The Holy Stanzas by The Wavesinger

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The Holy Stanzas

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I.

Her red hair cascades into curls, and a thousand droplets of water glisten on each strand. The perfect mouth curves into a half smile of pure joy, a dimple poking through her chin, and when she moves, wet clothes clinging to the soft curves of her body, the sway of her hips speaks of grace and elegance. The light glistens against her skin save in the places where a battalion of freckles is scattered across her cheeks. The waves lap against her thighs. They ache for her, and their ache is echoed by the one who watches her from the shore.

 

II.

They dance together in the ocean, to the music of the waves and the song of the birds. Wind whips their hair about them, and they stand tangled together, heads laid on shoulders, arms tight around waists; a passer-by would be unable to discern one from the other. The sea-floor is littered with rocks in this place, but neither of them notice, bewitched as they are by each other, soaking in the bliss and peace of the sea-shore. Indis rubs gentle circles into Nerdanel's waist as they sway with the wind.

“You are beautiful,” she whispers.

“Kiss me,” Nerdanel says, and Indis obeys.

 

III.

“I have a gift for you,” Nerdanel says. And Indis replies, “And I have one for you.” 

They laugh together; strange coincidences.

“You first,” Indis offers; Nerdanel inclines her head, moving through the set of rooms they are using for this trip to find a small figure.

“Oh!” Indis exclaims, when she sees it. It is a statuette of herself, done in ceramic; the details are fine, and the figure is startling, as if she is looking into a mirror which has distorted her size.

“Do you like it?” Nerdanel's voice is strangely unsure; it is the first statue she has made of Indis since they became lovers.

“More than I can say,” Indis answers truthfully, and Nerdanel smiles.

 

IV.

Later, Indis remembers her own gift; a quick rummage finds the package she has meticulously wrapped.

“It is nothing as fine as what you have given me,” she says, “But I found it in Alqualondë, and thought you would like it.”

It is a pearl necklace; the golden clasp is etched with Tengwar: Nerdanel.

“It is beautiful,” Nerdanel says. “Will you put it on me?”

Indis' hand brushes Nerdanel's throat as she fastens the clasp; the white pearl glistens against light brown skin.

 

V.

Two women stand on the shore, their hands on their knees, panting.

“Unfair,” Indis protests. “You had a headstart; how was I to catch up?”

“You should have paid more attention,” Nerdanel laughs between wheezing breaths. Sweat glistens on her skin, and her muscles ripple when she moves.

Sudden hunger curdles in Indis' belly at the sight of sweat trickling down Nerdanel's throat and into the hollow between her breasts; she seizes her lover and kisses her.

Nerdanel's breath hitches, again; after a moment's unsteady pause, she kisses her back fiercely, and they devour each other's mouths.

 

VI.

Nerdanel tastes of salt, and her folds are heated as if fevered. She is, Indis thinks as she swirls her tongue against her lover's folds, quite beautiful, laid out like a feast for her lover, her eyes closed and her face contorted with pleasure.

Indis licks a stripe across Nerdanel, and watches her squirm with pleasure. Just a little more, and—

She eases away from Nerdanel, who gasps at the loss. “Ah, no, please, Indis, please, please—”

“A little bit longer, love,” Indis says.

“Please, Indis, touch me, touch me—”

“Since you asked so nicely...” Indis dives into Nerdanel's fold again. But Nerdanel will not reach completion. Sometime in the night, yes, but only if she asks very, very politely. Certainly not so early in the proceedings; it would quite spoil the fun.

 

VII.

Indis wakes in the middle of the night to find her lover sketching frantically, bent almost double over her desk, the sound of waves crashing against the shore almost drowning out the squeaking of her pencil.

She sighs and shakes her head as she gets up and searches for glassware (she is unfamiliar still with the rooms they are staying at); this is one part of her lover she will never understand, the desire to create so urgent that it takes precedent over even basic needs such as sleep and water.

“Here,” Indis says, placing three full glasses of water on the table next to Nerdanel. “Drink these as you go.”

Nerdanel barely looks up. “Hmm? Oh, thank you.”

Indis smiles to herself as she curls up in the bed and falls back asleep.