5. Scene 5: The Sleeper Awakened
He did not know how many nights it had been that he had watched her sleep, he knew only that he never tired of it. Her face relaxed and trusting, her warm body curled against him. The spill of her hair, the gentle sound of her breath, occasional murmurs. And the smell of her, delicious and wholesome, like fresh bread on a spring wind.
For the first time in weeks she had slept undisturbed. Her fears at last laid to rest.
He blew gently over her ear and she smiled in her sleep. He whispered and she stirred. He danced his lips over her shoulder, inviting skin peeking out from beneath her shift. She purred and stretched, her feet pressing down against his. Gently he stroked the white scars left by the knife that had almost stolen her from him, then he moved his mouth to the smooth skin of her neck, nuzzling softly.
“Elrond.” She murmured, “Am I awake or still dreaming?”
“Definitely dreaming, my love.” He whispered, his lips continuing their ministrations. He pushed her hair gently up from the back of her neck, burying his face briefly in the soft fall. The warm, familiar smell of it at once comforting and arousing. He touched his mouth to the nape of her neck, kissing and tasting. Her body quivered, sending a delicious message to his. He ran fingers gently through the dark hair, firm yet light against the shape of her skull. Her exhalation of pleasure stirred him, and he moulded himself to her, feeling the curve of her body through the sheer silk. The hand on her shoulder now, stroking down the length of the arm, feeling the density of the bone and muscle. Humans were so strong and yet so fragile, built to withstand much, but not to last. His mouth was busy on her ear, the neat shell-like shape unceasingly erotic. She moaned with delight as he breathed and nibbled, squirming marvellously, awakening him to press against her.
He rolled her over onto her back, so that he might sample another dish. Her lips were soft and responsive, the feel of them at once satisfying and hunger-inducing. No matter how often he drank here, he never had enough. He ran his tongue over them, gently tasting. She opened to him, and with the entry into her mouth, a great rush of desire came over him. Her eyes gazed at him. The adoration in their dark depths an intoxication. He ran his fingers over the hard collarbone, slowly loosening the ribbon of her shift. She lifted a leg to entwine with his, the action bringing her warmth against his readiness. He moaned quietly, heat rising from his loins. He leaned forward over her, touching his lips to the softness between her breasts as he slowly uncovered them. They were firm beneath his palm, and full in his hand, aureoles dark and tight in the cold air. He felt her small hands on his back, warm and firm against his bare skin. Her touch did things to him he had not thought possible, alerted nerves, fired skin and wakened deep passions.
He moved over her breast, taking the nipple in his mouth, sucking it until she moaned and writhed. Running his tongue over the taut ridges and closing his teeth on the hard knot. Her hands were in his hair now, tight and demanding among the silk. Back to her mouth, the eager heat of it, she running a hand down his flank, then across to grasp him. The feel of her fingers were delightful against him, squeezing and tugging. He remembered the first time she had touched him, when he had placed her hand there and shown her what to do. Tentative at first, but soon confident. He growled at the thought as his heat rose, fuelled by her now expert grip.
Her body was urgent against him, her leg demanding behind his.
“Elrond.” She called him softly.
He kissed her again, moving a hand under the hem of her shift, finding the seat of her fire. She sighed, relaxing into his familiar touch. He stroked her, gently at first, letting her awaken and open to him, the first encounter of dewy heat making him ache with need. His fingers became more intimate, teasing, seeking, delving, and she clutched at his back.
“Now, my love.” She whispered hungrily.
He mounted over her, her hands and feet drawing him in, her face beneath his, desire large in the eyes, her mouth soft and yearning. He waited a moment, just at the threshold, savouring her. The hunger, the need, her body begging him. He could feel her beneath him, hard and soft, strength and beauty. She arched into him, flickering her tongue over her open lips, and he could hold back no longer.
Clasping his arms to her head, and brushing her lips with his, he entered her, and her gasp of delight matched his own. The wet heat of her parting to his arrival.
She moved beneath him, her hands gripping his shoulders, and he felt his urgency mounting, heat building, driving him forward into her. She moaned and whimpered in his ear, fingers digging into his back, and each new tiny ululation roused him further. Each stroke a wave of pleasure, at once delicious and yet not enough. He tried to keep the pace steady, to build slowly, sipping to quench his raging thirst. Her eyes were dilated now, her breathing rough, her body locked helplessly into his rhythm. He was nearing the summit, and as he felt her body quiver and tense beneath him, he slowed to bring her closer. She was gasping, eyes wide, mouth open, hips raised against him. He relished the moment, the exquisite balance, each of them on that golden knife edge, trembling and poised, eyes locked in love and desire, then he spun them off. Clasping each other close they shuddered and shook. Tumbling through the whirlwind of consummation, spinning, spiralling and finally sighing to rest.
He stroked her hair, looking into her dark eyes and she felt the wind of joy rush over her, cleansing doubts, sweeping away worries, steering a course for the future.
She touched his face, delicately, lightly, as one might on seeing a great treasure for the first time. “I never dreamed that love could be like this.” She whispered, “You are the sigh of breath in my body, the singing of blood in my veins. The light of the stars shines on me from your eyes and when you kiss me, all the world disappears.” She clasped her hands to him. “Thank you. My beloved lord. Thank you for being, thank you for loving me, thank you for sharing with me all the happiest moments of my life.”
“Gil.” He touched his lips to her brow. “My little sleeper, my elrhîw, you have given me the key to my heart. Shown me the way to myself and taught me not to fear. I was a fallow field but now I am sprung with life.”
A last kiss they shared, a touching of lips and of hearts, before duty called them to start the day.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.