Title & Chapter Number: The White Birch 1/?
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All characters, with the exception of those invented by me for dramatic purposes, belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. I receive no financial compensation for the following story.
Warnings: Graphic heterosexual sex, much romantic sappiness in some chapters.
Betas: the incomparable Julie
Cast: Haldir/OFC, Galadriel, Celeborn, Rúmil, Orophin, several original characters.
Timeline: AU, pre-FOTR to post-ROTK
Spoilers: for ROTK in the Epilogue
Summary: Haldir and a lady of Mirkwood are thrown together under difficult circumstances. Will they find happiness together?
Notes: Dedicated to Julie, who deserves the title of Omega Reader, for not only beta-ing, but cajoling, encouraging and cheerleading until I finished this. This story would not exist without her tireless and generous help. Story notes: Ethuil= (Sindarin): the first season of the Elves' year, the 54 days between April 8th and May 31st on the Modern Calendar. Nimbereth= "white birch".
"All activities of the senses, starting with speech, require continuous practice in order to manifest themselves. Love is born of long practice, like the love of hunting for the hunter."
-The Complete Kama Sutra
~*~*~*~
The grove was beginning to take on a pleasantly hazy quality, although it was far too warm. The press of many bodies together in so enclosed a space was having its effects. The rest of the dancers and many of the other wedding guests, were becoming more and more amorous and less inhibited as the night wore on. Nimbereth suspected the many glasses of the excellent Lórien vintages she had imbibed were also contributing to both her flush and the growing arousal she felt.
That, and the attentions of a certain Marchwarden of Lothlórien , added the wicked little voice in her head.
He was watching her again. Every time Nimbereth turned, his eyes were on her, burning and hungry. Nimbereth had seen that look before. In Mirkwood, the best those looks had gotten her were a few kisses and some furtive groping. The threat of her father's displeasure had kept her previous suitors from going much further.
Nimbereth spun and clasped the waiting hand of her dance partner. The next few steps of the dance took her in a straight line past her admirer. She was able to observe him out of the corner of her eye. He was conversing with a taller, thinner elf, and for once not looking her way.
"Who is that speaking with the Marchwarden?" she asked her partner, a personable Galadhrim who had been a great source for the latest Lothlórien gossip- and who had provided her with the identity of her watcher. He glanced over his shoulder.
"Ah, that's Rúmil, Haldir's brother," he replied. "Almost as good a Guardian as Haldir," he said with a grin. "Would you like to be introduced?"
"Oh, no thank you!"
Nimbereth hoped she didn't sound too hasty in her refusal.
The closing steps were intricate, and Nimbereth purposefully turned her attention back to the dance. Let him look, the wicked voice said, maybe he'll be driven mad with lust by your dancing. She chuckled to herself. Not likely, she thought, ruefully. She was good, probably one of the best dancers present, but Lórien court dances didn't generally inspire a great deal of lust amongst the spectators.
In a few minutes, after the bride and groom took their leave, however, the dances were likely to get a great deal more interesting - and carnal. In Mirkwood, her father always made sure she left before the married couple did. She was told by her more experienced friends that this was when the single guests would pair up for the night and set out to enthrall their potential partners. By the end of the night, the woods of Lothlórien would be filled with many celebrating Elves, of Mirkwood and Lothlórien, male and female. She hoped tonight she would be one of them.
~*~*~*~
Typically, Earane was trying to make a graceful and quiet exit when she was intercepted by her best friend and attendant, Nimbereth, who threw her arms around the bride's neck and embraced her enthusiastically. Conceding defeat, Earane laughed and hugged her back.
"You are aware", said Earane, "that Haldir of Lórien has been staring at you all evening?"
"Yes," laughed Nimbereth against Earane's hair. She pulled back to gaze fondly at her friend.
"Nim," Earane said, her brow furrowed with concern. "Be careful with that one. He is a great lover, but gives his heart to no one. I've asked about him, and that's what I've heard. It worries me. Be careful, sister. . . He will take your heart and give you nothing in return."
"I'm not planning to give him my heart tonight, sister," Nimbereth whispered back.
"Please be cautious, Nim," Earane entreated. "I know this seems like a perfect opportunity to thwart your father's control, but . . ."
"I know what I'm doing, Earane," Nimbereth replied earnestly.
Earane looked skeptical.
"You so desperately want someone to love you," she leaned forward to cup Nimbereth's face with affection, softening her critical words. "I'm afraid for you. I'm afraid you will confuse great passion with love and give it all to your first lover. He will hurt you." She looked pointedly in Haldir's direction. "With no awareness of what he's done. You will simply be a fond memory to him, nothing more."
"I'm a grown Elf," Nimbereth responded, straightening in defiance. "I am ready for a lover. I know what I'm doing," she repeated, with as much confidence as she could convey.
Earane sighed. "You seem determined to pursue him, Nim. I hope it doesn't become a bitter lesson learned."
"Come, my love, it's time for us to go."
Nimbereth looked up into the warm gaze of Earane's new husband, who had interrupted their conversation. Husband-to-be, actually, since the binding would take place in the privacy of the couple's bedchamber. He had the more typical look of a Lórien or Mirkwood male: tall, slender as a willow, fair and delicately-featured. Right now, everyone else in the room had ceased to exist as the couple gazed at each other adoringly.
Nimbereth swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. Would anyone in the world ever look at her that way? Soon Earane would be gone and she would be here alone.
"Best wishes, my sister," she called to Earane, her voice wavering only a little.
Earane spared her a distracted backward glance as her husband tugged insistently at her hand.
"Goodbye, Nim!" she called over her shoulder.
That's it, then, Nimbereth thought, watching them go. She cuffed the sudden tears from her eyes, impatient with her own childishness. Weeping in public was not going to prove her maturity to anyone.
The opening strains of the next dance began. Nimbereth could see by the knowing glances and sly smiles around her that the next facet of the evening had commenced.
She was about to find out if Earane's secret lessons had prepared her for this new experience. Nim knew the basic steps, as did any maid over the age of twenty: it followed the form of an Ethuil Dance, with the dancers, unbound ladies all, weaving a pattern shoulder to shoulder in a circle. However, the "variations" performed this evening were designed to entice a potential lover. She had begged Earane incessantly for a demonstration until Earane was worn down. Nimbereth had practiced in her room, away from her father's eyes, for surely he would have forbidden her to go to Lothlórien if he suspected she intended to take her first lover there. She was five-hundred, but he still saw her as an innocent child.
The music had the cadence of the Ethuil Dance but the tempo was slightly slower, the beat strong and suggestive, the instruments throatier. Nimbereth moved into place amidst the group of ladies gathered in the clearing, where several thousand pairs of Elven feet, over thousands of years, had beaten the dirt hard as stone. She waited for the group to sort itself out, then slid into her spot. Was Haldir watching? She resisted the urge to look out into the crowd.
Weave left, weave right. Haldir was tracking her! Nimbereth felt fear and excitement strike her hard in the chest. She threw more enthusiasm into her movements, tossing her head wildly, exaggerating the movements of her arms in counterpoint with her hips. From the corner of her eye, Haldir kept pace with her position in the circle, seemingly oblivious to the other spectators, yet never colliding with another body. It was thrilling and terrifying to watch. The dancers were feeding off each others energy and building excitment. The beat was growing faster and faster, the dancers more frenzied. Nimbereth had a sudden alarming thought. The next part of the dance would divide them into two sections, and she would soon be performing with her "section" facing outward to the audience - and Haldir would be directly in front of her. She had no doubt that was by his design.
She wheeled into the center of the circle, then pivoted around another dancer who would take the inner circle as she moved to the outer. Nimbereth felt strangely exposed. She was dimly aware that other Elves were watching her with interest, but her focus was on Haldir. Sure enough, he was directly in front of her, barely two arm-spans away. She didn't dare meet his gaze, not trusting herself to maintain her composure. Yet she focused all her energy and intent on the dance, on dancing for him. As her turn in the outer circle ended, she finally looked up - into the deepest, bluest eyes she had ever seen. For the first time in her life, she felt her knees go weak. It was a relief to retreat back to the circle as the next group took their turns.
The rest of the dance was a blur. Although her body followed the dance perfectly, her mind dwelled on the heat and promise in those extraordinary eyes.
The males had a chance to show off for the assembled guests next. To Nimbereth's surprise, Haldir was one of those gathered to perform. He was not a particularly inspired dancer: he avoided embellishments or extra movements of any sort and stuck to the prescribed steps with precision. Nevertheless, he had a spare grace that appealed to the eyes. Particularly the female eyes in the party, she observed. Haldir seemed to have more than his share of admirers. When he lifted or extended his arms, she could see the delightful flex of muscle along his arms and shoulders and across his chest through his form-fitting tunic. There were audible sighs from several of the ladies.
Haldir seemed to ignore his audience, even Nimbereth herself, though he had made his interest in her clear during the previous dance. She felt both relieved and disappointed. Perhaps she had misunderstood his intention after all.
Maybe she would need to plan her departure now, just to save herself as much embarassment as possible. Nimbereth looked around. She could slip through the crowd now, before the dance ended, hopefully unnoticed. The only problem, she noted, looking down at herself, was that she was the only lady in the immediate vicinity in a dark blue dress. Earane had chosen the material for her, saying it complemented her dark golden hair without washing out her pale grey eyes. The ladies of Lothlórien seemed to favor pale colors. Galadriel herself favored white, silver and pale blue, and surely not by accident, these colors predominated the dresses this evening.
Near panic jolted Nimbereth. The dance was ending, and she was still in plain sight. Here was a cluster of male Elves, dressed in dark tunics. Perhaps if she slid in amongst them, then slipped away into the crowd . . .
"You've changed your mind then, Lady Nimbereth?"
The male voice that suddenly stirred the air by her right ear froze her in her tracks. Of course, it must be Haldir himself. He sounded exactly as she imagined he would, but she didn't dare look at him. Sweet Elbereth, what a voice! Somehow it was smooth and rough at the same time, silk over steel.
"You're trembling," he said.
Nimbereth felt a warm, calloused hand against her cheek. He gently but firmly turned her face towards his. She felt obligated to look up at him now. It took an act of will not to flinch under that intense gaze.
"Surely the daughter of Golradir is not afraid of her father's peer?" queried Haldir.
"I-" Nimbereth's protest died on her lips. "You know who I am!"
"Of course," he replied. "I asked questions about you as well."
Nimbereth scrutinized his expression for either annoyance or anger, but saw only wry amusement. Perhaps the idea that she had asked about him flattered him.
"Earane says you have never been away from home," Haldir continued.
Nimbereth gasped. "You asked the bride about me?" she asked, incredulous.
"You travelled with her from Mirkwood as her chief attendant. Of course I did."
Haldir's tone implied that interrogating a bride on her wedding night about her interesting friend was an obvious course of action.
"I would think she had better things to do than discuss me," retorted Nimbereth. Something about Haldir's expression stung her pride. It was as if she were an elfling again, being challenged by her tutor.
"She was – tolerant - if a little wary," Haldir replied. There was a suspicious glint in his eye. "And protective. She asked me to be gentle with you. I believe those were her exact words."
Haldir's lips curved up into a delighted smile. If possible, his eyes glinted more brightly.
"Oh, Elbereth, she didn't," Nimbereth moaned in horror. She stopped and attempted to extract her elbow from Haldir's firm grip.
"Wait. Where are we going?" she demanded. During their banter, Haldir had been subtly guiding her to the edge of the clearing and into the darkness of the surrounding woods. Greatly distracted by Haldir and his verbal sparring, she had only just realized this.
Haldir seemed unperturbed. "I thought we might enjoy a walk."
Even to a novice like herself, there was no mistaking Haldir's intentions for this walk.
"Now?" she asked, astonished. "Wouldn't we normally stay for the next dance . . . at least?"
Things were suddenly moving very fast. Nimbereth had prepared for an evening of teasing and flirting before her hoped-for tryst. Now it appeared Haldir wanted to drag her off into the bushes immediately.
"Normally," he countered. "However, that would only establish what we already both know: that I am an indifferent dancer-" he gestured impatiently as Nimbereth opened her mouth to object "-that you are an exceptionally good one, and that we are mutually attracted to each other. I, for one, would think another dance would be a waste of time- wouldn't you?"
"Haldir."
Nimbereth felt audacious using the Marchwarden's first name. She was rewarded with a quirk of an eyebrow.
"I'm not familiar with the customs of Lothlórien . . ." she paused, suddenly at a loss for the exact term. Courtship? Seduction? Lovemaking? In truth, she was equally ignorant of Mirkwood's customs as well, but she wasn't about to tell her would-be lover that. "But isn't this all a little . . . abrupt?"
"Abrupt?" Haldir sounded highly amused. "My dear lady, in two days' time you will be on your way back to Mirkwood, and I will be back at my post on the Northern fences. Why play these false courtly games? We both know what we want."
Nimbereth shivered. Haldir had an amazing ability to convey several layers of meaning at once. She was sure there were several hidden meanings to the way he said the word "want" alone, but she was both unable to grasp them and unsure she could cope with them all.
He held out his hand. Despite the heavy pounding of her heart, she knew she wanted this, wanted him most of all. Her fear was of the unknown, and that she would disappoint him somehow. She laid her fingers into his upturned palm.
They travelled the wooded path in complete silence. Like all Elves, she could see quite well in the dark, even with only a sliver of moon to light the way. Yet, she stumbled twice on the unfamiliar roots and rocks. Both times, Haldir caught her easily, and lifted her before she could fall. Even for an Elf, he was strong, and she relished the brief contact of his thick arm around her waist as he steadied her.
Soon they came to an ancient willow tree. Haldir swept aside the drooping fronds and held them aside with his arm.
"Here," he said, gesturing her under the canopy.
Nimbereth stepped inside and gasped appreciatively. It was like being in a living tent. Dappled moonlight shone through the swaying willow fronds, which formed both walls and ceiling, shielding and sheltering them, yet allowing the cool breeze to pass. She could feel a thick carpet of moss beneath her feet. She hesitated, unsure of where to go, but Haldir clasped her hand again and led her forward a few steps. She felt him tug at her hand, and was surprised to see he was sitting on the ground. With a little less grace and stealth than he apparently possessed, she sank down next to him. Luckily, the moss was not only very soft, but dry. Beyond the waving fronds of willow, she could hear the rush of water, probably a tributary of the Celebrant, she noted idly. It provided a soothing backdrop, and would further shield them from the outside world - and possible eavesdroppers. Nimbereth could not have picked a more perfect, romantic location herself.
It was unclear if one of them moved first, if she curled into him or he maneuvered himself around her. When she first sat down, she was careful to leave a safe space between them, but now Haldir's hard thigh slid along hers, his arm curled around her back and her breast pressed into his side. Even sitting, he was a great deal taller than she, and Nimbereth had to tilt her head up and back to look at him. He has a beautiful mouth, she thought, an instant before it descended on her own.
The last Elf who thrust his tongue in her mouth had gotten a slap for his trouble. Haldir's was a gentle invasion, and full of playfulness as well as passion. He flicked his tongue against the sensitive inner corner of her mouth, and Nimbereth startled herself by moaning, opening wider. Haldir took full advantage of her surrender. She threw one arm around his neck and swayed against him as his lips, tongue and teeth devoured her.
For a short time she simply basked in his attention, marveling at the way the kiss never ended, the constant, seeking motion of it. Then she grew bolder, sliding her own tongue along Haldir's, chuckling at the ticklish friction of rough and wet together. She thought she heard an answering laugh, vibrating deep in Haldir's throat.
"Oh!" she gasped and instinctively moved to cover herself with her hands. Distracted by Haldir's kisses, she never felt his fingers moving over the ties of her gown. Without their support, the heavy material slipped down to pool around her elbows, exposing her to the night air, and Haldir's hot gaze.
"Don't," he murmured, and gently pushed her hands away.
Before she could decide what to do with her hands, one of Haldir's cupped the underside of her breast. Nimbereth gave a breathy moan and flailed for a moment before digging her fingers into Haldir's biceps. He reached behind her with one arm to steady her, the palm pressing into the small of her back, while the other continued its journey lightly and swiftly, avoiding the sensitive peak. She twisted against him, seeking.
"Patience, my beautiful one," he said softly, his breath puffing against her cheek.
When at once he cupped the whole of her breast firmly in his hand, she moaned loudly and leaned hard into his touch, rubbing the nipple against his calloused palm with abandon. Haldir made a noise low in his throat which may have been a laugh or a growl, she could not tell.
"Please," she implored, not sure what she was asking for, except a way to ease the ache building within her. She threw a leg over both of Haldir's, careless of her skirt, bunched gracelessly between their bodies. She surged against him, wrapping both arms arounds his neck, then allowed her hands to move feverishly through his hair and over his face.
Haldir lifted his hand from her breast and she whimpered in disappointment. He shifted her until she was seated in his lap, her knees pressed against his hips. Then two things happened at once: his now freed hand slid up under her skirt and up her inner thigh, and his mouth closed over the neglected nipple.
Nimbereth gave a wordless cry and clutched Haldir's head to her breast. She trembled with excitement and anxiety as his fingers drifted higher, into her wetness. No one else had ever touched her there before. She vaguely remembered that females often experienced pain their first time, and wondered if Haldir would be gentle enough.
Despite the callouses on his hands, Haldir did have a soft touch. She held on for dear life as he sucked then gently bit the tip of her breast and his fingers danced over the increasingly wet folds of her sex. Soon, she began to move in counterpoint to the rhythmic movement of his fingers and the up and down, back and forth of his mouth and tongue, her body seeking more of its own pleasure. She gave a faint cry of surprise and stilled when a long finger was pushed inside her. Haldir lifted his head, his eyes narrowed. He seemed to be appraising her.
"You are very tight, lovely one," he said softly.
"Is that . . . bad?" she asked, gasping and squirming in both discomfort and an odd excitement.
Haldir smiled and nuzzled her ear, laughing against her neck. "Good for me," he replied. "Not so good for you. I do not want to hurt you."
The finger pulled back and the discomfort eased considerably. Nimbereth relaxed, then shuddered in delight as Haldir's thumb pushed up between her soft folds and stroked the hard little bud within. She thrust up against his hand, hard, then began to move again in earnest.
"Haldir!" she panted, feeling the tension and heat rising higher and higher. "I'm . . . I'm . . ."
Haldir whispered a tumble of endearments in her ear and kissed her throat as she moved over his hand with increasing speed and force. The tension reached an unbearable crest and she held onto his shoulders again in desperation. She strained for a moment, then shuddered, then threw back her head and cried her pleasure to the willow canopy, before going limp in his arms.
"Sweet Nimbereth," he murmured, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. With infinite care, he lifted her by the waist and set her on the thick moss by his side. Her inner thighs trembled and ached from her exertion, and she shifted gratefully to ease her discomfort.
She watched in fascination as he raised his sodden fingers to his lips and leisurely licked her moisture from them.
"Sweet, indeed," he added, smiling wickedly. "You are wearing your lovely dress as a sash, dearest. This needs to go."
He helped her untangle her arms from the bodice and sleeves, then lifted the rumpled gown over her head and tossed it aside. She kicked off her slippers and threw them in the direction of her gown. In that moment, it occurred to her that she was completely nude, while Haldir had managed to remove not a stitch of his own clothing. She resisted the urge to cover herself, and instead looked pointedly down at her unclothed form, then at Haldir.
"Ah, yes," he answered. "We will need to remedy that immediately." He clasped her hands and guided them to the breast of his tunic.
"Undress me," he commanded.
Nimbereth felt a new surge of fear. How did one go about removing a male's clothing? She reached up and gingerly felt along the collar of Haldir's tunic, searching for an opening, a tie, something recognizable. Haldir let her wrestle with his clothing, tugging and pulling uselessly, for a few agonizing minutes. She sensed his eyes upon her, assessing the way she fumbled over the unfamiliar fastenings.
His hands were suddenly on hers, pressing her palms to the stiffly embroidered garment.
"You are a virgin," he stated.
She nodded, her head drooping, wondering if he was displeased.
Haldir raised his hand to her face and pushed firmly at her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. His expression was calm, but serious.
"Your friend said be gentle. I thought - " he muttered. "How is this possible?"
"My father," she stated, then saw his brow furrow in apparent bafflement. "He is rather intimidating, and very protective of me. I've been . . . kissed. Touched a little." She felt her face flush with self-conciousness.
"And no one would risk more," Haldir supplied. "I am surprised."
She looked at him keenly, searching for a hint of mockery, and saw none, to her astonishment.
"You are a worthy prize, Nimbereth," he said. "Beautiful . . . passionate . . ." His slight emphasis on the last word and the glint of mirth in his eye made her smile. " . . . and I sense a gentle heart as well. Perhaps no one has been worthy of you, my lovely one, if they weren't brave enough to face your father."
Except you, she thought, you are worthy, and brave.
"But I will not be a dare," he continued, the steel in his voice unmistakable. "I will not be just a vehicle to relieve you of your burdensome maidenhead."
"You're not," she said, with as much conviction as she could summon. Her desire for him was rapidly overcoming her fear of either looking like an utter fool to him or of this unknown experience. Let her be a fool, if it meant having him touch her again.
She reached for him and attacked his clothing with renewed vigor.
"Show me," she said fiercely. "Please."
He smiled, playful again, and guided her hands to the fastenings at the collar, and the hidden ties along his tunic, then he helped her lift the heavy fabric up and away. She let the tunic fall forgotten to the ground as she gaped at him. His skin was as pale as hers, despite years of exposure to weather and war, and remarkably flawless. Her hands moved of their own will, to trace the pronounced muscles of his arms, up over his shoulders. He was more heavily built than most male Elves, but she found the solid strength of him fascinating, and beautiful.
When her hand grazed his nipple, Haldir shivered and drew in a sharp breath. Intrigued, she did it again, getting the same response. She continued to stroke the stiffening little bud, while her other hand joined the first, then traveled down over the flat plane of his belly. His muscles tensed and rippled under her fingers. She skimmed along the top of his leggings, unsure if she should proceed. As if in answer, he seized her hand and guided it down to the interesting bulge between his thighs. Her heart hammered so frantically that she could feel its rapid pulse thrumming in her head, but she stroked him, learning the contours of him, feeling the length of him, hard and restrained by the cloth. He made a sound low in his throat, which she interpreted as pleasure, a hum or a deep groan.
"I need these off," he growled. "Now."
But as she reached for him, he stopped her.
"Wait," he said.
She lifted her hands away, confused, then understood as she saw him bend suddenly in half and reach for his boots. He made short work of his them, tossing them on top of his discarded tunic. If it had been done with an less grace and efficiency, Nimbereth might have laughed at the speed in which he removed them.
"Well?" he asked, and leaned back on his hands. She looked at him blankly until it occurred to her that he expected her to finish the task of unclothing him.
The leggings were far easier to understand than the tunic. She carefully loosened the lacings at his hip, working her way down until she thought she had enough slack. She pulled down firmly, and Haldir hissed.
"Carefully," he warned.
He guided her hands again, and together they lifted the leggings gently away and then down. Haldir gave a sigh when they had worked the material to his thighs, lifting his hips to assist her. She stared at his sex, so erect it curved not out but upwards. It looked impossibly large. She wondered if it would fit when the time came.
Haldir lifted his knees and helped her shuck the last of his clothing. The leggings joined the haphazard pile of cast-off garments and shoes.
She got only a quick glance of him completely unveiled, rigid member, sleek but muscular thighs and well-formed calves before he gathered her in his arms and brought her close once more. Her skin burned with the new sensation of skin on skin, and she rubbed her breasts against his chest feeling the nipples tingle and harden. He leaned in and gave her a slow, probing kiss that left her breathless and heated once more. When their lips parted, he gave her a wicked, knowing smile as he brought her fingers to his now unclothed member.
He showed her how to grasp him, so tightly she was sure she must be hurting him, but when she slackened her grip, he reached up and clenched her hand again, encouraging her to move faster and more firmly. After a while, he seemed satisfied by her undirected movements and sat back again on his hands. She watched his face carefully as she moved, trying to gauge his reaction. He seemed more blissful than ecstatic, his eyes half-closed and a faint smile on his lips. She felt mildly disappointed. He didn't seem to be enjoying himself as she had under his talented fingers. Nimbereth looked down at her small hand stroking his big member and thought perhaps he needed . . . more.
She added her second hand to her first, clasping him between her palms and weaving her fingers together. When she brought her two hands together and bore down the first time, his eyes widened and his hips thrust abruptly up.
"Good?" she asked, smiling widely. Now this was the kind of reaction she was looking for!
"Yes!" he panted. "Don't stop!"
She complied, establishing a steady rhythm and keeping her grip strong. She thought it must pain him to pull on the soft, loose skin with such vigor, yet he never complained or expressed discomfort. Instead, he pressed up against her eagerly and with growing restlessness.
"Faster," he gasped out, and pushed his hips to meet her palms again.
"Haldir," she asked, looking at the tip of his member with a little concern. "Should you be leaking?"
"Yes," he gritted through clenched teeth. "Faster!" he demanded again.
She sped up as much as she felt she could and not lose her grasp on him. Haldir assisted by moving his hips with increasing ferocity, until she felt like a novice rider on a horse at full gallop. His eyes were unfocused, fixed on the willow branches overhead. Fascinated, she watched the growing tension in his face and the tautness of his body.
"Ai, Nim, Nim . . . !" he suddenly cried out.
He went rigid and his face twisted as if in pain, then he shuddered violently. His sex twitched in her hands and began to soften. Alarmed, she looked down at the suddenly dormant part of him and at the warm, wet, sticky substance that now coated her fingers. She had given little thought to what a male's climax would be like. Earane's detailed descriptions had not included how very messy such intimacies could be, though Nimbereth had certainly made a mess of her own earlier. She remembered Haldir licking the wetness of her own arousal from his fingers, and with some trepidation, she reached up and touched Haldir's to her tongue. It was salty, a little bitter, very strange, but not unpleasant. When she looked at Haldir he was sagging back on his hands, watching her avidly. His breathing was beginning to slow to its normal, quiet pace.
"Do you like it?" he asked, the wicked gleam returning to his eye. His earlier wildness was deserting him, and he was the composed Marchwarden once more.
"It's. . ." she began, completely at a loss to describe it, and unsure how she was expected to proceed. Was the custom to lick one's fingers clean as Haldir had done?
"Here," he said, his smile disarmingly gentle. He leaned forward and clasped her hands, then pulled her hands to his belly, and wiped the stickiness, now on his fingers as well as hers, on the flat skin. He rubbed until the stickiness had vanished, absorbed back into his own skin. She watched their fingers moving over his flesh, mesmerized. An earlier, disquieting thought rose and her inexperience and her pride compelled her to voice it aloud.
"You were not . . . bored, were you, Haldir?" Nimbereth asked tentatively.
"Bored?" Haldir sat up and looked at her, eyebrows raised.
"Yes, you seemed a little bored. . . at the beginning, I mean. I wasn't sure I was doing it right."
He considered her statement briefly, his expression blank.
"I assure you, I was not bored in the least," he replied.
"Oh. Good," she said. His warm, mildly amused gaze both reassured her and shamed her.
He gathering her into his arms again, and Nimbereth shivered in delight at his gentleness. Haldir's hands moved over her hair, her body, caressed her cheek. A thumb passed over her lips, she thought with some tenderness. Every inch of her skin felt reactive, alive, as if she were recovering from a recent climax, not he.
Without deliberate thought, she mirrored Haldir's movements. Nimbereth felt her way over the impossibly smooth skin, marvelling at the ripple of muscles below it, gliding along the expanse of his chest. She brushed her fingertips over his full bottom lip, savoring the lushness of his mouth again, and felt the faint upward curve of a smile shift under her touch.
"Haldir," she murmured, half-drunk on the sensations he was so slowly coaxing from her. She felt warm and aching again. "Are we going to make love?"
"We have been making love, dearest," he replied.
"No," she sighed, sensing he was teasing her more than a little. "I mean all of it."
The craving for him was overcoming any fear she had for this final act. She welcomed the pain, if it meant an ease of this terrible ache.
"Anxious to get this over with, are you?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement.
She thought for a moment to answer coyly, but she was rapidly losing patience for this game, and she no longer cared if her dignity suffered.
"Eager, I'd say," she replied, and stifled a giggle at her own boldness.
"I need to prepare you, more properly this time," Haldir said.
Before she could puzzle out what he meant, he gently grasped her shoulders and guided her down until she lay on her back in the soft moss. She watched him, somewhat warily, as he moved to kneel between her knees. She was still quite slick, and their latest caresses had warmed her up nicely. What further preparations did she really need? For a moment, she thought he would simply bend over her and enter her, but instead he resumed his slow and deliberate mapping of her skin.
"Lie still," he said softly. "Let me touch you a little first."
Reposed on the carpet of moss, she was able to relax and do just what he asked, to simply enjoy his touch. Haldir left not the tiniest bit of her body unexplored, expertly discovering where she was ticklish, and what made her moan. She twitched and gasped as his fingers glided over the softness and wetness between her legs. She lifted her knees and shifted them farther apart, wanting more. He touched her thoroughly, although cruelly he avoided the stiff little bud. She whimpered in vexation when she rolled her hips to his fingers, trying to trick him into grazing that aching spot, but he moved away with a short teasing laugh.
She was almost weeping in frustration when he pushed a finger below her folds and slid into the channel there for the second time that night. It was much easier this time, perhaps because of her reclined pose, or because she so desperately yearned for more. This time, instead of pushing away, she planted her feet on the ground and surged up to meet the inward stroke of his hand, and sighed. There was some discomfort, but the overwhelming feeling was one of relief.
Once she adjusted to the invasion, Haldir slid his finger out, then slowly in again. Nimbereth breathed a shaky groan and met the inward slide with a lift of her hips. They quickly set a rhythm together, Haldir pushing and pulling while she rose and fell. The coil of heat grew tighter and tighter, until it was almost agony.
"Should I continue?" he asked, his voice rough. Her surrender to him and her own excitement were feeding his own arousal. She could hear it in his voice and see it in the smoldering darkness of his gaze.
"Please," she panted, splaying her knees wider.
Haldir's hand moved against her. She grunted in surprise and wiggled uncomfortably, as something pulled taut inside her.
"What - ?" she gasped.
He twisted his hand and she realized that he had driven in two fingers, which were now spreading her apart as well as pushing in, deeper than he had ever been before. Nimbereth wailed in alarm and protest, and some pain.
"I'm trying to stretch your maidenhead without tearing it," he explained. "Trust me."
She opened her mouth to protest, or beg for mercy, when he twisted his hand again. Tears sprang to her eyes.
When she felt the rough pad of Haldir's thumb against the inner folds of her sex, she tensed.
"Easy," he said, pressing his other hand against her lower belly to still her. Then with the same hand he stroked her softly, slowly. "It will get better. Very soon."
Nimbereth trembled at the dark rumble in his voice, but willed herself to relax. His wrist and thumb moved against her again, and she drew in a sharp breath, anticipating more pain.
"Ai, Haldir!" she cried. To her utter shock, it was a cry of pleasure.
Haldir leaned farther over her, a mischevious light in his eyes once more.
"More to your liking, milady?" he asked. It was plain to see by his triumphant grin that he knew her answer. "You are fortunate to have this spot." He flexed his hand, and his fingers stroked somewhere deep inside her. She gave a strangled scream. "Many ladies do not," he explained.
When he added the press of his thumb against the swollen knot to the crook of his fingers inside, she convulsed, overwhelmed by an onslaught of pleasure. He repeated the movement, again and again. Her vision went white, as if a star had exploded before her eyes. The heat and tension deep in her belly coiled tighter and tighter.
"Haldir . . . Haldir . . . Haldir. . . " she chanted deliriously in time with his inner strokes.
She knew that when she reached the peak this time, it would kill her, but still she strived for it, wanting the agony to break. She was so close, just a moment more. She clenched hard around Haldir's fingers and felt the first ripple of her climax begin, in the very spot where his fingertips pressed into her inner walls. Yes, that was it . . .
Then his hand, fingers and thumb were suddenly gone.
"Please," she sobbed. What cruel trick was this? Dazed, she looked up to see Haldir's face still above hers, the sly smile and the gleam in his eye undiminished. She wanted to strike him.
"You're ready," he said, his dark, silken voice so close she could feel his breath against her face.
The weight of him settled above and on her for the first time and she gasped. Her body reacted without her direction, as her knees lifted to grant him better access. His hips lowered to rest solidly against hers. He was erect again, and his erection pressed against her wet curls. Haldir shifted on his hands, adjusting his weight, and his member moved lower, to push into her folds. She felt a returning prickle of fear, which must have shown on her face.
"Shh," he soothed. "I promise, if there is pain, it will be brief."
He rocked back on his knees a moment, and Nimbereth felt his hand move between their bodies and to adjust himself. His member pushed against her more insistently. Then he moved forward, above and suddenly, inside her. Her back arched against the invasion. She exhaled in a sudden rush of air, forcing a long cry from her lips. There was a brief, pinching pain, enough to make her flinch, that quickly faded to a dull ache. Nimbereth lay beneath him, gasping, trying to adjust to the feeling of him everywhere. Above her, Haldir was gasping too.
"Nim, . . . are you . . .well?" he huffed. His face looked tense, strained, and his arms trembled faintly, as if he held himself with great effort.
Nimbereth nodded faintly.
Haldir moved his hips against her with some force, and a short groan. The pain, deep in her belly, flared for a moment, then faded again. She felt his thighs flex against the inside of hers, again, and again. He pushed forward and back, gently and slowly, and gradually the soreness inside her turned to heat and a delicious tension, somewhat like before, but stronger and slower. She twined her legs around the backs of his, clasping her knees above his buttocks, and when he surged forward, she pulled. They both groaned together as Haldir finally and completely hilted himself inside her.
"More," she sighed.
"More?" He grinned, then pulled back and rocked forward again, fast and hard enough to connect their hips together with an audible smack. Nimbereth sighed again.
"Yes," she breathed.
Haldir pulled back and adjusted himself slightly, angling higher. He thrust forward very hard again. Nimbereth's eyes widened.
"Yes!" she cried.
He gave a sharp bark of laughter, and complied again and again. Nimbereth's cries grew louder. Desperate, she locked her ankles around his shoulder blades, trying to pull him deeper and deeper. Haldir was groaning in time with his own thrusts and Nimbereth's short cries. Faster and faster and harder he drove into her, pushing forward until he seemed to be driving through her, with a violence that was both shocking and greatly exciting.
Oh gods, this is going to kill me, she thought, as the hot coil tightened within her. She reached down past her own thighs and grasped the back of Haldir's clenching buttocks with both hands pulling as hard as she could. If she was going to die from this, she intended to make the most of it. An unfamiliar, tremendous wave of pleasure rose within her, and she drew in a long, ragged breath.
"Oh, yes! Oh, Haldir! Oh, please! Yes!" she screamed, in joy and delirium.
She felt herself clench him once, strongly, then the coil inside her released in a cascade of ripples. She shuddered and arched, holding on tight. A few moments later, as the ripples began to fade in intensity, he went still above her. She stared up into his face, watching it go slack with pleasure. A hoarse shout rose from him as he shook. Nimbereth felt a burst of heat within her. With a long sigh he sank upon her, relaxed and apparently satiated, his sex still buried within her. She let her legs fall open and to the ground, the muscles burning from exertion. Haldir lay on her, panting, while she trailed her fingers over the broad, smooth muscles of his back, relishing the solid weight of him.
Finally, he stirred. "I must be crushing you," he murmured.
Nimbereth felt strangely bereft when he lifted his weight onto his hands, separating his body from hers as his member slipped from her. When he rolled to one side, he deftly caught her in his arms so that she turned with him. He came to rest on his back with his arms loosely circling her, reversing their previous position. She rested her head tentatively on Haldir's shoulder, feeling the comfortable weight of his arm around her.
"Did I hurt you very much, dear Nimbereth?" he asked, his voice rumbling beneath her cheek.
She raised her head to look at him. His expression was considerate and almost grave. She felt something warm bloom in her chest to see it.
"I ache a little," she said, smiling, "but otherwise I feel wonderful." Boldly, she craned her neck to place a soft, closed-mouth kiss on his lips. "Thank you," she murmured.
"You are quite welcome," Haldir replied with a gentle laugh. "Now rest."
One arm settled around her waist as she curled around him, her ear pressed to his chest.
She must have dozed, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing over the throb of his heart, for some time passed, and she became aware of herself, sore, and very sticky. She was faintly embarrassed to realize that much of that stickiness was now pooling on one of Haldir's thighs, around which she had wrapped one leg around in her half-reverie, pressing herself most intimately against him.
Haldir lay utterly still. He smelled delicious: musky and earthy, yet pleasant; alien and very male. Nimbereth rubbed her nose against his chest, wanted to get closer to the scent. Her left hand drifted across his chest, admiring the elegant strength of the muscle under her fingers, then she drifted lower, over the sleek muscles of his belly.
"Nimbereth," Haldir said chidingly. "That is not wise."
She was baffled by his statement, until he shifted restlessly beneath her hand. She let her hand glide lower still to confirm her suspicion. Indeed, he was half-erect and grew harder with her gentle caress. Haldir drew in a sharp breath as she wrapped her fingers around his stiffening shaft. She felt a corresponding burst of heat and wetness between her thighs.
"Nimbereth," he said, attempting to be stern, despite his ragged breathing, "You will be very sore in the morning."
Nimbereth pretended not to hear him. Instead, she curled her fist tighter around his member and continued stroking him.
"Very well, milady," he said, seized her around the waist and set her down firmly on his lap. She looked down at his erection, rising between them, then up at his face in confusion.
"You seem to enjoy being in control, and I am weary." The bright amusement in his eyes belied the weariness somewhat. "Ride me."
Her cheeks flared with heat, but her heart raced with excitement as well. Lifting herself up on her knees, she shuffled forward and planted her hands flat on Haldir's chest. Haldir grasped her hips and lifted her over him.
"Use your hand to guide me in," he said.
She reached down and steadied his sex against her tender folds until the angle was right, then sank down slowly.
It hurt a little. The change in position seemed to help, and once she got over her acute self-conciousness, she enjoyed the control of being on top, shifting and twisting her hips, and avoiding the movements that caused her pain. Haldir seemed to particularly enjoy her bouncing breasts, cupping them in his hands, then pinching the nipples between thumbs and forefingers, which made her moan and bounce harder. Soon they were groaning in unison.
She came first, with a sudden force that strangled the scream in her throat. Haldir followed shortly behind, arching under her with a long, gutteral cry, just as she slumped over him, limp and greatly satisfied. She lay on him until their bodies cooled, listening to his breathing slow and the thundering of his heart fade to its normal cadence. Haldir rolled over, depositing her on the moss beside him. She curled on her side facing him and he did the same, his arm draped companionably around her waist.
She drifted off for an indeterminate time. In the early morning hours, with the faintest of pink light shining through the willow fronds, she felt him against her, hard once more and shifting restlessly. Instinctively, she lifted her leg to wrap it around his hip, drawing him near and allowing him to slip inside her, shallowly.
Not a word was spoken between them. They undulated together, unhurried. Haldir reached down and stroked her little knot in time with their gentle movements. When they came, it was as slow and gentle as their lovemaking, punctuated by gasps rather than cries. When the last of her tremors faded, and she sighed in contentment, Haldir bestowed a gentle kiss on her brow. They curled together and slept, soundly.
In the morning, they bathed in the Celebrant, the cool water stinging, then soothing the aches and pains she had acquired the night before. When Haldir emerged to shake the water from his hair and body, Nimbereth was transfixed. Magnificent as he was in the moonlight the night before, he was god-like in the bright sunlight, poured from molten gold.
"Are you well, my Nimbereth?" Haldir asked, perhaps noting her stunned expression.
"You're beautiful!" she gasped. And he was. Never mind that his possessive use of her name made her heart flutter.Cascading from his dripping golden hair to his perfect feet, the rivulets of water drew the eye to the defined muscles and contours of his body.
Haldir smiled, although Nimbereth saw something falter in his expression and his eyes. Did he not believe her? The thought that he doubted his own beauty astounded her.
"Not nearly as beautiful as you," he replied, as he stepped up onto the river bank, then grasped her hand to help her up.
They dressed briskly. Nimbereth stole covert, longing glances at Haldir as his body disappeared under his clothes, admiring the flex of his shoulders and back as he lifted his tunic over his head. She sighed. Another day and she would be traveling back to her home in Mirkwood. No matter what happened, she would remember this night for the rest of her life, vividly and fondly. Haldir would always be her first true lover, though he probably wouldn't remember her at all.
She was startled from her melancholy thoughts by Haldir's hands on her face.
"I will need to return you to your talan, my lady," he said. "And sadly, I must return to my duties this morning."
The kiss was different from the ones they had indulged in the night before. It was sweeter, slower, almost languid, but no less delightful. When Haldir pulled back, Nimbereth could not suppress another sigh, this time a happy one.
"I should be free by this afternoon," he continued, and Nimbereth felt a surge of hope. "Would you be agreeable to spending the evening with me again?"
She was certain she was grinning like a fool, but she didn't care.
"Yes!" she said breathlessly. "Yes, please!"
Haldir laughed and passed his hand over her face with a lingering caress.
As he did the night before, Haldir guided her down the path with a light grasp on her elbow, which she found oddly formal. She stole several furtive glances at his face, but his expression continued to reflect only quiet contentment.
When they reached her room in the guest quarters, Haldir turned and grasped her hand.
"Are you sure you can't stay with me?" she blurted out, then felt her face grow hot. She dropped her gaze to contemplate Haldir's boots.
Haldir's lips brushed her knuckles and she felt compelled to meet his eyes. There was warmth and possibly affection there, as he smiled over her hand.
"I regret I cannot, my fair Nimbereth," he replied, and she smiled back at the exaggerated courtliness of his manner. He bent to place a kiss on her lips, so swift she barely felt it.
"Until tonight, then?"
He didn't wait to hear her response, if indeed he expected one. Before she could utter a word, he released her hand, turned, and descended the stairs with astonishing speed and silence.
She watched the turn in the staircase where he had vanished for a moment, half-hoping he would reappear. When he did not, she threw herself clothed on her borrowed bed, seeking some comfort and solitude.
After a brief nap in her assigned talan, Nimbereth stumbled onto the balcony, which she shared with the neighboring talan. Its occupants has already discovered that fruit, pastries and tea had been laid out by unseen servants' hands. Nimbereth groaned. The other talan's occupants were a pair of loud, gossipy sisters who were part of the traveling bridal party from Mirkwood. She was in no mood for their constant chatter and prying questions, but quiet and solitude were apparently not to be had this morning. So she steeled herself and plastered what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face, before joining her neighbors at the table.
Shortly after breakfast, a messenger arrived dressed in Guardian's attire, with a folded parchment in hand. To Nimbereth's surprise, it was addressed to her. Her companions tittered in amusement as the messenger bowed and strode away. In dismay, she read:
My dear lady Nimbereth,
I regret that I will be unable to join you this evening as planned. I have been called to attend to urgent business on the borders of Lothlórien. My apologies for the terseness of this letter, but I am compelled to leave immediately,and will not be able to say a proper farewell to you, as you deserve. I hope one day our paths will cross again.
Yours,
HaldirIt was a much subdued Nimbereth that departed Lothlórien the next morning, twittering companions in tow. She ignored them, and their constant teasing, instead turning the events of the past day over and over in her mind. Had Haldir manufactured a crisis in order to escape her unwanted attentions? The dark, insecure part of her thought it must be so, but he had pursued her aggressively. Had she disappointed him in some way? Now, that was more possible. Yet he seemed pleased yesterday morning. Their parting had been warm and affectionate. No, Haldir was nothing if not honorable and honest.
Later, when she reached her home in Mirkwood, Nimbereth pulled the crumpled parchment from her bodice and read it one more time, memorizing each word, the slant of each pen stroke. Then she burned it. She could not risk her father finding it by mistake.
It would be many years before she would trust her heart and body to another.
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