A Tale of Two Swords, Chapter 3
|Rating/Warnings:||Rated NC-17 for adult sexual situations, oral sex, nudity.|
|Disclaimer:||This story is a work of amateur fanfiction written for entertainment only and no copyright infringement on the works of JRR Tolkien is intended.|
|Genre and timeline:||AU/ Mix of movie and book/ During the Council of Elrond|
|Summary:||A young squire of Gondor meets two citizens of Imladris who offer to entertain him while he waits for his Captain to return from the Council of Elrond.|
|Author's Notes:||Written for a fan named Conner who wanted to date an elf lady.|
The bathhouse gate was closed and the brilliant, dazzling sunlight was cut off. The shady interior might as well have been plunged into pitch-black darkness for Conner's mortal eyes. But even so, he could still clearly see the stranger who had called them 'wicked', another elf woman, as she set a large, square-shaped cloth-covered bundle down on the stool and then drew nearer to the sunken tub's edge.
For some uncanny reason, she stood out clearly while everything around her remained in gloom. There seemed to be a glimmering light about her form, an unusual incandescence that appeared to hover over her body, but he assumed that his eyes were playing tricks on him after the temporary blindness from the gate being opened.
Conner's eyes swiftly readjusted again to the green-tinged shadowy light inside of the bathing shed and he was sure that this elleth, who stood silently regarding the three of them, was another sister; she looked that much like Glorchiniel and Glawareth. She would have been identical, to his eyes, except that her hair was darker and her face more solemn.
Gracefully, she knelt down and stared directly at him, unsmiling, but she did not appear hostile, merely curious. Her eyes were the same as the others', gray and piercing. And inscrutable.
"What have they been doing to you, man-child?" Her knowing voice was deeper than the golden-haired sisters' but reminded him of theirs. "Are they trying to drown you?"
"We are giving him a bath," answered Glorchiniel, innocently, before Conner could think of anything to say, let alone how to say it. He turned to her and smiled gratefully.
"After his long journey from the South, he badly needed one," put in Glawareth, wrinkling her nose slightly, as if remembering the way he had smelled. "And he was bored," she added.
But the strange elf lady did not act like she heard either one of them as she continued to gaze at Conner, her face expressionless. Everything grew silent, except for the constant sound of water pouring into the bath and out through the overflow drain. And the longer he stared back into her eyes, the more he felt drawn within them, as if they were portals to all of the wisdom to be found in the world.
At first, it felt wonderful to enter, as if door after door revealing door after door was opening for him. But then, that sensation changed, and he felt as if he was being pulled involuntarily deeper into her mind while being examined, without his being able to stop her. It was an uncomfortable sensation, almost painful, and he was helpless to resist. And then she smiled. It was such a warm and forgiving smile that he felt instantly relieved, as if he had passed some crucial test. The spell-like trance was broken.
"Do you feel cleansed?" she asked.
Still speechless, Conner nodded dully. He had been unnerved by her stare and reeled a little from it. But then he remembered his manners, and, after lifting his arms up to the surface of the water and turning them with his hands palm upward to show her, he answered.
"Yes, m'lady, I have never felt so clean." The rest of him below his chest was too deep for her inspection. He was not sure if he wanted her to ask to see more, or not.
On either side of him, the sisters tittered slightly at his reply while they ran their hands over the surface of his exposed forearms, and then up over his arms to his shoulders and back down. The touch of their fingers would have been thrilling, if the mysterious stranger had not been watching them.
At first, he was glad that this dark elf-lady with the penetrating stare had asked him an easy question, until he thought about it. What had she meant by cleansed? Had she just performed some kind of elvish sorcery on him with her strange gaze? Her warm and friendly smile, however, reassured him, as did her gentle voice when she spoke.
"There is very little in life that can not be made better by a hot bath. Are you hungry, man-child?" She looked at the sisters beside him, whose golden strands of hair floated around all three of them in the water like gilded seaweed, and asked them, "Have you fed him or have you both been too busy satisfying your own appetites to give consideration to our guest's other mortal needs?"
Only the merest twitching motions at the corner of the stranger's lips indicated that she was both well aware of the activities that had taken place in the bath and, perhaps, amused. Without waiting for an answer, she rose and retrieved the cloth-covered bundle from the stool and carried it to the edge of the bath.
"And are either of you going to remember your manners and introduce me to your friend?" As she asked, she removed the loose covering to reveal a shallow wooden tray laden with marvelous looking foods that emitted a savory aroma and there was a bulging wineskin in the center, too. He had not realized how hungry and thirsty he was and felt suddenly ravenous at the sight.
"This is Conner, naneth," said Glorchiniel. "He says that he is the son of one called Hedrik."
"Conner," said Glawareth, "this is our mother. Her name is Miriel." Without thinking, he shook his head in denial and even laughed at the thought, until he realized that she was serious. For a moment, he was bewildered. This beautiful elf woman was not another sister? She was their mother? And was her name Naneth or Miriel?
In the end, his training saved him and he was able to stammer out a garbled offer to be of service and a declaration of honor to meet her. But the ageless beauty did not appear to take much notice of the clumsiness of his reply.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Conner," she said and then she beckoned for the three of them to leave the bath to join her.
Reluctantly, Conner followed Glorchiniel and Glawareth as they moved to the steps, but he was relieved when they paused first to retrieve large drying towels from the back of the shelf where the soaps and washcloths were stored. At least he would not have to drip while eating lunch.
"Dry him off well, dear daughters," ordered Miriel, although her tone did not indicate that she considered it a chore. "We do not want him to catch a chill while a guest here, do we?" For a fleeting moment, even though he was hungry, Conner almost resented the interruption for a meal. He was just getting used to being alone, and naked, and in hot water, with these lovely women, and now he realized that he would probably have to dress again. In all of those layers.
Even worse, the twin sisters would probably put their dresses back on, too. He tried not to stare at their breasts, and other parts, as they diligently toweled him off from head to toe, but it was hard not to notice and it was probably his last chance. The towels were made of a fluffy absorbent fabric, as soft as lambs-wool on his bare skin, and he soon forgot his bitter feelings as he was patted and rubbed all over with them.
Finally, the sisters were done, but instead of letting him dress, they wrapped a dry towel around his waist, and cleverly fixed it in place so that it would not slip off. Their vigorous rub-down had been arousing and he was glad for the covering. They wrapped towels around their own waists, too, but otherwise did not cover themselves before they joined their mother. They knelt down by the makeshift tablecloth and left room for him between them. Everyone acted as if there was nothing abnormal in being clad only from the waist down.
But Conner felt nearly naked under the calm regard of the elf-lady, Miriel. In truth, she did not look motherly at all, or even older than his Captain, but he was still uncomfortably aware of her status. The twin ellith had hair long enough to act as a curtain over their nakedness, and their legs were smooth and slender. Between them, out of the buoyant water, he felt clumsy again, and he could not easily fold his thick legs to kneel like they could. He had to sit with his knees bent up before him, which made it hard for him to remain modestly covered.
"Conner seems a sturdy name," Miriel said, after she had spread the picnic out on the cloth. "And I believe it has been more than a dozen long years since I have last seen a Gondorian's chest hair."
"It is nice to look at, is it not?" Glawareth moved closer to him and patted the smooth chevron of sandy curls that grew on his chest. "And nicer to touch than I thought it would feel." The wine was poured into bowls, and Conner was surprised at how delicious it tasted compared to the bitterly sour vintage he was used to at home. He tried not to gulp it.
"I like his legs," said Glorchiniel, offering Conner some pieces of fruit and cheese on a napkin as she contemplated his lower limbs. "He is like a Beorning." When she shifted around, her hair did too, and he could catch glimpses of the skin beneath its golden veil and could just discern the curve of her breast.
"He is nothing like a Beorning," replied Glawareth, offended. Conner had no idea what a Beorning was, but he had not felt terribly insulted by the term, although he did feel suddenly self conscious about the hair on his legs, which he had never noticed much before today. "Beornings are like bears even when in their own skins," she added with a slight twinge of disgust in her voice.
"You are right," her sister said. "I am sorry, Conner, you are nothing like a bear, you are more like a..." She cocked her head, in the same way she had done when he had first seen her in the library, while she thought about it.
"A stag!" Glorchiniel announced first.
"No, not a stag, a stag is too wild," her sister protested. "More like... a stallion."
"A stallion? With these thick muscular thighs and sturdy calves?" Glorchiniel stroked those parts of his leg as she referred to them, sending goose bumps up to his hairline. "Maybe a boar?" And while the twin's bantered good-naturedly about what type of furred animal Conner most closely resembled, he felt more and more proud of his bulky physique, and less clumsy. The wine flowed freely, the delicious food appeased his hunger, and, for the first time since he had arrived, he felt almost at home.
But he still felt underdressed as long as their mother had her gown on and he wondered about that rule he had been advised of earlier, the one about how it was considered rude to remain clothed in the bath house. Maybe it only counted if actual bathing was taking place? He decided that it did not matter because he would never mention it out loud. However, as soon as he thought it, Miriel turned to him and this time her bright eyes shone with amusement.
"Where are my own manners to remain dressed?" To Conner's amazement, and delight, she stood and removed her gown. The sisters clapped as she stood unashamed before them all. Her figure was as slender and youthful as her daughters', and her skin had the same smooth marble-like texture.
And only after Conner got over the initial shock of her undressing did he wonder if the elf woman had just read his mind. It gave him an all-over chill to consider it, but his face felt as if it was burning at the same time. He had been warned, many times, that the elves had unnatural ways about them, and to be always on guard in word, deed, and thought. At least he had not given away any military secrets. Miriel's voice brought him back to the present.
"And now you three are all overdressed." The sisters took the hint, stood, and swiftly lost their towels, but Conner was not so quick to remove his, not until he had willed his overly eager male parts to calm down. It was easier to control his urges now, after having spent himself so thoroughly within the willing Glawareth, for which he would always be grateful, but the sight of the naked ellith again was a surprise that caught him off guard.
And to think that he was sure that he had taken his last glimpses of them while they were drying him off, not that he was sorry for the peeking.
After a few deep breaths, Conner finally felt settled down enough to reveal his private parts, and he stood to drop his towel as casually as the ellith had done. It was hard not to feel shy in front of the mother of his bathing partners, but he was trying to go along with the customs of these captivating creatures while a visitor in their enchanted valley. He could not remember ever being completely naked in front of any woman, including his own mother, even as a child.
"A clean body is healthy, and to keep the body in good health is a soldierly duty, Conner," Miriel explained. "Otherwise you shall not be able to keep your mind strong and clear. And it is only with a clear mind that you can ever be of proper service to those who most depend on you. Do you agree?" With a few subtle gestures, she managed to silently direct her daughters to spread their towels on the floor.
"I... yes, I agree." Conner thought he did, anyway, although he truly was not that convinced that a clean body was a soldierly duty, but it would do no good to disagree. There was one rule he had been taught to fall back on if all else failed, 'While amongst strangers, one must avoid insulting anyone by accident.' But what if even thinking such thoughts of disagreement was the same as saying them out loud? As if in answer, Miriel laughed, a low throaty chuckling.
"To be an agreeable guest one need only enjoy oneself," she said, and this time he was not that bothered by his mind being read. "Now do be a good guest and lie down there," she gestured to the spread towels, "and rest, you must be weary." Glawareth sat on the towels, too, and she beckoned for Conner to put his head on her lap.
Glad to obey, Conner stretched out and stayed still while Glawareth gently ran her fingers through his hair. Glorchiniel sat beside her sister and hummed a soothing melody. It was a very relaxing position, after his bath and meal, and he felt a bit drowsy. He was a little regretful that they were not all taking better advantage of being naked, now that he was feeling much less self-conscious, and he was worried that he might fall asleep.
Miriel knelt beside him, close enough that her bent knees brushed against his side, and spoke wisely, "Do not spoil your peace of mind by desiring for more pleasure, but remember that what you have experienced here is among the things that most men in Middle-earth can only dream about."
"I will never forget," he vowed seriously, feeling somewhat chastened by her words.
"And I think that the time has come for me to make a careful inspection of my daughters' handiwork, Conner," Miriel said and her eyes had an odd gleam. Conner's heart pounded as the absurd image of a predator about to devour its prey came unbidden into his mind. However, if she was going to pounce on him, then, unless she displayed actual fangs and talons, he was willing to let her.
"Yes... yes, m'lady," he stammered, although he was not sure if her remark required a response for she had said it as a matter of fact.
"I want to see how clean you really are."
Disappointingly, Miriel did not pounce. Instead, using one hand, she gently traced her fingers over his face, neck, and shoulders. Down each arm she continued to his hands, which she examined one by one before placing them at his sides. She seemed pleased to note how healthy his skin was, for a human, and congratulated her daughters for doing a good job at revealing it.
Being this near to her nude form made it hard to concentrate on her words, or maybe he felt befuddled because she was close enough for him to detect the fragrance of what must have been perfume, or was it her natural scent? He regretted that she had not joined them earlier.
Then she shifted her touch even lower, over his stomach and below his navel, and Conner prayed that he would not embarrass himself by visibly becoming aroused, but he hoped that, if he did, she would keep going with her inspection. Involuntarily, he squirmed slightly when her fingers glided firmly over his groin and then swerved at the last moment to travel slowly down the outside of his hip.
"Relax, Conner," Glawareth said to him and then, to Miriel, "I think he is ticklish, naneth." And now Conner understood that 'naneth' was their word for mother.
"A mortal's skin is more sensitive to the touch than yours or mine is, and their nerve endings more excitable." To demonstrate, Miriel stroked a fingertip over the sole of his foot and, though he fought to remain still, his toes wiggled. The twin ellith giggled.
"Mortals are very fun to play with," said Glorchiniel.
"He is certainly clean everywhere that I can see," announced Miriel as she moved her hand from his foot over to his ankle and then up to his knee before withdrawing it. Conner was momentarily crestfallen that she was finished. "Maer," she declared, proudly. Her daughters murmured back replies in their own language, too, but he could guess that they were saying 'thank you'.
"However, there is one last place to examine," she added, "an area which is presently partially hidden from my view." Up until that time, Conner had held his legs close to each other. He felt slightly dizzy when her smooth small hand slipped between his thighs and nudged them apart, and he watched as she bent to have a closer look between them before her hair spilled over his abdomen, and her face, like a curtain, obscuring his view.
"Ah, I had forgotten the singular aroma of mortal male flesh." He could feel her breath on his most private parts as she handled him there. Kindly, she drew her screening hair away from her face and cast a glance at him. "There is only one sure way to tell if this area is clean."
As Conner watched, enthralled, her delicate pink tongue darted out to taste his rigid member with soft, swift licks. She went even lower and tasted the soft sack below the firmer part for a time before returning to the weeping tip, which she teased daintily. But after she took his length into her mouth, he found it much harder to focus.
There was something about the way her exquisitely shaped lips stretched as they moved lower on his thick shaft that made him moan while his head fell back onto Glawareth's lap. He could feel her tongue moving, suckling him, and he groaned in ecstasy. But then she stopped; the intimate inspection was over, and much too soon for Conner. When Miriel sat back up straight, it was all he could do to stop himself from pleading for her to continue.
"Overall, you have made a satisfactory effort, daughters." Her voice was cool and emotionless, as if she was completely unaware of Conner's throbbing distress. "And an excellent performance at polishing his... worthy equipment." She looked down and smiled into his eyes, but he did not see an ounce of pity within hers. His loins ached.
"It is a worthy sword," agreed Glawareth.
"You mean he is a worthy stallion," said Glorchiniel, who took advantage of Miriel's careful preparations, and, before Conner could even brace himself, pounced on him, straddling his thighs. "Be still, my gentle steed," she told him, "while I seat myself."
Conner had not the least desire to delay or discourage her, and he remained as still as stone, holding his breath, while she guided his length within the dewy pink petals of her sex. Never in his life had he felt such an enormous wave of gratitude. After she was completely filled, she sat still on him, and guided his hands up to her breasts. For the third and last time that day, as he stroked her velvety skin, he was ready to die from pleasure, if that was the elliths' ultimate aim, which he had decided it was.
Now this was a view he had never had yet, and when she began to move again, he let go of her breasts in order to watch them bounce, and then he was mesmerized by the sight of her nether lips as they slid along his slick hardness while she lifted and lowered herself on him. Before long, she was moving too swiftly for him to appreciate the finer details of the operation, and finally he bucked his hips upwards to meet her while he climaxed explosively, not caring if it was too soon or who was watching or if it would kill him.
When Conner awoke, he thought he had heard someone saying his name. He sat up straight and instinctively grabbed for his sword. Instantly he was on his feet, staring around in wonder, and completely disoriented. Not only was he outside of the bath house, but he was dressed, too. How did that happen? And where were the ellith? He had been napping against the bowl-shaped shed, and it was a mystery to him how he had come to be there.
"There you are," said a voice familiar to Conner, and he whirled to greet his Captain. How long had he been asleep? Boromir did not look happy, but neither did he seem angry. If anything, he appeared thoughtful.
"Sir, I did not hear you, have you been calling for me?"
"No, I have just now come to find you." His Captain glanced back over his shoulder at the large house and was silent for a moment before continuing. "The council is over," he said, a bit grimly. "There is to be dinner served and you are allowed to attend with me." Boromir seemed to notice Conner at last, and his attitude changed from distracted to interest as his eyes swept over him from top to bottom. "You do not seem the worse for wear," he said with a wide smile. "Have you had a bath?"
Hesitating, Conner considered his answer, and his position, and his rank, and the amount of questions he would have to answer added to the amount of teasing he would probably endure, and decided to say no. But, before he could reply, his Captain broke into his thoughts.
"No matter, young squire," said Boromir. "However it was that you spent your day is your own affair, although at your age I would have used the opportunity to chase elf-skirts around inside of the house." He winked at Conner and turned to lead the way to the promised dinner. "And I am happy to see that you used some of that free time to polish your sword."
For several heart-banging moments, Conner wondered how his Captain had guessed the truth about his encounter with the trio of elf-ladies, and tried to quickly come up with a reasonable explanation for his eagerness to join the debauchery.
Luckily, something made him glance down at the sword on his hip, and he noticed that the handguard, below the hilt, was nearly twinkling; it was so clean. Cautiously, he withdrew a few inches of the blade from its scabbard and saw that it had an almost mirror-like finish that he had never been able to achieve on his own. The ellith.
More careful inspection revealed that his clothes had been cleaned and mended, too, and his boots had been buffed until they were glossy. He felt dashing.
"A well-polished sword is a sure sign of respect for a worthy weapon," remarked Boromir.
"Aye, sir, it is that," agreed Conner happily, although more to himself than to his Captain. "That it surely is."
Posted: September 17, 2005
This site is in no way affiliated with the Tolkien Estate.
No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
"Long live Thranduil, great Elf-king of Greenwood!"