SONG FOR A SUMMER NIGHT

Author's Notes: This is a work of fan fiction. I will not be receiving any payment for this work. The characters, settings, etc., are all the property of The Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and possibly of New Line Cinema.


Celeborn made his way down to the deepest level of Menegroth, Galadriel’s parting words still stinging his ears, turning them and his cheeks crimson and his strides forceful as he took three steps at a time. Galadriel had been having an audience with King Thingol, and Celeborn, who had been looking for her, just happened to have come across them as they sat with their heads together at a small writing desk in one of Thingol’s parlors.

Galadriel had been startled by Celeborn’s entrance into the room. The door had been shut and the knob squeaked when he opened it and entered. Her first words had surprised him.

“Celeborn, what do you want here?” she had asked, her tone peevish and her expression towards him one of annoyance.

He had glanced around the luxuriously appointed room, its walls adorned with gold leaf, and windows hung with thick blue velvet draperies. A fire burned in the grate, and a daybed used for lounging and which was usually covered with carefully placed cushions which were now askew or strewn on the floor, had been carelessly or hurriedly pushed in front of it. Elsewhere in the room were scattered several comfortable chairs and small tables. One held a tea tray with teapot and cups, and fresh scones and butter, all untouched. The entire room had a sybaritic feel and look to it. With sharp eyes, Celeborn noted Galadriel’s disheveled hair, something so unusual for her as to be notable indeed.

“I was merely trying to find you, my dear”, he had started to reply.

“I doubt that there is anything to concern you here, Celeborn”, she had answered with a tone of derision. “King Thingol and I are discussing matters of parliamentary importance. Certainly nothing that should be of any interest to you.” Then, as he felt his face flush involuntarily, she added:

“Run along now, Celeborn. I am sure that there is an empty bath house awaiting you somewhere.”

He had banged the door shut on them without another word, and had flung himself down the corridor toward the stairs. How dare she presume to cavil over his affinity for the baths, where he usually found good company with the other Elves in the soothing waters and the dark corners of the bath house. He plunged angrily down the stairs, brushing past groups of Elves on their way back up from the baths, who turned to look at him curiously.

“It seems that someone is in need of some soothing, would you not say?” one of them asked his companion after receiving a thunderous glance from Celeborn as he rustled past.

“Indeed”, said his mate, laughing. “When we get back to the City, let us send him down some entertainment to make him feel better”.

Celeborn made his way to the bathing pools after finding a chamber in which to change his clothes. The bath house was full of well appointed changing rooms of good size. Each one was outfitted with an armoire in which to hang one’s clothing, a washstand with a ewer and basin of water, and two armchairs with a small table set between them, upon which was a complimentary bottle of wine and two silver goblets. But the most notable thing in the room was the bed; not a large one, it was of double size, but it was enough to serve its purpose.

After removing his clothes, Celeborn snatched a towel and bathrobe from the armoire and left the change room to make his way to the baths. There, he saw that no one was in the swimming pool, and that he was quite alone. At one end of the pool room was a fire burning below a grate holding pebbles in water and crushed eucalyptus leaves, giving off a hedonistic aroma. He slipped out of his robe, leaving it and the towel lying on the floor beside a lounging chair. He padded to the deep end of the pool, and assuming the pose of a diver, his pale skin gleaming in the firelight, he arched his back and raised one slender, shapely knee, and then made a perfect dive into the warm, refreshing water. Without opening his eyes he surfaced and immediately swam the length of the pool. When he reached the shallow end he arose from the water, brushing back his silvery gold hair from his eyes, and wiped the water from his face with his hands. He was startled by the sound of applause and his eyelids fluttered open. He dashed water from his lashes and blinked.

“Bravo!” cried a friendly male voice. Celeborn looked up and recognized his friend Finrod Felagund, who was visiting from Nargothrond. Finrod must have recently arrived in the City and was in need of a bathe. His honey gold hair did look caked by the dust of the roads.

Celeborn was surprised to feel himself becoming slightly aroused by the sight of the valiant and magnificent Elf standing stark naked on the edge of the pool before him. Everything about Finrod was glorious. His hair was the colour of the goldenrod of the wild fields as it appeared in subdued twilight, and swept around his shoulders in soft waves. The features of his face, perfectly formed as if carved of stone, were softened by a set of dimples, arrestingly attractive, that appeared on either side of his mouth when he smiled. His long neck curved toward his broad shoulders, and his long arms swept backwards as he prepared to dive.

Celeborn gasped. Finrod’s manhood was impressive even when flaccid, but that was not what had caused Celeborn’s sharp intake of breath. He caught Finrod neatly in his arms as the ruler of Nargothrond splashed into the water. Their skin touched as their bodies slid along each other for one exquisitely electrifying moment before they came apart.

“What was that about?” Finrod grinned, smile blazing, dimples deepening.

“This is the shallow end, My Lord!” cried Celeborn. “You could have hurt yourself quite badly if I had not caught you and prevented it!” And the two men fell into each other’s arms again, laughing like naughty children. Celeborn could not resist, and planted a kiss upon Finrod’s temptingly curvaceous lips. The act surprised him, as he had never made a sexual overture toward a male before, but Galadriel had hurt him greatly and he felt reckless in his anger toward her.

“So enticing is this Elf”, he thought, as the two connected in a passionate embrace in the shallow waters of the pool. Celeborn’s hand slipped down to trace the curve of Finrod’s bottom, and caressed the two dimples in his lower back, just above the swell of his buttocks. Finrod sighed and trembling with desire, gently leaned his face into Celeborn’s shoulder.

Just then they were interrupted by the coughing of someone entering the pool room. They broke apart and saw that it was a busker. The seedy looking man approached them.

“My Lords”, he said, “I have been sent to entertain you”.

Both Elves burst into laughter and then, arm in arm, still standing in the pool, they listened to the busker sing his songs of love, on a summer night.

When the song had ended, Finrod turned to his silvery haired companion and said: “You surprise me, Celeborn. I was not aware that your feelings for me were of this manner of affection”. Celeborn’s expression suddenly turned to one of embarrassed fear and he turned abruptly to swim away. “No, come back”, whispered Finrod, grabbing hold of one of his slim ankles and pulling him backward until Celeborn’s foot came in contact with soft yet hard-muscled slippery skin. Finrod then took his shapely foot and slid it upward until it came in contact with a noticeably erect member. Finrod pressed the foot into himself and rubbed it along the length of his cock, and as he did so he gave a soft moan of pleasure.

Celeborn twisted carefully in the pool, as he did not want his foot to lose contact with his companion’s erection and the feeling of delicious tingling that had flooded into his own groin. He gazed upon Finrod, who had thrown back his handsome head with its glorious mane of lion’s hair, and had shut his eyes the more to enjoy the sensation of being stroked in the warm pool waters. Celeborn reached out and pulled the master of Nargothrond toward him, placing his lips against the smooth-skinned, broadly muscled neck of the Elf-lord. He let his lips trace the curve of the magnificent neck until they reached the point at which the beautifully sculpted shoulder began to curve outward and then he sucked the delicious skin. Finrod tasted sweet, like raw honey straight from the beehive. Celeborn sucked more passionately and felt his own erection grow alongside the belly of this most desirable man.

“Come”, he gasped, freeing himself for a moment from Finrod’s embrace. “Come to my chamber where there is a bed. I need you now, at this moment!” His passion was almost palpable, his fair face flushed with excitement and need.

Finrod laughed, his dimples deepening, and he tossed back his mane of golden hair, sending little droplets of water flying out around him, as if he were the sun and they were little stars. He followed Celeborn out of the water, holding his hand and squeezing it tightly for reassurance. He knew from the look on Celeborn’s face when he first expressed surprise at Galadriel’s husband’s advances, that the Elf of Doriath had never before experienced lying with a man. He felt excited at the thought of being the one to show him the pleasures of such a union.