Ilverien by Lferion

Domesticity

A picnic on the lawn, a day or so later. A quintuple drabble and a poem.

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Prompts
-- Tolkien Short Fanworks, June challenge: Thematic prompt Cattle or other domestic animal, Form prompt Bredlik
-- L:N3 FRSP-Slice-of-Life , A:B2 Pop Art, P:N4 Bredlik, F:G2 Curtainfic

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Pop!

A blue iridescent bubble floated over the low wall and popped against Bluebell's shining white side, leaving a faint blue ring. A little flurry of smaller bubbles came after the larger, and likewise popped, leaving more blue rings. Bluebell did not notice the bubbles, but she did notice her people gathered on the other side of her pasture wall. She lowed inquiringly, just as several more bubbles in different colors floated up to her face and popped on her nose, leaving overlapping rings. Maglor laughed. He had been making the bubbles with shallow dishes of colored soap-water and wire implements twisted in various shapes, for Erien's entertainment -- the rest of them too, sitting, laying, dozing on the lawn between the door to the library in the Cottage, and the wall that marked the milking-pasture. None of them were wearing much in the way of clothing, except Ilinis, who was both well-covered and sitting in the shade under the noble and ancient beech tree. They burned badly in the sun, and no-one in this household minded if she were covered, and they were not.

"Are you making art of our cow, brother?" Maedhros asked lazily from where he lay, head in Fingon's lap. "I thought you were going to aim for the wall to test your rainbow bubbles."

"She makes a very fine canvas," Maglor laughed, "I could make art of you instead! If you chose to sit up, that is."

Maedhros's pale, freckled skin would indeed show the bubble-rings nicely, but he was quite comfortable where he was: watching Erien wiggle and burble on his chest. She reached for a pebbled nipple, red and very tender from her enthusiastic efforts earlier. He caught her small hand before she could tug on it. "Nothing there sweetling, you drank it all, like your amma's before." Ilverien would have no more milk for at least half a day, and it would be several hours before he enough to be useful again. Fingon now...

Tucking Erien firmly between ribs and elbow, Maedhros turned over like an otter, cupping one of Fingon's milk-full breasts in one hand, tonguing and mouthing at the other. Fingon yelped, then moaned as he arched into Maedhros' ministrations. Ilverien laughed. Erien was making starfish hands and giggling. Maedhros gentled his touch on the one, pulled his mouth off the other with a wet pop! Fingon had pulled the pillow into place, and between them had Erien quickly settled. As she latched on, Fingon leaned forward to catch Maedhros's lips with his own. *Don't think I won't take you up on that invitation.*

*Oh, I am counting on it.* Maedhros deepened their kiss, careful not to squash daughter or husband.*You, me, Ilverien watching,* a sense-image accompanied the words, playful, loving, arousing, and Fingon made a noise in his throat that never failed to spike heat in Maedhros's groin.

Between his shoulder blades, he felt several faint, wet tickles -- Maglor making good on his promise. The air shimmered with laughter.

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I am a nis
a child smol
I lyk to sit
On Atya tol
I lye on Ada
Fowr my rest

At evry meel
I suk the Brest

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My Ama's brests
Ar smol and swete
She kisses me
Upon my fete
They ticcle lyke
A pese of sylk

She ownley has
A lytl mylke

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My Atya's brests
Are hard to see
Under sum skars
They fyll for me
I kneed them hard
They are robust

His freccels tayst
Like faere dust

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Bluwbel the Cow
Maykes mylke a lot
Her baybe cows
Each have a spot
Now evry dae
She chus her cud

Her mylk comes out
I watch the flud

--

My ada's brests
Are big and round
And when I feed
He makes a sound
A happy hum
Inside his cheste

He likes it when
I suk the brest

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