Stars of Morning by Sleepless_Malice

---

Chapter 1

---

 

Stars of Morning

*

At first she had disliked her, loathed her even. Well - it was not so much the elf herself she disliked, but the fact that Gil-galad had sent a random elf to her court, instead of coming to ask for her aid himself after sending so many messages, to negotiate with the queen of the land.

But then, the regent of Lindon had always been ‘strange’ as Telperiën would rather politely phrase it, and pride and hurt nearly won over her knowledge of the situation.

Months passed by, a year almost, a year in which Gil-galad did not come, but the female elf in his service kept returning to Númenor on his behalf.

Ariniel, daughter of morning, her name was, and as gentle and fragile as the first rays of the sun she had appeared to Telperiën when first they met. Soon the queen found out that her gentleness was but a fair disguise; she was fierce and persuasive, demanding even. If Telperiën was honest to herself, it was exactly these traits that impressed her.

‘My king demands an answer,’ Ariniel said one night, ‘rather sooner than later.’

She had said so often before.

Week after week passed by in which the queen of Númenor tarried. This time, however, Ariniel did not leave her court. In fact, the elf had become a constant presence in the meetings with Telperiën’s advisors.

After a long time of consideration, with messengers traveling between the kingdoms, wisdom got the better of Telperiën, and at the end she agreed to aid the Elves in the war against their mutual enemy.

‘Tell your regent I accept his offer,’ she said not without a note of disdain, ‘and I shall send forces to unite with his upon the plains of Eriador.’

‘So I will,’ Ariniel responded with a courteous bow

She left the morning after.

Telperiën thought she would never see the elf again.

 

*

The preparation for war were in full progress when one day Ariniel appeared in her halls again, her dark hair held back in elaborate braids that meandered along her head, each one adorned with small clips of shining silver. She looked differently this time, Telperiën noted, a warrior rather than the ambassador she had met throughout the past months. She kept wondering why, because war was still far off.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked, eyes fixed on the elf who stood before her in the great hall of Armenelos where filtered sunlight spilled through the colored windows above them.

“My lady,” Ariniel offered politely, smiling, “I come on my king’s behalf to serve under your rule whilst our armies are united, given you accepted. Throughout my visits in the past I have become familiar with the rule of Númenor’s queen, and am familiar with the kingdom’s advisors and councilors. Be assured that many meetings will be required once our forces unite. The war will be long and tiresome on many levels, I fear.”

Telperiën did not know if she should feel flattered or affronted; in fact she was both. The elf would perhaps always remain a strange mystery to her, and she did not completely understand her motives. “Are you trying to tell me that it was your idea to ‘assist’ me in this course?

Without a hint of nervousness, Ariniel nodded before she spoke: “Yes. Mine alone”

Telperiën raised an eyebrow, and regarded the elf for a while in silence, considering. “Although I do not quite understand your motives, I will accept your offer - under one condition. You shall serve me as my own people do, according to your rank as ambassador, without any extra amenities or special treatment. From hence forth the law of these lands shall be yours, and the language of these lands your own. Is that understood?”

“Yes. Thank you, my lady,” said Ariniel and left after a courtly bow.

They planned to set out two weeks after Ariniel’s arrival.

 

*

Quickly Ariniel settled in the daily life of Númenor’s advisors and councilors, yet she stood out among those which Telperiën had often named ‘dull and quiet usurpers’. More than one councilor she had dismissed from her service over the years when she could not stand the blatant lies anymore.

For all that she had disliked the elf so much at the beginning, they got along surprisingly well, inside and outside the great council chamber of her court; Telperiën valued her boldness, her unwavering wit and loose tongue that never held back. Although Ariniel was well below her in rank she always spoke her opinion aloud, not caring if it perhaps could affront the queen. She was a refreshing diversion to all those yes-sayers around her. Her mind, not so unlike her own, was a challenge.

Indeed, soon Telperiën found herself reveling in her daily meetings with Ariniel, especially those held in privacy after the official council meetings were over.

During the many hours they spent together in the privacy of her own quarters she learned many things of the way of the Elves, about Lindon’s regent, their customs and daily lives. She learned that equality played an important role in the realm, with female advisors, guards and captains. Of course, Telperiën was not entirely unfamiliar with the Elves as trade between the two realms had already persisted for many centuries already, although her trusted men mostly dealt with negotiating terms and conditions. Indeed she was surprised – somehow she had not expected such an open-minded society from the king she disliked.

Although neither of them were easy to deal with, slowly and carefully something that perhaps could be described as a fragile friendship began to blossom between them, increased by mutual respect and acceptance.

Sometimes they would meet in the gardens that overlooked the plains, listening to the soothing sound of the gushing fountains with orange trees standing in full blossom around them. Sometimes they would dine together, and simply talk – about Númenor’s latest gossip, about their common foe, about the war that was coming.

"Do you think your king would negotiate with me if I grew a beard,” Telperiën asked one night shortly before they were to depart Númenor, after admittedly a glass or two too much wine, “and rather more importantly: would I look good with a beard?" And then she laughed, almost childishly.

“It would make your face look like a man’s, so rather a drawback in my opinion,” stated Ariniel with a breathless laugh. “Why would you even think about this, you, a queen loved by her people? And more importantly: would it change what drives your heart if you were a man?” With the last words spoken the laugh had slipped from her voice, the tone becoming more serious, heavy with honest interest.

“Aren’t you elves fond of beards? I have heard certain rumors concerning the past.”

“Some may be indeed; I, for one cannot be counted among them. This, in the end, has not much to do with the beard itself.”

Shortly after, Ariniel left Telperiën’s quarters and was not seen anywhere at court for two days.

The words echoed long in Telperiën’s head.

What was it that she lived for?

What wishes did she chase in her dreams?

Telperiën did not find an answer that night, nor any night soon.

 

*

The journey across the sea was long and tiresome, slowed down with so many accompanying her: warriors, servants, advisors – the same ones who had advised her to stay behind on the island for safety reasons.

She had dismissed the suggestion immediately – and fiercely.

What queen would she be to stay behind when her own people lost their lives on the plains of a land not even their own? Wasn’t it she who had agreed to aid the Elves in this cause?

Her nights became restless, her slumber light and easily disturbed. Occasionally, strange voices spoke to her – males and females alike, sometimes in her own tongue, sometimes not, and among those voices she could hear Ariniel’s words from so many nights ago.

‘What drives your heart?’

Power. Respect. Wealth and riches? Telperiën lacked neither, and for many years she had been content with everything she had. She had never cared about marriage or children of her own – she still did not, the entire concept repulsed her. She had never cared about love too much either – those fleeting nights she had shared with others from time to time had nothing to do with love. However, she had not indulged into such idle pleasantries for a long while.

For many hours she lay awake amidst the dark silks of her provisional bed, surrounded by flickering torches and scented candles, eyes fixed on to the fluttering ceiling.

She was lonely. Perhaps she had always been, but with the prospect of death hovering above her, something inside her changed. Perhaps it had changed many nights before; Telperiën couldn’t say for certain and her thoughts kept returning to the most unlikely person. It was ridiculous at best.

 

*

From that night on, she watched Ariniel through different eyes: observed and studied her every time she thought Ariniel did not notice. Those high cheekbones, the dark hair that framed her fair face if it was not held back in elaborate braids; taut muscles flexing beneath the riding clothes made entirely out of the finest leather, those grey eyes full of wisdom. However, what intrigued her most was that Ariniel never looked tired; their journey was exhausting and tiresome, riding for hours beneath the searing sun, but she seemed to be entirely unaffected by the hardship they had to endure. No matter how late the strategic meetings drew on into the night, her eyes were still keen and sparkling with life.

Admittedly Ariniel’s knowledge of these lands and deep understanding of tactic strategies proved extraordinarily helpful. She looked neither young nor old – and oddly, it both intrigued and frightened Telperiën. She was a mortal, graced with long life, but still doomed to die, one way or the other.

 

*

The night had already been dark for many hours when Telperiën lay restless on her bed again, thinking of the elf she had loathed so much in the beginning.

What was so special about her that she had sparked something no other had ever managed to ignite?

What was the dream she chased in her restless nights?

With a sigh she lifted herself off the silks and slipped into the midnight blue dress, adorned with golden sleeves, the one she usually only wore inside her tent. Over her shoulders she put a shawl against the chill of the night, adjusting it until it held without a brooch.

Telperiën stepped into the darkness. She knew exactly where Ariniel’s tent was located, for she had been there earlier this evening, yet had not entered.

Their encampment was, apart from a few guards on night watch, deserted and the hills in the distance glittered in the pale light of the moon. For moments she halted, eyes directed towards the mountain ridge where no clouds veiled the night sky whilst she gathered her thoughts.

She drew in a deep breath, forcing her heartbeat to slow down. She was nervous – foolishly so, Telperiën thought; she a queen, strong, graced with an extraordinary willpower felt – unsure, overwhelmed by the intensity of her emotions and thoughts.

With swift steps she hurried towards Ariniel’s tent, entering it without bothering to announce her presence. A bit to her surprise – and much to her relief, Ariniel was not yet asleep, sitting cross-legged on the pile of fabrics that served as her bed during their travel.

“My lady,” she said, rising to her feet.

“Why did you truly offer your service to me?” Telperiën asked straight away. She was not here to exchange courtly formalities. She simply had to know because too often she had agonized over what Ariniel’s motives might be.

“Because of you.” said Ariniel without haste nor hesitation, entirely unashamed of her words. “I assumed you would have guessed this already.”

Telperiën’s eyed widened. The idea had genuinely never occurred to her, always suspecting some greater scheme behind Ariniel’s actions, perhaps dictated by her king (who Telperiën still did not trust entirely).

“Why?” There was a sharp edge to the tone.

Ariniel narrowed her eyes as she regarded her, unimpressed. “From the first day I met you, you intrigued me.”

Telperiën quirked an eyebrow. “Did I?” she asked, softer now.

“Yes.” Ariniel took a step towards Telperiën, her eyes still directed towards the queen’s face.

Telperiën felt hot and cold alike when Ariniel’s hand nearly touched her own. “You do not seem surprised by my visit at this unruly hour,” she stated, voice trembling ever so slightly.

“Why should I be? You have perhaps assumed I have not noticed how you have regarded me throughout the past several days. How you have watched me, studied me – differently, a longing in your eyes that had not been there before. Your visit is, in fact, overdue; I almost thought you would never come.”

Ariniel’s lips brushed against the curve of her throat, bold and unimpressed by Telperiën’s gasp of surprise. She could feel the heat of Ariniel’s body, smell her scent, even though they were not yet touching – apart from those questing lips. “Which would indeed have been a pity,” Ariniel added. Warm breath stirred the tiny hairs on Telperiën’s neck and a shudder rushed through her; the touch was almost sweet in its innocence yet so arousing at the same time.

Briefly, Telperiën let her eyes fall shut, reveling in the soft touch instead of focusing on her own words. “You are bold for one under my command, Ariniel,” at last she said.

All of a sudden, Ariniel’s lips were gone from her skin, and Telperiën groaned at the loss of contact.

“You do not seem to mind, my lady,” Ariniel’s said with an indulgent smile, mirth sparkling in her grey eyes.

Indeed Ariniel was right - she had not minded for once, but now she did, to some extent at least; relinquishing control had never been one of her strengths.

Telperiën paused, considering. “Perhaps you are mistaken in your assumption,” she stated and as she spoke, she could feel the muscles in her lower abdomen tighten in anticipation. There was a flutter, a searing heat coiling in her belly, an emotion she had not felt in many years – perhaps never before so intensely.

She pulled Ariniel close against her, arms wrapped around her slim waist. For once, the smug composure was gone from Ariniel’s face, Telperiën noticed, consumed by something else she could not quite read. It did not matter when she covered Ariniel’s lips with her own in impatience. Too many nights she had already spent restless, thinking, considering, hesitating, and Telperiën was tired of all of them.

Ariniel’s lips felt soft against her own and against Telperiën’s questing tongue they parted.

The kiss was different to everything else she had ever experienced; softer and gentler, yet at the same time so much more demanding than all other kisses she had shared. She sighed when Ariniel’s hands weaved into her curls, undoing the braids she always wore whilst sleeping. Fair enough, Telperiën thought with closed eyes, as she would certainly – or hopefully - not sleep all too soon.

Whilst she was lost in her musing, control slipped from her hands once more with Ariniel’s thigh pushing her legs apart. If the provisional tent had been made of solid stone, she would have found herself pressed against the nearest wall, of that Telperiën was certain.

“Undress,” demanded Telperiën, precise and purposeful.

Ariniel did as she was bid. With a smile and nod of approval Telperiën watched her undo the fastenings of her dress with long and trembling fingers. Slowly. Deliberately. As if she meant to tease. Perhaps she was, because her smirk was not entirely innocent.

Without warning the dress slid from her shoulders, pooling around her feet. “You like what you see,” Ariniel commented, holding Telperiën’s approving gaze.

How could she not?

Ariniel’s body was divine; lithe and muscular, but with curves at the right places, firm breasts with nipples already hardened.

“So do you,” replied Telperiën upon which Ariniel took a step towards her again.

“I might, however, your true beauty is still veiled,” she whispered, placing her hands on Telperiën’s shoulders.

With a smile she removed the shawl from Telperiën’s shoulders and laid it neatly over the nearby chair, returning her attention towards the midnight blue dress the queen still wore. Button after button came undone under her skilled fingers, and with every movement she made sure that she lingered just a moment too long on Telperiën’s now exposed skin. Ariniel withdrew her hands and stepped behind her; she slowly resumed unlacing the dress, showering every inch of skin exposed with kisses. Gently, she brushed Telperiën’s dark curls to one side, kissing her way from her neck down the first vertebrae before her lips wandered towards her shoulder blade.

When her lips reached Telperiën’s shoulder the dress slipped onto the floor, leaving the queen exposed to Ariniel’s lips and hands. Momentarily, Ariniel’s hands lingered on her stomach, her entire body pressed full against Telperiën.

Telperiën closed her eyes and sighed, both content and excited.

The moment she wanted to cover Ariniel’s hands with her own, Ariniel withdrew and stepped away from her towards the direction of the bed.

‘Bold and impatient,’ Telperiën thought as she watched her, traits that were not so unlike her own, ‘adventurous and insatiable.’

Ariniel stretched luxuriously on her bed that was indeed not luxurious at all – no cushions or silks, no furs to keep the chill of the night at bay adorned it. No golden riches gleamed in the candle-light, apart from her body. Skin so much lighter than Telperiën’s own, dark hair framing Ariniel’s face with those grey eyes that looked so expectantly at her beneath half-lidded lashes. Lashes that were so sooty and dark against her ivory skin. Hunger arose within Telperiën as she watched her and recalled her dreams of late.

“Care to join or are you content to simply watch?” asked Ariniel teasingly, her smile turning coy.

Telperiën had not noticed that she had been staring.

There was a moment of silence filled with unwavering eye contact. When at last she stepped closer, Ariniel leaned back and parted her legs to welcome her between them. Before Telperiën settled she was pulled down against her, strong arms embracing her, keeping her from falling, heated skin against skin, demanding lips against lips, questing, seeking, exploring.

Ariniel’s fingers ran up and down her spine whilst she kissed her deeply, languidly, drowning in the bliss that washed over her. In return, she cupped Ariniel’s face, warm and silky against her fingers, tilting her head just a little to the side to adjust the angle.

Absently, Telperiën arched her body against Ariniel to increase the friction; it never seemed to be enough and without breaking the kiss she shifted herself so that her legs enwrapped one of Ariniel’s thighs. Ariniel smiled against her lips.

And then, all of sudden Ariniel’s lips were gone and with a single, fluid motion she reversed their positions with a strength Telperiën had not expected from the fragile elf, and her eyes widened.

Ariniel ran two fingers over Telperiën’s stomach, whispering against the hollow of her throat. “So demanding my lady.”

“After all I am a queen,” she laughed, low and deep, breath hitching when Ariniel’s head moved low and lower, trailing her tongue along her cleavage.

“Of course,” Ariniel mumbled.

Skilled fingertips began to play with her nipples, soft and careful at first, but when in response she moaned, deep and filthy, the touch grew firm. Telperiën’s hands weaved into Ariniel’s hair and urgently she dictated her head upwards until their lips met again. The kiss was nothing like the ones before as both were ruled by passion, by a fire that could not be quenched.

Ariniel reached between them and stroked her clit, lightly, teasingly, before a finger slipped inside Telperiën who found herself gasping and moaning against Ariniel’s lips. Purposefully, Ariniel rubbed her fingers between her legs. Telperiën’s breath caught and her mind began to fog, her vision blurring. This was divine, magical.

With a naughty smirk, Ariniel broke the kiss and shifted lower between Telperiën’s parted legs; idle fingertips danced across her heated skin, eliciting shivers and gooseflesh alike; fingertips assisted by her lips and her tongue. When Ariniel reached her belly, Telperiën already felt as if she could take no more. She did not know how exactly Ariniel did it but she had a natural talent to undo her within moments. Her touch firm but still gentle, her lips soft, yet wonderfully demanding.

Telperiën arched her hips, craning her neck when Ariniel’s tongue flickered against her clit, tasting her, teasing her. Ariniel found her already warm and wet, wanting, and with ease a finger slipped inside her. Again she arched as the assault of the tongue was relentless – and divine. So easily it was to forget everything around them – the prospect of war, of death and horror as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Despite herself, Telperiën found herself begging for more, her words and actions no longer dictated by any rational thoughts, ruled by an imperishable flame. Ariniel obliged; a second finger found its way inside her, questing, scissoring, stretching her so wonderfully open whilst her tongue drew idle patterns across her heated skin; and all the while, Ariniel watched her beneath long lashes. Telperiën either fisted the sheets or Ariniel’s hair, none too gently until she felt as if she could not take no more under the relentless assault. Her fingers curled in Ariniel’s dark hair, pulling her head closer as she rolled her hips against that divine mouth. Strange sounds ripped from her throat, dark and deep, and rumbling. She had never expected herself to be that loud – she had never been in the past, but then, she had never felt so hot, so aroused before. She was so close to the edge of oblivion already, sparks flaring behind closed eyes. In response to her breathy moans, Ariniel’s tongue probed deeper, replacing the fingers that had felt so wonderful. But this, this felt so much better!

Before she knew what was happening, skilled fingers began to assist Ariniel’s tongue inside her, pushing in and out as she sucked on her clit repeatedly. It was too much to bear and at the same time it seemed to be never enough. Ariniel kept hitting the same spot deep inside her, kissing her, sucking her until Telperiën fell apart, dissolving in the pleasure she felt.

With a muffled whimper she came, her body shaking against Ariniel’s face, against the sheets, head rolling from one side to the other until the waves of desire slowly ebbed, leaving her limp and breathless, wonderfully sated.

“I hope I have served you well, my queen,” whispered Ariniel, still catching her breath.

Fondly, Telperiën smiled at her, guiding her upwards with trembling arms until they were at eye level again. Languidly they kissed afterwards, sprawled across each other, entirely content in each other’s arms.

*

 

---

Chapter End Notes

(*).. because I am terribly sorry for wishing for some encampment smut.

[Disclaimer] – The Elves and Men are not mine. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and Tolkien Estate – I just like to explore their lives a little further. No money is made from this story.

[General] - Feel free to contact me on tumblr: feanope