Brotherhood, Chapter Twenty.
28 Aug 2009 08:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
curiouswombatHere is the next chapter of Brotherhood - my beta kindly checked it for me as soon as he had eaten the last mouthful of his dinner!
On TtH and Open Scrolls I give the chapters names - I think this one will have to be 'Sex, a settle and secrets'!
Previous chapters are Here.
Chapter Twenty.
Rating 15
5,050 words.
Beta'd, as usual, by S2C.
Chapter Twenty
As the pale golden wine filled the first of the glasses, engraved with the white tree of Gondor, Rumil said a brief prayer of thanks to whichever of the Valar had heeded his earlier, earnest, plea. As he filled the second glass he pondered briefly on the way, in so brief a time, he had formed friendships with his Lord’s grandsons and the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. Such good friendships that they conspired to allow him time with Tindómë even as they tried to conform to the mores of this Mannish court.
Then he picked up both glasses, carried them the short distance to where she stood, and forgot everything but the look, the smell, the taste, the sensation of Tindómë; his beloved not-quite-an-elf.
She sipped the wine carefully and then smiled.
“I think the Ithilien elves make kind of potent wine. If I drink too much I might fall asleep…”
‘Valar forbid!’ thought Rumil, but answered, “Then I would kiss you gently, lay you down carefully,” he paused, “and ease myself! But it would be much more interesting if you were awake…”
Her eyes glinted with amusement, but her voice sounded serious as she asked “What? Ease yourself? I thought you said that we could cope with ignoring ‘the desires of the body’ all the time we were here?
“And why ease yourself? Do Legolas or Galanthir not appeal? Or why not go and look for a frustrated lady of the court or a compliant maid?”
He cocked his head on one side, as if considering carefully, before replying.
“I do not think I know Legolas or Galanthir that well. Although your gwador is a very pretty elf…”
He could feel her amusement, even though her face remained solemn, and he continued, truthfully, “whilst the ladies and maids of Gondor appeal not.”
He had a sudden thought, unrelated to this interlude with Tindómë, but relevant to the subject of much of the evening’s discussions.
As he looked at Tindómë her expression changed; it didn’t really surprise Rumil that they both spoke together, and expressed the same idea. It was possible that those mortal females who were, as Tindómë said, ‘elf-struck’ might be good sources of information if one of the ellyn asked the right questions…
“I so must tell you about Pinky and The Brain,” Tindómë said.
“Pinky and The Brain?” It had to be some odd tradition from the place she had come from; the place he preferred to forget about - as far as an elf could.
“Too long, too complicated, when we have better things to do…”she said. Followed by “Oh – look! I’ve nearly finished my wine.”
The look that accompanied the last remark was full of amusement again.
They could leave thoughts of elf-struck ladies, and ‘Pinky and The Brain’, for another time, Rumil decided, as he took the glass from her hand and set it back onto the side-table.
He slid a hand into her thick, wavy hair to move it away from her ear. Oh how he loved the feel of her hair – there were ellyth with wavy hair, and ellyth with hair the colour of chestnut bark, but Tindómë’s hair was both – and glorious.
He dipped his head to touch his tongue to the hollow where her neck met her collarbone and, as he slowly licked and nibbled his way up the side of her neck towards her ear, he heard the tiny hitch in her breathing and felt her desire almost as clearly as he felt his own.
He continued upwards to bring his mouth to her earlobe and then nipped it gently. It had surprised him how pretty he found her oddly shaped ears – the curved outer ridge so perfectly echoed the curves of her breasts, hips and buttocks; not that Tindómë was overly fleshy, as some mortal women were, but just a little more curved than an elleth. Discovering, in recent months, that her ears were almost as sensitive as his own had been a great joy to him.
Her fingers reached up to his hair and, as she touched the tip of his own ear, he shivered. He ran the calloused tips of his draw fingers across the inside of her elbow, where her wide sleeve had dropped away as she lifted the arm, and was rewarded by another hitch in her breath and her body softening against his.
There was, he thought, something intrinsically satisfying in the complementary reactions – as she softened against him he could feel his grond hardening against her – hroars in harmony…
They stood together, bodies melded to each other, enjoying the closeness and the small, sensual, touches for some time, but it was obvious that both wanted more. Now, although her body was softly curved to his, he could feel hard nipples against his chest and he knew that her tuiw would be as firm – his grond certainly was.
“Rumil-nín,” her voice was soft, her lips near his ear, “would it be impolite to join on Legolas’ bed?”
“I do not think he would mind,” he answered, thoughtfully, but did not make any move towards the other room. Instead he looked around the sitting room. The chairs and the settle were carved wood with cushions – the bed would be much better, although… he looked again at the settle. It was very solid… there were a lot of cushions…
“Will you trust me, meleth?”
“Always.” Her answer was immediate and he could feel his fëa leap at the certainty there.
He stood back from her a little and removed his tunic, already unfastened, kicked off his boots and, with Tindómë now assisting, took off his leggings. Her hand curled around his grond as it was released from the constraining fabric and, as it responded, he gave a small, satisfied, sigh.
Quickly her dress joined his clothing, on a chair, and then he picked up cushions and placed them over the back of the settle. He turned Tindómë so that she stood facing it; she looked back over her shoulder at him with a grin.
“So that is why I still have my shoes on!”
She was very quick on the uptake, just as Lord Celeborn had said – although Rumil was pretty sure this wasn’t the type of learning in his Lordship’s mind when he had first made that comment! Her shoes gave her just enough extra lift to make joining in this position easier for both.
He stood behind her; his grond sitting naturally in the crease of her beautiful behind. There were ways of joining they had not yet explored together but this was a night for something only a little different. He nuzzled her neck, and cupped her breasts in his hands, before moving a hand down over her belly to her cleft.
Her legs parted in response and she leant over the cushioned back of the settle, pushing her behind up towards him, inviting him to join with her; an invitation that he quickly accepted.
Both of them were very ready for this; since his demonstration of the effect of the fëa link earlier his hroar had yearned for it and he was pretty sure that Tindómë’s had too – her reaction now tended to confirm it.
The rhythm built up between them; her hands gripped the carved wood of the settle and she pushed back and then rocked forward in time with his thrusts. It was not gentle; there was an ancient urgency. He steadied himself with a hand on the settle back and moved his feet a little; now he felt her desire climb higher still as he rubbed against the sensitive place inside her with each thrust.
Even without the crescendo building in the song of her fëa her breathing and her short sharp cries, quiet though they were, would have told him she was nearly flying. He let her desire drive him harder, pacing himself to her, and as both took flight he squeezed hard on the breast in his hand and bit into the tender flesh just behind her ear.
Slowly both came back down. He worried that he had hurt her – it was less gentle than any time they had joined before – less slow love-making than fast and furious tupping. He turned his thoughts to that part of himself where he felt her emotions at times like this; afraid that he might find fear, or pain, or the sense of being shut out of her emotions.
Instead he felt love, pleasure, surprise. Still bent over the settle back, hair spilled forward onto the seat cushions, Tindómë giggled.
He leant over too, holding her close, kissing the marks his teeth had made; then he pulled her gently upright and turned her within his arms so that he could see her face.
Still giggling, she put both arms around his neck, and then looked at him wide-eyed.
“That was… Elo!” she said.
“You enjoyed it?” he asked, now fairly certain of the answer.
“Well, duh, yes!” Then she paused, tilted her head to one side as if thinking, before continuing.
“Though, to be honest, if you had asked me before… before we went starlight bathing… if I would enjoy such hard… uh, fucking… I might have said ‘no’. But it was what we both needed. Although…”
There was amusement in her eyes and the corner of her mouth twitched as if she was trying not to smile.
“Although… I think I might need shoes with higher heels, or a little step, if we plan to do it like that regularly ‘cos my feet left the floor a couple of times…!”
Oh how he loved this not-quite-an-elleth!
“I bit you – I am sorry, meleth,” he said, contritely.
“‘S all right,” she said, now openly grinning, “it was just on the right side of the line between pain and pleasure – and I’ll get my own back, melethron-nín, just you wait!
“Anyway,” she continued, “my hair will cover it… uh… with a bit of careful positioning when I play at being local, anyway…”
He’d forgotten! How could he have forgotten? He was a grown elf, he was almost nine yéni, and he had been carried away and forgotten!
Tindómë was still talking. “...and the handprint is below the neckline. Anyway I don’t bruise as easily as I used to, and they go away quicker, so no big!”
She wrapped one of his warrior braids around her finger and then reeled his face down to hers like a fish on a line. Just before their lips met she finished with “and we can take hours, and go for the slow burn version, next time…”
…………………………………………………………
They dressed, carefully, and then Rumil suggested that they go out to the garden to join the others.
“But how would I get down?” Tindómë asked.
“You could just jump, meleth,” he answered.
“But it’s a long way!”
“No, not really. You jumped down from the tree in Fangorn when I needed you – it was about as far, I think. It might be a long way for a mortal woman, but I do not think you would have any problem.” He sounded quite serious.
She thought about it; he was right, she had dropped more or less the same distance in Fangorn.
“I think a mortal woman might hurt her ankles or her knees. But your muscles and bones work better together now. Elrohir said that very thing a few nights ago – I think you were asleep. He noted that you slept less than most mortal women seem to, and then how much stronger you were than when you first recovered from your injuries. Mithrandir was right – you are more like an elleth than you were when you first… when I first found you.”
So it wasn’t just something that she had noticed herself – she remembered Álith’s comment at the Hornburg that Tindómë must be very strong to have fired the arrow that had killed Gifu. That was still a painful memory. She made an effort to concentrate, again, on the idea of dropping off the balcony as had the ellyn.
“I will go first, and then you can drop the glasses and the rest of the wine to me, I will put them down safely and steady you as you land.” He sounded so sure about it that she thought it seemed quite a good idea, really, except…
“But how would I get back up?”
“Meleth, your gwador is a wood elf – there is a tree nearby!” She wasn’t sure if Rumil sounded amused or slightly exasperated. “Also there is a creeper growing against this wall – he planted the garden, after all.”
She took a deep breath. “M’kay, let’s go and join the others, now that we’ve joined each other!”
Rumil simply vaulted over the balustrade, like the other ellyn had done, landing softly on the grass below. Tindómë dropped the glasses, and the wine, and then sat on the balustrade carefully swinging her legs over it. It was easier than she had thought. Rumil waited below, she took another deep breath, and pushed herself off. As her feet touched the ground Rumil’s hands reached to steady her, and she realised that she really didn’t need them – her ankles and knees had easily absorbed the force, and she could stand with no problem.
Rumil grinned at her, triumphantly, kissed the end of her nose, and then let go of her and offered her his arm. They walked solemnly through the moonlit garden towards the other three where they were lounging, almost as elegantly as the twins could, on the grass and rocks by the waterfall, glasses in their hands.
She thought that she probably should feel embarrassed. She remembered Buffy returning to the house after she had been boinking Spike – pretending that she hadn’t been; that they only patrolled, or talked; as if Dawn couldn’t smell sex all around her sister when she came into the house.
‘Weird,’ she thought, fleetingly, ‘I wonder how I knew that was the smell of sex? I wonder if we smell like that to the other elves? If we do, why am I not embarrassed?’
Before she reached any conclusion Legolas, who was describing to Orophin some of the work being done in Ithilien to nurture the forest back to life, broke off from the conversation and waved them to a patch of grass beside him.
Tindómë realised that she was not embarrassed because the ellyn made no pointed remarks about what she and Rumil had been doing, nor did they pointedly ignore it – they simply regarded it as Rumil and Tindómë’s business, and not remarkable.
Rumil mentioned to the others the possibility of the ellyn flirting with some of the Gondorian women to see if they could learn more of how widespread any displeasure with the King and Queen might be.
Legolas looked thoughtful. “I will suggest to Aragorn that we dine more formally tomorrow – all the court will then be in attendance. This will give Tindómë a chance to look for the men she overheard, and a chance for the twins, and Orophin if he is willing, to flirt as much as they like.
“But as for myself – I am sorry, but I refuse. Totally.”
Galanthir laughed.
Legolas continued, “I will dance with old ladies – as long as they are old ladies who have no young, unmarried, female relatives. Sometimes it seems to me that the title of Prince dazzles them so that they forget that I am not a mortal prince. I am an elf! I am not eligible and marriageable!”
“You so are!” Tindómë answered.
“But only when you find the elleth whose fëa sings in harmony with yours,” she added, as he looked about to say something more.
Galanthir joined the conversation.
“They are quite shameless – they flutter their lashes, and thrust their breasts forward, and call him ‘Highness’. If he was to respond naturally to such invitations to join, there on the dance floor, they would most certainly not be happy!”
“Perhaps that’s the answer, gwador,” Tindómë suggested, trying hard to sound serious.
“It would distress the women, and I would not do anything to embarrass Aragorn or make his position difficult,” he answered.
“I know,” Tindómë answered, “but I bet you must sometimes wish you could!”
Actually, she thought, he would not only never take up such offers from the young women of Aragorn’s court, but he was pretty circumspect about taking up any offers from ellyth, if his behaviour on his visit to Caras Galadhon for her coming of age was anything to go by.
That ‘prince’ in front of his name might make him desirable but, in some ways, he was the most reticent of all the ellyn here – or the most discreet. She was pretty sure it was more the former – even though, when she had first got to know the five ellyn who had been here at the end of the Ring War, she would have thought Rumil the quietest and most shy. He was, still, the quietest in public – but time in his company in Lorien, and stories told by Boroniel and Eriathwen, had confirmed that ‘quiet’ and ‘shy’ were not the same thing.
……………………………………………………
She had drifted to sleep, listening to the running water and the soft voices of the ellyn. Dawn, tindómë, was streaking the sky when Rumil woke her and, with only a little help, she returned to Legolas’ rooms to be walked decorously, by the Lord of Ithilien, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, back to her own room.
“Do you need help undressing, nethig?” he asked. “I am capable of undoing lacings if required…”
She wondered if she had said anything out loud about him being shyer than the others, but answered ‘Nah – everything does up the front – I’ll cope!”
As they stood at the door she looked up and down the lamp-lit corridor and, seeing no-one, gave him a hard hug before going in.
By the time Nessy arrived in the morning and woke her again, she felt well rested, and ready to face the day… and the Queen.
………………………………………………………………..
Arwen settled herself down on her usual carved seat, and gestured Tindómë to the space beside her. She waited until the nurse had left, leaving the infant princess in her mother’s arms, before glancing to where the twins stood, some distance away, talking to Legolas.
“Tindómë,” she began, “who, or even what, are you? Legolas claims you as family, and my brothers do so too – if less formally. Last night Elladan called you ‘Tinu’ without even thinking about it. But when I ask any of the three they tell me it is your story to tell.”
“I didn’t know Tinu was a ‘family’ name.” Tindómë was both genuinely interested and stalling for time.
“It is not as such – but it is a name they used for me when I was little more than an elfling – as you seem to be. Suitable for us both – my epessë is Undómiel and your name is Tindómë – so little star is right for us both. But I have never heard my brothers use the name for anyone else…”
“I’m sorry,” Tindómë was worried that this had upset the Queen. “You could ask them not to use it for me…”
“Oh no. It is quite all right – it simply surprised me, when I realised it was you he was talking to, not me. I had asked them to tell me more about you before that. I would like to know more of someone my brothers see as family. But it is, as they said, your story to tell.”
Arwen sat, gently rocking her daughter, and said no more.
‘M’kay,’ Tindómë thought, ‘where to start?’
“What do you already know about me?” she asked.
“I know that you were brought here to Minas Tirith at the end of the Ring War, and that you were badly injured. I know that you returned to Lothlórien with my grandparents, in their personal care, and that you are clearly likely to end up bound to Rumil. I know that my brothers say that you are peredhel, and it is clear that you are something between an elleth and a human.
“I would like to know more – if you will tell me…”
“I think I need to start with the story that Gandalf told, although I understand it better now that Lord Celeborn has taught me so much history. It begins way back when Morgoth sat on his Dark Throne,” Tindómë began.
Arwen looked surprised, but said nothing.
Tindómë continued her story, piecing together both what Gandalf had explained to Legolas and Aragorn, that night in Minas Tirith, and Lord Celeborn’s history lessons.
“Even while he was planning to take over this world Morgoth had also realised that there were other worlds. His lust for power meant that he tried to find a way to open doors between this world and others; to conquer them too.
“But the Valar found out and knew that they had to stop him. Not only was it wrong for him to take his evil to other worlds, but any power he gained there could be brought back here to help him gain complete control.
“They called the Maiar to them, and together they took light, just as the Valar had to form the sun and the moon, and formed a power that could lock the doors between worlds tightly shut.”
Gilraen whimpered slightly, Arwen placed the tip of a finger into the baby’s mouth, but kept her eyes on Tindómë’s face.
“They had to hide this Key from Morgoth, and they formed it into an elleth, who’d live amongst the Elves un-noticed, unless a time came when the power was needed to stop Morgoth. She knew what she was, wholly elleth, but also The Key.”
Arwen looked as if she was about to speak, but then stopped herself, and waited.
“When the army of the Valar drove Morgoth back to Angband, in the War of Wrath, he finally managed to get a little opening into another world and the elleth used the power inside herself to close it up before Morgoth could rip it wide open. She died doing it, and her fëa went to Mandos’ Hall. Gandalf says he believes she’s been reborn and lives in Valinor.”
“And this elleth was your mother?” Arwen asked. “But you seem too young to have been born before Morgoth was cast into the Void.”
“No,” Tindómë said, “it isn’t that simple. The elleth died, but the power inside her, the light she was formed from, that she was the vessel to hold, ended up passing through the portal – the door, into the other dimension, uh, world. It must have been there, kind of dormant, for an awfully long time. We know that in the last thousand years, or more, a society of men guarded it to stop anyone else, anyone like Morgoth, using it again.
“Eventually there was a big threat and the monks, uh, men, began to look for another way to protect The Key. The… the… power that was looking for it wanted to use it to open a portal, not close one, and she didn’t know how to control it. The men thought she might rip down all the walls between dimensions if she got her hands on it.”
“She?” Arwen queried. “Did one of the female Valar of that… other world… turn evil?”
That was a fairly good description of Glory, Tindómë thought. “Yes,” she answered Arwen, before continuing.
“The men decided to make the power into a young female. Gandalf said that that is so like the original form the Valar gave it that he thinks The Key told them this was what they should do. But in my - in that dimension there are no elves, only mortal humans. So The Key was made into a young girl – just at the age between childhood and adulthood – and was given all sorts of memories, as if she had grown from birth normally, then put into the family of The Slayer.”
As she paused, Arwen said “Oh – a warrior like Glorfindel!”
“No,” Tindómë said, “The Slayer is a girl, with super-powers, born to combat evil. But I’ll go back to that later. Anyway – the evil… uh… Valar-type female... was defeated and the portal closed. The Key stayed as a girl, and grew up a bit, and then Morgoth, from the Void, began again to open a tiny crack between the dimensions.
“Whilst Sauron was busy trying to take over Middle Earth, using Uruk-hai, and orcs, and things, Morgoth was trying to use a sort of vampire version to take over the other dimension.
“The portal, the door-thing, was called the Hellmouth. And The Slayer, and all the support she could get, tried to close it when Morgoth got it open enough to really cause problems.
“The Key knew what she was by then, just as the elleth had, and used the power to close the door. But she fell, or slipped, or got pulled, and fell through the Hellmouth with the Turok-Han… the vampire orc things. She fell down, and down, and landed on the battlefield at the Gates of Mordor. Frodo destroying the Ring distracted from the closing of the Hellmouth, or maybe it was the other way around, but anyway the two things happened more or less together.”
She paused. Arwen looked – hmm – slightly shocked?
“It was a very long fall, and lots of Turok-Han landed on top of me, and nearly killed me. Your father and grandmother think it was because I was in so much danger of dying that Rumil heard my fëa – I unconsciously called very, very, loud! That’s why we were so much ‘in tune’ from so early on, faster than couples usually are.”
“You mean…” Arwen seemed as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it.
“Mmm’hmm. I am The Key. And Gandalf said that now I’d got back to Middle Earth my body was likely to try to return to its original form. That’s why I really am ‘not quite an elleth’ as Rumil says, or sort of peredhel as the Els say.
“But I wasn’t only badly injured, but very, very, lost – all my memories are from the other world, I didn’t know anything about life here, nothing about the edhel; I was much more lost than you would be if you suddenly had to live with dwarves.”
“Or than I am now that I have to live with humans,” Arwen said, with a rueful smile.
“No wonder Mithrandir made sure that you had little contact with anyone. Even I only learnt that ‘a peredhel female’ was here in the aftermath of the Ring War, injured and with a background so traumatic that she didn’t speak of it, after you had gone to Caras Galadhon!”
“You can see why Gandalf thought it was a good idea for me to go to Caras Galadhon – ‘cos of Rumil of course, and ‘cos I’m immortal and it would have begun to show amongst mortals. He hopes we’ll never need to use my Keyness ever again, and I can just live with the elves till the end of time, but I know what I am, and so does Gandalf. And Legolas, the Els, Rumil and Orophin – and your Adar, and Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel – and you, now.
“But, in case anyone should ever think they could use the power in me for something evil, or as a weapon or something, the only other person who knows about me is Aragorn. Gandalf asked us to keep it like that, and I feel safer, and it saves me having to answer lots of questions.”
Arwen smiled. “Now I understand that Rumil was being more factual, and less romantic than I thought, when I overheard him say that you were a gift from the Valar. I am honoured that you feel you can share this with me; honoured, indeed, to be sitting here with you.”
“Oh no! You so shouldn’t feel honoured by me! You are the Queen – I’m just an only-just-adult not-quite-an-elleth!”
“Nonetheless I am honoured. I realise, also, that you truly have absolutely no blood family in Middle Earth nor will you have in Valinor. I am happy that Legolas has come to love you as a sister, and my brothers love you as if you were a cousin.
“The only cousins we have, by blood, are the long descended children of my father’s brother – and so, by that count, I am not only married to my brother, but also to my cousin…”
Tindómë realised that Arwen had a grin very like her brothers.
Arwen continued, “I would be honoured if you would not only consider my brothers as kin but also me. I know that we live in different places, and I have chosen to limit my time within the circle of the world to that time given to Estel and so I will not be here for you for long, in elven terms, and yet I think that I would like to have a younger female cousin…”
“Oh, wow! Elo! Thank you!” Tindómë was really surprised at Arwen’s words.
“After we make sure that there is no real threat to Estel, Gilraen, and me – or defeat whatever plot there is, it will be good to talk to someone about who is going starlight bathing with who, in Caras Galadhon, from the female point of view – my brothers’ idea of ‘gossip’ is not always mine…”
Arwen sounded slightly wistful – in some ways, Tindómë thought, she was as alone in a strange world as Tindómë herself. At least they had Rumil and Aragorn, she thought, gratefully.
Arwen straightened her back and, in a firmer voice, went on, “In the meantime, I will tell Éowyn what I know my brothers told Éomer – that your early life was traumatic and it is better for you not to talk of it. She can read into it what she will, coloured no doubt by sadness in her own childhood and at your equivalent age, but she will not question it.
“I almost envy you two going out adventuring in the city – but Gilraen needs me, and I am content to remain in the Citadel and comply, to some extent, with what is expected.”
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Bits of Sindarin.
Hmm - you really should all know Sindarin slang for body bits by now...
tuiw = bud - clitoris
grond = club - penis
And that
fëa = soul
Hroar = outer shell - body
Elo! = Wow!
Yéni = 144 years
Gwador = sworn brother
Tinu = little star
Undómiel = Evening Star Girl
Tindómë = Dawn (first light) in Quenya (old Elven)
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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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I've started the next chapter - and the plot will certainly be more to the fore in that one!
On TtH and Open Scrolls I give the chapters names - I think this one will have to be 'Sex, a settle and secrets'!
Previous chapters are Here.
Chapter Twenty.
Rating 15
5,050 words.
Beta'd, as usual, by S2C.
As the pale golden wine filled the first of the glasses, engraved with the white tree of Gondor, Rumil said a brief prayer of thanks to whichever of the Valar had heeded his earlier, earnest, plea. As he filled the second glass he pondered briefly on the way, in so brief a time, he had formed friendships with his Lord’s grandsons and the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. Such good friendships that they conspired to allow him time with Tindómë even as they tried to conform to the mores of this Mannish court.
Then he picked up both glasses, carried them the short distance to where she stood, and forgot everything but the look, the smell, the taste, the sensation of Tindómë; his beloved not-quite-an-elf.
She sipped the wine carefully and then smiled.
“I think the Ithilien elves make kind of potent wine. If I drink too much I might fall asleep…”
‘Valar forbid!’ thought Rumil, but answered, “Then I would kiss you gently, lay you down carefully,” he paused, “and ease myself! But it would be much more interesting if you were awake…”
Her eyes glinted with amusement, but her voice sounded serious as she asked “What? Ease yourself? I thought you said that we could cope with ignoring ‘the desires of the body’ all the time we were here?
“And why ease yourself? Do Legolas or Galanthir not appeal? Or why not go and look for a frustrated lady of the court or a compliant maid?”
He cocked his head on one side, as if considering carefully, before replying.
“I do not think I know Legolas or Galanthir that well. Although your gwador is a very pretty elf…”
He could feel her amusement, even though her face remained solemn, and he continued, truthfully, “whilst the ladies and maids of Gondor appeal not.”
He had a sudden thought, unrelated to this interlude with Tindómë, but relevant to the subject of much of the evening’s discussions.
As he looked at Tindómë her expression changed; it didn’t really surprise Rumil that they both spoke together, and expressed the same idea. It was possible that those mortal females who were, as Tindómë said, ‘elf-struck’ might be good sources of information if one of the ellyn asked the right questions…
“I so must tell you about Pinky and The Brain,” Tindómë said.
“Pinky and The Brain?” It had to be some odd tradition from the place she had come from; the place he preferred to forget about - as far as an elf could.
“Too long, too complicated, when we have better things to do…”she said. Followed by “Oh – look! I’ve nearly finished my wine.”
The look that accompanied the last remark was full of amusement again.
They could leave thoughts of elf-struck ladies, and ‘Pinky and The Brain’, for another time, Rumil decided, as he took the glass from her hand and set it back onto the side-table.
He slid a hand into her thick, wavy hair to move it away from her ear. Oh how he loved the feel of her hair – there were ellyth with wavy hair, and ellyth with hair the colour of chestnut bark, but Tindómë’s hair was both – and glorious.
He dipped his head to touch his tongue to the hollow where her neck met her collarbone and, as he slowly licked and nibbled his way up the side of her neck towards her ear, he heard the tiny hitch in her breathing and felt her desire almost as clearly as he felt his own.
He continued upwards to bring his mouth to her earlobe and then nipped it gently. It had surprised him how pretty he found her oddly shaped ears – the curved outer ridge so perfectly echoed the curves of her breasts, hips and buttocks; not that Tindómë was overly fleshy, as some mortal women were, but just a little more curved than an elleth. Discovering, in recent months, that her ears were almost as sensitive as his own had been a great joy to him.
Her fingers reached up to his hair and, as she touched the tip of his own ear, he shivered. He ran the calloused tips of his draw fingers across the inside of her elbow, where her wide sleeve had dropped away as she lifted the arm, and was rewarded by another hitch in her breath and her body softening against his.
There was, he thought, something intrinsically satisfying in the complementary reactions – as she softened against him he could feel his grond hardening against her – hroars in harmony…
They stood together, bodies melded to each other, enjoying the closeness and the small, sensual, touches for some time, but it was obvious that both wanted more. Now, although her body was softly curved to his, he could feel hard nipples against his chest and he knew that her tuiw would be as firm – his grond certainly was.
“Rumil-nín,” her voice was soft, her lips near his ear, “would it be impolite to join on Legolas’ bed?”
“I do not think he would mind,” he answered, thoughtfully, but did not make any move towards the other room. Instead he looked around the sitting room. The chairs and the settle were carved wood with cushions – the bed would be much better, although… he looked again at the settle. It was very solid… there were a lot of cushions…
“Will you trust me, meleth?”
“Always.” Her answer was immediate and he could feel his fëa leap at the certainty there.
He stood back from her a little and removed his tunic, already unfastened, kicked off his boots and, with Tindómë now assisting, took off his leggings. Her hand curled around his grond as it was released from the constraining fabric and, as it responded, he gave a small, satisfied, sigh.
Quickly her dress joined his clothing, on a chair, and then he picked up cushions and placed them over the back of the settle. He turned Tindómë so that she stood facing it; she looked back over her shoulder at him with a grin.
“So that is why I still have my shoes on!”
She was very quick on the uptake, just as Lord Celeborn had said – although Rumil was pretty sure this wasn’t the type of learning in his Lordship’s mind when he had first made that comment! Her shoes gave her just enough extra lift to make joining in this position easier for both.
He stood behind her; his grond sitting naturally in the crease of her beautiful behind. There were ways of joining they had not yet explored together but this was a night for something only a little different. He nuzzled her neck, and cupped her breasts in his hands, before moving a hand down over her belly to her cleft.
Her legs parted in response and she leant over the cushioned back of the settle, pushing her behind up towards him, inviting him to join with her; an invitation that he quickly accepted.
Both of them were very ready for this; since his demonstration of the effect of the fëa link earlier his hroar had yearned for it and he was pretty sure that Tindómë’s had too – her reaction now tended to confirm it.
The rhythm built up between them; her hands gripped the carved wood of the settle and she pushed back and then rocked forward in time with his thrusts. It was not gentle; there was an ancient urgency. He steadied himself with a hand on the settle back and moved his feet a little; now he felt her desire climb higher still as he rubbed against the sensitive place inside her with each thrust.
Even without the crescendo building in the song of her fëa her breathing and her short sharp cries, quiet though they were, would have told him she was nearly flying. He let her desire drive him harder, pacing himself to her, and as both took flight he squeezed hard on the breast in his hand and bit into the tender flesh just behind her ear.
Slowly both came back down. He worried that he had hurt her – it was less gentle than any time they had joined before – less slow love-making than fast and furious tupping. He turned his thoughts to that part of himself where he felt her emotions at times like this; afraid that he might find fear, or pain, or the sense of being shut out of her emotions.
Instead he felt love, pleasure, surprise. Still bent over the settle back, hair spilled forward onto the seat cushions, Tindómë giggled.
He leant over too, holding her close, kissing the marks his teeth had made; then he pulled her gently upright and turned her within his arms so that he could see her face.
Still giggling, she put both arms around his neck, and then looked at him wide-eyed.
“That was… Elo!” she said.
“You enjoyed it?” he asked, now fairly certain of the answer.
“Well, duh, yes!” Then she paused, tilted her head to one side as if thinking, before continuing.
“Though, to be honest, if you had asked me before… before we went starlight bathing… if I would enjoy such hard… uh, fucking… I might have said ‘no’. But it was what we both needed. Although…”
There was amusement in her eyes and the corner of her mouth twitched as if she was trying not to smile.
“Although… I think I might need shoes with higher heels, or a little step, if we plan to do it like that regularly ‘cos my feet left the floor a couple of times…!”
Oh how he loved this not-quite-an-elleth!
“I bit you – I am sorry, meleth,” he said, contritely.
“‘S all right,” she said, now openly grinning, “it was just on the right side of the line between pain and pleasure – and I’ll get my own back, melethron-nín, just you wait!
“Anyway,” she continued, “my hair will cover it… uh… with a bit of careful positioning when I play at being local, anyway…”
He’d forgotten! How could he have forgotten? He was a grown elf, he was almost nine yéni, and he had been carried away and forgotten!
Tindómë was still talking. “...and the handprint is below the neckline. Anyway I don’t bruise as easily as I used to, and they go away quicker, so no big!”
She wrapped one of his warrior braids around her finger and then reeled his face down to hers like a fish on a line. Just before their lips met she finished with “and we can take hours, and go for the slow burn version, next time…”
…………………………………………………………
They dressed, carefully, and then Rumil suggested that they go out to the garden to join the others.
“But how would I get down?” Tindómë asked.
“You could just jump, meleth,” he answered.
“But it’s a long way!”
“No, not really. You jumped down from the tree in Fangorn when I needed you – it was about as far, I think. It might be a long way for a mortal woman, but I do not think you would have any problem.” He sounded quite serious.
She thought about it; he was right, she had dropped more or less the same distance in Fangorn.
“I think a mortal woman might hurt her ankles or her knees. But your muscles and bones work better together now. Elrohir said that very thing a few nights ago – I think you were asleep. He noted that you slept less than most mortal women seem to, and then how much stronger you were than when you first recovered from your injuries. Mithrandir was right – you are more like an elleth than you were when you first… when I first found you.”
So it wasn’t just something that she had noticed herself – she remembered Álith’s comment at the Hornburg that Tindómë must be very strong to have fired the arrow that had killed Gifu. That was still a painful memory. She made an effort to concentrate, again, on the idea of dropping off the balcony as had the ellyn.
“I will go first, and then you can drop the glasses and the rest of the wine to me, I will put them down safely and steady you as you land.” He sounded so sure about it that she thought it seemed quite a good idea, really, except…
“But how would I get back up?”
“Meleth, your gwador is a wood elf – there is a tree nearby!” She wasn’t sure if Rumil sounded amused or slightly exasperated. “Also there is a creeper growing against this wall – he planted the garden, after all.”
She took a deep breath. “M’kay, let’s go and join the others, now that we’ve joined each other!”
Rumil simply vaulted over the balustrade, like the other ellyn had done, landing softly on the grass below. Tindómë dropped the glasses, and the wine, and then sat on the balustrade carefully swinging her legs over it. It was easier than she had thought. Rumil waited below, she took another deep breath, and pushed herself off. As her feet touched the ground Rumil’s hands reached to steady her, and she realised that she really didn’t need them – her ankles and knees had easily absorbed the force, and she could stand with no problem.
Rumil grinned at her, triumphantly, kissed the end of her nose, and then let go of her and offered her his arm. They walked solemnly through the moonlit garden towards the other three where they were lounging, almost as elegantly as the twins could, on the grass and rocks by the waterfall, glasses in their hands.
She thought that she probably should feel embarrassed. She remembered Buffy returning to the house after she had been boinking Spike – pretending that she hadn’t been; that they only patrolled, or talked; as if Dawn couldn’t smell sex all around her sister when she came into the house.
‘Weird,’ she thought, fleetingly, ‘I wonder how I knew that was the smell of sex? I wonder if we smell like that to the other elves? If we do, why am I not embarrassed?’
Before she reached any conclusion Legolas, who was describing to Orophin some of the work being done in Ithilien to nurture the forest back to life, broke off from the conversation and waved them to a patch of grass beside him.
Tindómë realised that she was not embarrassed because the ellyn made no pointed remarks about what she and Rumil had been doing, nor did they pointedly ignore it – they simply regarded it as Rumil and Tindómë’s business, and not remarkable.
Rumil mentioned to the others the possibility of the ellyn flirting with some of the Gondorian women to see if they could learn more of how widespread any displeasure with the King and Queen might be.
Legolas looked thoughtful. “I will suggest to Aragorn that we dine more formally tomorrow – all the court will then be in attendance. This will give Tindómë a chance to look for the men she overheard, and a chance for the twins, and Orophin if he is willing, to flirt as much as they like.
“But as for myself – I am sorry, but I refuse. Totally.”
Galanthir laughed.
Legolas continued, “I will dance with old ladies – as long as they are old ladies who have no young, unmarried, female relatives. Sometimes it seems to me that the title of Prince dazzles them so that they forget that I am not a mortal prince. I am an elf! I am not eligible and marriageable!”
“You so are!” Tindómë answered.
“But only when you find the elleth whose fëa sings in harmony with yours,” she added, as he looked about to say something more.
Galanthir joined the conversation.
“They are quite shameless – they flutter their lashes, and thrust their breasts forward, and call him ‘Highness’. If he was to respond naturally to such invitations to join, there on the dance floor, they would most certainly not be happy!”
“Perhaps that’s the answer, gwador,” Tindómë suggested, trying hard to sound serious.
“It would distress the women, and I would not do anything to embarrass Aragorn or make his position difficult,” he answered.
“I know,” Tindómë answered, “but I bet you must sometimes wish you could!”
Actually, she thought, he would not only never take up such offers from the young women of Aragorn’s court, but he was pretty circumspect about taking up any offers from ellyth, if his behaviour on his visit to Caras Galadhon for her coming of age was anything to go by.
That ‘prince’ in front of his name might make him desirable but, in some ways, he was the most reticent of all the ellyn here – or the most discreet. She was pretty sure it was more the former – even though, when she had first got to know the five ellyn who had been here at the end of the Ring War, she would have thought Rumil the quietest and most shy. He was, still, the quietest in public – but time in his company in Lorien, and stories told by Boroniel and Eriathwen, had confirmed that ‘quiet’ and ‘shy’ were not the same thing.
……………………………………………………
She had drifted to sleep, listening to the running water and the soft voices of the ellyn. Dawn, tindómë, was streaking the sky when Rumil woke her and, with only a little help, she returned to Legolas’ rooms to be walked decorously, by the Lord of Ithilien, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, back to her own room.
“Do you need help undressing, nethig?” he asked. “I am capable of undoing lacings if required…”
She wondered if she had said anything out loud about him being shyer than the others, but answered ‘Nah – everything does up the front – I’ll cope!”
As they stood at the door she looked up and down the lamp-lit corridor and, seeing no-one, gave him a hard hug before going in.
By the time Nessy arrived in the morning and woke her again, she felt well rested, and ready to face the day… and the Queen.
………………………………………………………………..
Arwen settled herself down on her usual carved seat, and gestured Tindómë to the space beside her. She waited until the nurse had left, leaving the infant princess in her mother’s arms, before glancing to where the twins stood, some distance away, talking to Legolas.
“Tindómë,” she began, “who, or even what, are you? Legolas claims you as family, and my brothers do so too – if less formally. Last night Elladan called you ‘Tinu’ without even thinking about it. But when I ask any of the three they tell me it is your story to tell.”
“I didn’t know Tinu was a ‘family’ name.” Tindómë was both genuinely interested and stalling for time.
“It is not as such – but it is a name they used for me when I was little more than an elfling – as you seem to be. Suitable for us both – my epessë is Undómiel and your name is Tindómë – so little star is right for us both. But I have never heard my brothers use the name for anyone else…”
“I’m sorry,” Tindómë was worried that this had upset the Queen. “You could ask them not to use it for me…”
“Oh no. It is quite all right – it simply surprised me, when I realised it was you he was talking to, not me. I had asked them to tell me more about you before that. I would like to know more of someone my brothers see as family. But it is, as they said, your story to tell.”
Arwen sat, gently rocking her daughter, and said no more.
‘M’kay,’ Tindómë thought, ‘where to start?’
“What do you already know about me?” she asked.
“I know that you were brought here to Minas Tirith at the end of the Ring War, and that you were badly injured. I know that you returned to Lothlórien with my grandparents, in their personal care, and that you are clearly likely to end up bound to Rumil. I know that my brothers say that you are peredhel, and it is clear that you are something between an elleth and a human.
“I would like to know more – if you will tell me…”
“I think I need to start with the story that Gandalf told, although I understand it better now that Lord Celeborn has taught me so much history. It begins way back when Morgoth sat on his Dark Throne,” Tindómë began.
Arwen looked surprised, but said nothing.
Tindómë continued her story, piecing together both what Gandalf had explained to Legolas and Aragorn, that night in Minas Tirith, and Lord Celeborn’s history lessons.
“Even while he was planning to take over this world Morgoth had also realised that there were other worlds. His lust for power meant that he tried to find a way to open doors between this world and others; to conquer them too.
“But the Valar found out and knew that they had to stop him. Not only was it wrong for him to take his evil to other worlds, but any power he gained there could be brought back here to help him gain complete control.
“They called the Maiar to them, and together they took light, just as the Valar had to form the sun and the moon, and formed a power that could lock the doors between worlds tightly shut.”
Gilraen whimpered slightly, Arwen placed the tip of a finger into the baby’s mouth, but kept her eyes on Tindómë’s face.
“They had to hide this Key from Morgoth, and they formed it into an elleth, who’d live amongst the Elves un-noticed, unless a time came when the power was needed to stop Morgoth. She knew what she was, wholly elleth, but also The Key.”
Arwen looked as if she was about to speak, but then stopped herself, and waited.
“When the army of the Valar drove Morgoth back to Angband, in the War of Wrath, he finally managed to get a little opening into another world and the elleth used the power inside herself to close it up before Morgoth could rip it wide open. She died doing it, and her fëa went to Mandos’ Hall. Gandalf says he believes she’s been reborn and lives in Valinor.”
“And this elleth was your mother?” Arwen asked. “But you seem too young to have been born before Morgoth was cast into the Void.”
“No,” Tindómë said, “it isn’t that simple. The elleth died, but the power inside her, the light she was formed from, that she was the vessel to hold, ended up passing through the portal – the door, into the other dimension, uh, world. It must have been there, kind of dormant, for an awfully long time. We know that in the last thousand years, or more, a society of men guarded it to stop anyone else, anyone like Morgoth, using it again.
“Eventually there was a big threat and the monks, uh, men, began to look for another way to protect The Key. The… the… power that was looking for it wanted to use it to open a portal, not close one, and she didn’t know how to control it. The men thought she might rip down all the walls between dimensions if she got her hands on it.”
“She?” Arwen queried. “Did one of the female Valar of that… other world… turn evil?”
That was a fairly good description of Glory, Tindómë thought. “Yes,” she answered Arwen, before continuing.
“The men decided to make the power into a young female. Gandalf said that that is so like the original form the Valar gave it that he thinks The Key told them this was what they should do. But in my - in that dimension there are no elves, only mortal humans. So The Key was made into a young girl – just at the age between childhood and adulthood – and was given all sorts of memories, as if she had grown from birth normally, then put into the family of The Slayer.”
As she paused, Arwen said “Oh – a warrior like Glorfindel!”
“No,” Tindómë said, “The Slayer is a girl, with super-powers, born to combat evil. But I’ll go back to that later. Anyway – the evil… uh… Valar-type female... was defeated and the portal closed. The Key stayed as a girl, and grew up a bit, and then Morgoth, from the Void, began again to open a tiny crack between the dimensions.
“Whilst Sauron was busy trying to take over Middle Earth, using Uruk-hai, and orcs, and things, Morgoth was trying to use a sort of vampire version to take over the other dimension.
“The portal, the door-thing, was called the Hellmouth. And The Slayer, and all the support she could get, tried to close it when Morgoth got it open enough to really cause problems.
“The Key knew what she was by then, just as the elleth had, and used the power to close the door. But she fell, or slipped, or got pulled, and fell through the Hellmouth with the Turok-Han… the vampire orc things. She fell down, and down, and landed on the battlefield at the Gates of Mordor. Frodo destroying the Ring distracted from the closing of the Hellmouth, or maybe it was the other way around, but anyway the two things happened more or less together.”
She paused. Arwen looked – hmm – slightly shocked?
“It was a very long fall, and lots of Turok-Han landed on top of me, and nearly killed me. Your father and grandmother think it was because I was in so much danger of dying that Rumil heard my fëa – I unconsciously called very, very, loud! That’s why we were so much ‘in tune’ from so early on, faster than couples usually are.”
“You mean…” Arwen seemed as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it.
“Mmm’hmm. I am The Key. And Gandalf said that now I’d got back to Middle Earth my body was likely to try to return to its original form. That’s why I really am ‘not quite an elleth’ as Rumil says, or sort of peredhel as the Els say.
“But I wasn’t only badly injured, but very, very, lost – all my memories are from the other world, I didn’t know anything about life here, nothing about the edhel; I was much more lost than you would be if you suddenly had to live with dwarves.”
“Or than I am now that I have to live with humans,” Arwen said, with a rueful smile.
“No wonder Mithrandir made sure that you had little contact with anyone. Even I only learnt that ‘a peredhel female’ was here in the aftermath of the Ring War, injured and with a background so traumatic that she didn’t speak of it, after you had gone to Caras Galadhon!”
“You can see why Gandalf thought it was a good idea for me to go to Caras Galadhon – ‘cos of Rumil of course, and ‘cos I’m immortal and it would have begun to show amongst mortals. He hopes we’ll never need to use my Keyness ever again, and I can just live with the elves till the end of time, but I know what I am, and so does Gandalf. And Legolas, the Els, Rumil and Orophin – and your Adar, and Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel – and you, now.
“But, in case anyone should ever think they could use the power in me for something evil, or as a weapon or something, the only other person who knows about me is Aragorn. Gandalf asked us to keep it like that, and I feel safer, and it saves me having to answer lots of questions.”
Arwen smiled. “Now I understand that Rumil was being more factual, and less romantic than I thought, when I overheard him say that you were a gift from the Valar. I am honoured that you feel you can share this with me; honoured, indeed, to be sitting here with you.”
“Oh no! You so shouldn’t feel honoured by me! You are the Queen – I’m just an only-just-adult not-quite-an-elleth!”
“Nonetheless I am honoured. I realise, also, that you truly have absolutely no blood family in Middle Earth nor will you have in Valinor. I am happy that Legolas has come to love you as a sister, and my brothers love you as if you were a cousin.
“The only cousins we have, by blood, are the long descended children of my father’s brother – and so, by that count, I am not only married to my brother, but also to my cousin…”
Tindómë realised that Arwen had a grin very like her brothers.
Arwen continued, “I would be honoured if you would not only consider my brothers as kin but also me. I know that we live in different places, and I have chosen to limit my time within the circle of the world to that time given to Estel and so I will not be here for you for long, in elven terms, and yet I think that I would like to have a younger female cousin…”
“Oh, wow! Elo! Thank you!” Tindómë was really surprised at Arwen’s words.
“After we make sure that there is no real threat to Estel, Gilraen, and me – or defeat whatever plot there is, it will be good to talk to someone about who is going starlight bathing with who, in Caras Galadhon, from the female point of view – my brothers’ idea of ‘gossip’ is not always mine…”
Arwen sounded slightly wistful – in some ways, Tindómë thought, she was as alone in a strange world as Tindómë herself. At least they had Rumil and Aragorn, she thought, gratefully.
Arwen straightened her back and, in a firmer voice, went on, “In the meantime, I will tell Éowyn what I know my brothers told Éomer – that your early life was traumatic and it is better for you not to talk of it. She can read into it what she will, coloured no doubt by sadness in her own childhood and at your equivalent age, but she will not question it.
“I almost envy you two going out adventuring in the city – but Gilraen needs me, and I am content to remain in the Citadel and comply, to some extent, with what is expected.”
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Bits of Sindarin.
Hmm - you really should all know Sindarin slang for body bits by now...
tuiw = bud - clitoris
grond = club - penis
And that
fëa = soul
Hroar = outer shell - body
Elo! = Wow!
Yéni = 144 years
Gwador = sworn brother
Tinu = little star
Undómiel = Evening Star Girl
Tindómë = Dawn (first light) in Quenya (old Elven)
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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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I've started the next chapter - and the plot will certainly be more to the fore in that one!
