A Tale of Two Swords
|Rating/Warnings:||Rated NC-17 for adult sexual themes, nudity, and some adult language.|
|Disclaimer:||This story is a work of amateur fanfiction written for entertainment only and no copyright infringement on the works of JRR Tolkien is intended.|
|Genre and timeline:||AU/ Mix of movie and book/ During the Council of Elrond|
|Summary:||A young squire of Gondor meets two citizens of Imladris who offer to entertain him while he waits for his Captain to return from the Council of Elrond.|
|Author's Notes:||Written for a fan named Conner who wanted to date an elf lady.|
"Will you look at the hair on his legs and his... chest," said Glawareth. Her eyes were fixed on a different part of Conner's body, however, as she swam over to inspect the young soldier while Glorchiniel coaxed him into the sunken tub. "I can not wait to run my fingers through it." She raised her eyes to his upper torso and smiled appreciatively.
Conner had never felt proud or ashamed about his level of hairiness before, although if anything he felt he lacked a sufficiently manly pelt on his chest. But around these ethereal creatures of Imladris, with their porcelain skin and graceful limbs, he felt like a fur-covered bear and just as clumsy.
There were short steps inside the sunken tub that led him deeper and deeper into the steaming water. He wanted to hurry and submerge himself, but it was hard to move quickly. As soon as his feet touched the water, his previous embarrassing level of arousal subsided, and he had to fight to not wince from the pain.
The bath was much hotter than Conner had suspected, and the elves seemed to take no notice of the uncomfortable temperature, which shamed him. He had only entered as deep as his calves when he paused and then lifted one leg a few inches. It was alarming to see that the lower part was uniformly red, and he was torn between wanting to prove that he was man enough to endure the skin-scalding heat as well as these women could and an urge to jump back out and save his human skin.
"What is it, man of Gondor?" Glorchiniel seemed to notice that his hesitation had nothing to do with modesty. "Can you not abide the heat?" She made a slight gesture with her hands at Glawareth, who moved to the side of the tub and opened some sort of valve built into the edge there to release a stream of what must have been cold water. New clouds of wispy steam rose from where it poured into the bath. It took a few minutes for the effect to be felt, but Conner was soon better able to step in deeper and eventually was up to his neck.
The depth was another surprise. He had not expected it to be over his waist, much less over his head. The dappled sunlight on the steamy surface made it difficult to judge until he was actually inside of it. It was very unlike the bath he used in his barracks back in Gondor, which was long and shallow and stood up from the earth floor of the bathhouse on blocks. The soap he was issued at home burned his skin and eyes more than the heat of the water, which was usually tepid, but he never complained. He had never considered bathing to be a leisure activity, as these elves seemed to do.
But for all of their flirtatious ways and grabbing of his private parts, once he was in the bath with them everything changed. Instead of continuing with their advances, they insisted on getting him clean. His hair, Glorchiniel insisted, appeared to be the host to several kinds of living creatures and Glawareth announced that his skin needed to be uncovered from beneath the layers of soil he had collected in his travels. The occasional cold baths in lakes and streams had only sealed it all in.
Conner was ordered to dunk himself under the water a few times, to wet his head. After that he was brought back to the steps to sit, and they began to wash his hair. Together, they applied a soft soap to his head, massaging it into his scalp. It had a fresh clean scent to it, like a forest after a rain shower. They scooped it out of a jar that sat in a ledge built into the side of the tub behind the top step. He saw more jars and other items there that he recognized, like cleaning cloths, sponges and brushes, and a few things that he had never seen before.
Glorchiniel was the first to apply some of the soap to the hair on his chest, and then Glawareth joined in. Here was something else, they told him, that they had only heard about, all of this hair on a manly body. They had him lift his arms and they lathered the hair there, too. It tickled, but he considered it a form of torture and endured without jerking away from their fingers.
"It is time to rinse," they said in unison and they led him off of the steps.
The inside of the tub was deeper on one end and there was a spillover trough inside the rim of the deepest side to catch the displaced water. The elleth had him hold his head so they could flush the soap in his hair out into the trough with a large ladle that sat there for that purpose.
Both of the ellith were happy with the results and they marveled at Conner's hair, now that it was free of inhabitants. It was darker than theirs, but not by much, more sandy than golden, and they thought it was delightful how it matched the hair on his chest. He had to take their word for it that it was well washed, however. There was none of the familiar skin and eye burning scald that he was familiar with from soldier's soap, but he supposed the milder concoction of the elves had made him just as clean.
At that point, Conner was feeling very relaxed, more relaxed than he could ever recall being, let alone than he had felt since he and Boromir had set out on their rigorous quest. After submerging him into the hot water, these women had not advanced any farther with their curious sexually aggressive actions. They ran their fingers through his clean hair, commenting on its texture and it felt wonderful. His whole scalp tingled.
He had to wonder if the seductive act that they had put on earlier was a ruse, a subtle ploy, to entice a smelly human into the bath, but he was oddly grateful for that alone. Being up to his neck in a bath was a new sensation for him, and every weary place in his body felt renewed, and every sore place restored. The gentle massaging fingers on his scalp had worked wonders on his agitated spirits. He wondered why he had felt so nervous and hesitant.
"Come, Conner," said Glawareth, as she tugged his arm. "We need to move you back to the steps, so we can clean your skin." Her sister moved in that direction and pulled a pair of washing cloths from the ledge there. Another jar of soap was uncorked, and the aroma of freshly crushed mint filled the air. After they had him situated on a step high enough out of the water that they could reach as much of his body as possible, they began to scrub him.
The soapy cloths moved swiftly over his skin, swooping over his back, down his legs, and circling up over his shoulders and arms, and it would have been more relaxing than the hair wash, if the women were not so close to him.
Their own bare, wet skin would bump or rub or slide over his from time to time, or crush against him for breathtaking moments while a particularly vigorous scrubbing was applied somewhere, and he could not ignore these unintended caresses no matter how hard he fought it. Were they not aware of how uncommon a position this was for a mortal man? He clearly felt a nipple poking his rib and he jumped.
"What is the matter, Conner?" Glorchiniel, at his left side, leaned away from him as she waited for his response, and exposed the peak of taut flesh that was her gentle weapon. "You jump as if you had been prodded with a spear." Both of her pale pink nipples were puckered and he could not tear his eyes away from them, or the luscious looking breasts they sat atop. They were definitely not spears, but they probably were lethal. At least to his peace of mind.
The urge to touch this elleth was overwhelming and grew even stronger when she arched her back, thrusting the shiny wet globes into a more inviting attitude. Did she want him to grab them? It was hard to say anymore what these lovely women with their gleaming white skin were about.
However, Glawareth, at his right hand side, made a sound of annoyance, possibly at how Conner's attention was focused on her sister, and before he knew what she was going to do to remedy the situation, his hand, itching to reach out and touch the inviting Glorchiniel, was lifted from his knee and planted firmly on her sister's breast, instead.
At first, he did not know how to proceed. He had never touched a woman's naked breast before; the courtesan in the closet had a bosom that overflowed her bodice, but the best he could manage at that time was to bury his face between the plump hills, he never had a chance to see or feel them. The sensation of Glawareth's pliant flesh beneath his fingertips was a wonder in itself, but he wanted to do more. Again he felt a nipple poking his rib, Glorchiniel, but this time he did not jump away from her, he leaned into it.
"Go ahead," said Glawareth as she placed her slender fingers over his large hand on her breast, "you can hold it." She moved so he could feel her there as a soft weight in the palm of his hand, and then she pressed his fingers to close.
"Breathe, Conner," said Glorchiniel. She spoke directly into his ear, tickling it. He breathed, and squeezed her sister's breast. Fragrant hair spilled over his shoulder, arm and chest; warm lips grazed his face, "And I want a turn, too. Were you not going to polish his sword first?" She directed this last at her sister.
"Not yet," said Glawareth, enjoying herself. "I wish you could see the look on his face, sister." Glorchiniel pressed most of her naked wet body against Conner's side as she craned around his shoulder to see for herself.
"Look at me," she ordered. But when he finally tore his eyes from Glawareth's breast beneath his grateful hand, Glorchiniel had disappeared and somehow slithered under his left arm, and was inspecting his private parts. He gulped. Her fingers lifted and held him, while she examined the area.
"This nest of hair is very unsanitary," she declared. "But it has a curious appeal, nonetheless." Her fingers first played in the curly growth of sand-colored hair that grew around his rapidly swelling member and then they traveled lower to investigate the softer side of his masculinity. She squeezed him there, but not hard. "I suppose I will have to take care of this," she sighed.
When her fingers abruptly left him, he felt unfinished, but unsure of how to make her continue. "He needs to be thoroughly washed, all of him, every inch of him," she pronounced sternly, with a prim smile puckering her perfect lips.
Despite her tone, her eyes had a wicked glow as she reached for the jar of cleanser and scooped up a generous amount. Conner's eyes grew wide as he watched the soap-covered hand lower itself between his legs and he groaned when she lathered him, all of him, every inch of him. And she took her time. It grew increasingly difficult to concentrate on his handful of elf breast. Glawareth assisted by moving closer, so he did not have to reach so far.
"Wait!" He gasped, and managed to remove the hand between his legs that was bringing him swiftly to a conclusion that he was not sure would be polite to share, at least not in a bath.
"Wait for what, Conner?" Glorchiniel's eyes shone with amusement. "Do not restrain your body's hunger for release. It is not healthy." Gently, she moved her hand out of his grasp to continue her self-appointed cleansing task and then she applied herself vigorously, her soaped fingers wrapped around him tighter than before. Glawareth had moved near enough to speak into his ear, and she did so now.
"It is allowed," she whispered while her sister's soapy hand drew him closer and closer to the edge of his self-control. "Do not hold yourself back." Glorchiniel appeared well aware that he was drawing near to the peak of his arousal, and resisting, for she moved her hand more quickly as if to urge him onward. With a loud cry of relief that leaped unbidden from his lips, Conner exploded, and then he saw no more but stars and heard nothing but a roaring in his ears.
All of the energy in Conner's body rushed into his loins in pulsing waves, and was expelled in spasm after spasm of pleasure under the elleth's lathered hand, until he had no more to give.
He felt himself sliding down off of the steps and into the water, and he did not care. Perhaps he would drown; it did not matter, because he would die happy. And then he was floating, he was floating in clouds, tiny wispy clouds that were all around him. It was vaguely familiar.
"Conner?" A voice, a womanly voice, was floating in the clouds with him. "Conner, have you regained your senses?" A face in the clouds, right next to his, a beautiful face, the most beautiful face he had ever seen.
"I love you," he whispered. And then there was another face, how incredible, but, oh right, he forgot, just as beautiful. "And I love you, too." But he was not dead, because he knew these faces.
Oh, he was in a bathtub, of course. With a shake of his head, Conner planted his feet and studied the ellith who smiled at him serenely as they supported him in the water. His heart banged with fear as he stared about in wonder and thought of what had just happened. Neither of the ellith seemed disturbed. Had they bewitched him?
They were all three in the deeper end of the bath, and he remembered now how he had let them lower him from the steps and pull him there. He was that limply weak all over, after he had... And he winced to think of how he had said he loved them.
"Now that we have that out of the way," said Glawareth briskly, "perhaps we can enjoy ourselves in a more relaxed fashion." They still held him at his shoulders, one on either side, and each with an arm under one of his, even though he was standing. He decided that he did not care if they had put him under some kind of elvish enchantment. Being this near to them was worth any risk.
"Have you ever kissed a woman, man of the South?" As she asked, Glorchiniel slipped her arm around his neck. Before he could answer, she planted her lips on his. At his other side, her sister released her hold on him as well, and he could feel her arrange herself beneath his arm so that he was able to embrace her. A probing tongue slipped between his teeth.
"My turn," he heard Glawareth say, and suddenly one soft mouth replaced the other. Beneath the water he could feel their long, smooth limbs sliding against him, twining around his legs; they both had one arm around his neck, one crossed over the other. He held onto them at their waists, tentatively at first, unsure of how far he could go with his hands. His biggest fear now was to lose their company by acting unmannerly, although the limits of polite behavior with naked ellith in a bath were not necessarily clear.
Neither of them was shy with her caresses, however, and while one kissed him the other one would stroke his chest or let her fingers drift lower, perhaps over his rippling abdomen or along his sensitive flanks, although not as low as before. Finally, he drew up the courage to let his hands travel freely over their bodies, and they murmured their appreciation.
The only other woman he had ever touched below the waist had been the courtesan, and he had a good firm grasp on her large fleshy haunches and remembered how she felt quite well, and recalled the sensation often into his mind. The firmer, rounder, smoother bottoms of the ellith were nearly as amazing an experience for him as the way their firm breasts felt pressed against his chest.
"What would you like to do now, soldier?" For several seconds, it was hard to think of what more there was to be done, there were so many directions he could foresee, but Conner knew one thing above all else that he was interested in knowing about. The way they were holding themselves against him prevented him from feeling everything he wanted to know. And he wanted to do more than just use his fingers now.
"I want to..." He stopped, unsure of how to say it.
"You want to... what?" Glawareth asked. Both sisters' faces were inches from Conner's, and their strange gray eyes seemed to pierce him and attempt to find his secrets. "Say it," she added. "Do not be afraid to say what you want." They were still now, no more stroking or rubbing their slippery selves against him. He could tell that they were serious about granting his wish.
"I want to... see... you." He glanced down at what lay hidden beneath the water but could look neither sister in the face.
"I know what he wants," said Glorchiniel happily. "Come along, Conner, we need to get back to the shallow end." She released his neck and swam ahead of him and her sister, and climbed up to sit on the edge of the tub right at the top of the steps. Before he could climb all the way up to join her, she opened her legs, wide, and he stumbled on the lowest steps and ended up on his knees before her, only a few steps lower. It was close enough.
Now he truly could die, and be happy, or at least grateful for the sight. She was completely hair-free, as he had noticed earlier, but she in no way resembled a child. The pink areas were the same exact shade as her nipples. Her tinkling laugh drew his attention away and she smiled while she beckoned him to come up even closer. He climbed the next step on his knees, unwilling to stand and perhaps fall again.
As if to make him move faster, she reached between her legs and spread the nether lips apart, revealing an interior that was a deeper pink hue than its outer petals.
"Do you want to touch me?" Conner was instantly hard again at the idea and this time he was not embarrassed. He believed that he was not only allowed to show this obvious lack of physical self-control, but, judging from their appreciative remarks of approval, was being encouraged to display his lust. And he did want to touch her, but he was not sure how.
Glawareth joined him on the step that he knelt on, nearly at eye-level with him, and took his elbow to move his hand forward while she exhorted him into action.
"Go ahead, touch her. She wants you to touch her, soldier man." There was a steady gentle pressure on his arm and he let her push until his hand, fingers extended, reached all the way to the soft, pink folds of flesh. "Be gentle," she said.
"Beautiful," he whispered, as much to himself as to either of them, while he explored the slippery flesh. "So...so beautiful." Glorchiniel appeared to be pleased with his cautious and careful approach in this instance, and when he pushed a finger deep within her, she hissed and slitted her eyes.
"Here is another way to see one," said Glawareth as she turned her back to him, braced her hands on the edge of the pool and lifted her bottom to his view. "How does that look?"
"Glorious," he breathed out, when he finally found his voice. Her heart-shaped bottom was as flawless as the marble that the tub was made of and nested in the vee of the smooth white valley of her thighs was her cunning pink-edged slit. Glawareth turned her head and looked back over her shoulder at him.
"You can touch me too," she told him while parting her legs a bit farther and arching her back a tad higher. He did, and was surprised by her strength when she clamped his hand between her thighs to press it more firmly against herself. After a moment, she began directing his motion, making him massage her to a certain rhythm. He complied.
"Move up closer to me," said Glorchiniel and when he did so, keeping his hand between Glawareth's legs, his hair was grabbed and his face drawn down. "Do you want to taste me?" He had to remove his hand from between her legs now in order to steady himself and keep his other hand between her sister's legs. He did not even come close to losing his balance this time.
Tentatively at first, he tasted the elleth with the tip of his tongue, but the fingers wrapped in his hair while pushing him even closer gave him the courage to lick there deeply and firmly. Glorchiniel purred her contentment and congratulated him on his ability, as untrained as he was, while shifting and lifting herself slightly from time to time to change the pressure to suit herself.
"Kiss me there," she directed him. "Like when you kissed my mouth." And then, "Now blow there, right there, softly." A muttered string of 'ah's' was his reward for following her directions.
The elleth beside him, perhaps feeling left out, moved her backside nearer to him, too close for his bent hand to be comfortable and he was forced to remove it. Without looking, he could tell that she was repositioning herself on the bath's steps and widening her stance. Now her bottom cheeks bumped at his hip and Conner could feel her hand grasping at him from between her legs, making his torso turn toward her, and, after catching him, she held the tip of his turgid member against her silken slippery mound.
"Can you think of something else you might like to do, besides just touch me there?" And without another word being said, Conner shifted slightly more at his hips and was sheathed inside of her. And he was not so eager this time as to lose all self-control.
He did not have to do any of the work. After asking him to stand still, Glawareth was content to move her hips back and forth at her own tempo, careful not to pull off of his length far enough to lose him, while she used her inner muscles to keep him tightly within her. She grabbed his free hand from where it lay across her waist and pulled it between her legs in front. "Stroke me like I showed you," she rasped.
Although he stood still for her for as long as he could, Conner finally could not stop himself from thrusting forward each time that Glawareth swayed into him, and her resultant moans only emboldened him to take more initiative. Now he pulled himself from her when she rocked away and thrust his pelvis forward when she rocked back.
And all the while he paid proper attention to Glorchiniel until she no longer needed to advise him, except to tell him that he was a fast learner. Both sounded very happy. But he was most proud of himself after the sisters had reached their own climax before he was through.
Glorchiniel collapsed in a dramatic heap, her sighs of satisfaction signaling that Conner's services were no longer necessary and that he was free to concentrate on her sister. With both hands at Glawareth's slender waist, he held her steady and rammed himself into her as deeply as he could, while he spent himself in exultantly snorting triumph. And when he was finished, and his head swam with ecstasy, he was still able to keep his wits about him enough to lower himself to the steps without wobbling.
Instantly, both ellith were next to him, pulling him back into the deep water again, and taking turns kissing him in gratitude for his splendid performance.
"You wicked creatures," said a woman's voice from behind them. Although he did not recognize it, the twin sisters gasped in unison, as if they knew who it was. They turned slowly to look over their shoulders and he followed their example. The entry gate to the bathing hut was opening, and the bright sunshine that flooded into the dim room blinded the three bathers. But the two ellith beside him remained mutely calm while the stranger, haloed by the light, spoke again, "Wicked, wicked creatures."
To be continued in Chapter 3
Posted: August 20, 2005
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"Long live Thranduil, great Elf-king of Greenwood!"