Brotherhood Chapter 12.
28 May 2009 08:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
curiouswombatHere is the next chapter of Brotherhood - special shout out to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sammywol - this is the one with the smut...
Previous chapters are Here.
Chapter Twelve.
Rating 15 - possibly a 17 - depends on your sensibilities...
5,550 words.
Beta'd, as usual, by S2C.
Chapter Twelve
“I did, however, learn ‘tithen’ and ‘maethor’… and wonder why your ‘cousins’ refer to you that way?”
Éomer was looking at her with a mildly curious expression, but Tindómë knew that he was actually more like a spider that thought it had her in the web.
‘Why do they call me tithen maethor? Think, Tindómë, think! Because I was carrying a short sword and was found in the middle of the Turok-han at the Black Gate is what you want to hear, but it’s not the answer I’m going to give you!’
She allowed herself time for a faint smile then answered, “Éomer, didn’t the Lady Éowyn have some name she used for you in your childhood?” She paused briefly, as he looked at her quizzically, but he didn’t answer.
“Some name that she thought right, or amusing, at the time? Elrohir coined that name for me, and the story behind it is his to share, not mine.”
‘Yay! Go me! How elven an answer is that, King person?’ she thought, whilst maintaining her outer calm.
“It is a much better nickname than any either Éowyn or my cousin ever gave to me,” he acknowledged, smiling again.
“As I understand you took your part in the fighting against the orcs, then it is certainly well earned, although,” he looked her quickly up and down, “as you are almost as tall as I am, I am not sure that ‘little’ seems appropriate.”
“I was not my full height when Elrohir first gave me the name,” she answered, honestly.
Before the conversation went any further, Orophin approached them.
“I will ask Álith to dance. She also has lives to celebrate even though her pain is new,” he said.
Éomer nodded in appreciation, but Tindómë stood, briefly, and spoke to him quietly in Sindarin.
“Take care not to give her the wrong impression, Orophin. She is younger than I was when you and Rumil found me…”
He nodded seriously. “All will be well in this dance, pendithen,” he said in Common, replying obliquely to what she actually said while giving the impression that her comment had related to his ability to cope with the Rohirric dance.
As the dance seemed to involve a lot of foot stamping, and little bodily contact, then he was right, either way, she thought. As he made his way across the dance floor past Elrohir, who now danced with Lady Wilflede, and Elladan, partnering another middle-aged lady, she thought again how exotic the ellyn looked.
“Pendithen?” Éomer’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“Little one,” she answered, ignoring the questioning look.
She was saved any further questions as Gimli approached.
“I don’t often dance,” he began, “but this has a good, dwarvish, rhythm to it. Are you coming, lass?”
“I would be most honoured, my Lord Gimli,” she answered him, trying not to grin as, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Éomer mouth “Lass?”
As the evening progressed she danced with Lord Erkenbrand, with Elladan (and told him of Éomer’s questions), and with a succession of Rohirrim men who seemed to be daring each other to ask her.
When one of the men held her much too closely and too tightly she wondered whether to push him away or just stamp on his foot until, just as she wished for a pair of Manolo Blahniks with very pointy heels, he suddenly let go of her and stepped back. She found herself held lightly and correctly by her new partner – Éomer – and whatever he said it made the man actually blush and gave Tindómë the impression that he might spend much of the rest of his life mucking out stables.
Éomer then steered her carefully through the rest of the dance before walking her back to Rumil.
“Your lady, Rumil,” he said.
“Thank you, Éomer,” Rumil said, and then continued in his careful Common. “Do you think that the man won his wager or lost it?”
Éomer stiffened slightly, and then relaxed and replied, “Whichever, Erkenbrand will ensure that he doesn’t keep a penny of it, nor will the others.”
Rumil looked to Tindómë for confirmation of what Éomer said, even though she was pretty sure he’d got the drift of it, and then spoke again to Éomer.
“All the money should go to the women we found. They need it. Tindómë needs it not.”
“It will be done,” Éomer said seriously. Then, less seriously, he went on “I see you have increased your Common vocabulary, Rumil.”
Turning to Tindómë he said “When we first met he knew ‘orcs’, ‘kill’, bow’, ‘arrow’ and ‘sword’. When we last saw each other in Minas Tirith he had expanded it a little to include ‘wine’ and…”
“Please take your hand off my knee, I prefer females!” Tindómë and Rumil chorused together.
……………………………………………………
Eventually many of the Rohirrim drifted off to their beds, or simply drifted off to sleep where they sat, the dwarves likewise; in the wee small hours Éomer, slightly the worse for wear, and the elven party made their way up the stairs. All five males ceremonially saw Tindómë through the door of the Queen’s room before proceeding along the passageway.
Tindómë chose to ignore the wink the King of Rohan gave her but knew that he was astute enough to realise that, unless she had a maid waiting up for her, someone was going to have to help her undress.
Within minutes the door between her room and the bathroom opened and Rumil entered.
Sounding very serious he said “We do not think that you will have bad dreams any more. But we have decided that, to be sure, someone should sleep in here with you as the bed in the King’s room might be just a little crowded with five in it.”
He closed the door carefully behind him and then continued, just as solemnly, “We have drawn lots, and I was the loser, therefore it falls on me to carry out this onerous task…”
Just as Tindómë was thinking ‘What the…?’ Rumil’s face suddenly broke out into a wide grin. He dodged the pillow thrown at him and caught it in one hand. When she saw that grin Tindómë felt, for the first time in a couple of weeks, as if everything in her world was suddenly good again.
“Come, meleth-nín, I will take you out of this dress. Elladan says that I should not join for at least one more night – but there is still much pleasure to be had simply being in your company! Tonight we have remembered the Galadhrim who fell, and we have remembered that we will be re-united with them in Valinor. But, for myself, I rejoiced that I am one of the forty who survived, and rejoiced even more that I am one of the seventeen who were uninjured, so that I was able to be at the Black Gate to find you!”
As he brought his mouth to hers Tindómë silently thanked Eru, and all the Valar, that Rumil had made it through the battle here, at Helm’s Deep, when the odds had been so stacked against him – and just as grateful that Orophin had too.
It was a warm night and they tossed the embroidered sheet and comforter down to the bottom of the bed – not as big as the King’s bed but plenty big enough for Her Majesty to entertain His Majesty on home turf if she wanted. Now that there were no more bandages covering Rumil’s abdomen Tindómë knelt on the bed beside him and, gently, ran her finger along the line of the wound.
He shivered. “It tickles, meleth!”
“Sorry…”
“It is a very nice tickle…”
She bent forward and gently ran her tongue along the red line instead. It felt slightly bumpy, but there was no feeling that it wasn’t proper muscle and skin – he really was almost healed.
Rumil shivered again – “Mmm…meleth… it is very… aah… sensitive…”
Tindómë lifted her head briefly and then dipped it back towards the very appendage he had been worried about when the injury occurred. As she reached her tongue out towards his naith it moved up, to meet her half way, and her hand caressed his shaft almost automatically.
A hand reached to stroke the curve of her ear and Rumil said, “I would be happy to just lie and watch over you as you sleep but, if you are not too sleepy and have not had too much wine …”
Tindómë lifted her head to look at his face but her hand remained where it was. She smiled slowly. “Mmm… pretty elf…”
She dipped her head back to lick the naith of the, now definitely erect, grondithen in her hand.
Fleetingly, as she swirled her tongue across the smooth hard flesh, it occurred to her again how elven she had become as she thought of Rumil’s ‘naith’, his ‘grondithen’, his ‘ceryn’ – the ‘mannish’ words like ‘head’, ‘dick’, ‘balls’, no longer came naturally.
“Melethril-nín, if you are awake enough to give pleasure you are awake enough to be given it – let us move a little, and use some of the Queen’s pillows…”
Soon Tindómë was positioned with her knees either side of his shoulders, her head still at his groin, but her huch now open to Rumil’s tongue and fingers where he was propped on pillows.
Rumil blew gently over the delicate flesh before running his tongue around her tuiw and within seconds they were moving in unison; her hands caressing his ceryn and moving rhythmically along his shaft; one of his hands reaching down to caress a breast the other moving inside her, curling to reach the most sensitive flesh, matching stroke for stroke.
Where the verb associated in colloquial English with orgasms is to come, in Sindarin it is to fly. Such ‘sounds of flight’ were not unusual in a community of buildings as open as the talans of Caras Galadhon. Sounds of take-off tonight were muffled as both participants mouths were occupied…
……………………………………………………………………
Back when she was Dawn, Tindómë had pored over old copies of Playgirl with her friend Janice. There had been letters and articles discussing ‘should you swallow?’ and it had seemed such a yucky idea, but unlikely to ever be her problem, as she couldn’t imagine ever putting her mouth anywhere near a boy’s private parts.
When she had realised, that first night on the flet, how natural it felt, the question of swallowing had still perplexed her. Rumil had said, though, that no question was silly if it was something that she wanted to know; he had happily answered, or demonstrated the answers to, her other queries and so, a few nights after that first one, she had asked him – did ellyn expect an elleth to swallow?
As he had promised he took the question seriously.
“It matters not, meleth-nín,” he answered, “the taste is not unpleasant,” he dipped a finger into the liquid in question, currently glistening on Tindómë’s fingers, and licked it. Then he dipped it in again and offered it to her. She tasted a tiny bit with the end of her tongue – slightly salty and… vaguely herbal? The latter wasn’t really surprising – many things associated with the Galadhrim had undertones of plants.
“But,” he continued, “it is the filling of the mouth which is strange. Sometimes the flood of fluid can feel as if it will choke you, and it is difficult to try and swallow with the naith still in your mouth. Then it is easier to open your mouth a little and let it run back down the outside of the shaft, or just let it run out of your mouth onto the bed or the grass. It does not belittle you as a lover to do that – to watch it dribble down a lover’s chin is sometimes amusing, but sometimes very erotic!
“It gives the desire to reach forward and,” he took a little more of his own semen from Tindómë’s fingers and dabbed it beside her mouth, “lick it up.”
He did just that, leading to a kiss, but then he pulled back and concluded, “It is best to keep it from your hair, though; it makes the strands stick together!”
She had taken the still sticky fingers of one hand to her mouth then, and licked it clean; he had done the same with the other one.
His answer had brought to mind something that she really wanted to know, but had not been quite able to ask, but no question was silly if it was something that she wanted to know, so…
“Rumil-nín, you speak about the feeling of the naith filling your mouth, and the liquid sometimes making you feel as if you are choking, as if it is from personal experience… Is it? I mean, have you? With another ellon?”
She held her breath in case this was a question too far, and he would be insulted, but no –
“Of course!”
‘Of course? He was gay? Just turning down the Rohirrim because they were men not ellyn?’
As the thoughts raced through her mind she realised that he was still speaking.
“On the fences we are mostly ellyn, we can be away from Caras Galadhon for a long time; sometimes it is more pleasant to share pleasure than to simply ease yourself. But, on the whole,” he switched from Sindarin to Common, “I prefer females!”
…………………………………………………..
In the Queen’s bed Tindómë remembered that conversation as she lifted her head, breathing still ragged, and swallowed.
“Best not to leave silver trails on Lothiriel Queen’s sheets,” she said, smiling.
“It might shock the maid,” Rumil agreed, moving her around so that they both lay with their heads at the same end of the bed, in the nest of cushions, his arm firmly around her.
“Now, meleth, lie here with me in silence and let your mind roam freely along pleasant paths.”
His lips touched her forehead gently, and she felt whole, and loved.
Now that she knew that Rumil was well again, and nothing that had happened had in any way unbalanced or disturbed her relationship with him, she let her mind roam as he had suggested; but with a purpose. She went back only one night and thought, in detail, about what had happened between her, Rumil and Orophin the night before.
…………………………………………………..
When she stiffened, as she understood just what it was that Rumil was suggesting, Orophin must have realised that she was shocked and he was willing to be alone rather than upset her.
It took a little time to convince him that she was happy to have him curled against her. Finally she used the version of his name that she had heard Rumil use.
“Phin… come closer…”
Orophin relaxed and she was once again in an ellyn sandwich.
Rumil shifted slightly so that he was turned towards her. Her leg was still up over his thigh and Orophin’s body now spooned in behind her. The extra couple of inches or so that she had grown in her first couple of years in Middle Earth made it all a perfect fit – her five foot ten to their six foot four or so worked very well! Her head rested back now on Orophin’s shoulder, rather than Rumil’s, and the soft hair at his groin brushed her buttocks where his bent legs fitted in against her.
She wanted to let him know that he really was wanted there, not just tolerated, and so she snuggled back against him. There was an immediate physical response down in that patch of hair – he might be emotionally drained but his body was obviously fully functional – and with her upper thigh bent up over Rumil’s…
Hmm, she could see how this thing would work all too easily. If she had any second thoughts this would be the time to take that leg down, press her own thighs tightly together and give a clear message of ‘cuddles but no further.’
But Rumil’s hand had slipped under her arm and behind her to hold Orophin into the embrace, Orophin’s arm had slid down her body to that upper thigh, and one elf was kissing her as the other made soft, almost wordless, sounds against her hair.
She hitched the leg more firmly up over Rumil.
……………………………………………..
In the King’s room Elladan lay, sprawled across the bed, half asleep. Orophin and Elrohir sat, in chairs drawn up under the window, in companionable silence.
Orophin let his eyes become unfocused and, just as he had relived the battle scene the evening before, now he remembered what had happened, here, last night.
He felt… disconnected. It was the point where Tindómë offered to go back to her own bed but Rumil asked her to stay.
They couldn’t send Tindómë back to her lonely bed to sleep alone – she had been so distressed the night before, and she must have been affected by the outpouring of their grief.
Had she not been here, had Rumil not been injured, then the brothers would have lain together; flesh to flesh, hands stroking, soothing each other, and slowly healing each other’s faer. Had Rumil been well then he could have healed the pain of himself and Tindómë. But, right now, all three needed comfort and Rumil could not lie flesh to flesh to give it, naturally, to either.
If they lay together, Orophin thought, as they had the night before but with Rumil in the middle – least able in body but strongest in faer just now – then Orophin and Tindómë would both be soothed by the contact with Rumil; it would suffice.
Except that Rumil had planted himself firmly at the edge of the bed and pulled Tindómë into the middle.
Then “Phin, come closer,” and Rumil had stretched out a hand to him.
That use of the intimate, elfling, name heard now only in times of deep need; Orophin reacted to it almost automatically by coming closer to Rumil and, therefore, skin to skin with Tindómë. He felt her warmth, her softness, and knew how Rumil planned that all three would be comforted when he said to Tindómë “Meleth-nín, I cannot… but you need… we all need…”
As Rumil kissed Tindómë, Orophin reached across her to put his hand to his brother’s skin, where he could reach it, and then Tindómë stiffened. Orophin could feel her body lose all its softness and relaxation; she understood and it distressed her.
Orophin did not know what he had done, months ago, to upset Tindómë but he had come back from the fences to find that there was a distance between him and her. He had thought, perhaps, to ask what he had done to lose the easy relationship they had shared; but decided that maybe she simply wanted Rumil to herself. He didn’t think it was common for an elleth to be uncomfortable with her lover’s family, but it might be different because Tindómë was ‘not quite an elf’. It had hurt but, not wanting to damage the growing bond between Tindómë and Rumil, whenever Tindómë was around Orophin had begun to stay a little apart.
Then, in the previous two days, the barrier had gone; as if Rumil’s injury had, in some way, brought his lover and his brother together. She had cared equally for them at the burial site, and her presence had been soothing, even though she had her own horrors to deal with.
But what Rumil had asked of her was too much for one so young; Orophin told his brother so as he pulled away. Rumil and Tindómë could lie together and each would be stronger for it. Orophin would leave them and go into the Queen’s room; he would look at the stars and draw comfort from them. Somehow he would face the ceremony to come – he was an elf and he would hold his back straight and be proud.
He wished, though, that he could lie against someone and feel the warmth of another hroar, the faint touch of another faer; but Rumil’s role now was to give that comfort to Tindómë.
Orophin moved the arm that crossed Tindómë; but she stopped him. He lay still, hardly breathing – perhaps this would be close enough. Then her body softened again and she moved closer to Rumil. Orophin prepared to leave the bed. Until he heard Tindómë’s voice, quiet but firm, “Phin… come closer.”
He was welcome. He moved back against her and felt her head relax against his shoulder as Rumil shifted slightly to tilt a little towards them. Gratefully Orophin fitted his body to hers as Rumil’s arm came across to lock them into a three way embrace. Tindómë shifted slightly, her hips wriggled a little deeper in the bed, and she fitted herself against Orophin exactly.
The way Rumil had lifted Tindómë’s leg over himself, giving as much skin to skin contact between the two as possible, had put her huch exactly where it now contacted Orophin’s cristhen. How many times, over the years, had the brothers lain like this, with an elleth between them? Rumil knew exactly the effect of that leg bent up over his thighs – he was making it wordlessly clear to his brother that he was happy for Orophin and Tindómë to join – that he wanted to be a part of it himself, even if he could not fully participate.
As Tindómë wriggled against him Orophin’s cristhen responded. Had he been more in control of himself he could have stopped it, but it meant that Tindómë must surely realise exactly how close their bodies now were! Almost of its own volition his hand stroked her thigh, gentling her like a young filly that might panic. Already this closeness was enough for him to begin to ‘feel’; to know, again, that he was alive.
And then she hitched her leg up, higher, over Rumil’s thigh…
They were like an intricate elflings’ puzzle of interlocking pieces; as they eased even closer in the embrace, Rumil tilted his head to kiss Tindómë. Orophin found his face buried in her hair; hair that smelled of the night outside, of the wood-smoke of the hall, of perfumed soap, and of Rumil. As dark and silver strands mingled, Orophin murmured words of thanks and love, of sorrow and joy, against Tindómë.
She wriggled against him again – in an elleth Orophin would have seen this as a clear invitation, but she was not quite an elleth and she was still so young, and with such a different background. Yet he was so close – his cristhen fully erect – the natural sheath for it only a hair’s breadth away.
He was about to ask her did she mean that invitation when Rumil broke off the kiss and murmured “Meleth, do you want? Phin will not, unless he knows that you want…”
Tindómë’s voice was very quiet, but determined.
“I… yes. I want. But only if you are sure… and Phin is sure.”
Rumil moved his hand so that he held Tindómë’s face. He turned it until she was looking directly into his eyes.
“Meleth – I am sure. I need also. And what you feel will fill me…”
…………………………………………………………
It hadn’t occurred to her until that moment! Rumil was totally a part of any love making here – the fact that her body was already beginning to react to the proximity of the two ellyn was not something she could hide from him… and he was gently encouraging her.
In one of Tindómë’s first ‘lessons’ about intimate relationships in Elven society Eriathwen had said that ‘elves never had sex without both, or all, agreeing.’
She had agreed to be where they were now but clearly, as she had realised before, the choice to do anything more was completely hers. She made her choice clear.
“Phin – yes.”
She almost lost track of whose hands were which – but someone held her hip whilst Orophin’s naith nuzzled into her, and then slowly he sheathed himself.
Her ‘bright, intelligent and enquiring mind’, to quote Lord Celeborn, focused for a few moments on whether it felt the same as, or different from, Rumil. Much the same; perhaps if she had it in her hands later she could say for sure…
‘Hey! This is meant to be about comfort, not sexual exploration! Whatever…’
All in the bed was stillness. Rumil held her face touching his, Orophin filled her but lay without moving, and hands and arms held all three locked together. The overwhelming emotion, as Tindómë opened herself to Rumil as much as she could, was calmness; calmness and love. The three bodies seemed to almost meld into one.
They lay like that for a long time. But the feeling of being physically filled, Rumil’s lips so close to hers, Orophin’s mouth in her hair, and his chest pressed against her back, was producing that familiar puddle of goo sensation in her lower belly. She leant forward and put her mouth to Rumil’s and a hand to his nipple where it peaked just above the top of his bandages. At the same time she squeezed gently with her internal muscles on Orophin’s grond, and then moved her hips a little.
Quite quickly the emotional atmosphere changed. There was a hand caressing her breast, another gently pressing over her mound, and Orophin began to move behind her. Someone nibbled her ear – it must be Orophin – Rumil’s mouth was on hers; the pressure on her tuiw, between the hand on her mound and the grond moving rhythmically inside her, was bringing her close to take-off point. Orophin was moaning, very quietly, he seemed to be even deeper inside her than before…
Her hand on Rumil’s nipple moved, without her conscious thought, over the bandaging to where his grond was also erect, and her thumb slid across the wetness of the naith…
She flew. If it had not been for Rumil’s mouth on hers it is likely that the guards outside would have been all too aware of the fact.
Then she felt Orophin arch against her back; his voice muffled by her hair.
…………………………………………………………
Orophin lay, cristhen sheathed in Tindómë, his face buried in her hair and Rumil’s hand on his shoulder, holding him into the embrace and confirming that all three were together. He could feel… he could feel. All the emotion he had poured out to leave himself empty was being replaced with love, warmth, and sensation.
There was not even any urge to move, to start the rhythmic climb towards orgasm, being welcomed into her body was enough to sooth his faer and make him whole again. Well – there was no urge to move until Tindómë clasped him with her inner muscles and moved her hips.
Now – now he wanted to feel that final, joyous, natural, surge of sensation. He looked over Tindómë’s head and his eyes met his brother’s. There was encouragement there and, yes, desire. Rumil had been right; this close to his ‘not quite betrothed’ her emotions were passed to Rumil through the song of their faers. Not something that had ever happened when they had made love to the same elleth before; but surely, like Tindómë herself, a gift from the Valar.
As the heat flared between them all three moved slightly; Rumil still almost flat to protect the stitched wound, but Tindómë now with a hand on his bare chest, her leg still over his thigh. Rumil’s hand went to her breast and Orophin’s moved from her thigh to press on her mound so that, as he began to thrust, her tuiw felt the movement too.
He was like a bird on a branch, wings flapping, ready to soar. He did not want the men to hear. He buried his mouth in Tindómë’s hair again. As she moved with him he knew she, too was close to taking flight, and then Rumil moved his hand to her head and held it firmly as he covered her mouth with his to muffle her cries. As Orophin felt her body tighten he arched against her and his faer leapt skywards behind her.
In the warm, sticky, contented, afterness, Orophin felt Tindómë move so that he slid from her. Still he almost expected dismissal until she twisted her head and kissed him, her hand coming down to cradle his ceryn in a gesture that said ‘I did not move to push you away but to more easily gather you in.’
Then Rumil’s broke the silence, “Yes! Now we… are… whole…”
His voice was quiet, his breathing slightly ragged, as if he too, was near the point of orgasm and he sounded…
…………………………………………………………………….
‘Triumphant!’ Tindómë thought, ‘He sounds positively triumphant.’
She broke the kiss with Orophin and looked at Rumil – that was a smirk – a definite smirk! M’kay, he had the right to say ‘I told you so…’ but even so! And yet… and yet she couldn’t be angry with him for that smirk. She felt loved and desirable, Orophin looked so – so Orophin, in a satiated way! He looked more relaxed and contented than he had since, well, probably since her own coming of age.
Rumil had a right to be triumphant but, from him, she could also feel love and… lust! Bandaged and stitched together he might be, and flat on his back, but he was most certainly turned on! She giggled slightly as she looked at the picture he made – all blond hair, white bandages – and erection.
Her hand on his grond (when had she done that?) began to move almost of its own volition. He gasped, quietly.
She looked back to Orophin and smiled, then moved to kneel beside Rumil – she was pretty sure an orgasm would put no more strain on his wound than the very hard erection was doing – she dipped her head towards it.
………………………………………
Orophin looked towards his brother and then, pointedly, at Tindómë, now pleasuring Rumil. Rumil’s eyes were slightly glazed with desire but he acknowledged the unspoken question with a small nod and a smile.
Orophin move behind Tindómë and brought his hands to her hips, moving her enough to allow him access. His hair brushed her back, and she shivered, automatically moving her legs a little as his hand moved between her thighs. He kissed down her spine, and then dipped his tongue lower…
………………………………………………
Finally they lay together, Tindómë’s head on Rumil’s shoulder, Orophin’s head on her breast, and slept.
…………………………………………………..
In the Queen’s bedroom Tindómë smiled. She had thought, clearly, about all that had happened in the King’s bed with Rumil and Orophin and it had not been weird, or porn-y, or yuck. It had certainly helped all three to regain their balance and it had been… loving, even with Orophin there too.
She couldn’t imagine how she would ever be able to explain it to a non-elf – the thought of trying to explain to Buffy, for example, was simply impossible. Somehow that confirmed to her, again, that this was where she belonged now. She snuggled closer to Rumil and smiled again.
His hand caressed her hair and his voice broke the silence.
“Are you whole now, meleth? Your faer was… bruised. Your nightmares were as if you thought you were unworthy of being loved.”
“How did you know what my nightmares were? Oh…”
“They were very strong emotions, meleth, and I was in a sleep from the poppy juice – it is the only time I have been caught on your dream-path and not able to take away your fears.”
“You have been on my dream-path before?”
“When we carried you to Minas Tirith, and whilst there, you had many, many nightmares – but I was not inside them, I could see from outside how bad they were, feel your fear inside me – then I would stroke your hair and sing to you of summer, and sunshine and the breeze in the leaves…”
“Oh…” she hugged him.
“You do not regret last night.” It was not a question.
“I was surprised to start with. But you were right – it did help us all – and it was… interesting.”
“Perhaps some time we might ask Orophin to share our pleasure again – when all of us are able… Maybe when we get home to Lorien…”
“Hmm…” actually it was not an unpleasant thought, as long as it wasn’t going to be a regular occurrence. “Sometime, maybe…”
………………………………………………
In the King’s bedroom Orophin smiled. He felt whole again. He was properly connected to Rumil again and knew that Tindómë would not push him away from his brother. He had said a final farewell, until they would meet in Valinor, to Haldir; there was no pain, now, when he thought of that brother.
Elladan had roused himself from the bed and brought wine over to the two in the window.
“Orophin,” he said seriously, “was anyone taking bets on who might be the first to join with Tindómë, apart from Rumil?”
“No!” Orophin was slightly shocked for a moment, “That would be…”
He stopped and smiled again. “That would be… fairly typically Galadhrim I suppose…! Why?”
“Because if anyone had money on ‘Orophin, with Rumil, in the King of Rohan’s bed’ he would be a very rich elf…”
……………………………………………………………………….
Odd Sindarin -
‘tithen’ - little
‘maethor’ - warrior.
Naith - head of an arrow, spear... or penis
Cristhen - short sword - elven slang for penis - Orophin's usual word
Grondithen - small club - elven slang for penis; also 'grond' - club.
Ceryn - balls
Huch - vulva
Tuiw - bud - elven slang for clitoris.
Meleth - love
Melethril - lover
nín - my/mine.
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The BtVS characters do not belong to me, but are used for amusement only. All rights remain the property of Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, and the original TV companies. The same is true of the LotR characters for whom all rights remain the property of the estate of JRR Tolkien and the companies responsible for the production of the films.
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If I've missed any of the Sindarin slang, either remind me, or use your imagination...!!
If you notice any typos in the sex scenes just say - my beta tends to skim through them! I say it's his age - he says it is because none of the participants have big boobs...
This could almost have been an end-point - except that I have a full plot line through Minas Tirith - so it is sort of the half-way mark.
sammywol - this is the one with the smut...Previous chapters are Here.
Chapter Twelve.
Rating 15 - possibly a 17 - depends on your sensibilities...
5,550 words.
Beta'd, as usual, by S2C.
“I did, however, learn ‘tithen’ and ‘maethor’… and wonder why your ‘cousins’ refer to you that way?”
Éomer was looking at her with a mildly curious expression, but Tindómë knew that he was actually more like a spider that thought it had her in the web.
‘Why do they call me tithen maethor? Think, Tindómë, think! Because I was carrying a short sword and was found in the middle of the Turok-han at the Black Gate is what you want to hear, but it’s not the answer I’m going to give you!’
She allowed herself time for a faint smile then answered, “Éomer, didn’t the Lady Éowyn have some name she used for you in your childhood?” She paused briefly, as he looked at her quizzically, but he didn’t answer.
“Some name that she thought right, or amusing, at the time? Elrohir coined that name for me, and the story behind it is his to share, not mine.”
‘Yay! Go me! How elven an answer is that, King person?’ she thought, whilst maintaining her outer calm.
“It is a much better nickname than any either Éowyn or my cousin ever gave to me,” he acknowledged, smiling again.
“As I understand you took your part in the fighting against the orcs, then it is certainly well earned, although,” he looked her quickly up and down, “as you are almost as tall as I am, I am not sure that ‘little’ seems appropriate.”
“I was not my full height when Elrohir first gave me the name,” she answered, honestly.
Before the conversation went any further, Orophin approached them.
“I will ask Álith to dance. She also has lives to celebrate even though her pain is new,” he said.
Éomer nodded in appreciation, but Tindómë stood, briefly, and spoke to him quietly in Sindarin.
“Take care not to give her the wrong impression, Orophin. She is younger than I was when you and Rumil found me…”
He nodded seriously. “All will be well in this dance, pendithen,” he said in Common, replying obliquely to what she actually said while giving the impression that her comment had related to his ability to cope with the Rohirric dance.
As the dance seemed to involve a lot of foot stamping, and little bodily contact, then he was right, either way, she thought. As he made his way across the dance floor past Elrohir, who now danced with Lady Wilflede, and Elladan, partnering another middle-aged lady, she thought again how exotic the ellyn looked.
“Pendithen?” Éomer’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“Little one,” she answered, ignoring the questioning look.
She was saved any further questions as Gimli approached.
“I don’t often dance,” he began, “but this has a good, dwarvish, rhythm to it. Are you coming, lass?”
“I would be most honoured, my Lord Gimli,” she answered him, trying not to grin as, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Éomer mouth “Lass?”
As the evening progressed she danced with Lord Erkenbrand, with Elladan (and told him of Éomer’s questions), and with a succession of Rohirrim men who seemed to be daring each other to ask her.
When one of the men held her much too closely and too tightly she wondered whether to push him away or just stamp on his foot until, just as she wished for a pair of Manolo Blahniks with very pointy heels, he suddenly let go of her and stepped back. She found herself held lightly and correctly by her new partner – Éomer – and whatever he said it made the man actually blush and gave Tindómë the impression that he might spend much of the rest of his life mucking out stables.
Éomer then steered her carefully through the rest of the dance before walking her back to Rumil.
“Your lady, Rumil,” he said.
“Thank you, Éomer,” Rumil said, and then continued in his careful Common. “Do you think that the man won his wager or lost it?”
Éomer stiffened slightly, and then relaxed and replied, “Whichever, Erkenbrand will ensure that he doesn’t keep a penny of it, nor will the others.”
Rumil looked to Tindómë for confirmation of what Éomer said, even though she was pretty sure he’d got the drift of it, and then spoke again to Éomer.
“All the money should go to the women we found. They need it. Tindómë needs it not.”
“It will be done,” Éomer said seriously. Then, less seriously, he went on “I see you have increased your Common vocabulary, Rumil.”
Turning to Tindómë he said “When we first met he knew ‘orcs’, ‘kill’, bow’, ‘arrow’ and ‘sword’. When we last saw each other in Minas Tirith he had expanded it a little to include ‘wine’ and…”
“Please take your hand off my knee, I prefer females!” Tindómë and Rumil chorused together.
……………………………………………………
Eventually many of the Rohirrim drifted off to their beds, or simply drifted off to sleep where they sat, the dwarves likewise; in the wee small hours Éomer, slightly the worse for wear, and the elven party made their way up the stairs. All five males ceremonially saw Tindómë through the door of the Queen’s room before proceeding along the passageway.
Tindómë chose to ignore the wink the King of Rohan gave her but knew that he was astute enough to realise that, unless she had a maid waiting up for her, someone was going to have to help her undress.
Within minutes the door between her room and the bathroom opened and Rumil entered.
Sounding very serious he said “We do not think that you will have bad dreams any more. But we have decided that, to be sure, someone should sleep in here with you as the bed in the King’s room might be just a little crowded with five in it.”
He closed the door carefully behind him and then continued, just as solemnly, “We have drawn lots, and I was the loser, therefore it falls on me to carry out this onerous task…”
Just as Tindómë was thinking ‘What the…?’ Rumil’s face suddenly broke out into a wide grin. He dodged the pillow thrown at him and caught it in one hand. When she saw that grin Tindómë felt, for the first time in a couple of weeks, as if everything in her world was suddenly good again.
“Come, meleth-nín, I will take you out of this dress. Elladan says that I should not join for at least one more night – but there is still much pleasure to be had simply being in your company! Tonight we have remembered the Galadhrim who fell, and we have remembered that we will be re-united with them in Valinor. But, for myself, I rejoiced that I am one of the forty who survived, and rejoiced even more that I am one of the seventeen who were uninjured, so that I was able to be at the Black Gate to find you!”
As he brought his mouth to hers Tindómë silently thanked Eru, and all the Valar, that Rumil had made it through the battle here, at Helm’s Deep, when the odds had been so stacked against him – and just as grateful that Orophin had too.
It was a warm night and they tossed the embroidered sheet and comforter down to the bottom of the bed – not as big as the King’s bed but plenty big enough for Her Majesty to entertain His Majesty on home turf if she wanted. Now that there were no more bandages covering Rumil’s abdomen Tindómë knelt on the bed beside him and, gently, ran her finger along the line of the wound.
He shivered. “It tickles, meleth!”
“Sorry…”
“It is a very nice tickle…”
She bent forward and gently ran her tongue along the red line instead. It felt slightly bumpy, but there was no feeling that it wasn’t proper muscle and skin – he really was almost healed.
Rumil shivered again – “Mmm…meleth… it is very… aah… sensitive…”
Tindómë lifted her head briefly and then dipped it back towards the very appendage he had been worried about when the injury occurred. As she reached her tongue out towards his naith it moved up, to meet her half way, and her hand caressed his shaft almost automatically.
A hand reached to stroke the curve of her ear and Rumil said, “I would be happy to just lie and watch over you as you sleep but, if you are not too sleepy and have not had too much wine …”
Tindómë lifted her head to look at his face but her hand remained where it was. She smiled slowly. “Mmm… pretty elf…”
She dipped her head back to lick the naith of the, now definitely erect, grondithen in her hand.
Fleetingly, as she swirled her tongue across the smooth hard flesh, it occurred to her again how elven she had become as she thought of Rumil’s ‘naith’, his ‘grondithen’, his ‘ceryn’ – the ‘mannish’ words like ‘head’, ‘dick’, ‘balls’, no longer came naturally.
“Melethril-nín, if you are awake enough to give pleasure you are awake enough to be given it – let us move a little, and use some of the Queen’s pillows…”
Soon Tindómë was positioned with her knees either side of his shoulders, her head still at his groin, but her huch now open to Rumil’s tongue and fingers where he was propped on pillows.
Rumil blew gently over the delicate flesh before running his tongue around her tuiw and within seconds they were moving in unison; her hands caressing his ceryn and moving rhythmically along his shaft; one of his hands reaching down to caress a breast the other moving inside her, curling to reach the most sensitive flesh, matching stroke for stroke.
Where the verb associated in colloquial English with orgasms is to come, in Sindarin it is to fly. Such ‘sounds of flight’ were not unusual in a community of buildings as open as the talans of Caras Galadhon. Sounds of take-off tonight were muffled as both participants mouths were occupied…
……………………………………………………………………
Back when she was Dawn, Tindómë had pored over old copies of Playgirl with her friend Janice. There had been letters and articles discussing ‘should you swallow?’ and it had seemed such a yucky idea, but unlikely to ever be her problem, as she couldn’t imagine ever putting her mouth anywhere near a boy’s private parts.
When she had realised, that first night on the flet, how natural it felt, the question of swallowing had still perplexed her. Rumil had said, though, that no question was silly if it was something that she wanted to know; he had happily answered, or demonstrated the answers to, her other queries and so, a few nights after that first one, she had asked him – did ellyn expect an elleth to swallow?
As he had promised he took the question seriously.
“It matters not, meleth-nín,” he answered, “the taste is not unpleasant,” he dipped a finger into the liquid in question, currently glistening on Tindómë’s fingers, and licked it. Then he dipped it in again and offered it to her. She tasted a tiny bit with the end of her tongue – slightly salty and… vaguely herbal? The latter wasn’t really surprising – many things associated with the Galadhrim had undertones of plants.
“But,” he continued, “it is the filling of the mouth which is strange. Sometimes the flood of fluid can feel as if it will choke you, and it is difficult to try and swallow with the naith still in your mouth. Then it is easier to open your mouth a little and let it run back down the outside of the shaft, or just let it run out of your mouth onto the bed or the grass. It does not belittle you as a lover to do that – to watch it dribble down a lover’s chin is sometimes amusing, but sometimes very erotic!
“It gives the desire to reach forward and,” he took a little more of his own semen from Tindómë’s fingers and dabbed it beside her mouth, “lick it up.”
He did just that, leading to a kiss, but then he pulled back and concluded, “It is best to keep it from your hair, though; it makes the strands stick together!”
She had taken the still sticky fingers of one hand to her mouth then, and licked it clean; he had done the same with the other one.
His answer had brought to mind something that she really wanted to know, but had not been quite able to ask, but no question was silly if it was something that she wanted to know, so…
“Rumil-nín, you speak about the feeling of the naith filling your mouth, and the liquid sometimes making you feel as if you are choking, as if it is from personal experience… Is it? I mean, have you? With another ellon?”
She held her breath in case this was a question too far, and he would be insulted, but no –
“Of course!”
‘Of course? He was gay? Just turning down the Rohirrim because they were men not ellyn?’
As the thoughts raced through her mind she realised that he was still speaking.
“On the fences we are mostly ellyn, we can be away from Caras Galadhon for a long time; sometimes it is more pleasant to share pleasure than to simply ease yourself. But, on the whole,” he switched from Sindarin to Common, “I prefer females!”
…………………………………………………..
In the Queen’s bed Tindómë remembered that conversation as she lifted her head, breathing still ragged, and swallowed.
“Best not to leave silver trails on Lothiriel Queen’s sheets,” she said, smiling.
“It might shock the maid,” Rumil agreed, moving her around so that they both lay with their heads at the same end of the bed, in the nest of cushions, his arm firmly around her.
“Now, meleth, lie here with me in silence and let your mind roam freely along pleasant paths.”
His lips touched her forehead gently, and she felt whole, and loved.
Now that she knew that Rumil was well again, and nothing that had happened had in any way unbalanced or disturbed her relationship with him, she let her mind roam as he had suggested; but with a purpose. She went back only one night and thought, in detail, about what had happened between her, Rumil and Orophin the night before.
…………………………………………………..
When she stiffened, as she understood just what it was that Rumil was suggesting, Orophin must have realised that she was shocked and he was willing to be alone rather than upset her.
It took a little time to convince him that she was happy to have him curled against her. Finally she used the version of his name that she had heard Rumil use.
“Phin… come closer…”
Orophin relaxed and she was once again in an ellyn sandwich.
Rumil shifted slightly so that he was turned towards her. Her leg was still up over his thigh and Orophin’s body now spooned in behind her. The extra couple of inches or so that she had grown in her first couple of years in Middle Earth made it all a perfect fit – her five foot ten to their six foot four or so worked very well! Her head rested back now on Orophin’s shoulder, rather than Rumil’s, and the soft hair at his groin brushed her buttocks where his bent legs fitted in against her.
She wanted to let him know that he really was wanted there, not just tolerated, and so she snuggled back against him. There was an immediate physical response down in that patch of hair – he might be emotionally drained but his body was obviously fully functional – and with her upper thigh bent up over Rumil’s…
Hmm, she could see how this thing would work all too easily. If she had any second thoughts this would be the time to take that leg down, press her own thighs tightly together and give a clear message of ‘cuddles but no further.’
But Rumil’s hand had slipped under her arm and behind her to hold Orophin into the embrace, Orophin’s arm had slid down her body to that upper thigh, and one elf was kissing her as the other made soft, almost wordless, sounds against her hair.
She hitched the leg more firmly up over Rumil.
……………………………………………..
In the King’s room Elladan lay, sprawled across the bed, half asleep. Orophin and Elrohir sat, in chairs drawn up under the window, in companionable silence.
Orophin let his eyes become unfocused and, just as he had relived the battle scene the evening before, now he remembered what had happened, here, last night.
He felt… disconnected. It was the point where Tindómë offered to go back to her own bed but Rumil asked her to stay.
They couldn’t send Tindómë back to her lonely bed to sleep alone – she had been so distressed the night before, and she must have been affected by the outpouring of their grief.
Had she not been here, had Rumil not been injured, then the brothers would have lain together; flesh to flesh, hands stroking, soothing each other, and slowly healing each other’s faer. Had Rumil been well then he could have healed the pain of himself and Tindómë. But, right now, all three needed comfort and Rumil could not lie flesh to flesh to give it, naturally, to either.
If they lay together, Orophin thought, as they had the night before but with Rumil in the middle – least able in body but strongest in faer just now – then Orophin and Tindómë would both be soothed by the contact with Rumil; it would suffice.
Except that Rumil had planted himself firmly at the edge of the bed and pulled Tindómë into the middle.
Then “Phin, come closer,” and Rumil had stretched out a hand to him.
That use of the intimate, elfling, name heard now only in times of deep need; Orophin reacted to it almost automatically by coming closer to Rumil and, therefore, skin to skin with Tindómë. He felt her warmth, her softness, and knew how Rumil planned that all three would be comforted when he said to Tindómë “Meleth-nín, I cannot… but you need… we all need…”
As Rumil kissed Tindómë, Orophin reached across her to put his hand to his brother’s skin, where he could reach it, and then Tindómë stiffened. Orophin could feel her body lose all its softness and relaxation; she understood and it distressed her.
Orophin did not know what he had done, months ago, to upset Tindómë but he had come back from the fences to find that there was a distance between him and her. He had thought, perhaps, to ask what he had done to lose the easy relationship they had shared; but decided that maybe she simply wanted Rumil to herself. He didn’t think it was common for an elleth to be uncomfortable with her lover’s family, but it might be different because Tindómë was ‘not quite an elf’. It had hurt but, not wanting to damage the growing bond between Tindómë and Rumil, whenever Tindómë was around Orophin had begun to stay a little apart.
Then, in the previous two days, the barrier had gone; as if Rumil’s injury had, in some way, brought his lover and his brother together. She had cared equally for them at the burial site, and her presence had been soothing, even though she had her own horrors to deal with.
But what Rumil had asked of her was too much for one so young; Orophin told his brother so as he pulled away. Rumil and Tindómë could lie together and each would be stronger for it. Orophin would leave them and go into the Queen’s room; he would look at the stars and draw comfort from them. Somehow he would face the ceremony to come – he was an elf and he would hold his back straight and be proud.
He wished, though, that he could lie against someone and feel the warmth of another hroar, the faint touch of another faer; but Rumil’s role now was to give that comfort to Tindómë.
Orophin moved the arm that crossed Tindómë; but she stopped him. He lay still, hardly breathing – perhaps this would be close enough. Then her body softened again and she moved closer to Rumil. Orophin prepared to leave the bed. Until he heard Tindómë’s voice, quiet but firm, “Phin… come closer.”
He was welcome. He moved back against her and felt her head relax against his shoulder as Rumil shifted slightly to tilt a little towards them. Gratefully Orophin fitted his body to hers as Rumil’s arm came across to lock them into a three way embrace. Tindómë shifted slightly, her hips wriggled a little deeper in the bed, and she fitted herself against Orophin exactly.
The way Rumil had lifted Tindómë’s leg over himself, giving as much skin to skin contact between the two as possible, had put her huch exactly where it now contacted Orophin’s cristhen. How many times, over the years, had the brothers lain like this, with an elleth between them? Rumil knew exactly the effect of that leg bent up over his thighs – he was making it wordlessly clear to his brother that he was happy for Orophin and Tindómë to join – that he wanted to be a part of it himself, even if he could not fully participate.
As Tindómë wriggled against him Orophin’s cristhen responded. Had he been more in control of himself he could have stopped it, but it meant that Tindómë must surely realise exactly how close their bodies now were! Almost of its own volition his hand stroked her thigh, gentling her like a young filly that might panic. Already this closeness was enough for him to begin to ‘feel’; to know, again, that he was alive.
And then she hitched her leg up, higher, over Rumil’s thigh…
They were like an intricate elflings’ puzzle of interlocking pieces; as they eased even closer in the embrace, Rumil tilted his head to kiss Tindómë. Orophin found his face buried in her hair; hair that smelled of the night outside, of the wood-smoke of the hall, of perfumed soap, and of Rumil. As dark and silver strands mingled, Orophin murmured words of thanks and love, of sorrow and joy, against Tindómë.
She wriggled against him again – in an elleth Orophin would have seen this as a clear invitation, but she was not quite an elleth and she was still so young, and with such a different background. Yet he was so close – his cristhen fully erect – the natural sheath for it only a hair’s breadth away.
He was about to ask her did she mean that invitation when Rumil broke off the kiss and murmured “Meleth, do you want? Phin will not, unless he knows that you want…”
Tindómë’s voice was very quiet, but determined.
“I… yes. I want. But only if you are sure… and Phin is sure.”
Rumil moved his hand so that he held Tindómë’s face. He turned it until she was looking directly into his eyes.
“Meleth – I am sure. I need also. And what you feel will fill me…”
…………………………………………………………
It hadn’t occurred to her until that moment! Rumil was totally a part of any love making here – the fact that her body was already beginning to react to the proximity of the two ellyn was not something she could hide from him… and he was gently encouraging her.
In one of Tindómë’s first ‘lessons’ about intimate relationships in Elven society Eriathwen had said that ‘elves never had sex without both, or all, agreeing.’
She had agreed to be where they were now but clearly, as she had realised before, the choice to do anything more was completely hers. She made her choice clear.
“Phin – yes.”
She almost lost track of whose hands were which – but someone held her hip whilst Orophin’s naith nuzzled into her, and then slowly he sheathed himself.
Her ‘bright, intelligent and enquiring mind’, to quote Lord Celeborn, focused for a few moments on whether it felt the same as, or different from, Rumil. Much the same; perhaps if she had it in her hands later she could say for sure…
‘Hey! This is meant to be about comfort, not sexual exploration! Whatever…’
All in the bed was stillness. Rumil held her face touching his, Orophin filled her but lay without moving, and hands and arms held all three locked together. The overwhelming emotion, as Tindómë opened herself to Rumil as much as she could, was calmness; calmness and love. The three bodies seemed to almost meld into one.
They lay like that for a long time. But the feeling of being physically filled, Rumil’s lips so close to hers, Orophin’s mouth in her hair, and his chest pressed against her back, was producing that familiar puddle of goo sensation in her lower belly. She leant forward and put her mouth to Rumil’s and a hand to his nipple where it peaked just above the top of his bandages. At the same time she squeezed gently with her internal muscles on Orophin’s grond, and then moved her hips a little.
Quite quickly the emotional atmosphere changed. There was a hand caressing her breast, another gently pressing over her mound, and Orophin began to move behind her. Someone nibbled her ear – it must be Orophin – Rumil’s mouth was on hers; the pressure on her tuiw, between the hand on her mound and the grond moving rhythmically inside her, was bringing her close to take-off point. Orophin was moaning, very quietly, he seemed to be even deeper inside her than before…
Her hand on Rumil’s nipple moved, without her conscious thought, over the bandaging to where his grond was also erect, and her thumb slid across the wetness of the naith…
She flew. If it had not been for Rumil’s mouth on hers it is likely that the guards outside would have been all too aware of the fact.
Then she felt Orophin arch against her back; his voice muffled by her hair.
…………………………………………………………
Orophin lay, cristhen sheathed in Tindómë, his face buried in her hair and Rumil’s hand on his shoulder, holding him into the embrace and confirming that all three were together. He could feel… he could feel. All the emotion he had poured out to leave himself empty was being replaced with love, warmth, and sensation.
There was not even any urge to move, to start the rhythmic climb towards orgasm, being welcomed into her body was enough to sooth his faer and make him whole again. Well – there was no urge to move until Tindómë clasped him with her inner muscles and moved her hips.
Now – now he wanted to feel that final, joyous, natural, surge of sensation. He looked over Tindómë’s head and his eyes met his brother’s. There was encouragement there and, yes, desire. Rumil had been right; this close to his ‘not quite betrothed’ her emotions were passed to Rumil through the song of their faers. Not something that had ever happened when they had made love to the same elleth before; but surely, like Tindómë herself, a gift from the Valar.
As the heat flared between them all three moved slightly; Rumil still almost flat to protect the stitched wound, but Tindómë now with a hand on his bare chest, her leg still over his thigh. Rumil’s hand went to her breast and Orophin’s moved from her thigh to press on her mound so that, as he began to thrust, her tuiw felt the movement too.
He was like a bird on a branch, wings flapping, ready to soar. He did not want the men to hear. He buried his mouth in Tindómë’s hair again. As she moved with him he knew she, too was close to taking flight, and then Rumil moved his hand to her head and held it firmly as he covered her mouth with his to muffle her cries. As Orophin felt her body tighten he arched against her and his faer leapt skywards behind her.
In the warm, sticky, contented, afterness, Orophin felt Tindómë move so that he slid from her. Still he almost expected dismissal until she twisted her head and kissed him, her hand coming down to cradle his ceryn in a gesture that said ‘I did not move to push you away but to more easily gather you in.’
Then Rumil’s broke the silence, “Yes! Now we… are… whole…”
His voice was quiet, his breathing slightly ragged, as if he too, was near the point of orgasm and he sounded…
…………………………………………………………………….
‘Triumphant!’ Tindómë thought, ‘He sounds positively triumphant.’
She broke the kiss with Orophin and looked at Rumil – that was a smirk – a definite smirk! M’kay, he had the right to say ‘I told you so…’ but even so! And yet… and yet she couldn’t be angry with him for that smirk. She felt loved and desirable, Orophin looked so – so Orophin, in a satiated way! He looked more relaxed and contented than he had since, well, probably since her own coming of age.
Rumil had a right to be triumphant but, from him, she could also feel love and… lust! Bandaged and stitched together he might be, and flat on his back, but he was most certainly turned on! She giggled slightly as she looked at the picture he made – all blond hair, white bandages – and erection.
Her hand on his grond (when had she done that?) began to move almost of its own volition. He gasped, quietly.
She looked back to Orophin and smiled, then moved to kneel beside Rumil – she was pretty sure an orgasm would put no more strain on his wound than the very hard erection was doing – she dipped her head towards it.
………………………………………
Orophin looked towards his brother and then, pointedly, at Tindómë, now pleasuring Rumil. Rumil’s eyes were slightly glazed with desire but he acknowledged the unspoken question with a small nod and a smile.
Orophin move behind Tindómë and brought his hands to her hips, moving her enough to allow him access. His hair brushed her back, and she shivered, automatically moving her legs a little as his hand moved between her thighs. He kissed down her spine, and then dipped his tongue lower…
………………………………………………
Finally they lay together, Tindómë’s head on Rumil’s shoulder, Orophin’s head on her breast, and slept.
…………………………………………………..
In the Queen’s bedroom Tindómë smiled. She had thought, clearly, about all that had happened in the King’s bed with Rumil and Orophin and it had not been weird, or porn-y, or yuck. It had certainly helped all three to regain their balance and it had been… loving, even with Orophin there too.
She couldn’t imagine how she would ever be able to explain it to a non-elf – the thought of trying to explain to Buffy, for example, was simply impossible. Somehow that confirmed to her, again, that this was where she belonged now. She snuggled closer to Rumil and smiled again.
His hand caressed her hair and his voice broke the silence.
“Are you whole now, meleth? Your faer was… bruised. Your nightmares were as if you thought you were unworthy of being loved.”
“How did you know what my nightmares were? Oh…”
“They were very strong emotions, meleth, and I was in a sleep from the poppy juice – it is the only time I have been caught on your dream-path and not able to take away your fears.”
“You have been on my dream-path before?”
“When we carried you to Minas Tirith, and whilst there, you had many, many nightmares – but I was not inside them, I could see from outside how bad they were, feel your fear inside me – then I would stroke your hair and sing to you of summer, and sunshine and the breeze in the leaves…”
“Oh…” she hugged him.
“You do not regret last night.” It was not a question.
“I was surprised to start with. But you were right – it did help us all – and it was… interesting.”
“Perhaps some time we might ask Orophin to share our pleasure again – when all of us are able… Maybe when we get home to Lorien…”
“Hmm…” actually it was not an unpleasant thought, as long as it wasn’t going to be a regular occurrence. “Sometime, maybe…”
………………………………………………
In the King’s bedroom Orophin smiled. He felt whole again. He was properly connected to Rumil again and knew that Tindómë would not push him away from his brother. He had said a final farewell, until they would meet in Valinor, to Haldir; there was no pain, now, when he thought of that brother.
Elladan had roused himself from the bed and brought wine over to the two in the window.
“Orophin,” he said seriously, “was anyone taking bets on who might be the first to join with Tindómë, apart from Rumil?”
“No!” Orophin was slightly shocked for a moment, “That would be…”
He stopped and smiled again. “That would be… fairly typically Galadhrim I suppose…! Why?”
“Because if anyone had money on ‘Orophin, with Rumil, in the King of Rohan’s bed’ he would be a very rich elf…”
……………………………………………………………………….
Odd Sindarin -
‘tithen’ - little
‘maethor’ - warrior.
Naith - head of an arrow, spear... or penis
Cristhen - short sword - elven slang for penis - Orophin's usual word
Grondithen - small club - elven slang for penis; also 'grond' - club.
Ceryn - balls
Huch - vulva
Tuiw - bud - elven slang for clitoris.
Meleth - love
Melethril - lover
nín - my/mine.
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The BtVS characters do not belong to me, but are used for amusement only. All rights remain the property of Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, and the original TV companies. The same is true of the LotR characters for whom all rights remain the property of the estate of JRR Tolkien and the companies responsible for the production of the films.
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If I've missed any of the Sindarin slang, either remind me, or use your imagination...!!
If you notice any typos in the sex scenes just say - my beta tends to skim through them! I say it's his age - he says it is because none of the participants have big boobs...
This could almost have been an end-point - except that I have a full plot line through Minas Tirith - so it is sort of the half-way mark.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 28/05/2009 07:47 pm (UTC)With the candlestick?
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Date: 28/05/2009 07:59 pm (UTC)That line has been in my mind for this point since about chapter one! And it did occur to me that if he had said it to Dawn she would have thought 'Clue!' - which I gather is American for Cleudo - but in the end it fitted better to be said to Orophin, so only the reader will get the joke!
no subject
Date: 28/05/2009 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/05/2009 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/05/2009 08:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/05/2009 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/05/2009 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/05/2009 08:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/05/2009 08:58 pm (UTC)'as the Judge remarked the day that he acquitted my Aunt Hortense,
to be smut it must be utt-erly without redeeming social importence.' (sic)
I am glad for them all, and the exchange with Elladan at the end delightful. Somewhere there is a Galadhrim who is counting his money.
No wonder Rumil sounds triumphant. A worthy victory!
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Date: 28/05/2009 09:18 pm (UTC)I have decided that I like my smut with a smattering of Sindarin.
I am not sure that any of the Galadhrim would have actually come up with that exact combination to put money on it - which leaves me wondering, should there have been any bets on such a thing(!), what happens to the pot of money...?
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Date: 28/05/2009 11:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 29/05/2009 07:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 29/05/2009 07:49 pm (UTC)Oh dear - have just had terrible thought - I don't suppose Rumil had money on 'Orophin, with Rumil, in the King of Rohan's bed'...? :~P
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Date: 29/05/2009 09:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/05/2009 09:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/05/2009 09:48 pm (UTC)But I noticed him skim through on his first, content, read, and suggested that it must be his age(!) - he said not - but he found two males and a female with fairly small breasts less exciting than some other possible variants... :~)
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Date: 29/05/2009 05:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 29/05/2009 07:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 29/05/2009 05:52 pm (UTC)This is what I thought might happen to Orophin:
“I will ask Álith to dance ... Take care not to give her the wrong impression, Orophin.”
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Date: 29/05/2009 07:19 pm (UTC)Thank you - it's been waiting for the right moment for quite while...
The entire chapter was intense, with a careful balance of smut and emotion!
Thank you again - I was a bit worried it might make you uncomfortable, after your comment a couple of chapters ago!
As for Álith and Orophin - she is a level headed young lady and so she might have more sense - but the elves do tend to draw the eye...
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Date: 29/05/2009 07:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 29/05/2009 08:22 pm (UTC)And Tindómë, Rumil and Orophin's pleasure too...
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Date: 31/05/2009 09:06 am (UTC)my imagination was coming up with interesting pictures
Yay! That means that I did a good job with it!
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Date: 31/05/2009 09:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 31/05/2009 11:47 am (UTC)