With Radiant Garland by Rocky41_7

With Radiant Garland

Read With Radiant Garland

Whenever Lúthien asked Galadriel to spend the night in her room, it was because she was up to something. Often it was because she had something she wanted to share, and preferred the notion of a clandestine girlish meeting under the stars to whisper her news to Galadriel with grand delight. Other times, it was because she had some mischief afoot in which she meant to ensnare Galadriel, or else some game or party to lure her into.

            Tonight’s game was a touching game.

            Galadriel had resisted these at first, but Lúthien was very persuasive. And very beautiful. What were a few kisses under the canopy of her bed with a Sinda princess? What was allowing Lúthien to brush and braid her hair once in a while? (Lúthien was pleased to work with Galadriel’s hair and praised the color and luster heartily, sometimes calling her ‘Sunbeam.’)

            When Lúthien welcomed Galadriel into her room wearing a sheer robe—a gauzy thing woven of Galadriel didn’t know what or how, in a periwinkle blue that seemed to float around her as she moved—Galadriel guessed this was the sort of game she had in mind.

            “I appear to be overdressed,” Galadriel had said as she entered the room, shutting the door tightly as Lúthien bade her. She had aimed for ‘dry,’ to poke fun at Lúthien’s forwardness, but the words came out shakier than intended. Lúthien had a way of doing that which irked at Galadriel, but there was nothing to be done. Lúthien took great amusement in being able to set others off-kilter.

            “One can never be overdressed or underdressed,” Lúthien asserted. “As long as you feel it is appropriate. Perhaps a deal—for something you remove, I shall remove something as well.”

            “Only once may you bargain that way,” Galadriel remarked. “Unless you have a some Maia trick in mind.” Lúthien flashed a toothy smile.

            “No tricks,” she said innocently. “Here, allow me to go first.” She rose to her feet and shed the fine robe, baring her smooth nakedness unvarnished to Galadriel’s eye. Her sleek black hair fell in a smooth wave down past her lower back and her fair skin seemed to glow in the low light. Dark gray eyes watched Galadriel, framed in thick black lashes, waiting for a response.

            Wordlessly, Galadriel began to remove her bodice and skirt. When she was down to her shift, Lúthien made a moue.

            “No more?” she asked.

            “Two pieces I have given you already, one more than promised,” Galadriel pointed out. “And you are—nothing else have you to remove.” Her heart was beating so hard in her chest she thought she might need to sit down. Lúthien’s games had never required her to be quite so bare before. Normally, there was some kissing and touching and then Lúthien grew distracted with something else and left Galadriel dizzy and curiously aching.

            “What if I promised you something else?” Lúthien asked, tilting her head. Galadriel arched an eyebrow. “What if I promised you a kiss?”

            “Kisses you have given me before,” Galadriel said, without really answering. “And without asking so much in return.” Lúthien smiled one of her more devious smiles and came nearer. She pressed one delicate fingertip against Galadriel’s lips.

            “Not here,” she whispered, giggling. “Somewhere else.”

            “Where?” Galadriel asked, trying to swallow discreetly.

            “A surprise,” Lúthien said, her eyes sparkling. “You have to take this off if you want to find out.” She tugged at Galadriel’s shift. Still, Galadriel hesitated. She had seen other Elves naked before. She tended to be more reserved about that sort of thing that was common; it was the staring that got to her. “Don’t you trust me?” Lúthien whispered, placing her hands at Galadriel’s hips. Her palms were cool through the shift.

            “You will…you say nothing of this to others, do you?” Galadriel said. “To Daeron?” Lúthien laughed.

            “I can keep secrets from Daeron,” she said. “I think a woman ought to have a few secrets. Don’t you?” Galadriel did not reply before Lúthien added: “Do you have secrets, Galadriel?”

            “A few,” Galadriel murmured, her eyes flicking away.

            “Shall I learn one tonight?”

            Galadriel’s hands fisted in her shift, Lúthien’s fingers a light pressure at the back of her hips.

            “As you wish,” Galadriel muttered, and shook Lúthien’s hands loose to pull her shift off over her head. Perhaps it was childish to be concerned about such a thing, even now.

            “Ah! I see the promise of my kiss is indeed tempting!” Lúthien said with delight, and she planted one playfully on Galadriel’s lips. “Now…” Then she looked down, and blinked her eyes in surprise. “Oh! What’s this?”

            Galadriel was glad that Lúthien’s attention was so diverted, because she could feel her cheeks burning.

            “Oh,” said Lúthien, and ran her fingers through the dark gold curls between Galadriel’s legs. “I always said you have such beautiful hair,” Lúthien breathed. “I did not know you had it here too. How you’ve hidden this from me!” She dropped to her knees and Galadriel’s stomach turned over.

            “It’s…really nothing,” Galadriel muttered, her face aflame.

            “It’s lovely,” Lúthien insisted, twisting a lock of the coarse hairs around her finger. “Are all the Noldor like this? No—for I have seen your brothers and Edhellos, and they have not this little nest!” She kissed Galadriel just below the bellybutton and Galadriel felt a sharp tingling light up between her legs. She breathed deeply, using Melian’s words about focus to keep the motion steady. “Marvelous,” Lúthien murmured. She pressed a kiss against the thatch of hair. “If I had known, perhaps I would have gotten you undressed the sooner!” she teased, looking up at Galadriel, who silently prayed she was not expected to speak.

            Lúthien’s fingers stroked at her hair, smoothing it down and watching it spring up again and she kissed Galadriel there again, nuzzling playfully with a soft giggle, making Galadriel swallow down a whimper.

            “Marvelous,” said Lúthien again, drawing a finger up the length of Galadriel’s cleft without parting her lips. “And you are pure Elf? Nothing else?”

            “Yes,” Galadriel said, looking up at the ceiling molding rather than down at Lúthien’s curious gaze. “It’s. It happens. I hear.” There were whispers, though nowhere decent, of Elves with such hair. At least among the Noldor, it as considered highly prized and when Galadriel had confided in an adolescent friend about it, the girl had been green with envy. (Once, when they had drunk too much from a bottle of wine swiped from her parents, Aredhel had also heard of it, and insisted Galadriel show her, which—she had had a fair bit of wine—she did.)

            “But you are rather unique!” Lúthien guessed correctly, to Galadriel’s annoyance. She straightened up, setting Galadriel’s nerves afire for the absence of her touch. “Well. There is your kiss.” That look on her lips was surely a smirk!

            She twirled about and picked up her robe, giving Galadriel an explicit view of her as she bent over that left Galadriel’s mind utterly blank, and shrugged it back on.

            “Lúthien,” Galadriel couldn’t help but say, aiming for ‘reproving’ rather than ‘begging.’ Lúthien looked back and had the gall to bite at her lower lip as she looked at Galadriel, who was torn between covering herself with her hands, and wanting Lúthien to look. She chose the latter.

            “I had thought we would go swimming tonight,” said Lúthien, “unless there would be something more to your preference?” There was an inviting lilt to her voice. Knowing Lúthien, she would not be opposed to parting her legs under the open sky, but Galadriel preferred more privacy for such things.

            “Are we in a rush?” Galadriel asked, managing to speak through her dry throat. Lúthien’s smile grew.

            “I would never wish to rush a princess of the Noldor,” she said, her hands falling from where they had shifted to tie her robe closed again.

            “Then perhaps we need not leave immediately.”

            Biting her lip again, Lúthien swayed closer, and Galadriel did not miss how her eyes went down.

            “Perhaps not,” she agreed.

---

Chapter End Notes

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For more Galadriel/Luthien loving, check out:

- It's the Secret That We Keep by Loriand_Lost
- The Sound of Water Falling Over Stone by TheLionInMyBed
- Secrets of a Princess' Boudoir also by me