Lady of Battle

Mine’s Bigger than Yours


He was atop her, sheer power accompanying every thrust as his body pressed into her; his pale hair falling forward over his face, the sunlight blinding his features from her, his muscular arms pinning her down. The heat swelled within her and the sensation was overcoming her, his thrusts quickening, lifting her body as if she weighed nothing at all. Small pains of pleasure fueled her passion and she welcomed it. She had lost control of her feelings and had never felt so free, so alive. He leaned down, his hair caressing her face; she arched her back to allow it to tease her neck. She was wanton, reckless and glad for it. Tingles of delight felt inside her hips, crawling under her skin, causing her to buck to his rhythm.

She could feel his need, his hunger. She gave all she had and still, he wanted more. Against her will, she had set aside her hesitations, her body reacting to his, to use as he saw fit. She would do anything, anything at all to please him. She would bleed to please him and yet it was not enough. Her body was his – but still, not enough. She had never felt this way before. She could feel his troubles and she was their cause.

He stopped and reached down to caress her face; so soft, so pale. Her eyes beamed of silver as the inferno of physical need burned within them. Still, she could not see his darkened face. His rocking continued, reaching deep within her with his hard, erect muscle. Her eyes rolled with gratification, bewitching her to feel complete and utter contentment. He leaned forward again, reaching above her head; she cared not why. She closed her eyes and rolled her head to the side, reaching to better feel his movements. Just moments later she turned back up and opened them to see him holding a dagger high above, clutching the hilt in both hands. Fast and forceful, he brought it down into her chest…

She was holding her breath. Her naked body barely covered with the thin sheet of cloth, her body glittering in the moonlight, leg hanging over the bedding due to careworn dream. She felt sick and began to heave for air desperately. She brought her hands to her face and struggled to clear her thoughts.

‘Yes, it’s alright. It wasn’t real… only a dream.’

She lay back and exhaled, stretching out and concentrated on relaxing.

‘Go back to sleep.’

She turned to one side and tried to position herself more comfortably. Her movement stopped and she closed her eyes. A soft whisper escaped her lips,

“And no dreaming…”


~~~~~~~~


The next morning the camp was busy with elves walking to and fro. They worked quickly for they had received word to strike camp and prepare to move to the east. Orc had been spotted there and, for now, this area seemed secure; all seemed under control.

She finished packing quickly and dropped down from her talan to begin packing her mount. She was to head back to the city today, now that she was strong enough again. Two elves walk passed her, deep in conversation and began to laugh heavily as they walked by. They seemed to pay her no mind, but to her, this was a good thing, as usually, all activity would stop in her presence. This was proof that the Galadhrim were becoming more comfortable around her. In the past, she would not have wanted this, but for some strange reason, she was enjoying the company of elves as of late. She had found herself smiling more and more and was exhilarated by it.

“Lady Brenauth.” Rhokrist was walking her way. “Would you mind riding with a friend today?”

“Are you to head back as well? She asked.

Catching a piece of fruit from a fellow soldier as she walked Rhokrist replied,

“Ai, I am. I was only to deliver the Lord and Ladies’ message,” she was oblivious that behind her a couple of elves gawked and whispered, scheming smiles on their faces.

Brenauth couldn’t help but let out a slight sniffle in the attempt to hold in her smile. It was obvious their thoughts were shrewd. Rhokrist turned to face them, saying nothing,

“The woodelves shall reach Lothlorien soon,” the taller one, his body lean, with slightly silver hair had stepped forward and spoke with a wily look on his expression, his friend behind him, staring with his mouth slightly open and grinning.

Rhokrist only waited for a conclusion, her impatience evident. She turned to face Brenauth again, while, behind her they leaned into each other and began to chuckle again. Rhokrist spoke to Brenauth, but loud enough so they could hear,

“Ai, the Greenwood elves do come. Hmmm… we would do well to have a few large swords at our disposal here.” With a wicked grin she walked on to prepare to leave.

The elf called out to Rhokrist, “My sword is plenty big enough.”

Calling back, but continuing to walk she replied, “Ah, but an over polished sword can be worn down to a dagger. Brenauth was left facing the two elves; they had stopped smiling. She smiled awkwardly and turned to finish her task. She heard one speak to the other as they walked away,

“When you hunt an area constantly, you move to a new one to find more prey.”

Unexpectedly, Rhokrist voice echoed from a distance,

“If you were a better hunter you'd find that there was plenty of game around you. Besides, I understand the elves of the Greenwood are VERY skilled hunters and with more weapons than just the sword.”

Brenauth hadn’t realized her friend’s tenaciousness. Unexpectedly, she liked it.

~~~~~~~~

The horses walked at a leisurely pace as the elves traveled back to Caras Galadon. Brenauth thoroughly enjoyed the conversation she and Rhokrist were having. She had never allowed herself to truly express her interests to Rhokrist and in doing so, had found they had much more in common than she had thought. Brenauth was happy she had come.

They were to ride ahead of the rest of the company which would head out later that day. Riding with them from the border was the March Warden. Brenauth had not seen him for several days and she had wanted to speak with him about what had happened. She thought it good he would be joining her, for she imagined that once they got back, their positions and duties would keep them from being able to speak uninterrupted.

“Once back, we must set time aside to enjoy the fine cultures of Lothlorien. You deny yourself many pleasures, clinging to your books, seeing to the Lady’s petty errands,” Rhokrist stressed the word ‘petty’ and she tilted her head up to look at the treetops, a smile surfacing.

Brenauth’s thoughts turned to the dream and she sighed heavily. Lately, her dreams had been quite vexing and she truly grew weary of them; although, strangely enough, she had been unable to get the beginning of the dream out of her head. She had never engaged in relations with any elf, nor given such matters much consideration – her past caused her to introvert away from those inclinations. But since the dream she had found herself thinking of more intimate experiences.

Accompanying these plaguing thoughts was the scene she had witnessed that day at the stream, back in the city. With alarming regularity the image of the March Warden under the waterfall kept popping into her mind. The way he moved, the way his muscles flexed as he pleasured himself…

"My lady, are you well? Would you like to stop and rest? You look flushed. And you're sweating, has a fever set in?" Haldir asked as he pulled his mount along side Brenauth's, his company arriving and joining the others in line farther back.

"No... no, I'm fine" she mumbles. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the path ahead, surprised by the sudden arrival, afraid that the March Warden would know her thoughts if she met his eyes. Taken by surprise, she thought to herself these weaknesses of late were taking their toll on her senses.

Haldir nods and falls silent. He studied her face, trying to discern if the cold shoulder he was receiving was because she had remembered. He allowed the lady's horse to pull ahead. She had shied away from him, something unexpected to come from a powerful elf such as Brenauth. Something was amiss.

‘She will not even look at me. Does she remember?’

He felt his own face grow warm, not with pleasure or embarrassment, but with guilt. Since returning from the skirmish that day he had not slept but felt near-constant terror that Brenauth's memories of what took place after the battle would surface. He had been very careful these past days to stay away from her, for fear that his presence might trigger a memory, and now forced into her company for the return journey, his qualms were intensifying. He was finding it harder to keep his worries in check; troubled that she might realize it.

“It is my understanding, after this skirmish, a debt is owed,” inquired Rhokrist.

The statement had made Haldir’s heart race. He knew not how to respond, fearful that Brenauth had told Rhokrist something. Catching his breath and checking his actions he responded,

“Oh? How so?” he had managed to keep his features still.

Surprised, Rhokrist leaned forward on her mount, “The Lady owes you a life-debt,” she had said it as if he should have known.

Haldir, stunned, turned toward Brenauth, finally making eye contact and received a look of confirmation and sincere gratitude on her face. His spirit lifted,

‘Could it be?’

“I merely came to the aid of a fellow warrior. I’m sure the lady would have done the same for me,” keeping his eyes on her, he smiles as relief replaces the guilt and fear.

“But this lady would not have had to come to your aid; you would not have lost control as I did,” Brenauth replied, lowering her head in shame, “and for that, I owe you an apology for I not only endangered myself, but you as well.”

‘Valar, she actually does not remember.’

Seeing Brenauth in this moment of vulnerability, a slight hunger returned in him. Unknowingly, she tempted him by consistently revealing her weaknesses; just a week ago, he hadn’t believed it possible for this great lady to have them. The memory of her at her most vulnerable, naked, helpless, alone; kindled his desire even more. He leaned and adjusted in his seat. He had gotten away with it. They rode on in silence.


~~~~~~~~~


Brenauth lay back letting the warm water caress and sooth her travel weary muscles, the steam carrying the scent of lavender through the air. She closed her eyes and invariably her mind went back to that day at the waterfall. She remembered how his body shimmered as the water rolled down his back, molds of muscle contracting, his hands moving across his body – she began to imagine them moving across hers. She unconsciously moved her hand up to stroke her breast and roll her nipple between her fingers. She was intoxicated with the vivid memory of him driving into his hand, his muscles flexing. She responded with very subtle rocking of her own, the picture of his smooth, rhythmic thrusts, the bliss of his tight muscular hind filled her mind. Puzzled but still calm, she longed to fulfill her desires. Recalling the expression of pleasure on his face increased her need to give into these new feelings, she was starting to understand.

She relaxed still further and allowed her legs to part. An uncomfortable burning filled her. She wanted to understand more. She reached back into her past, fighting to remember those feelings she had repressed and buried all those centuries ago. These effects had brought her nothing but pain then. She faintly remembered these feelings and how ‘he’ had elicited them from within her. A thought popped in her head suddenly as she remember how many nights she had lain and imagined lying with him. She could remember how it had entranced her, causing many sleepless nights. Nights of pain and torment as she wondered how she would ever convince her father to allow them to be together. She could remember how, at the time, the thought of never having him caused deep remorse, which she had to keep hidden inside. She was not cold or frigid, but cautious as these things had been literally beaten out of her, both mentally and physically. That was something she had thought she had come to terms with, long ago, during her healing.

Her brow furrowed slightly. Perhaps Rhokrist was right, she was not truly living. Something inside her was changing.

She continued to caress her breasts and stomach, in slow long movements she ran her hands down her sides and cupped her hips. She rose up onto her knees and glanced to her side, over the edge of the tub at the large mirror next to it. Her long hair ran down her back, clinging to her curves, blanketing her lean rear. She straightened up taller and turned slightly to the mirror, she liked what she saw. She had never really taken a moment to appraise herself before. She truly was beautiful. Her ivory skin, not really much lighter than the skin of the Lothlorian elves, but set off next to such raven hair. Her eyes, so silver and bright, glowed, reflecting the dark hair strains only in certain spots, giving her eyes the appearance of striped pupils. She turned her head as she studied her body; long and lean and in beautiful physical shape. She turned her back to the mirror and caught sight of the scar.

‘It truly is horrendous.’

She tried to justify it in her head but still she felt it ruined her. Beautiful ladies did not have scars such as this. Then she realized the others, focusing in on the one above her left eye. With rutted brows she looked down at her right hand, first at the back, turning it over, spreading her fingers, studying the vertical scar in the center of her palm.

‘I truly am tainted.’

She strongly believed this but still, was feeling wants resurface within her that she had forgotten long ago. She was sure it was the letter causing these feelings to resurface. She repeated the words of the letter over and over in her mind,

“…we once knew each other in what was once your true home, Gondolin.”

She wondered as she sat back into the water. She was sure that no one she personally had known had made it out alive. She had only survived by the will of the valar; and by ‘him’.

TBC