needed to put it in words, a depth to him. 

We exchanged customary greetings. 

"We have come to this glade to practice with our blades. But we could look for another place if you are using this one," I politely offered. But I was hoping that we could practice here, and that he would stay. And perhaps if he was in a good mood he would give us some pointers.

"I see." Elf lord nodded, then spoke to my companion, "So you didn't tell him."

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Archer answered. There was something in his voice. I was just not sure what. He sounded a bit sulky.

"I see." What did Glorfindel see? He packed a lot of meaning into that word, but they kind of went over my head.

I was not upset. That was a nice surprise. I don't how Archer arranged it, and frankly, I didn't really care.

"Then I will be your opponent," Glorfindel then said to both of us, and then commanded, "Draw your swords."

He drew his own in a flash, his golden hair fanning behind. One moment he was standing almost peacefully, and next, he had his sword drawn, ready for combat. I didn't even blink and I still missed it.

I had faced Servants that were faster, but not many. And none that moved with elegant beauty. 

I shrugged and drew my own sword. Although I didn't plan this, such opportunities to cross swords with Balrog Slayer didn't come often. Especially friendly bout.

I wasn't concerned about using live blades for this exercise. Glorfindel was old and skilled enough to make assessments about our relative skills.

I expected to lose. Especially since I would be using only my sword skills. I assumed that Archer would do the same. But even if we used all of our powers, the hope of victory would faint. Glorfindel had slain Balrogs.

But to abandon all hope was also to abandon all fear.

So I stuck first. There was no point in waiting. I didn't expect to be able to see any true openings in the older Elf guard, but I could make one for Archer by striking first. The Reverse was unlikely to be true. Archer was a much better swordsman.

It was a faint hope.

His parry was so strong I almost lost the sword. But when our swords touched I felt something.

No time to think about it. For Archer dashed and slashed his sword, his beautiful red fanning behind him. He tried to use the opening I made, but the golden-haired Elf was just too fast.

But still, my partner distracted older Elf, allowing me to recover and strike again. This time I went low, trying to hit our opponent's legs.

He jumped over it, using at the same time his sword to parry Archger's second strike, while still in the air. Using the momentum from the Archer's strike he flew over me.

Archer and I nearly collided, but we were used to fighting together, so we received quickly and stood side by side facing a formidable foe.

There was little need for words between us. I went left and he right, trying to flank Glorfindel.

It went as well as our previous attempt.

The Elf-lord was still just defending. Things changed abruptly when he went on the offensive.

It was just so fast. His sword moved like lightning and in a moment I was on my back, my sword on the grass a bit away.

I could just watch them fight. It was a beautiful sight, but alone Archer didn't last long. But much longer then expected, especially since he didn't use any magecraft.

But now on the ground, I had time to remember something.

When he stuck at my sword I could feel something, and I could almost see something, like a sheet of light over Glorfindel.

My musing was inputted by a flying sword. Archer was disarmed too.

"Pick your swords up," he briskly commanded. And we started fighting again. "And Rin, stop lazing about."

We tried again.

And again.

And one more time.

But each time we crossed swords I could almost sense a depth to Glorfindel like he existed in more than three dimensions. Could it be that Unseen counted as an adjunct World for my Sorcery?

We fought until neither Archer nor I could fight anymore. On the other hand, Glorfindel looked disturbingly fresh. 

So where two flopped on grass like fish out of water, Glorfindel delivered a scathing commentary about our skill. I was "unimaginative", and Archer was "suicidal".

Either the exclusion was more mental than physical or the Elves recovered quicker because soon Archer went and bought the picnic basket and began to take out food, drink, glasses, and plates. The food consisted of delicious bread and some cold roast, for drinks we had chilled fruity wine.

We ate a meal on the grass.

"Those two swords, you made them?" Glorfindel asked me while drinking wine. He seemed in a much better mood. Archers' food did have that sort of effect.

"Yes, they are my work," I confirmed after swallowing a piece of roast. Delicious.

"Did you name them?" He asked.

"No, it seems pretentious," I replied.

"You should. Those are too fine blades to remain nameless. You have crafted finer work than you know. Do give them a name before our next session."

"Next session? So we are not hopeless, after all?" Archer interjected, mulling over his own glass of wine.

"I have trained worse. You were right." Glorfindel replied to him and then continued to speak to both of us. "You two are much stronger together. I sense that events are in motion, and soon you two may have a part to play."

"Then we better be ready," Archer said.

"So young," Glorfindel muttered more to himself, when he looked I could age his eyes, no matter his youthful face. Although he smiled there was deep sorrow in it. "Future ever remains unknown, even to those with great foresight. No one can say that ready for an event until it has passed. Perhaps skill with arms would be to use to you in what is come, and perhaps not. All paths may lead to ill, and from an unsuspected source may good fortune come. But still, I offer you some instructions. Come or nor as you will."