6. The Inner Fire
She did not outwardly show the turmoil her emotions were in. He had kissed her and she had felt the proof of his desire. Now his eyes would not leave her. She wanted to dance for joy, but dare not. She fought hard to maintain the usual distant but friendly affection for an old friend and not fuel any concerns he might have. Finally nearly reaching the end of her control, she maneuvered her mother into saying their farewells and departing the gathering.
Her mother studied her as they traversed the halls of the main house and crossed an open courtyard to the upper wings where their rooms were situated. At last she stopped and gently wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and hugged her close.
“I was right, you are trembling. You still love him or that dance would not have affected you so.”
“Yes, naneth, I fear it is so and, no, I do not expect anything more to come of it. In fact, if anything, it brought home most completely that I must do something to remove myself from his presence.”
“Meren?” her mother looked worriedly at her. “Please do not do anything precipitously I beg of you.”
“I will do nothing without discussing it with you and ada first if at all possible, I promise.”
“Very well. But please consider your actions carefully.”
Meren looked at her mother affectionately and longed to tell her of the problems her gift had caused. She could only hope that Lord Elrond would understand and deal with her privately then let her depart quietly for the Undying Lands without dragging her parents into the mess. When they reached their chambers she bid her mother good night and sought the sanctuary of her own.
Closing the door she leaned against it and allowed herself to relive the evening. He had kissed her! He desired her even if it was reluctantly. She could not stop herself from wanting to shout it from the rooftops and danced madly about the room and out onto the terrace outside her bedchamber. She knew it would be a long sleepless night and feared she would wake her mother with her restlessness. Removing her dress, she changed to a tunic and leggings and put on a pair of soft short boots. Wrapping a short cloak about her shoulders, she let herself quietly out into the hall and swiftly found her way into the lower gardens near the river. Here she should be safe from prying eyes that would surely think her quite mad. She paced up and down hoping to wear off some of her restlessness. The sound of music from the house spilled out into the night and she found herself moving in time to it.
From the shadows Glorfindel watched her. He had followed her mother and her from the Hall of Fire to their rooms and had for some reason waited. When Meren had emerged a short time later, he again trailed after her. Now he waited once more not sure why. She moved through the slow tempo swaying with a grace he longed to mirror on her with his own body. When the music sped up she laughed and followed along echoing the passion it evoked. He quietly moved into her path and as she turned about she stopped suddenly facing him.
For a long breathless moment they remained locked in the other’s glance.
“Meren.” he said simply and held out a hand.
“Yes, my lord,” she whispered and placed hers in his. She was lost!
He pulled her into his arms and this time it was not a tender kiss. It was claiming, demanding, conquering. She melted against him and surrendered. He plundered her mouth and pushed aside her cloak seeking the tender skin below of her throat and ears. She responded blindly grasping fists full of his hair and pulling his hot mouth back to hers mewling in anguish when he would not co-operate. Shaking his head he laughed softly. “Easy, my little cat, we will not stop just yet. I think however we shall seek a more private place.”
With that Glorfindel lifted her in his arms and carried her up the path to the stairs that led to his outer terrace, then into his bedchamber. Meren could only cling to him during the transport to his chamber, her mind a confused whirl. She could not believe he had followed her. Never in her wildest imaginings could she ever have supposed she would be chosen to share a night as his lover. She struggled to remember what she had heard about his earlier experiences and could not remember a single one shared in his own rooms in his own bed. She had a momentary panic. What if this was not the result of his own desires but those she may have imposed on him? She buried her face in his neck and stopped thinking. If that were true he would despise her later but by the Valar she could not ignore this opportunity. She would follow wherever it led.
Setting her down, he held her shoulders and studied her face. She stared back at him unsteadily but nodded decisively. With a heavy sigh of relief he again drew her into his embrace and tenderly kissed her face, working his way from one ear across to the other, then her eyes nipping gently at her nose and chuckling when she wrinkled it in response. All was silent for a while as he re-launched his attack on her mouth and his hands became busy seeking the delights her tunic hid from his sight.
In frustration she grabbed his hands and thrust him back. Quickly divesting her self from the cloak she unlaced her tunic and pulled it over her head throwing both to the floor. Glancing up she watched his eyes darken as they travel from her face to the twin globes now free from the confines of her tunic. He reached for her but she shook her head and retreated. “You too must remove your clothes, my lord.”
Without taking his eyes off of her he shrugged off his outer robe and unfastened the bindings of his tunic. Meren sighed with pleasure as the planes of his chest emerged from the tunic and reaching across she pushed the soft velvet from his body. Her eager fingers traced fiery paths across his golden skin and his muscles jerked wherever they felt her touch. When she rained kisses across each pectoral and caught his nipples between her teeth, nipping and sucking gently at first one then the other, he growled impatiently and lifting her once more in his arms carried her to his bed.
After laying her there he slowly removed her leggings and boots gently caressing and kissing each newly revealed place. She shuddered and twisted under the touch of his mouth and tongue crying with delight when he parted her legs and sought her feminine bud. He laved it tenderly stroking it with first his tongue then sweetly torturing her with little butterfly kisses and was rewarded with the flood of her sweet juices. Just when she thought she would die of the gathering tendrils of pleasure, he stood, toed his own boots off, and undid the laces to his leggings pushing them down over his powerful muscular thighs. Before rejoining her he paused resting his hands on his hip and let his gaze take pleasure in her beauty spread before him.
In turn she swallowed hard as she viewed the perfection of his masculinity. Glorfindel was the most beautiful elf she was sure that had ever graced either Middle Earth or Aman itself. There was a glow that suffused his skin and his eyes reflected the mysteries of the Valar themselves. His hair tumbled about his shoulders in a wealth of golden silk and where it lay free of his warrior braids it reached to below his waist. His build reflected the muscles of a warrior honed for centuries by the use of the sword and bow and continued practice to maintain those skills. His desire for her was very evident and she lifted her arms to welcome him.
He moved to the bed and lay down beside her. Once more drawing her to him, Glorfindel sought the sweet valley between her soft breasts and nuzzled the flesh of each in turn. At her sigh of pleasure he smiled and suckled her coral nipples both teasing and torturing them at the same time. Thrusting her head back into the pillows she buried her hands in his hair and held his face against her breasts urging his hot mouth to continue the plundering. Even as his lips continued their attention on her breasts his long fingers teased their way back through her soft curls and found the hidden treasure. He slid first one finger, then a second deep into her heat and wetness. Her hips moved in anguished rhythm to the dance his fingers had started. His slow movements frustrated her and she thrust against his fingers demanding more.
“Easy my kitten, the wait will make it all the sweeter.”
He smiled as she continued to twist and turn in her rising passion and when he knew she could take no more he rolled above her and settled himself between the cradle of her thighs. Positioning himself he entered her slowly allowing her to adjust to the invasion of his shaft. When he was fully sheathed within her he claimed her mouth once more and kissing her began a slow but insistent thrusting.
Meren locked her legs around his powerful thighs and matched each of them just as insistently. Her eager response quickly unleashed his own tightly controlled hunger. His heart rate increased sending a thundering river charging through his body. As he felt the heat and damp of her channel pulsing around his engorged shaft he finally allowed himself to seek his own completion. With his head thrown back, his face a frozen mask and lips pulled into a cat like snarl not unlike the great one she had named him, his hips increased their speed and strength pounding her until they both were shuddering with the intensity.
Glorfindel’s breath became a hard rasp paired with the sobbing sounds of her passion. With a feral howl he climaxed. Her legs remained locked about his thighs as she held him captive within her. Her pelvic thrusts and undulating movements against his loins re-ignited his need and he began anew his rhythmic thrusting. With his hands once more grasping her hands above her head he growled and once more captured her mouth, swallowed her cries and climaxed deep into her core his hips bucking slowly several times as his body finally relaxed against the softness of hers.
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.