Night Magic by Rhapsody

Night Magic

Read Night Magic

My name is Aearwen, begotten by my parents during the big journey West when they tried to follow their Lord Elwë. My mother gave birth to me shortly before we could pass the mountains, much to my father’s sadness, still too far away from the sea. This was something my father longed to see after our Lord Elwë returned to us with his tales of splendour from the other realm. My father wanted my name to mirror his hope that one day I would fulfil his promise and as a reminder to himself that we might linger now, but we still would be set to reach the shores of Aman. Often he told me that my fragile voice, gaining more in power as both my parents became used to the setting of the sun, filled him what with that hope. My family lingered with Lord Elmo for a while before my father decided to journey across the mountains after he heard that our King dwelled there.

During our journey, we passed the boundaries of Nan Elmoth, woods renowned for their legacy of love and enchantments, which had been set upon Lord Elwë and the Maiar Melian. It was a fair day, just like the one that recently passed, when I wandered between the trees, listening to the old magic woven there, and I never left for I found my home and my destiny to become a silversmith one day. Where once Elu Thingol and Melian dwelled, now lived our fair lord Eöl and he accepted my presence, giving me my own tasks amongst his apprentices. Once I sent word to my parents in Doriath, my father met me on the border of his realm and the river kept us apart. There we conversed quietly and even though he was saddened at first, he more than ever understood that I should claim my own destiny instead of fulfilling his.

Eöl was an honest lord who excelled in mastering his craft and did anything in his power to protect us and keep us happy; yet, he was not content himself and on days when that surfaced, we learnt to walk on our toes, simply giving him that which he asked. Many yens passed, until the day came that our sheltered lives changed drastically.

Aredhel Ar-Feiniel was her name and we rejoiced in accepting her as a new Lady of our own, yet she would not yield easily to our lord. There was pride mirrored in her eyes and she carried herself with a dignity of splendour my father once related to me when he told Lord Elwë’s descriptions to me. Our lord’s eyes were fixed on her and for the first time in many yens we saw something we never thought him capable of possessing: blind love. We all heard of tales of outside the realm when conversing with the Dwarves, but we knew that our lord’s compassion for us was held fast, but calculated. His reign was a firm one, but it all gave us something to depend on every day. This evening, as the needle dives into the tunic I am repairing, I remember the evening when I watched the feverish body on my bed, remembering the resemblance in his royal features and remember the day when he claimed her as his wife.

The day had been unusually warm; we all had sought shelter under the thick leaves, only to come alive during the evening and busied ourselves with our tasks. Aredhel was happy here, she told me so the day before when I gifted her with a basket of berries. We all had noticed the stolen glances between the two of them, but Aredhel seemed to wait for something. Just like my father waited for my mother to move on to the West. I have heard about the difficulties of the exiles and often I wondered if they ever were permitted to journey across the ocean as Elwë once did. My parents did leave the safety of Doriath behind them to make this dream come true, just as I journeyed after them once I saw what fulfilment I saw happening in front of my eyes. I knew that something like that was waiting for me as well.

I remember how I asked myself those questions when I nursed the dark-haired stranger that stumbled into my life. I recall whispering to him if he knew the answer and why he came to my place, which I found deserted after so many years of travelling. Eöl and Aredhel gone: my fellow smiths moved on to other places where they could perform their arts. It felt strange wandering around here, finding the house and smithies abandoned. I remember so many great events, but the grandest of which I recall so vividly was what I saw just as I turned left on the clearing that would lead me to a field with blueberry bushes, I saw them.

Eöl held her in his arms and much to my joy: they shared a kiss. The intimacy between them grew rapidly and it was my lord who divested his tunic the first. A gasp escaped me as I watched how the rays of the sinking sun gave his hair this auburn glance. Aredhel accepted him willingly in her embrace and I simply could not avert my eyes, being completely spellbound.

Once both broke off the kiss, Eöl first divested her of her gown and while he gently placed it beside them, he looked up in my direction and our eyes met. ‘Be my witness,’ his eyes seemed to tell me, but it was his command in them and so I obeyed. My lips ran dry when her naked bosom was revealed to him for his reaction to it made me wish to be in her stead. My lord caressed her breasts in tender strokes, but increased his movements, and soon her nipples stood erect while his strong hands squeezed them. Aredhel turned her face in my direction with a hoarse cry as he bent in and suckled on her now erect nipples. Even if the White Lady was aware of my presence: she did not object and so I became a silent witness to their union. Their dance of bonding was sheer beauty: after he admired her breasts, his lips wandered downwards to her belly and her hips.

Aredhel encouraged his wandering lips by burying her hands in his hair and I could hear how she encouraged him to give her the stars and the moon, but he gave her much more. I often wondered how it would be, to be totally loved by someone who worships someone like Eöl admired Aredhel that day. I heard often of finding love and a mate to marry, but I never expected that it could be so intense. With this question in my mind, to find love again, I first considered seeking answers with my parents, but wherever I journeyed, I learnt too late that they did set sail for the Valinor. I was confronted back then with the decision to follow them or find my own way. I did choose the latter because their decision made me realise that I needed to find my own path as Eöl and Aredhel did that day. Which I did and I conquered my own destiny.

How could this be? How could fate turn into one’s own favour so rapidly? I wondered when Eöl, now fully naked, knelt between Aredhel’s thighs and placed his strong hands under her legs. In full benediction, he lowered his lips between the apex of her thighs and tasted her while she promised him all she could give. His face often disappeared from my sight, leaving Aredhel to show me what she asked for the most: a sweet release given in complete surrender to him. It surely must have been intense for I felt the heat building up inside me and my legs started to quiver. Neither did I want to leave them, so I sank down against an oak tree, watching how Eöl showed his love his erection, I quivered in anticipation, but Aredhel’s sweet voice had now turned husky: her pride shining through as she encouraged him to make their bond complete. And so he did.

As of that day I pondered how a dance so ancient: the melting of those two bodies could create a bond of fear so strong between them. Where at first she willingly accepted him between her thighs, they continued their coupling as he lifted her on his rod, securing her hips while she could feel free. I could only wish to be in her place: to experience that exquisite feeling as she sank down on him and started to ride him in the same way on the day she entered the woods. Their hands laced as Eöl sang to them in the tongue I was raised in and which I recall still. Thusly I sat there, in the woods and feeling just as hot and bothered during the night with the stranger on my bed.

Often I wondered why he found this place, as it seemed to be so far off route whence he came from. Later when he told me more, I was in wonder how this could have happened. There was something about this stranger who lay still on my bed while fever coursed through his body. His hair was wet and damp with sweat, sticking to his skin while he fought whatever haunted him in his unconsciousness, yet the way he lay there reminded me of the final moments between that magical moment of the two lovers in the woods. Aredhel’s hands joined with his and both threw their heads backwards while utterly coarse cries stated their happiness and bliss. Sometimes, during my journey throughout Beleriand, I often tried to mimic their emotions, my hands wandered off to my private parts often as they did that evening as well. I knew I had to leave the stranger soon before he started to hear my abandoned cries as well. I did know that I could not withstand staying there any longer and I saw to it that I cooled his forehead with a wet cloth.

“I have to go, but I will be back.” I whispered to him, fully aware that he could not hear me.

“No you shan’t.” His arm seized my hand and carried much more strength than I imagined. “I watched you next to me while you were daydreaming.”

I tried to hide my embarrassment: what more has he seen?

“I can smell you and I am wondering how you will taste,” the stranger propped himself up and enchanted me with his eyes. “Stay.”

Whatever madness seized me, I could not tell. It felt as if time was frozen while my body battled against reason, but soon even reason told me that he might be the one I had been looking for all these years. Still he waited for me, was he the sanest one of the two of us?

Nay, I told myself that I would not deny myself this pleasure. I thought, for who knows if this has been written in the stars all along. That I, Aearwen, was destined to return here to realise that I would be bound to Nan Elmoth since the day I crossed its borders. Just as he had today.

“Do you want to taste me or is there more you desire?” I asked him while I placed the wet cloth in the bowl.

“I want all of it.” The stranger answered in a feverish delirium. “I want these hauntings to be replaced by something more solid. My name is Lómion, fair lady.”

“I wish you bliss. I, Aearwen, wish you to be freed of your hauntings,” I whispered to him.

“And I shall receive it.”

A shiver of anticipation passed through me when he spoke to me. The tension between us felt almost palpable and I sat down on the bed next to him. It felt so natural to me: two bodies touching each other self-consciously, as if our own inner feär asked this to happen. My soul sang and my fingers reached the laces of my dress, but he brushed them away. I heard a growl coming from him when he stumbled upon my chemise and I stood up to let the dress fall at my feet. A fire so wild burnt in his eyes while my trembling fingers tried to unfasten those fragile ties. A shiver crawled over my skin as I heard how a growl built up in his throat once my chemise was loosened enough to have it divested.

His movements were fast and I nearly jumped when his hands touched my skin to frame my waist. I did not hesitate when he pulled me close, but I nearly lost myself when his lips tasted my skin. Lómion twirled his tongue over my stomach, licking and kissing his way down until he reached my throbbing centre to nuzzle his nose there for a moment. I could not move, frozen by my desires for more.

“Lay down.” He simply commanded me and slowly I sank down on the mattress while I wondered what spell he had cast on me. Then I remembered, I remembered the thrall of Eöl and Aredhel. How both surrendered themselves to their moment of being united. Would mine, no, ours be so different? Lómion held me close: his body radiated heat and I wanted to see his eyes that confined me up in his spell. As I turned my head, I felt his lips on me, tender and yet urgent. What else could I do than to kiss him back and I parted my lips slightly for this handsome elf. We held each other close as our tongues whirled around each other: he challenged me and I answered. Ever so slowly he kissed me while his hands roamed over my body. I wanted so much more and he knew it.

His hands parted my legs and even though I felt a moment of hesitation, I did not want to retreat now. Yet, there was a moment of silence and I could not feel him near. Just as I wanted to see where he was, he returned to me, now fully undressed while the candlelight illuminated his marred body with a golden glow. His body however was so warm that I relished in the contact we made; his hands parted my legs as he slid upwards to my inner fire. I wondered if this would be the moment where he would let me soar to the heights as Aredhel did that day. Soon I forgot about it once his fingers found their way to my inner core, parting them slightly for my first intrusion by his skilled hands. All memories forsook me while Lómion filled my mind with new ones: his fingers stretching me as he moved in and out, his thumb played its wicked game and I started to soar on the wings of what I discovered to be the zenith of my desires. I floated while he carried me, whispered words of passion to me: how beautiful his Itarillë was to him and how I belonged to him.

“Take me,” I whispered to him and his dark eyes found me, “make me yours forever, please.”

Just as I spoke my wish, he loomed above me, resting on his strong arms while he watched my face and bent in to kiss my lips. As I parted my lips for him, he impaled me on his hardness in one move, causing me to break away and gasp in surprise.

“You are mine,” I heard him whisper in my ears as I sensed how he stretched me: while my passion rose, he rose deep inside me, “this is our moment, our destiny, Itarillë, and our child shall be our testimony. None shall take you.”

Tears started to course down my face as I adjusted myself to his fierce lovemaking and I followed every soft-spoken command he issued. When he withdrew, I followed him and offered my body to him once more as I rested on my hands and knees. If I thought to lie under him was the deepest pleasure, I was mistaken as he filled me again, and his movements increased as our breathing became shallow. I tried to talk as we gave into each other and managed to say: “I want to ride you.”

“Later,” his hoarse reply came and his hand left my hip to grasp my breast.

At a certain moment, I could not tell where he ended and I began. I felt how his mind touched the outer edges of my mind and I let him slip in. There he conjured our dream, but instead of the dark woods, there were white walls and our child ran around freely.

“Do you want this?” he spoke to me as his other hand left my hips as well, his thumb flickered across my small fire again. As I exploded into the pinnacle of my wanton, our feär mingled into a glorious climax, where before I had felt my mind being confounded by my body as he thrust deep inside me, it now seemed endless. Yet it created a delicious euphoria we only would share for the rest of our lives. I knew that in the eyes of Iluvatar, I became his wife and consort. No experience could have prepared me for this and I knew I found my place at Lómion’s side until the end of Arda.

Just as my senses slowly started to register where I was, I realised I lay on my back while my husband looked down on me.

“The night is ours and I believe you wanted to take another ride,” he spoke to me with a mischievous sparkle. And so I did. I wanted to learn everything as if I thought we only had this night. The night magic we created and continued to make fulfilled every fantasy or thought I could ever imagine. Even more so, what I saw that evening happening between Eöl and Aredhel seemed nothing compared to the bond we forged. I knew I would carry his child and I started to dream, as I took him inside me many times over, how my life would be drastically changed as of this evening. He continued to name me Itarillë over and over again, a token of his love to me as he fisted my dark hair as I rode him with all the fury I had buried inside of me.

We fell asleep exhausted from our lovemaking at the crack of dawn, I nestled myself into the crook of his neck while I wondered if the feverish drops on his skin came from our wild love play or that he still was not hale.

Lómion remained with me for days, which we mostly spent inside our room and he taught me many passionate movements and actions. Up until the day he left, I realised that something else haunted him as if he had a task to complete. I could not ask him to stay as long if this longing, which drove me away from Nan Elmoth as well, would not be quenched. Our parting was passionate and asked him to return as swiftly as I could to enjoy more years together in the bond that crafted. Still as of this day, as I sit here working on the clothing of our child, my heart wishes that my husband would be returned to me swiftly, Iluvatar willing.

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Chapter End Notes

Aearwen = Sindarin for sea-maiden but also the name of the requestee of this story.
Lómion: 'Son of Twilight', the Quenya name that Aredhel gave to Maeglin.
Itarillë (or Itarildë ) is the Quenya name of Idril which was the Sindarized form.

The assignment:

Pairing or Character Request = Eöl & Aredhel; Maeglin/me,
Things you should try to include = rated R, their first night after Eol lured Aredhel to his house...
Things you should NOT include = incest
Ratings to use = R and up!
*Special Notes: The person you have pulled is named Aearwen (one of her pairings requests herself).