Brotherhood, Chapter Thirty-two.
28 Jan 2010 09:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
curiouswombatIt's been really good fun going back to Brotherhood. It includes a sex scene that was just a total joy to write, and I realised, as I wrote it, one of the reasons I so enjoy this whole series. But I will write more about that in a separate post!
So - as it is almost six weeks since the last chapter, a quick résumé - the just turned twenty-year-old Dawn/Tindómë has been rescued from the pirate ship, and the rescue party have returned to Minas Tirith just in time for the beginning of the Midsummer celebrations and the naming ceremony of the infant princess...
It might be useful to remember that Fritha was the maid who looked after the group who stayed at Helm's Deep in the early chapters.
Chapter Thirty-two of Brotherhood.
Word count 5,550
Rated 15 as usual
Beta'd by the inestimable![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
speakr2customrs
Midsummer Day dawned bright; which was pretty much as expected given the time of year and the Gondorian climate.
It was, however, Tindómë thought, the phrase the chroniclers would use when writing about the events of the day. She considered making a wager on this with Orophin…
“Oh, you’re awake, my lady,” Nessy said, bustling in, a little later than usual. “I thought you might still be asleep after all the horrible things that have happened to you. I’m to see that your bath is filled and then bring your breakfast here so you can eat while your hair dries.”
‘Sounds like a plan,’ Tindómë thought, and she followed Nessy into the bathroom, shedding her nightdress as she went. Scented oils, courtesy of the Queen herself, and the pile of towels made her smile; it was certainly a contrast to her last bath in the Anduin with three ellyn.
“Do you want me to help wash your hair, my lady, before I go for your breakfast?”
No, that was a task for Rumil.
“No thank you, Nessy, I can manage it, no problem. Have you had breakfast?”
“Some tea. I’ll eat later.”
“Bring enough for a big breakfast, and we can share, in case you don’t have time later,” Tindómë said, climbing into the tub, “and, uh, are you meant to be around for me all day?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good. No other jobs that you have to see to?”
“No, my lady.”
“Cool. Then, Nessy, you have my permission to take the day off, after I’m dressed and the bed made and so on. I’m guessing it’ll be a day to be out in the street partying and things.”
“Oh, thank you, my lady. I’ll come back in time to see to you going to bed.”
“No, honestly, I meant until tomorrow. You could spend the night with your family, or out on the town with a young man, or whatever… And if anyone argues I’ll get the Queen to back me up – ‘cos hey! Queen’s kinswoman here.”
Not to mention that Orophin had discovered, earlier, that it wasn’t unusual for there to be some bed-hopping during the mid-summer celebrations…
After her bath Tindómë carried her share of breakfast out onto the balcony, so that the sun could dry her hair, whilst Nessy stayed out of view in case anyone noticed her sitting at leisure eating off ‘her lady’s’ tray.
Obviously the young maid had been worried about Tindómë’s disappearance and knew that she had been kidnapped. Tindómë did her best to give her the Cliff Notes version as she ate.
“… and he hit me over the head and bundled me up in a cloak and escaped with me. Anarion, you know, the librarian? He tried to stop the man but he got knocked out too.
“Anyway – the guy took me to his ship – he drugged me too. He told me he was going to take me to his overlord to give to a Haradrim lord… No, I wasn’t very scared ‘cos I knew Rumil and the others would rescue me and they did… How? The Queen’s brothers and… Legolas’ servant… swam out first, and then there was a rowing boat, and archers on the riverbank and then the man threatened to kill me, so they killed him.”
“Oh my goodness! Oh my lady! Taken away in a Corsair ship! You were so brave!” Nessy continued in this vein even as she began to make the bed and head to the wardrobe.
“The dress with the pinks and greys and blues, Nessy, please. Do you remember how much trouble we had working out how to get my grey and green one on properly?”
“Oh my lady, I do – you had to wait and let the gentlemen – um – gentle-elves, help you!”
‘Gentle-elves?’ Tindómë thought. ‘Oh, I so must tell them that one!’
“Well, today you and I will manage the dress – but I think one of the ellyn will come and help me with my hair. You’d better stay until after that bit in case we shock one of the ‘ladyships’. Good job they weren’t around to cluck when Rumil and Orophin were helping me into my clothes back then!”
Sure enough, almost as soon as the dress was on, there was a knock at the door and not one, but three, ellyn entered.
Nodding politely to Nessy, who knew that ‘Rumil does not speak good Common’, Legolas spoke in Sindarin.
“The twins are with their brother and sister, and Galanthir is back in his role as my servant – he is laying out my formal robes – but he says to tell you he will claim a mid-summer kiss later.”
He turned to Rumil, face still formally expressionless, and continued.
“If Rumil is jealous, he says, then he will also kiss him…”
Rumil tilted his head slightly, a sure sign that he was not entirely serious, “Tell your ‘servant’ that I may not wish to stop at one kiss… I have developed a taste for non-blondes.”
Tindómë remembered her thought, only weeks earlier in Helm’s Deep, that ellyn could be dangerous to have around when they sounded so serious and you were supposed to keep a straight face.
Nessy, however, seemed more interested in what Legolas carried; his hands were full of small pink rosebuds and some pale blue flowers with… well, ‘green feathery collars’ came to Tindómë’s mind.
“We have flowers for your hair,” Legolas explained in the common tongue.
“Love in a mist?” asked Nessy, “I thought you’d have proper jewels… oh, begging your pardons!”
“Wait and see,” Legolas said, “Tindómë is not some elderly duchess to be weighed down with gold and heavy stones.”
“No,” Orophin spoke in Sindarin, “she is a delicate, defenceless, and innocent young maiden who was in fear of her life at the hands of a cruel kidnapper… or in danger of being sold for her virginity…”
He paused.
“I still think it sad that we did not know we could sell our virginity to the Haradrim…”
Tindómë was trying, very hard, not to laugh.
“But, brother,” Rumil sounded just a little too solemn, “Tindómë did explain that they only believe it was when a man joined with an elf – when the elf was penetrated for the first time…”
“I would have been quite willing to give a Haradrim warlord that opportunity if he had been willing to pay enough…”
Tindómë, rather than being shocked by Orophin’s answer, had to bite the inside of her lip to not laugh.
But then Rumil, voice unbelievably innocent in tone, came in for the coup de grace…
“Did the Haradrim exist so long ago?”
Just as Tindómë desperately tried not to choke, or to catch Legolas’ eyes in the mirror, there was a knock at the door. The twins had arrived to extend an invitation from Arwen for Tindómë to join her until it was time for the ceremonies to start.
………………………………………………………………
“And Elrohir was right there – and I remember wondering if a naked ellon with a sword looks more or less scary than one with his clothes on – ‘cos, of course it was much easier for them to swim without their clothes…
“Galanthir said afterwards that Éowyn hadn’t known which way to look. I guess she knew exactly which way she wanted to look but, you know, Faramir there and things…
“So, Elrohir takes his leggings from Éowyn and says it’ll be better for Gimli ‘cos dwarves don’t do nudity, and he doesn’t know where to look. It must be because of his lower eye-line, Elrohir says, and I so wanted to giggle…”
‘Good,’ thought Elrohir, ‘that was the idea.’
He stood quietly for a little longer – Arwen had noticed him come through the door, but Tindómë had her back to him. She was clearly giving the less formal, ‘elleth to elleth’, version of her kidnap to Arwen. He wondered if Tindómë realised that, so deep in her telling of the tale, she spoke in a mixture of Sindarin and Common – it made for wonderfully weird descriptions – it was a good job Arwen was equally conversant in both languages.
“And when we got back to shore Legolas was all ‘Commander’ – which is funny ‘cos where I came from, before, we would have said the three with no clothes on were all Commando… Anyway, he is totally impressive when he is in ‘warrior mode’. Well, they all are, but I’d seen the Els, and Rumil and Orophin, doing ‘warrior’ already this trip.
“So then I needed to bathe, ‘cos, eww, gross; same clothes for days, and smelly ship and things. Rumil said Éowyn watched us from the ship – bet she wished she could just have gotten in the river and washed properly, but I guess it would have totally shocked Faramir. And Gimli.
“And then – I was so pleased – Éowyn had brought clean clothes for me. It would have been yuck to put the same ones back on – I guess it’s a girl thing…”
Also an ‘elf thing’, Elrohir thought, but the battle anger often put such thoughts from the mind.
He was about to make his presence known, but Tindómë was still animatedly discussing her rescue, and he couldn’t resist listening a little longer. She was, no matter whether you looked with the eyes of an elf or a man, barely out of childhood and she did, indeed, exhibit the famed resilience of youth.
“Galanthir made us toast. Just so funny – one minute he’s all ‘taste my blades’ and the next he’s making toast. And he says he used to make Legolas toast ‘cos when Legolas was a baby warrior he couldn’t eat before any fighting, and he’d be, like, really hungry afterwards.
“And I’m thinking ‘Aw – sweet’, and then I think hey! This is someone who’s been fighting orcs, or giant spiders, this is so not someone sweet!”
Elrohir decided that, sadly, he would have to interrupt. He must remember ‘taste my blades’ for the next time he sparred! Nodding at Arwen he took a step forward. She took the cue and ‘noticed’ him.
“Tindómë, Arwen, it is almost time to take our places.” He held out an arm to each.
Anyone watching, not knowing them, would have seen an elf lord, resplendent in shimmering, deep blue, robes, accompanying an elleth and a human woman. Except that, were you to sweep back their hair, you would find that the female in the soft elvish muslin and voiles had rounded ears; the heavier silks, and the court jewels of Gondor, adorned the female with the delicately pointed ears and the eyes that showed millennia of experience…
………………………………………………………………
The naming ceremony began in the throne room where most of the court was already assembled. As Legolas’ kinswoman Tindómë entered on his arm to take a place alongside Rumil, and Orophin, representing Lothlorien. Looking around discreetly she could see Lord Erkenbrand and Lady Wilflede, Lord Gimli, the Prince and Princess of Ithilien, and Prince Erchirion of Dol Amroth making up the rest of the front row.
She thought, again, that there was a lot to be said for being ‘friend of Royalty’ class…
Then Aragorn and Arwen entered, flanked by their brothers, and stood on the dais facing everyone.
Aragorn took his tiny daughter, swathed in what looked like enough lace to cover a football field, from his wife. He held her up and announced to the assembled court that this was Gilraen, Princess of Gondor and Arnor. Then he spoke as if to the baby and told her that these were her people to love and serve; just as they would love and serve her.
“Well that didn’t take long!” Tindómë thought, with both relief and amusement.
The King and Queen, followed by Elladan and Elrohir, now walked through all the people in the room holding the princess so that everyone could get at least a glimpse of her. The ‘front row’ followed behind, like some party dance line, until, as Aragorn and Arwen reached the great doors, these were flung open.
Heralds heralded, trumpeters trumpeted, and the nobles all fell into line and processed across the courtyard. It reminded Tindómë, fleetingly, of the memorial ceremony for the Elves at Helm’s Deep.
The procession stopped while Princess Gilraen was introduced to the White Tree, so that she should know of its importance, and it should know her as the true blood of the royal family of Gondor and Arnor.
‘Tree meet Gilraen, Gilraen meet tree…’ Tindómë thought, followed by, ‘I wonder if they’ll ever actually go to Arnor? I guess it might be a bit less formal than Gondor. I hope so, for all their sakes!’
Eventually the giant conga made its way out through the gates of the Citadel, where crowds of ordinary people were assembled, and Aragorn stood again, Arwen at his side, to hold up the baby princess for all to see. He made the same announcement as he had in the throne room.
When he had asked everyone to love and serve Gilraen, and told her to love and serve the people of Gondor, the crowds cheered loudly. The baby opened her eyes, for the first time since the whole event had begun, and looked around with a slightly puzzled expression; then her little face screwed up and she yelled just as loudly.
Tindómë heard, behind her, Faramir say, “We will tell everyone that that is a good sign!”
Turning, she asked him “Is it, traditionally?”
“It will be henceforth,” he answered, with a smile, “for, as it is a very new ceremony, no-one will doubt it!”
Then Tindómë realised that, despite all the trappings of the Gondorian Court, the ceremony had not been unlike the Elven naming ceremony that Gilraen’s mother and uncles had already performed – just at mid-day rather than by moonlight.
‘Stealth Elves… changing things, making them more Elven, just not in the way ‘Lord Lomion’ tried to have people believe,’ she thought, wryly.
………………………………………………………………
There was a buffet laid out for the court and visiting guests of the King – for which Tindómë was grateful. It was less formal than the court dinner of the previous week and smelled a lot better. There were flowers all around, as well as herbs scattered on the floor, and on the tables amongst the food; the great doors were left open to help circulate air. Some people were in slightly more summery clothes, which smelled better than the formal court outfits, and those whose clothes smelled bad could be more easily avoided.
Arwen had walked into the Great Hall of Feasts with Aragorn but, after a few moments of greeting well-wishers, she left and took the young princess with her.
“Better that I take her and nurse her before it gets too much and she starts to cry in earnest,” she said to Tindómë and Éowyn, who were standing nearby. Tindómë noticed at least one of the ladies of the court, who must have overheard, looking somewhat surprised.
Rumil wanted to sit quietly and do a few sketches to use for drawings ‘later’.
“Not this evening, though?” Tindómë asked, slightly worried.
“No, not today, nor even tomorrow I think…”
“Good!”
“Come, nethig, we will collect some food and return with some for Rumil. There may possibly be ice-cream…”
Even the food reminded Tindómë of the day of Aragorn’s coronation when she had sat with Rumil on a balcony… up there… and shared all manner of things to eat as different people all made sure that the two of them were not forgotten.
She piled up a plate for him with salad, a small roast bird (“Quail,” Legolas said as she looked at them carefully), small bread rolls, and ham sliced so thin she thought she could probably see through it.
“Remember how, when Aragorn was crowned, we had stuff like this from the servant and then Sam brought us thick hunks of venison, and cheeses and apple pie?” she asked Rumil as she handed over the plate.
“Of course,” he answered, “I am an Elf, meleth, I do not forget things.”
“Yeah, yeah, yada yada, figure of speech… I mean this reminds me of that.”
“It makes me think of that day, too. I would tell you now of some of the thoughts I had… but there are those around us who speak Sindarin.”
She raised her eyebrows in query.
He reached out, took both her hands in his, and looked into her eyes.
“Oh!” she said, “you felt like this even then?”
“You sat with your feet very close to my bossan…”
‘Clever,’ she thought, recognising the not-even-Sindarin-but-Sylvan slang word for penis. Although she doubted any of the people around here knew ‘naughty Sindarin’ – it was their court language, not their everyday one.
Legolas, who was approaching them, knew exactly what Rumil meant – in his calm, solemn, face his eyes twinkled.
“I think it might be good for you and I to walk around the room a little, nethig,” he said, “you will see why as we walk.”
“Go, meleth, I am happy here.”
“Listen as you draw, Rumil,” Legolas said, as he put Tindómë’s hand on his arm and led her back towards the food tables.
“Should I listen as I eat, gwador?”
“Oh, I think so,” he answered.
Soon she realised what he meant.
“Such a pretty young girl… clearly hardly more than a child… so delicate looking… you can see she is such a young innocent…”
“The horror! Captured by a Corsair my dear! So brave… taken unconscious onto a pirate ship…”
“Prince Legolas, the Queen’s brothers, and the other Elven Lords rode out… very handsome… one of them is to become betrothed to her, or so I have heard.”
“Dear Lord Faramir and the Lord Gimli went with her brother to rescue the little Elven Princess… and Prince Erchirion took ship and pursued the Corsair vessel almost to Pelargir…”
“Isn’t it terrible? A Corsair, here at court… he could have captured anyone, my dear! Not safe in our beds. The Elven Lords rode out and captured his ship to rescue her…”
“Princess Éowyn went with Lord Faramir – so brave! Well… in case anything terrible had befallen the poor young thing… hardly more than a child – look at her there… Elves, so brave going to rescue her before the pirates could… well, you know what I mean…”
“A knife to her throat, or so I’ve heard! I would have quite fainted away!”
“You are almost as fascinating subject of conversation as the new princess, little one,” Legolas said quietly. “And all that I have overheard is complimentary – I have heard not one word against the edhel at all!”
There were, certainly, many comments about how beautiful the baby was, how well her mother looked, even a couple of hushed voices wondering if either of those things could be attributed to the Queen suckling the baby herself! But comments about the innocence, bravery, and prettiness of Tindómë, and the bravery and handsomeness of the ellyn, were echoing throughout the hall.
“Lord Geoghel has done his task,” Elladan joined them, “and made sure that the man’s true identity as a Corsair is already common knowledge. People are shocked to think he might seize such an innocent maiden and hold her captive – you are fast becoming a heroine of Gondor, tithen maethor!
“Do you think I might tell someone ‘confidentially’ that he intended to sell you to a Haradrim War Lord? Not the bit about immortality – someone might be gullible enough to believe it!
“I know the very person to give this titbit of information to… so that it will be known to most of the court within minutes of me leaving her bed…”
They both looked at him.
“I do not see it doing any harm… It is not likely to cause panic, is it? Perhaps you should ask Aragorn,” Legolas said, in answer to the question.
Tindómë still just looked at Elladan.
“Many people retire to their bedrooms for a little this afternoon – it is the tradition to remain awake all night,” he explained.
“Mmm – I knew that. But I thought it was a little sleep…”
“You intend to sleep?”
Ah – he had her there! She couldn’t really grin, or stick her tongue out at him, as this was a very public place.
“Maybe…”
“Ah – but then you are still young, you need more sleep than we do.”
Legolas delivering that last line, rather than Elladan, threw Tindómë slightly; she wondered if he, too, had ‘interesting’ plans for the afternoon!
As she continued to circulate and spoke to Éowyn, to Erchirion, and to Arwen on her return, Tindómë kept an eye on the ellyn. There was no sign of Galanthir – he was being Legolas’ servant and so would not be invited. The twins were not concentrating on any particular females, but talking to people here and there – any assignations must have been made earlier, or by the exchange of only a few words.
Legolas talked more to Éowyn and Lady Wilflede than any other female, and she couldn’t believe he was thinking of joining either of them for a little ‘afternoon delight’… perhaps she had misunderstood him.
She saw Orophin’s pale hair over the crowd a few times – at something like six feet five inches he made almost all the non-elven males look short – but she was never close enough to speak to him, or see who he was talking to.
Rumil, when she returned to him – with ice-cream – said that he did not expect to see Orophin much after the reception finished.
“Well, no. I was kind of expecting you to spend the afternoon in my room…”
“I think we could as easily spend it in the room I share with Orophin.”
“You think he has other plans?”
“He has returned to talk to the same woman three or four times. She looks at him rather as a horse lord looks at a beautiful horse he has not yet ridden.”
“Where? Where? I can’t see properly.”
“Well you can see Orophin. Go to speak to him. He is talking to the woman I mean.”
Tindómë made her way through the guests, spoke briefly to Orophin, and hurried back to Rumil.
“But… but… she’s old! She is old enough to be my mother! And she is… well, very curvy, if not actually plump!”
“Little one, we do not think of age in the same way… remember. No matter how you see it, the woman is not as old as Orophin…”
Before Tindómë could decide on an answer Rumil continued.
“I spoke to Orophin briefly so that I could see her – I was curious… She has eyes that show a bright fëa, and she does not smell of anything except, slightly, of horses. Her hair is very clean. Were I to look for any woman in this room, apart from you, with whom to enjoy ‘the desires of the flesh’ I would find her one of the most acceptable.”
“M’kay… I… just guess I was taught that younger is nearly always more desirable than older…”
“So – Legolas is more desirable than I am, and Orophin more desirable than the twins?”
He had her hand in his, and she didn’t feel that he was very worried, so he must know that she didn’t really see Legolas as more desirable. But he had a point.
“No… You are right. I still think the wrong way sometimes. But I am learning, Rumil-nín.”
“I know, meleth. And you help us to understand the Men, also. But I still do not expect Orophin to need our room this afternoon, whether the woman looks desirable to you or not. And I care not, as long as I look desirable to you.”
………………………………………………………………
The woman was quite open in her invitation – almost as open as an elleth. He wondered if she had already enjoyed ‘the desires of the flesh’ with one, or both, of the twins or whether she was always so plain speaking. Perhaps she was - what was it Tindómë had said? ‘Elf-struck’.
There had been more subtle approaches, during that formal dinner the previous week, and also during this reception; he had given those women the impression that he had not understood.
This one, however, had a bright fëa shining from her eyes – and neither her body nor her clothes smelled of sweat or, Valar forbid, the privy closet. They had spoken of horses; of riding, and of breeding. The conversation had led easily, then, to the invitation to join her in her bed where, she said, she would find such an encounter more beneficial than the sleep many took to see them through the festivities of the night.
There had been women (and men) who had offered their bodies when he had been in Minas Tirith at the end of the Ring War – although some would have expected payment. But Orophin had had no interest in the pleasures of joining then – it was too soon after the death of Haldir and it would have been difficult to let the fëa fly – the sensation of loss had still been too acute.
Now, though, he was more than happy to accompany this woman to her chamber.
He remembered the advice given by Elladan when they had first arrived in the city.
“They will probably call you ‘my lord’ – let them. We tried to suggest they use our names, but somehow that is too intimate for the game they play – they fear that we might want more than they are willing to offer…
“But if you use ‘hiril-nín’, rather than saying ‘my lady’ in the common tongue, it seems to make them soften in their intent and allow more intimacies than they might otherwise have accepted. It is, it seems, ‘more romantic’!”
It also, Orophin thought, saved having to pronounce the woman’s name as she did herself – Gondorian Sindarin was difficult to copy without feeling that you were committing a crime.
He bent his head down, a long way, to kiss her. She was very small; had he held his arm out straight she could have walked, once barefoot, underneath it. It might make certain ways of joining difficult, but it was not the smallness of an elfling – she was clearly fully grown and so it should not be a problem.
“I fear we will both get stiff necks, my lord,” the woman said.
She had a point – although an elf did not get ‘a stiff neck’ he understood what she meant.
“May I?” he asked, taking a pin from her hair.
“Please do.”
Soon her hair was loose; a good colour, like a newly shelled chestnut, with odd strands as pale as his own; he ran his fingers through it.
She looked at his hair.
“Do you loosen yours for… pleasures… or do you leave it braided?”
“Braided. It is a sign that I am an adult male.”
Not totally true, but she was happy to accept – loosening it was too intimate for such an encounter, for an ellon.
Soon he wore nothing but his leggings and his boots – the woman no longer wore her dress, but an under-skirt and a ‘corset’ that was tight fitting and supported her breasts. Her breasts were heavier than Tindómë’s by far – and than Fritha’s; her nipples sat at the top of the corset, flat yet, but darker in colour than any he had seen. Orophin reached out to touch them.
In little time he had removed her lower clothing – she wore only the corset. He sat on the bed, the woman stood between his legs, and he took her nipples, one at a time into his mouth until they were hard as acorns and then went to unlace the stiff garment.
“You wish to take my corset off?” she asked.
“It restricts your body – you must surely find more pleasure without it.”
“My husband, when he lived, preferred that I leave it on. He liked that it pushed my breasts up, and made my waist look small.”
“If it gives you pleasure to leave it on, hiril-nín, I will not ask you to remove it – but for myself, I would see you without it.”
He reached to the laces again. Her buttocks were soft and white – like bread before it goes into the oven – he wanted to take them in his hands and knead them, but removing the corset came first.
“Do Elven women not wear corsets?” she asked, sounding quite serious.
“No. I have never seen such a garment… it is… interesting, but I would sooner see your body.”
“Then,” she reached for his hands and brought them around to the front, “undo it.”
He realised there were metal hooks from between her breasts down to the bottom of the garment, where it sat at the deep hollow of her navel; and set too to release her body.
As he peeled the garment away her breasts dropped under their own weight – he could see little benefit to the extra flesh but it was not displeasing.
“You have the advantage of me,” she said, putting her hand to the waist of his leggings.
“Of course,” he said, standing again to remove them. His cristhen was already rising; he eased his leggings down, and off, and let it spring free.
The woman looked at it and her eyes widened.
Orophin sat again and reached out to pull her closer, but she stopped him, and knelt between his legs.
Now her breasts were at a level with his cristhen – she reached a hand out to it and stroked it once or twice, then bobbed her head down and took him in her mouth. He liked the way her hair fell down in a cascade across his thighs, and ran his fingers through it again, but then she lifted her head and tossed her hair behind her. He hoped it was not wrong to play with her hair – Tindómë was no model for how mortal women viewed these things – but Fritha had not objected.
Before he could ask, however, she moved a little and he found his, now wet, cristhen between her breasts. She held them together with her hands, and moved a little, rocking back slightly on her heels and then forward. Ah… that was… different, but good.
He told her so.
“Ah, hiril-nín, that is good!”
She smiled, licked her lips, and then dropped her head down so that now she took his naith in her mouth as she moved towards him, and released it to the cool air as she moved away.
“Very good!” he said.
Then, a little later, “but I would pleasure you…”
She paused – “After…” and kept going.
“I… I will soon…” he thought to warn her – he did not know how mortal women dealt with the effects of male flight.
Around his cristhen, she smiled.
After, he lifted her onto the bed. He wondered whether to reciprocate – he had pleasured Fritha with his mouth but she had tasted of edhel – one, or both, of the twins’ eredh was there already.
The woman had more hair at her cleft than an elleth – more than Tindómë, more, he thought, than Fritha – but perhaps it was because Fritha was blonde. You would have to be careful not to catch it in your teeth and pull…
Instead he kissed her and ran a hand down stopping to feel the weight of a breast, and pull lightly on the nipple as he would for an elleth – she squirmed – it must be pleasing for her, also.
He reached down to her cleft and as his fingers ran along it she gasped. She was very wet; he slid a finger inside her and found the secret spot just where it was in an elleth. He would not need to think, yet, about using his tongue anywhere but to caress her own – in seconds she gasped again and then cried out.
“I’m coming! Oh, my lord, I’m coming!”
‘Ah – mortals, then, do not fly’, he thought, ‘they see it as a journey…’
She lay on the bed, eyes closed, still breathing deeply.
After a minute or two he leant over and kissed her again.
By now he was firm again and thought to join with her. He moved her legs apart, and went to position himself, but her eyes opened and she looked afraid.
“Oh – I did not know you would want to… that you would be able… after you already have…”
He had been told that older mortal men could not always arise again quickly – her husband must have been one of those. So must any other lovers, judging by her expression.
“I am sorry, hiril-nín – I thought you had invited me for this.”
“I… you…” she paused and then moved down the bed until her hand reached for his cristhen, “I had not realised you would be so… large. I fear it will hurt.”
She said the last in a hurry, as if embarrassed.
He considered carefully. She could not, then, have been with one of the Elrondionath – he was no larger in that part of his body than they were.
“You are quite tiny. But my vië is not overly large… were it smaller it would be the wrong size for my body. You are an adult woman; I do not think it will hurt.”
She still looked unsure.
“I would give you more pleasure,” he said, “Do you not trust me?”
The more he looked at her lying naked, even with her oddly soft and rounded body, the harder his cristhen became and the more he wanted to sheath it.
Then he had an idea.
“Hiril-nín, when we first spoke it was about horses. You said that you are always happy to ride, whether it is side-saddle or astride, that you enjoy being in control.”
Before she could answer he moved so that he was now on his back and gestured towards his own body.
“I think you should mount and control this ride…”
She smiled and minutes later rose to the trot.
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Odd bits of Sindarin.
Cristhen - short-sword; Orophin's preferred slang for penis
Vië - Polite, correct, Elven name for penis.
Edhel - Elves.
Eredh - seed.
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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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S2C was very tired when he beta'd it - please do point out if we have missed anything.
So - as it is almost six weeks since the last chapter, a quick résumé - the just turned twenty-year-old Dawn/Tindómë has been rescued from the pirate ship, and the rescue party have returned to Minas Tirith just in time for the beginning of the Midsummer celebrations and the naming ceremony of the infant princess...
It might be useful to remember that Fritha was the maid who looked after the group who stayed at Helm's Deep in the early chapters.
Chapter Thirty-two of Brotherhood.
Word count 5,550
Rated 15 as usual
Beta'd by the inestimable
speakr2customrsMidsummer Day dawned bright; which was pretty much as expected given the time of year and the Gondorian climate.
It was, however, Tindómë thought, the phrase the chroniclers would use when writing about the events of the day. She considered making a wager on this with Orophin…
“Oh, you’re awake, my lady,” Nessy said, bustling in, a little later than usual. “I thought you might still be asleep after all the horrible things that have happened to you. I’m to see that your bath is filled and then bring your breakfast here so you can eat while your hair dries.”
‘Sounds like a plan,’ Tindómë thought, and she followed Nessy into the bathroom, shedding her nightdress as she went. Scented oils, courtesy of the Queen herself, and the pile of towels made her smile; it was certainly a contrast to her last bath in the Anduin with three ellyn.
“Do you want me to help wash your hair, my lady, before I go for your breakfast?”
No, that was a task for Rumil.
“No thank you, Nessy, I can manage it, no problem. Have you had breakfast?”
“Some tea. I’ll eat later.”
“Bring enough for a big breakfast, and we can share, in case you don’t have time later,” Tindómë said, climbing into the tub, “and, uh, are you meant to be around for me all day?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good. No other jobs that you have to see to?”
“No, my lady.”
“Cool. Then, Nessy, you have my permission to take the day off, after I’m dressed and the bed made and so on. I’m guessing it’ll be a day to be out in the street partying and things.”
“Oh, thank you, my lady. I’ll come back in time to see to you going to bed.”
“No, honestly, I meant until tomorrow. You could spend the night with your family, or out on the town with a young man, or whatever… And if anyone argues I’ll get the Queen to back me up – ‘cos hey! Queen’s kinswoman here.”
Not to mention that Orophin had discovered, earlier, that it wasn’t unusual for there to be some bed-hopping during the mid-summer celebrations…
After her bath Tindómë carried her share of breakfast out onto the balcony, so that the sun could dry her hair, whilst Nessy stayed out of view in case anyone noticed her sitting at leisure eating off ‘her lady’s’ tray.
Obviously the young maid had been worried about Tindómë’s disappearance and knew that she had been kidnapped. Tindómë did her best to give her the Cliff Notes version as she ate.
“… and he hit me over the head and bundled me up in a cloak and escaped with me. Anarion, you know, the librarian? He tried to stop the man but he got knocked out too.
“Anyway – the guy took me to his ship – he drugged me too. He told me he was going to take me to his overlord to give to a Haradrim lord… No, I wasn’t very scared ‘cos I knew Rumil and the others would rescue me and they did… How? The Queen’s brothers and… Legolas’ servant… swam out first, and then there was a rowing boat, and archers on the riverbank and then the man threatened to kill me, so they killed him.”
“Oh my goodness! Oh my lady! Taken away in a Corsair ship! You were so brave!” Nessy continued in this vein even as she began to make the bed and head to the wardrobe.
“The dress with the pinks and greys and blues, Nessy, please. Do you remember how much trouble we had working out how to get my grey and green one on properly?”
“Oh my lady, I do – you had to wait and let the gentlemen – um – gentle-elves, help you!”
‘Gentle-elves?’ Tindómë thought. ‘Oh, I so must tell them that one!’
“Well, today you and I will manage the dress – but I think one of the ellyn will come and help me with my hair. You’d better stay until after that bit in case we shock one of the ‘ladyships’. Good job they weren’t around to cluck when Rumil and Orophin were helping me into my clothes back then!”
Sure enough, almost as soon as the dress was on, there was a knock at the door and not one, but three, ellyn entered.
Nodding politely to Nessy, who knew that ‘Rumil does not speak good Common’, Legolas spoke in Sindarin.
“The twins are with their brother and sister, and Galanthir is back in his role as my servant – he is laying out my formal robes – but he says to tell you he will claim a mid-summer kiss later.”
He turned to Rumil, face still formally expressionless, and continued.
“If Rumil is jealous, he says, then he will also kiss him…”
Rumil tilted his head slightly, a sure sign that he was not entirely serious, “Tell your ‘servant’ that I may not wish to stop at one kiss… I have developed a taste for non-blondes.”
Tindómë remembered her thought, only weeks earlier in Helm’s Deep, that ellyn could be dangerous to have around when they sounded so serious and you were supposed to keep a straight face.
Nessy, however, seemed more interested in what Legolas carried; his hands were full of small pink rosebuds and some pale blue flowers with… well, ‘green feathery collars’ came to Tindómë’s mind.
“We have flowers for your hair,” Legolas explained in the common tongue.
“Love in a mist?” asked Nessy, “I thought you’d have proper jewels… oh, begging your pardons!”
“Wait and see,” Legolas said, “Tindómë is not some elderly duchess to be weighed down with gold and heavy stones.”
“No,” Orophin spoke in Sindarin, “she is a delicate, defenceless, and innocent young maiden who was in fear of her life at the hands of a cruel kidnapper… or in danger of being sold for her virginity…”
He paused.
“I still think it sad that we did not know we could sell our virginity to the Haradrim…”
Tindómë was trying, very hard, not to laugh.
“But, brother,” Rumil sounded just a little too solemn, “Tindómë did explain that they only believe it was when a man joined with an elf – when the elf was penetrated for the first time…”
“I would have been quite willing to give a Haradrim warlord that opportunity if he had been willing to pay enough…”
Tindómë, rather than being shocked by Orophin’s answer, had to bite the inside of her lip to not laugh.
But then Rumil, voice unbelievably innocent in tone, came in for the coup de grace…
“Did the Haradrim exist so long ago?”
Just as Tindómë desperately tried not to choke, or to catch Legolas’ eyes in the mirror, there was a knock at the door. The twins had arrived to extend an invitation from Arwen for Tindómë to join her until it was time for the ceremonies to start.
………………………………………………………………
“And Elrohir was right there – and I remember wondering if a naked ellon with a sword looks more or less scary than one with his clothes on – ‘cos, of course it was much easier for them to swim without their clothes…
“Galanthir said afterwards that Éowyn hadn’t known which way to look. I guess she knew exactly which way she wanted to look but, you know, Faramir there and things…
“So, Elrohir takes his leggings from Éowyn and says it’ll be better for Gimli ‘cos dwarves don’t do nudity, and he doesn’t know where to look. It must be because of his lower eye-line, Elrohir says, and I so wanted to giggle…”
‘Good,’ thought Elrohir, ‘that was the idea.’
He stood quietly for a little longer – Arwen had noticed him come through the door, but Tindómë had her back to him. She was clearly giving the less formal, ‘elleth to elleth’, version of her kidnap to Arwen. He wondered if Tindómë realised that, so deep in her telling of the tale, she spoke in a mixture of Sindarin and Common – it made for wonderfully weird descriptions – it was a good job Arwen was equally conversant in both languages.
“And when we got back to shore Legolas was all ‘Commander’ – which is funny ‘cos where I came from, before, we would have said the three with no clothes on were all Commando… Anyway, he is totally impressive when he is in ‘warrior mode’. Well, they all are, but I’d seen the Els, and Rumil and Orophin, doing ‘warrior’ already this trip.
“So then I needed to bathe, ‘cos, eww, gross; same clothes for days, and smelly ship and things. Rumil said Éowyn watched us from the ship – bet she wished she could just have gotten in the river and washed properly, but I guess it would have totally shocked Faramir. And Gimli.
“And then – I was so pleased – Éowyn had brought clean clothes for me. It would have been yuck to put the same ones back on – I guess it’s a girl thing…”
Also an ‘elf thing’, Elrohir thought, but the battle anger often put such thoughts from the mind.
He was about to make his presence known, but Tindómë was still animatedly discussing her rescue, and he couldn’t resist listening a little longer. She was, no matter whether you looked with the eyes of an elf or a man, barely out of childhood and she did, indeed, exhibit the famed resilience of youth.
“Galanthir made us toast. Just so funny – one minute he’s all ‘taste my blades’ and the next he’s making toast. And he says he used to make Legolas toast ‘cos when Legolas was a baby warrior he couldn’t eat before any fighting, and he’d be, like, really hungry afterwards.
“And I’m thinking ‘Aw – sweet’, and then I think hey! This is someone who’s been fighting orcs, or giant spiders, this is so not someone sweet!”
Elrohir decided that, sadly, he would have to interrupt. He must remember ‘taste my blades’ for the next time he sparred! Nodding at Arwen he took a step forward. She took the cue and ‘noticed’ him.
“Tindómë, Arwen, it is almost time to take our places.” He held out an arm to each.
Anyone watching, not knowing them, would have seen an elf lord, resplendent in shimmering, deep blue, robes, accompanying an elleth and a human woman. Except that, were you to sweep back their hair, you would find that the female in the soft elvish muslin and voiles had rounded ears; the heavier silks, and the court jewels of Gondor, adorned the female with the delicately pointed ears and the eyes that showed millennia of experience…
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The naming ceremony began in the throne room where most of the court was already assembled. As Legolas’ kinswoman Tindómë entered on his arm to take a place alongside Rumil, and Orophin, representing Lothlorien. Looking around discreetly she could see Lord Erkenbrand and Lady Wilflede, Lord Gimli, the Prince and Princess of Ithilien, and Prince Erchirion of Dol Amroth making up the rest of the front row.
She thought, again, that there was a lot to be said for being ‘friend of Royalty’ class…
Then Aragorn and Arwen entered, flanked by their brothers, and stood on the dais facing everyone.
Aragorn took his tiny daughter, swathed in what looked like enough lace to cover a football field, from his wife. He held her up and announced to the assembled court that this was Gilraen, Princess of Gondor and Arnor. Then he spoke as if to the baby and told her that these were her people to love and serve; just as they would love and serve her.
“Well that didn’t take long!” Tindómë thought, with both relief and amusement.
The King and Queen, followed by Elladan and Elrohir, now walked through all the people in the room holding the princess so that everyone could get at least a glimpse of her. The ‘front row’ followed behind, like some party dance line, until, as Aragorn and Arwen reached the great doors, these were flung open.
Heralds heralded, trumpeters trumpeted, and the nobles all fell into line and processed across the courtyard. It reminded Tindómë, fleetingly, of the memorial ceremony for the Elves at Helm’s Deep.
The procession stopped while Princess Gilraen was introduced to the White Tree, so that she should know of its importance, and it should know her as the true blood of the royal family of Gondor and Arnor.
‘Tree meet Gilraen, Gilraen meet tree…’ Tindómë thought, followed by, ‘I wonder if they’ll ever actually go to Arnor? I guess it might be a bit less formal than Gondor. I hope so, for all their sakes!’
Eventually the giant conga made its way out through the gates of the Citadel, where crowds of ordinary people were assembled, and Aragorn stood again, Arwen at his side, to hold up the baby princess for all to see. He made the same announcement as he had in the throne room.
When he had asked everyone to love and serve Gilraen, and told her to love and serve the people of Gondor, the crowds cheered loudly. The baby opened her eyes, for the first time since the whole event had begun, and looked around with a slightly puzzled expression; then her little face screwed up and she yelled just as loudly.
Tindómë heard, behind her, Faramir say, “We will tell everyone that that is a good sign!”
Turning, she asked him “Is it, traditionally?”
“It will be henceforth,” he answered, with a smile, “for, as it is a very new ceremony, no-one will doubt it!”
Then Tindómë realised that, despite all the trappings of the Gondorian Court, the ceremony had not been unlike the Elven naming ceremony that Gilraen’s mother and uncles had already performed – just at mid-day rather than by moonlight.
‘Stealth Elves… changing things, making them more Elven, just not in the way ‘Lord Lomion’ tried to have people believe,’ she thought, wryly.
………………………………………………………………
There was a buffet laid out for the court and visiting guests of the King – for which Tindómë was grateful. It was less formal than the court dinner of the previous week and smelled a lot better. There were flowers all around, as well as herbs scattered on the floor, and on the tables amongst the food; the great doors were left open to help circulate air. Some people were in slightly more summery clothes, which smelled better than the formal court outfits, and those whose clothes smelled bad could be more easily avoided.
Arwen had walked into the Great Hall of Feasts with Aragorn but, after a few moments of greeting well-wishers, she left and took the young princess with her.
“Better that I take her and nurse her before it gets too much and she starts to cry in earnest,” she said to Tindómë and Éowyn, who were standing nearby. Tindómë noticed at least one of the ladies of the court, who must have overheard, looking somewhat surprised.
Rumil wanted to sit quietly and do a few sketches to use for drawings ‘later’.
“Not this evening, though?” Tindómë asked, slightly worried.
“No, not today, nor even tomorrow I think…”
“Good!”
“Come, nethig, we will collect some food and return with some for Rumil. There may possibly be ice-cream…”
Even the food reminded Tindómë of the day of Aragorn’s coronation when she had sat with Rumil on a balcony… up there… and shared all manner of things to eat as different people all made sure that the two of them were not forgotten.
She piled up a plate for him with salad, a small roast bird (“Quail,” Legolas said as she looked at them carefully), small bread rolls, and ham sliced so thin she thought she could probably see through it.
“Remember how, when Aragorn was crowned, we had stuff like this from the servant and then Sam brought us thick hunks of venison, and cheeses and apple pie?” she asked Rumil as she handed over the plate.
“Of course,” he answered, “I am an Elf, meleth, I do not forget things.”
“Yeah, yeah, yada yada, figure of speech… I mean this reminds me of that.”
“It makes me think of that day, too. I would tell you now of some of the thoughts I had… but there are those around us who speak Sindarin.”
She raised her eyebrows in query.
He reached out, took both her hands in his, and looked into her eyes.
“Oh!” she said, “you felt like this even then?”
“You sat with your feet very close to my bossan…”
‘Clever,’ she thought, recognising the not-even-Sindarin-but-Sylvan slang word for penis. Although she doubted any of the people around here knew ‘naughty Sindarin’ – it was their court language, not their everyday one.
Legolas, who was approaching them, knew exactly what Rumil meant – in his calm, solemn, face his eyes twinkled.
“I think it might be good for you and I to walk around the room a little, nethig,” he said, “you will see why as we walk.”
“Go, meleth, I am happy here.”
“Listen as you draw, Rumil,” Legolas said, as he put Tindómë’s hand on his arm and led her back towards the food tables.
“Should I listen as I eat, gwador?”
“Oh, I think so,” he answered.
Soon she realised what he meant.
“Such a pretty young girl… clearly hardly more than a child… so delicate looking… you can see she is such a young innocent…”
“The horror! Captured by a Corsair my dear! So brave… taken unconscious onto a pirate ship…”
“Prince Legolas, the Queen’s brothers, and the other Elven Lords rode out… very handsome… one of them is to become betrothed to her, or so I have heard.”
“Dear Lord Faramir and the Lord Gimli went with her brother to rescue the little Elven Princess… and Prince Erchirion took ship and pursued the Corsair vessel almost to Pelargir…”
“Isn’t it terrible? A Corsair, here at court… he could have captured anyone, my dear! Not safe in our beds. The Elven Lords rode out and captured his ship to rescue her…”
“Princess Éowyn went with Lord Faramir – so brave! Well… in case anything terrible had befallen the poor young thing… hardly more than a child – look at her there… Elves, so brave going to rescue her before the pirates could… well, you know what I mean…”
“A knife to her throat, or so I’ve heard! I would have quite fainted away!”
“You are almost as fascinating subject of conversation as the new princess, little one,” Legolas said quietly. “And all that I have overheard is complimentary – I have heard not one word against the edhel at all!”
There were, certainly, many comments about how beautiful the baby was, how well her mother looked, even a couple of hushed voices wondering if either of those things could be attributed to the Queen suckling the baby herself! But comments about the innocence, bravery, and prettiness of Tindómë, and the bravery and handsomeness of the ellyn, were echoing throughout the hall.
“Lord Geoghel has done his task,” Elladan joined them, “and made sure that the man’s true identity as a Corsair is already common knowledge. People are shocked to think he might seize such an innocent maiden and hold her captive – you are fast becoming a heroine of Gondor, tithen maethor!
“Do you think I might tell someone ‘confidentially’ that he intended to sell you to a Haradrim War Lord? Not the bit about immortality – someone might be gullible enough to believe it!
“I know the very person to give this titbit of information to… so that it will be known to most of the court within minutes of me leaving her bed…”
They both looked at him.
“I do not see it doing any harm… It is not likely to cause panic, is it? Perhaps you should ask Aragorn,” Legolas said, in answer to the question.
Tindómë still just looked at Elladan.
“Many people retire to their bedrooms for a little this afternoon – it is the tradition to remain awake all night,” he explained.
“Mmm – I knew that. But I thought it was a little sleep…”
“You intend to sleep?”
Ah – he had her there! She couldn’t really grin, or stick her tongue out at him, as this was a very public place.
“Maybe…”
“Ah – but then you are still young, you need more sleep than we do.”
Legolas delivering that last line, rather than Elladan, threw Tindómë slightly; she wondered if he, too, had ‘interesting’ plans for the afternoon!
As she continued to circulate and spoke to Éowyn, to Erchirion, and to Arwen on her return, Tindómë kept an eye on the ellyn. There was no sign of Galanthir – he was being Legolas’ servant and so would not be invited. The twins were not concentrating on any particular females, but talking to people here and there – any assignations must have been made earlier, or by the exchange of only a few words.
Legolas talked more to Éowyn and Lady Wilflede than any other female, and she couldn’t believe he was thinking of joining either of them for a little ‘afternoon delight’… perhaps she had misunderstood him.
She saw Orophin’s pale hair over the crowd a few times – at something like six feet five inches he made almost all the non-elven males look short – but she was never close enough to speak to him, or see who he was talking to.
Rumil, when she returned to him – with ice-cream – said that he did not expect to see Orophin much after the reception finished.
“Well, no. I was kind of expecting you to spend the afternoon in my room…”
“I think we could as easily spend it in the room I share with Orophin.”
“You think he has other plans?”
“He has returned to talk to the same woman three or four times. She looks at him rather as a horse lord looks at a beautiful horse he has not yet ridden.”
“Where? Where? I can’t see properly.”
“Well you can see Orophin. Go to speak to him. He is talking to the woman I mean.”
Tindómë made her way through the guests, spoke briefly to Orophin, and hurried back to Rumil.
“But… but… she’s old! She is old enough to be my mother! And she is… well, very curvy, if not actually plump!”
“Little one, we do not think of age in the same way… remember. No matter how you see it, the woman is not as old as Orophin…”
Before Tindómë could decide on an answer Rumil continued.
“I spoke to Orophin briefly so that I could see her – I was curious… She has eyes that show a bright fëa, and she does not smell of anything except, slightly, of horses. Her hair is very clean. Were I to look for any woman in this room, apart from you, with whom to enjoy ‘the desires of the flesh’ I would find her one of the most acceptable.”
“M’kay… I… just guess I was taught that younger is nearly always more desirable than older…”
“So – Legolas is more desirable than I am, and Orophin more desirable than the twins?”
He had her hand in his, and she didn’t feel that he was very worried, so he must know that she didn’t really see Legolas as more desirable. But he had a point.
“No… You are right. I still think the wrong way sometimes. But I am learning, Rumil-nín.”
“I know, meleth. And you help us to understand the Men, also. But I still do not expect Orophin to need our room this afternoon, whether the woman looks desirable to you or not. And I care not, as long as I look desirable to you.”
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The woman was quite open in her invitation – almost as open as an elleth. He wondered if she had already enjoyed ‘the desires of the flesh’ with one, or both, of the twins or whether she was always so plain speaking. Perhaps she was - what was it Tindómë had said? ‘Elf-struck’.
There had been more subtle approaches, during that formal dinner the previous week, and also during this reception; he had given those women the impression that he had not understood.
This one, however, had a bright fëa shining from her eyes – and neither her body nor her clothes smelled of sweat or, Valar forbid, the privy closet. They had spoken of horses; of riding, and of breeding. The conversation had led easily, then, to the invitation to join her in her bed where, she said, she would find such an encounter more beneficial than the sleep many took to see them through the festivities of the night.
There had been women (and men) who had offered their bodies when he had been in Minas Tirith at the end of the Ring War – although some would have expected payment. But Orophin had had no interest in the pleasures of joining then – it was too soon after the death of Haldir and it would have been difficult to let the fëa fly – the sensation of loss had still been too acute.
Now, though, he was more than happy to accompany this woman to her chamber.
He remembered the advice given by Elladan when they had first arrived in the city.
“They will probably call you ‘my lord’ – let them. We tried to suggest they use our names, but somehow that is too intimate for the game they play – they fear that we might want more than they are willing to offer…
“But if you use ‘hiril-nín’, rather than saying ‘my lady’ in the common tongue, it seems to make them soften in their intent and allow more intimacies than they might otherwise have accepted. It is, it seems, ‘more romantic’!”
It also, Orophin thought, saved having to pronounce the woman’s name as she did herself – Gondorian Sindarin was difficult to copy without feeling that you were committing a crime.
He bent his head down, a long way, to kiss her. She was very small; had he held his arm out straight she could have walked, once barefoot, underneath it. It might make certain ways of joining difficult, but it was not the smallness of an elfling – she was clearly fully grown and so it should not be a problem.
“I fear we will both get stiff necks, my lord,” the woman said.
She had a point – although an elf did not get ‘a stiff neck’ he understood what she meant.
“May I?” he asked, taking a pin from her hair.
“Please do.”
Soon her hair was loose; a good colour, like a newly shelled chestnut, with odd strands as pale as his own; he ran his fingers through it.
She looked at his hair.
“Do you loosen yours for… pleasures… or do you leave it braided?”
“Braided. It is a sign that I am an adult male.”
Not totally true, but she was happy to accept – loosening it was too intimate for such an encounter, for an ellon.
Soon he wore nothing but his leggings and his boots – the woman no longer wore her dress, but an under-skirt and a ‘corset’ that was tight fitting and supported her breasts. Her breasts were heavier than Tindómë’s by far – and than Fritha’s; her nipples sat at the top of the corset, flat yet, but darker in colour than any he had seen. Orophin reached out to touch them.
In little time he had removed her lower clothing – she wore only the corset. He sat on the bed, the woman stood between his legs, and he took her nipples, one at a time into his mouth until they were hard as acorns and then went to unlace the stiff garment.
“You wish to take my corset off?” she asked.
“It restricts your body – you must surely find more pleasure without it.”
“My husband, when he lived, preferred that I leave it on. He liked that it pushed my breasts up, and made my waist look small.”
“If it gives you pleasure to leave it on, hiril-nín, I will not ask you to remove it – but for myself, I would see you without it.”
He reached to the laces again. Her buttocks were soft and white – like bread before it goes into the oven – he wanted to take them in his hands and knead them, but removing the corset came first.
“Do Elven women not wear corsets?” she asked, sounding quite serious.
“No. I have never seen such a garment… it is… interesting, but I would sooner see your body.”
“Then,” she reached for his hands and brought them around to the front, “undo it.”
He realised there were metal hooks from between her breasts down to the bottom of the garment, where it sat at the deep hollow of her navel; and set too to release her body.
As he peeled the garment away her breasts dropped under their own weight – he could see little benefit to the extra flesh but it was not displeasing.
“You have the advantage of me,” she said, putting her hand to the waist of his leggings.
“Of course,” he said, standing again to remove them. His cristhen was already rising; he eased his leggings down, and off, and let it spring free.
The woman looked at it and her eyes widened.
Orophin sat again and reached out to pull her closer, but she stopped him, and knelt between his legs.
Now her breasts were at a level with his cristhen – she reached a hand out to it and stroked it once or twice, then bobbed her head down and took him in her mouth. He liked the way her hair fell down in a cascade across his thighs, and ran his fingers through it again, but then she lifted her head and tossed her hair behind her. He hoped it was not wrong to play with her hair – Tindómë was no model for how mortal women viewed these things – but Fritha had not objected.
Before he could ask, however, she moved a little and he found his, now wet, cristhen between her breasts. She held them together with her hands, and moved a little, rocking back slightly on her heels and then forward. Ah… that was… different, but good.
He told her so.
“Ah, hiril-nín, that is good!”
She smiled, licked her lips, and then dropped her head down so that now she took his naith in her mouth as she moved towards him, and released it to the cool air as she moved away.
“Very good!” he said.
Then, a little later, “but I would pleasure you…”
She paused – “After…” and kept going.
“I… I will soon…” he thought to warn her – he did not know how mortal women dealt with the effects of male flight.
Around his cristhen, she smiled.
After, he lifted her onto the bed. He wondered whether to reciprocate – he had pleasured Fritha with his mouth but she had tasted of edhel – one, or both, of the twins’ eredh was there already.
The woman had more hair at her cleft than an elleth – more than Tindómë, more, he thought, than Fritha – but perhaps it was because Fritha was blonde. You would have to be careful not to catch it in your teeth and pull…
Instead he kissed her and ran a hand down stopping to feel the weight of a breast, and pull lightly on the nipple as he would for an elleth – she squirmed – it must be pleasing for her, also.
He reached down to her cleft and as his fingers ran along it she gasped. She was very wet; he slid a finger inside her and found the secret spot just where it was in an elleth. He would not need to think, yet, about using his tongue anywhere but to caress her own – in seconds she gasped again and then cried out.
“I’m coming! Oh, my lord, I’m coming!”
‘Ah – mortals, then, do not fly’, he thought, ‘they see it as a journey…’
She lay on the bed, eyes closed, still breathing deeply.
After a minute or two he leant over and kissed her again.
By now he was firm again and thought to join with her. He moved her legs apart, and went to position himself, but her eyes opened and she looked afraid.
“Oh – I did not know you would want to… that you would be able… after you already have…”
He had been told that older mortal men could not always arise again quickly – her husband must have been one of those. So must any other lovers, judging by her expression.
“I am sorry, hiril-nín – I thought you had invited me for this.”
“I… you…” she paused and then moved down the bed until her hand reached for his cristhen, “I had not realised you would be so… large. I fear it will hurt.”
She said the last in a hurry, as if embarrassed.
He considered carefully. She could not, then, have been with one of the Elrondionath – he was no larger in that part of his body than they were.
“You are quite tiny. But my vië is not overly large… were it smaller it would be the wrong size for my body. You are an adult woman; I do not think it will hurt.”
She still looked unsure.
“I would give you more pleasure,” he said, “Do you not trust me?”
The more he looked at her lying naked, even with her oddly soft and rounded body, the harder his cristhen became and the more he wanted to sheath it.
Then he had an idea.
“Hiril-nín, when we first spoke it was about horses. You said that you are always happy to ride, whether it is side-saddle or astride, that you enjoy being in control.”
Before she could answer he moved so that he was now on his back and gestured towards his own body.
“I think you should mount and control this ride…”
She smiled and minutes later rose to the trot.
Odd bits of Sindarin.
Cristhen - short-sword; Orophin's preferred slang for penis
Vië - Polite, correct, Elven name for penis.
Edhel - Elves.
Eredh - seed.
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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S2C was very tired when he beta'd it - please do point out if we have missed anything.
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Date: 29/01/2010 10:29 am (UTC)And I liked the last part -- interesting to see Orophin with an 'older' woman. Good last line!
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Date: 29/01/2010 12:46 pm (UTC)I loved writing Orophin confronted by what is, basically, someone alien - certainly from a very different cultural background - he looks at her differently compared with how a Gondorian male might see her. And it is a good thing that he doesn't voice his observations;
"Your backside reminds me of risen, unbaked, bread dough," would not be the most romantic line she had ever heard!
I was really pleased with the last line when it came to me.