|By:||Marina aka Aearwen o Rómendor|
|Cast:||Galion, Lithônion (OMC) / Mal (OFC)|
|Disclaimer:||Written for entertainment, not profit, using characters from Tolkien. Lithônion is Marina's muse, and Mal belongs to herself (or, possibly, Thranduil).|
|Summary:||When Thranduil's two courtesans finally have the chance to spend some time on their own, the inevitable happens.|
|Author's notes:||Written by Marina as a gift for Mal, who had become quite fond of Lithônion even before she knew of his secret plans for her. If you want to read more about him, have a look at his site (please heed warnings).|
|Feedback:||Please write to Marina at firstname.lastname@example.org|
The weather was wonderful and the spring in northern Eryn Lasgalen mild. Thousands of bees had been swarming and some of the trees by the Elvenking's Halls were already bearing fruit.
“Are they ripe yet?”
“Of course they are. Galion, here, try one.” Lithônion handed the king’s butler of old a large dark cherry.
The other elf looked at it carefully, not sure if he should try it or not. During the past years Lithônion had tricked him several times with dark cherries. His whole system had been shocked when the cherry that was nearly black in color and was supposed to be sweet and juicy turned out to be sour. He had been shuddering and shaking and had, finally, spit it out, all to the great amusement of the elves around him. Galion was not sure if the courtesan intended to fool him again.
But this time it was a sweet one. He slowly pushed it behind his lips and then bit it carefully not to hurt his teeth on the stone. Closing his eyes, Galion chewed and swallowed it, and then he spit the stone over the hedge.
“So, when you are done with picking berries, I would appreciate to receive a small basket of those delicious dark red treats. I need to get myself going.” Galion excused himself and walked back to the office. Thranduil had ordered a spring cleaning of the forest palace and so everyone found himself or herself working late. Even his courtesans had suddenly been ordered to sort parchment roles and file maps that had been drawn and piled up in the last sixty years or so.
Lithônion, though, climbed like a squirrel back up the tree and snacked on the fruits while picking basket after basket. He loved his cherry tree and was already dreaming of cherry pie, cherry cake, and cherry jam.
Pushing open the door to his office Galion saw that Mal was still busy filing bills, rolling up parchments, and making notes for him. She brushed her hair out of her face and shooed two other elves away. Galion smiled. He had called several people to relieve her a little, but the problem was that most of the time she did their work as well, because she thought they would not do it right or at least not the way she wanted them to do it.
She fanned through a bunch of maps and, once they were counted, loaded them on Galion’s desk for his approval. They had been drawn by Mablung on his latest scouting trips.
“Mal, sweet Mal,” Galion announced as he entered the large room that was flooded by sunlight. The windows were clean and all facing southeast, as he has desired it, so the morning sun could kiss them.
It had taken Galion a while to adjust to that, but he had to admit that the room was more friendly ever since Mal had ordered it to be remodeled. She had gasped and cried out loud when she was first appointed to his office. Now everything was the way SHE liked it.
Galion had liked this office very much the way it was before too. Snow white walls, dark leather chair, ebony furniture, black and white granite floor, no distractions from flowers, paintings or other things like these. His desks had been loaded with tons of different things: parchments, letters, maps, papers, documents of all kinds….
“Master Galion,” Mal had said then, “nobody can work here. It is uncomfortable.”
“I worked like that for ages!”
“We have to change this, and soon,” Mal had answered and not even an hour later Galion had found himself sitting on his leather chair in the hallway, with his desk in front of him. The breeze had blown his documents away and he remembered how he had shuddered. Inside of his office Mal had been armed with brushes to paint the walls. Lithônion had instantly offered his help and by the end of the next day the room shone in a soft yellow. Fine sheers were put up; flowers brought in and set on sill.
Galion had been stunned when he saw, that the tile floor had been changed into a wooden floor that matched his ebony furniture. He stood there, looking sheepishly as he realized that the cabinets that had been put up hid all the things that he had had sitting around. On the shelves he found the books he had written, in alphabetical order, and a large painting of Formenos had finally been framed and hung on the wall.
Now, he loved to go to this place and he secretly hoped that Thranduil would continue to let them all work the way they now did. Every morning he found a cup of freshly brewed tea and a biscuit on his desk. The air was fresh and clean; no dust, no mess either, and he could start to work. When he returned from his afternoon nap he would find the office still in perfect shape and Mal working hard.
The sunlight was rather bright this day and through the window Galion could see Lithônion still sitting in the tree talking to his cherries. He scratched his head and wondered, if all of his friend's talking was what made the cherries grow so well this year. Suddenly he turned around and said, “Why do you not take this afternoon off, Mal? The king is not here either. Enjoy the day.”
“Why?” Mal was stunned because she was used to work overtime most of her days since the day Thranduil had ordered them to clean everything out.
“It is pretty out there. I myself will close this place for today and will join one of the other elves that is preparing to go on a hunt. I will take my sketch book with me for the case I find some new and pretty butterflies, berries or bears…whatever.”
Mal did not need to hear this offer twice. Quickly she took her pouch, said good-bye and left the office more or less running. On her way out of the room she caught a glimpse of Lithônion as he descended his tree and poured another basket of cherries into a large bucket.
‘Ah, the cherries are ripe now...how delicious... I think I need to try some, too.’ Mal’s mouth watered at the mere thought of the sweet cherries and she changed direction. Instead of walking down the big halls to the main gathering place from where stairs and tunnels led to the private quarters of many elves, she took the nearest way out.
She sometimes considered this hidden fortress a little intimidating with its broad walls and gruesome murals, but when the weather was as warm as today, she enjoyed feeling the cool marble under her bare feet.
She squeezed herself out through the opening of one of the large doors, not having the strength to open it all the way; it took two grown male elves using their whole bodily strength to push them open. As soon as she was outside, sunbeams instantly started to pet her face and she closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy it.
“Mal! What brings you out of the cold walls at this time of the day?” the dancer Lithônion called down from his tree, and then sucked another cherry into his mouth.
“Galion decided that we ought to finish work early today.”
“A miracle…or is he developing a fever, maybe? Did he get too much wine last night or has someone poured miruvor into his soup? Unbelievable!” the king's dancer exclaimed and jumped down to land straight in front of Mal. He kissed her gently on the cheek to greet her properly; he enjoyed seeing the lovely lady that he secretly admired. Mal had to look up because the ancient elf was tall and she, compared to him, rather small.
“Did I tell you," he said after the kiss, "that you look stunning today. Of course you are always stunning, but today you are extraordinary lovely, sweetest Mal.” Lithônion showered Mal with compliments. She flashed him a smile and nodded as she answered, “Lithônion, you tell me this every day. But I will believe you - just as every day. Thank you for your compliments.”
The two courtesans continued for some more minutes to exchange compliments, like they often did. They sat down under the tree and Lithônion willingly gave her a basket with fresh cherries when he noticed how she was hungrily looking at the berries.
“It carries more than last year, don’t you think?” He wanted to make some small talk and he thought that the topic of cherries would be suitable.
“Honestly, I don't know. I don't think I've paid attention to the cherry trees here before.”
Lithônion instantly began to ramble on about cherry trees, landscaping, and gardens and how he had embarrassed himself an age ago when he had climbed the tree to pick an apple for Thranduil and had fallen out of the tree, landing on his behind and had not been able to sit right for a while and of course had nod been dancing for weeks. Mal laughed, enjoying their talk, and what she had thought would be some moments under the tree passed into hours.
Then suddenly Lithônion stopped talking and his eyes locked with Mal’s.
“I do not know how to say this, but your voice and your beauty enchants me and I have lately come to envy the king’s butler for having you.” Mal gasped.
“He does not have me! What a strange idea! I am the king’s courtesan, not Galion’s.” Lithônion blushed and looked to the ground.
“I am sorry, I thought…because you spend so much time with him and you make his tea and …”
Mal stroked his chin and cupped it to make him look at her. “We are working together, that is all. We get along pretty well, but neither Galion nor I are interested in each other at all in any other way.”
At this, Lithônion’s eyes lit up, but as Mal and he continued to just look at the other, a kind of awkward silence soon hang over them. Lithônion took her hand slowly and kissed it gently.
“I want to show you a place where wild strawberries grow. You like strawberries?” the elven dancer asked and pulled Mal to stand. Then he bent his head and kissed her on the forehead, inhaling the scent of her hair.
Mal was happy to get up. That moment of silence had left her feeling uneasy; something was in the air but she could not grab it, could yet not get a clue out of it. She was slightly concerned that she would not be back for dinner, where she was supposed to see the king. Still, she found herself unable to decline the elf's offer of strawberries. Strange - she was not hungry at all after all those cherries.
Lithônion strolled with her to a meadow near the forest. He explained about the difference in taste of those tiny wild strawberries and those that she would find in the stands of the market places in Laketown. He pointed out birds and flowers of all kinds while they walked. When they finally they reached a glade, Mal turned her head and realized that they had walked far away from the fortress.
“I got one for you!” Lithônion was already on his knees, looking at small plants near stones or under shrubs. When his hand was full he stood up again and came back to Mal, who had sat down in the middle of a field of golden flowers. He smiled when he saw her gazing over the flowers. Sitting down next to her he offered her the berries and Mal took one, ate it and was surprised over the tremendous taste.
Lithônion took another one and held it in front of her lips. When she wanted to take it, he caught her hands and motioned with his own mouth how he wanted her to catch it. Mal instantly tried to, but he moved the tiny fruit away. And every time she got close he did not let her get it.
Finally, he let her win and Mal closed her eyes while swallowing the berry. Lithônion’s fingertips were red from the juice, and she grabbed his hand with lightening speed, as if she was an elf, pulled it close and sucked the sweet liquid from his fingers.
Their eyes locked. And without any hesitation the ellon grabbed her, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her with him down on the ground. The two courtesans’ mouths found each other; their tongues snaked out, drowning in a passionate kiss. Mal’s hands ran over Lithônion's cheeks to his pointy ears; she rubbed the tips, while they were still kissing and he moaned under her touches.
Then h shifted them and Mal became more or less buried under his body. The elf’s soft hands ran over her face, over her neck and shoulders as he showered her with kisses.
“I desire you so much…so long already…”Lithônion breathed into her ear, as he erratically started to tore on her blouse.
“We should not... not you and I… not here..," Mal answered breathlessly before his tongue entered deep into her mouth again.
Suddenly Lithônion lifted his head, his eyes traveling over the glade to the forest and back to them. “There is no one around,” he concluded, and, with a smirk playing on his lips, he added, “Don’t play the innocent…because we both know that you are about as innocent as I am.”
Mal knew that Lithônion’s quarters were deep underground and she did not want to return to the palace yet. Thranduil would hardly begrudge his courtesans taking pleasure in each other - and if he did, she was willing to make it up to him.
“Let us stay here,” she told the dancer, and then she pulled his face down to her again, encouraging him to kiss her once more. She lifted her hips, pressing them against his thighs, and the elf inhaled sharp.
Lithônion did not want to spoil the moment and decided not to rush. He moved back and onto his knees, pulling Mal to sit. Embracing her, kissing the sides of her face and tracing her cheek line with his tongue, he encouraged her to stay on the ground with him.
His hands traveled gently over her back and her sides and slowly he dared to move on, and he rested his hands on her shoulders for some moments, but he never stopped kissing her.
Then his hands dropped down a little and when she shivered under the soft touch of his fingers he began to unbutton her blouse. To prevent her from changing her mind, he kept on kissing her. Mal held on to his shoulders, enjoying the thought that she had enchanted Thranduil's courtesan dancer, the one everyone thought was not interested in females...
“This is not fair…”she whispered when she found herself naked while only his tunic was open. Faster than light the elf pushed his breeches down and cast his tunic carelessly away, making it land somewhere on the grass.
He dragged Mal down on the ground again and began to explore her body curiously. There was not a single spot left that his tongue had not stroked, that his fingers had not rubbed or caressed while Mal was squirming beneath him, gasping for breath while another wave of passion built up inside of her.
Her foot soles began to burn, her cheeks were flushed and, thinking she could not take his touching any longer, she begged him for relief. But he did not stop. Lithônion continued worshipping her body and although he felt the urge to bury himself deep inside of her, he wanted her to first experience pleasures no other elf ever could give her. He knew well how to perform art in his professions as dancer and courtesan, and dreams about these moments had filled all his days in the past months. When he had danced for the king and had seen Mal next to him or when he tended to her inspired by dance and music, Lithônion had often whished to be in Thranduil’s place.
Mal pushed her hips against him, to invite him once again as his face disappeared between her thighs, and her fingers dug deep into his shoulder long hair that was petting her heated and flushed body. When he finally emerged again she was crying out his name. That was when he started to rub himself over her skin before slowly diving into her body, inch by inch, not to spoil his own pleasure by being to passionate and ending it to fast. His strokes were slow and she held on to him impatiently, thrusting herself against him.
Lithônion lengthened his strokes. Not for a moment did his eyes leave her face. Her long eyelashes threw shadows on her blushed cheek, and he soaked up the image of her lying in passion with him, burned it into his brain, so he could nourish from it later, when these moments would be gone.
Mal clawed her fingers into his back, and when she wrapped her legs around his hips he decided to pound heavier into her body. Her moans and groans – beautiful music to his ears – filled the glade.
“You taste better than any cherry I ever had,” he whispered into her ear.
Then he kissed her again and when he felt her body shivering, and her tightening around him once again, he pushed deep into her one last time. Groaning loud while the spasms of his own release were shaking him hard, he finally closed his eyes in joy. He tried desperately to contain himself not to collapse on top of her.
He propped himself up on his elbows and whispered sweet words into her ears, as she tried to recover. Smiling and gazing somewhere into the distance she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her, still feeling him deep inside of her.
Hours passed and the night came, but the two courtesans were still in the glade. Only in the early morning hours did Lithônion escort her to her chambers. On the way they laughed and joked over her troubles to walk to her bed, and he kissed her good night, or rather, good morning, when he left for his quarters deep underground.
“Outrageous! Look all the cherries spilled, the birds got over them! I wonder where he went! And this during a work day!” Galion argued loud as he tried to find Lithônion, because some elf lord wanted to see him. Searching for the dancer the whole afternoon had made him miss the hunt he had planned to participate in.
He finally found Mal’s purse on the ground, next to an empty basket of cherries. But neither she, nor Lithônion, was to be found. Galion raised an eyebrow as he began to put one and one together.
When morning broke, two elves that were roaming through the forest stopped at a glade to rest. They broke their bread and were sharing a water skin when Mablung suddenly pointed at a patch of crumpled flowers in the meadow.
“Lithônion must have fallen asleep here,” the ancient elf said, recognizing the impression on the flowers.
Thranduil cocked an eyebrow while he scanned the ground, and when he looked back at his friend since elfling days, he was grinning. “Well, he must have slept really bad, so much grass and so many flowers have been disturbed here. He must have been rolling around with himself, while having a very vivid dream indeed.”
Posted: February 20, 2007
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"Long live Thranduil, great Elf-king of Greenwood!"