6. Scene 6: Truly Home
[To be inserted in The Standard Bearer - Epilogue: Faithful to the Last]
Gently, he laid her down, stroking her face with his long fingers as he stretched himself alongside.
“Oh, Gil.” He murmured, a smile of delight brimming over, “Sometimes I still cannot believe it is you.”
She looked up at him, his face subtly older, marked with the joy and sorrow of many years.
“Elrond.” She whispered, lifting her hands to unfasten his hair, so that it tumbled about them, running her fingers through the soft fall. He pressed his mouth to hers again, kindling a fire deep in her belly, and she opened her lips to taste him. Sweet and familiar, like a favourite childhood dish, heavy with happy memories. Now she clasped her hands urgently in his hair, holding his head to her. He reached with his tongue, delving deeply and she gasped with delight. His long hands were stroking her softly through the thin silk of her gown, reacquainting themselves with her body. Now his lips moved again over her jaw and down to her neck, whispering with healing softness over the marks of her collar, and nibbling delightfully along her collarbone.
She laughed breathlessly, drawing up a bare foot to run down the back of his leg. He raised his head to fix her with his gaze, eyes deep with love and warm with passion, while his fingers deftly undid the front of her gown. Opening the fastenings he stole a quick kiss before lowering his hands and mouth to her breasts. Moaning softly, she closed her eyes and laid back her head, feeling the play of his fingers and tongue upon her, awakening an ache of need, a rush of desire. She gripped one hand in the back of his robe, while the other made free in his long hair, stroking the shining river, dancing over his ear and down the nape of his neck, causing shivers of pleasure to run along his flank.
Now he turned his hand to completing her disrobing, while his mouth sought hers again. Slowly, one by one, he released the remaining fastenings of her gown, but he did not open it. Instead he sat up to kneel astride her.
Gil sighed to see him, her heart loud, her body hungry. His beauty was undiminished by time, the dark river of his hair flowing about the sculptured face, the delicate arch of his brows, the moulded, sensuous lips. He raised his hands, fingers long and sensitive, knuckles strong and hard, to unfasten his own robe. Breathless she watched as he revealed himself to her, the smooth contours of the flawless chest, the strength and breadth in the shoulders, the long, hard muscles of the arms. She reached her hands to touch him, running her fingers urgently over him, stroking across the chest, down the arms, up along the hard thighs to close over him.
He groaned at the touch of her fingers, lifting his head so that his hair fell away from his face, eyes closing in pleasure. She smiled to see it, an answering call echoing within herself.
After a few moments he returned his gaze to her, eyes hungry now, moving over her body, spying out the gaps in her open robe, so that the fragments of skin so exposed tingled with anticipation. Gripping her hand gently by the wrist to keep its place of pleasure, he laid his long nakedness beside her. His mouth touched against hers, the tiniest and softest of kisses while a fine hand slowly, slowly pushed back her robe and ran its way over her.
“Oh, Gil.” He quivered as he touched her, fingers now trailing, now pressing, tracing the lines of bone and flesh, hard and soft, that once he had known as well as his own. His voice was hoarse with desire and he pressed, needing, against her. “Oh, my woman.”
Kisses were more urgent now, and his hand bolder. He teased and coaxed, both delighting and delighted, while she awakened beneath his touch. She lifted both hands to grip his shoulders now, ready, eager, urging him to his place. He steadied himself over her, cradling her head, brushing her face with his lips, hair dancing about her. Slowly they touched, heat against heat, feeling the need, readying themselves for the joining. It came smoothly and with twin breaths, and Gil gasped as she felt him fill her.
“Oh my Lord.” She murmured, her body responding to his, the past and future forgotten as her world was reduced only to him. She clutched her hands about his shoulders, lifting herself to him, every movement causing a surge of pleasure and desire. A hand ran up her back to hold her head, supporting her as her limbs melted with sensation.
His breath was in her ear, warm and heavy, but he had none for words, as his body trembled against her. Softly and slowly, they found their pace. Matching that rhythm they had so often shared, rolling back the years as if they had never been apart. The feel of his body on hers, the scent of his hair and the whisper of his breath, swept her up in riot of memory, desire and love. She clung to him, letting him take control, giving herself up to the pleasure he spun between them, feeling it coil and thicken around her, suffusing her limbs, binding her to him. He was urgent now, gasping, and she felt her body tremble its answer as he began to shudder. He clasped her to him, his lips in her hair, as they shared again that heady cup, drinking thirstily, draining it to the last drop.
“Oh, my little sleeper.” He whispered, stroking her hair, and drawing the soft blankets about her, “you are truly home now.”
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.