The Elendilmir by pandemonium_213

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Chapter 31: A Scent of Autumn

Sámaril finds Elerína waiting for him at the rock where he heard Valandil cry out from the river twelve years before. There, guided by his heart, he makes a decision that will forever affect him.

This chapter is a solid R-rating for sexual content, more than "moderate" but not graphic either; just obvious as to what is occurring.

Thanks to Lizards Surgical Steel, Erulissë, Jael, Aeärwen, Drummerwench and Russandol for comments, nit-picking and otherwise holding my hand.

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As I hiked along the familiar path that wound through the forest of beech, oak and holly, my heart pounded, not from exertion, but from nerves. I did not know how Elerína would receive me. All I knew is that I could not bear continuing these games of avoidance and awkward encounters. The trail climbed higher, the trees of the lower vale giving way to a mix of silver birch and firs. I rounded the bend, and there she was, sitting on the same rock that I had twelve years ago when I had heard her child cry out from the river.

She greeted me with a solemn bow of her head. My heart fell, but it was a better reception than the chill that she had turned upon me of late.

“Istyar...”

“My lady, please. No 'Istyar'.”

“Then there is no need for 'my lady'. Please sit, Sámaril.”

I sat down beside her on the rock, but put space between us.

“The view is beautiful from here.” She looked out toward the meadow that rolled above the river on the opposite side of the valley, where once the many tents of the Men of the West had stood.

“Yes, this is one of my favorite spots in the valley. I was resting on this very rock when I heard Valandil cry out from the river.”

“You rescued him and brought him back to me.”

“I remember when you came down the stairs. I scolded you for neglecting your son.”

“I remember that well. I thought you to be a high-minded, arrogant Elf.”

“I still am and not apt to change. That is why I wish to speak to you, Elerína. I have come to beg your forgiveness. I treated you in such a beastly way when I left for Hadhodrond. I am sorry for what I said to you -- for hurting you. You are my friend. You deserve far better than that.”

After an agonizingly long moment, she turned to me, her face grave. “You are forgiven, Sámaril. For my part, I should not have treated you so coldly when you came back, but when I saw you, all that pain returned. What you said hurt me deeply. You have been gone for two years, and I had hoped I might forget your words in that time, but I could not.” Her voice quavered for a brief moment before she steadied it again. “I missed you so much. I know that two years are nothing to you, but to me, they were long.”

I had given little thought to the time I was away, but now I knew that those two years had been drawn out for her, even if they had been a blink of an eye to me.

“I missed you, too. I thought of you often.” I reached across the gap between us and clasped her hand in mine. A thrill ran up my arm when she squeezed my hand with affection, but she kept her gaze focused on the meadow. “Elerína, you will always have my friendship.”

“I am grateful for that,” she asserted. “But…”

“But what?”

“I desire more than friendship from you,” she said, barely above a whisper. “That is why your cold farewell hurt so much.”

“Elerína, I am sorry…”

She cut me off. “I know. It is not appropriate. The fates of Men and Elves are divided, and by the laws of your people, you are married.”

“This is true. I cannot marry again.”

At that, she stood abruptly, jerking her hand away from mine.

“Forgive me, Sámaril. I should never have brought this up.”

She snatched her cloak and swung around to take a only few steps along the path before I leapt to my feet and strode to her side where I grasped her hand, pulling her around to face me. She kept her eyes lowered. I knew what I must say.

“Elerína, I may not marry another, but that does not mean I cannot love you.”

I lifted her chin with my fingers and wiped away the tears that tracked down her cheek. I took her face in my hands, searching her eyes, blue as the clear autumn sky above but glistening with tears yet unshed. Then I made the decision that would affect me forever: I kissed her.

Her response was not the hesitant butterfly’s flutter of lips she had given to me before, but a full, rich kiss that told me of the love she wanted to give and that I now so eagerly received. I returned her kiss with a fervor that surprised me. I embraced her tightly, savoring her warmth and the feel of her arms around me, drinking in her scent of woodbine and rose. Our kisses deepened, and our hands began to wander. I pulled back from her.

“Elerína, I desire you, but I should court you first. If we continue this, I will not be able to stop myself.”

The smile she gave to me made my knees weak. “Sámaril, save for the time you spent among the Dwarves, you have been courting me for years now. I think we are ready to move past that.” She kissed me again and pressed herself so closely against me so that she must have felt my natural response. “I do not want you to stop. I desire you, too.”

Her directness was more than I could have hoped for, but a thread of doubt needed to be cut. “Are you certain you want this?”

She fitted herself against me once more. “I am certain. But are you?”

“Yes. Certain enough that I cannot wait any longer. Will you come with me?”

“Yes, Sámaril, I will.”

Taking her hand, I led her into the woods. Some ways off the path, we reached a secluded dell encircled by tumbled rocks interspersed among dark firs and yellow birches with their leaves fluttering in the breeze. Together we made our way down into the center of the dell, warm and golden in the sun. We faced one another again. She scanned our surroundings before meeting my eyes.

“Here?”

“You have taken an Elf as a lover. We are wild, fey creatures.” She laughed at that, but I kissed her, gratified to hear her mirth change to a hum of pleasure.

“No one will see us?” Her question was warm against my neck.

“Only the birds.”

I unfurled her cloak, letting it come to rest on the cushion of grass and dry leaves that lined the bottom of the little hollow, and we lay down upon it. Legs and arms entwined, our hands coursed over one another’s bodies, now free from restraint, hers over my hips and mine to her breasts. I became increasingly aware of her scent with its subtle notes of mortal decay, but I did not find it repulsive. Instead her odor enticed me, blending with the bitter, ripe fragrance of autumn that suffused the earth in the dell and the surrounding forest, the fermenting scent of the dying season that was the necessary partner of renewal to come.

The sun and our passion warmed us. She ran her hands beneath my shirt over my bare skin. Her every touch, from the caress of her fingers to the silk of her hair against my face, thrilled me.

“You must be hot,” she murmured. “I know I am.”

I slid my shirt off, casting it aside into the dry leaves. Her eyes stroked my body, lingering upon my evident arousal that pushed against my trousers. Her smile was triumphant and not a little wicked.

“Have I done this to an Elf? One who is so disciplined of mind and body?”

“Not so disciplined...”

She reached out and traced the outline in the strained cloth. I sucked in my breath, thinking of her hands on me, wanting to take her then and there in desperation, but not yet, not yet. I leaned over her, draping the laces that secured the bodice of her gown over my fingers.

“May I?”

She lowered her eyes, her expression uncertain. “I no longer have the body of a maiden.”

“I do not want a maiden. I want you.”

She trailed her fingers over my cheek, down the back of my neck and along my shoulder, sending ripples of pleasure over my skin. “Then yes, Sámaril, you may.”

I untied the laces of her bodice, pushing aside the fabric to so the sunlight fell upon her breasts -- a mature woman’s breasts with rose-brown nipples and thin silver scars threaded across white skin.

“You are lovely.”

I expressed my appreciation by taking one nipple and then the other into my mouth, paying attention to her soft moans that might hint at what exactly pleased her. For as much as I wanted her, I was also anxious that I might not satisfy her. When I was a young bridegroom, I had been advised in no uncertain terms that I must ensure a woman’s pleasure before I sought my own. I had more confidence now than when I first lay with my new bride, but I also knew every woman varied. Much to my relief, I was discovering that Elerína, save for her mortal scent, was little different than a woman of my own race.

Emboldened by her pleased little noises, I lifted her skirt up to expose her bare legs. Her breathing quickened when I moved my hand along the smooth skin of her inner thigh, gently pushing her legs apart, but I hesitated. This was a woman of noble birth whom I wanted to touch. Who was I to take such liberties with the mother of a king and a woman who had been named a queen?

She looked at me from heavy-lidded eyes and took my hand, placing it upon what I so desired.

“Please,” she said, her voice husky. Given permission, I pressed my hand against her yielding flesh. She tilted her hips against me, and when my fingers made a circle in the soft wetness, she gasped: “Yes, there!”

When she started to tremble, I removed my hand. She made a sound of protest, grasping for my hand again, which I denied her. Instead I sat up and positioned myself between her legs, pushing her skirt further up toward her waist so that I could admire her. The skin of her thighs was so pale, flawless but for a mark on her inner left thigh. A blemish perhaps, but then I realized it was ink embedded in her skin, shaped like a crescent moon. She closed her legs in response to my curiosity, her smile teasing me. I pushed her thighs apart again and put my lips on the mark of the moon, encircling it with my tongue, making my way upward until I found her.

Her scent became her taste and aroused me to the point of pain. She dug her fingers into my scalp and then reached to hold my hand, gripping it harder and harder. She trembled more now, gasping and moaning. Then she released a low cry, arching her body, her hand relaxing its hold on mine. When she subsided, withdrawing a little from me, I pulled myself up to lie by her side again, taking her in my arms, but now I was the one shaking with unreleased passion. She ran her tongue over my lips, her own scent thick upon them. Her hand brushed against my belly while she unlaced my trousers. I fumbled in my rush to shove the hindering garment down to my ankles, kicking it off.

“Now you...” she breathed against my mouth. The first feather-light touches of her fingers were maddeningly delicate, but then she grasped me firmly. I closed my eyes and lost myself to the pressure of her strokes. She tried to pull me on top of her, but I flipped onto my back, the leaves crunching beneath the cloak when I put my body between hers and the hard ground.

“I don’t want to crush you.”

“You are very considerate.”

Hitching her skirt up, she straddled my hips and guided me into her. She leaned forward, her breasts grazing my bare chest and the silk curtain of her hair falling over my shoulders and face. She rocked against me with the rhythm of a woman who knew what she wanted. Any remaining worry that I might not please her fled from my thought, replaced by the sensation of the most intimate of embraces. Closing my eyes, I clasped her to me, and met her with my thrusts. I glided across a plateau of pleasure, but my focus was interrupted when wings beat frantically at the gates of my mind.

Her presence within my thought surprised me for I did not know if she -- a mortal -- would be capable of this connection during the height of lovemaking, but I opened the barriers wide to bring her fully into my burning mind, allowing her see how much I loved her. Instead of blending into me, she streaked away, taunting me with powerful wings. I pursued her, dipping and rising, dipping and rising. She soared higher still and then dove again, grinding herself against me. Closer and closer I spiraled toward her, plunging deeper into her, while she plummeted just out of my reach until my talons caught hers, and our minds now joined along with our bodies. We tumbled, locked together in reckless flight, our love fierce and tender at once.

“Oh, Sáma...” and she cried out again. Then my own inarticulate moan joined hers when I reached my peak, all the pent-up desire that had built over the past years released into her, and I became hers.

She collapsed against my chest, burying her face in my hair, her breath warm against my shoulder. Her heart thudded against me, its beat slowing as she succumbed to the bliss that followed lovers’ completion. I held her, not wanting to let her go.

“Elerína,” I whispered against her hair. “I wish to tell you something, something I should have said before, but feared to.”

She raised her head to look at me with blue eyes foggy from the aftermath of lovemaking, her smile sleepy.

“What do you wish to say?”

“I love you. I will always love you.”

She responded with a sweet kiss and melted into my arms again. Then her body shook, and I realized she was weeping.

“What is wrong? Why are you crying?”

She met my eyes again, but a beautiful smile shone through her tears.

“Nothing is wrong, Sámaril. It’s just that I am so happy...I love you, too.” We kissed again, and I tasted the salt of her tears.

We remained joined for as long as possible until my inevitable diminishment separated our union. Then she rolled off me and curled up against my side, resting her head on my chest, our mingled sweat now drying in the sunlight. Above us, the leaves of the birches rattled in the breeze, but we remained warm and protected in the little dell. Elerína’s breathing became slow and even while she dozed. Far away, I heard the whistle of a falcon, and sated and peaceful, I fell asleep.

~*~

The chill of shadows awoke us. The sun no longer shone down into the dell, and the light had taken on a crimson hue as the sun sank in the western sky. Elerína shivered, and I hugged her against my more resilient body.

“We had best return,” she said, but she snuggled closer rather than making any move to leave. I was equally reluctant to release her, wishing our afternoon interlude never to end, but knowing that it must.

“Yes, it will be dark soon.”

“I think we should go back separately.”

“That might be wise. You should go first, and I will follow.”

She shivered again so we collected our discarded clothing that had been flung out onto the leaves and grass. When she reached to pick up her cloak, she chuckled.

“What’s so amusing?” I asked while I sat on the cold ground, slipping on my shoes.

She held up her cloak, and there in its center was a telltale spot.

“Ah. Well, the laundresses are discreet,” I said. “I doubt that this is the first time they have seen such a stain.”

“Likely they have seen a few!” She laughed again. “Ai, but this is more than just our love spot that has mussed my mantle.”

She shook her crumpled cloak, trying to dislodge the bits of leaves clinging to the dark grey wool before throwing it over her shoulders. I fixed the clasp of her cloak, kissing her brow after I did so, but she pulled me down to give me a much hungrier kiss.

“Will you come to me again? Tonight?”

“Yes,” I returned her kiss with equal ardor. “Perhaps you should come to my quarters, away from your ladies.”

“That is the better idea. Late then, after the household has settled and after Val has gone to sleep.”

I kissed her, gently this time. “I understand. After Val has gone to sleep. I will be ready for you.”

“If we do not leave, I think you will be ready for me sooner than that.” She tilted her hips against my body before leaving my arms.

We climbed out of the dell and wended our way through the woods to the path. I stood by the rock, watching her recede down the path. The sun dropped further down the sky while I sang a lover’s poem from a happier time deep in my long past. When I returned to the first verse of the song, I set off on the path, kicking the leaves up into joyous fountains as I walked, breathing in the scent of autumn, the scent that would forever remind me of her.

~*~

The sun had just set by the time I returned to the House of Elrond. Light from the windows cut through the dusk. Judging by the remains of the day, supper would not begin for another two hours. My mind raced ahead to the coming night and what Elerína had said. Would she come to my quarters? I hardly dared to hope so, but she had seemed happy in the dell. I had no reason to doubt her, but the afternoon had taken on the quality of a dream, and I had to convince myself it was real. Needing to still my mind, I decided to go to the forge before I bathed, intending to distract myself with rote work for a while. No sooner had I settled myself at my desk than Thorno was there in my door, grinning.

“Yes, Thorno? Is there something you want?”

“No, nothing in particular.”

“Then why are you standing there grinning like a cat that has caught the mouse?”

“You have bits of leaves in your hair.”

“I went for a hike in the woods this afternoon. No doubt I encountered leaves there.”

“Ah. No doubt. Interesting, though, that they look very much like the bits of leaves stuck in the Lady Elerína’s hair and on her cloak.”

My face warmed.

“Don’t worry, Sámaril, I will tell no one although I think it will soon become obvious for all who have eyes to see.”

“Just how obvious is it?’

“To those of us who know both of you well, very obvious. I heard singing earlier when I stepped out to take a breath of fresh air, and there was Elerína walking into the court. Walking on air, I should say. I have never seen her happier. She also looked...mussed. But she did not seem to care. Then when I saw you come into the forge, well, Istyar, your smile was a mile wide. Now that I see the leaves, I can only conclude that you and the lady are,” he paused, searching for words, “speaking again.” His blue eyes glinted knowingly.

“Yes, we are speaking. Thorno, I hope I can trust you.”

“Of course. That goes without saying. I am simply happy for you. For both of you.”

“You are very accepting of this.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Lairiel and I can never marry for the same reasons, but I love her all the same. I will keep your secret, but I doubt that you will be able to hide your joy.”

~*~

Thorno was right. I could barely contain myself when all sat for supper that evening. If earlier Elerína and I had studiously kept our eyes off one another, now we had difficulty avoiding an exchange of glances and little smiles when we thought no one else would notice. After supper concluded, most followed Elrond and Elerína to the Hall of Fire where I willed time to rush as quickly as it did for mortals, but the evening dragged on. At last, when others began to filter out of the hall, I retired to my quarters, undressed and put on my warm wool robe. I sat down with a scroll, trying to read and relax, but leapt up again and again -- to light candles, to smooth the bed, to make sure all was tidy. I stared out the window at the new moon, my thoughts turning toward the mysterious mark on Elerína’s thigh, thinking how the moon shone against the black sky but her dark blue crescent sank into milky white skin. The night deepened, and all was quiet, save for wind rustling the dry leaves outside.

Then the soft knock sounded on my door. I opened it, and there she was, clad in a long dressing gown.

“Please, come in.” I stepped aside, and she entered swiftly. She surveyed my quarters.

“Your chambers look very comfortable.”

“They are, and even more so now that you are here.” I took her hands in mine. “I am glad you have come, my lady.”

“Sámaril, please do not call me...” but then she ceased speaking when I kissed her. I ran my hand along her braid hanging down her back. Her shiver of pleasure rewarded me when I nibbled the edge of her ear, whispering to her:

“Let me loosen your hair.”

‘Yes,” she murmured against my shoulder, her lips brushing against my skin. “But only if you will allow me to do the same to you.”

“That is fair enough.”

She turned around so that I could remove the clasps that kept the ends of her braid in place. I unraveled her hair slowly and ran my fingers over her scalp and through the length of her wavy locks, which nearly reached her waist. She almost purred. Then I pushed aside her hair and kissed the back of her neck. She turned around to meet my lips.

“Now let me return the favor.”

It was my turn to face away from her even though my body roared with the need to crush her against me. She unfastened the clips that bound my hair, and echoing my prior motions, unwove the strands of my plait.

‘”You have beautiful hair, Istyar. Like bronzed silk.”

I tilted my head back, enjoying the sensation of her fingers running through my hair. “You called me Istyar.”

“You called me ‘my lady’.” Her hands left my hair when she reached around with both arms to the front of my robe and untied the sash. She pulled at the fabric over my shoulders.

Delighted by her bold gesture, I shrugged off the robe, letting it fall to my feet. Her lips found my bare back while her arms encircled me, one hand on my chest and the other on my belly. I turned around to take her into my arms, but she backed away from me.

“I have dreamed of this,” she said, her eyes traveling over my body. “Once, I saw you working in the forge. You were shirtless, wearing very little actually. You appeared a god of fire. I wondered what it would be like to have you kiss me, to have you cover me.”

“I am yours now. I wish to see you, too.”

I unfastened clasps of her dressing gown until I could slide it over her bare shoulders. With considered, reluctant movement, she pulled one arm out of a sleeve and then the other. The garment pooled around her ankles, and she stood naked in the candlelight.

She had the body of a woman who had experienced childbirth: her breasts were neither small nor large but a little heavy and not as high as they once might have been. Her hips swelled with lush curves from a narrow waist. Her belly was rounded, a small hillock that sloped down to the dark triangle of hair that covered her secrets. Her earlier boldness faltered when I gazed upon her; she flushed and bowed her head, vulnerable now that she was so exposed.

“You are beautiful, meldanya,” I assured her. “Come to me and let me show you just how beautiful you are.” I reached out, and she took my hand. I led her to my bed, throwing the coverlet back, and we collapsed onto the soft linens.

I had wanted this reprise of the afternoon’s coupling to be slow, mindful of the artistry of pleasure, but her immediate need set my desire aflame, fueled by the touch of skin against skin with no hindering garments. She whispered endearments, tentative at first but strengthened when I returned these in kind: those coarse and most intimate of words that were the raw poetry of love. Our hands raked over one another’s bodies; our kisses became frantic. I trailed my lips and tongue down her belly, intending to seek the moon on her thigh again, but she shifted restlessly beneath me.

“I am ready for you now, love.” So she opened herself, and I sank into her.

I did not hold back, for she was cushioned against my strength by the mattress beneath us. With the movements of an experienced woman, she signaled with her hips just where I should apply pressure from my own body. She quivered like a tight bowstring while I pursued her with every thrust. Then, as before, her wings beat at the gates of my mind. When I opened them, she flooded me with her love and lust, crying out when she found her peak. I spiraled higher and higher with her, then dove swiftly down again, gratified that I had been able to give her pleasure. Her arms tightened around me once more, straining in her flight, and my beloved moaned my name again just before I plummeted over the brink, the intensity of my climax consuming me.

We lay quiet, still joined, for a time, but loath to part, I eased my weight off her and pulled her into my embrace. As brilliant as the peak of release was with this woman whom I loved, the aftermath was exquisite.

She snuggled against my side, her head resting on my chest and her arm draped over my body. “Words are not adequate, so I will just say that was very good for me, Istyar.”

“It was for me as well. I am glad you are a woman who is...” I hesitated, wanting to be certain that I expressed myself in a way that would not cause her offense. “I am glad you are not a maiden, that you know what you desire. That helps me know what to do. I am sorry that I was not more artful.”

“Hush, love. I do not doubt your craftsmanship, but there is time yet for such artistry. Rest assured that you pleased me. Couldn’t you tell?”

“Yes, I could tell.”

I pulled the coverlet over us when the candles burned low and the room chilled. We crooned to one another as lovers will until her whispers subsided into the steady breathing of sleep. I resisted following her into slumber for a while, afraid to let go of any moment spent with her, already dreading the time when our paths would separate irrevocably. But soon, lulled by the rhythm of her breath and warmth, I slipped into the blissful realm of a golden dream where I walked hand-in-hand with her, the sound of an unknown sea in my ears, and then the oblivion of true sleep pulled me into its depths.

Her stirring awoke me. The grey light that preceded the dawn had come all too soon.

“I must leave now, Sámaril.”

“Not just yet.”

I captured her in my arms before she could rise from my bed, and with only a short preamble of caresses, our embrace became the full union of our bodies. We did not have the luxury of time to savor the each other afterward, so I simply watched her while she lifted her dressing gown over her shoulders and padded across the floor to the adjoining lavatory where she closed the door. I rolled out of my bed, put on my robe, and waited for her. She emerged, and I took her into my arms, kissing her cheeks that were pink and damp from the cold water she had splashed on her face.

“Elerína...”

“I love you.” She kissed me one last time before she slipped out the door.

I stood there in silence, listening to her soft footfalls retreat down the corridor. When I heard them no longer, I flung myself back onto my empty bed. I buried my face in the pillow she had slept on, breathing in the scent of roses and woodbine, and from the rumpled linens, I inhaled the blended musk of my enduring life and her mortality, already missing her, and then allowed myself to sleep.