WEST WIND OVER EDORAS

Disclaimer: The characters and places here are not mine, all but a few are Tolkein's genius. If it's in LOTR, Silmarillion, Hobbit or Unfinished tales it Tolkien' s. If not it's mine.
No profit in this but the fun of writing and getting to play in Middle earth for a while.

Chapter 13:

GAMES


A/N: Ithilen you may recognize the colour of Elladan's leggings here!
I laugh every time I think of his leggings!(Reference to Ithilen’s story “ANIRA”)

Thanks to Menel, for the inspiration to have a game with horses. In her Eomer/Legolas fic, set in Rohan “RIDING LESSONS” they play a game with horse pieces rather like chess. Mine is still a strategy game, but played on a much larger surface and with more participants. Perhaps like Risk. I’ll shut up now. Let the games begin.

LEGOLAS:

I lie still for long moments waiting for my breathing to slow and then withdraw gently from her. “Amin mela lle.” She says again and smiles at me.

“I love you, too.” I answer. I raise her from the blanket and slip the tunic from her shoulders and arms, unfasten her skirt and lay it aside, then lower her back to the ground. She is exquisite lying there naked. Creamy skin against the patterned blue softness of the blankets. Her hair spread upon them like a topaz cloud in a sunset sky and her eyes as deep and green as a forest stream. Desire still swims in their depths as she gazes up at me.

I lay myself next to her touching her sweet skin and place the lightest of kisses upon her forehead. Her eyes close. I kiss the lids, trace my tongue down her cheek and suck first the lobe of one ear and then move to the other. Her ears are beautiful, so rounded, so intriquitely curved, the flesh a delicate pink, like translucent shells. Her head moves to the side to give me access and I nibble down her graceful neck. She arches her head backwards with pleasure and my tongue dips into the hollow of her throat and then sweeps across her collar bone and circles onto her shoulder. Across her body, I move, nibbling gently with my teeth to her other shoulder and run my tongue lightly down her arm to her hand. I turn her hand over with my own, kiss the palm and then suck each finger in turn deep into my mouth repeatedly retracting my lips from them very slowly. She moans with pleasure.

“Oh Lirimaer!” I whisper. She is so lovely. So lovely. I take my attentions to her other hand and repeat my ministrations of her fingers. I lick my tongue across the smoothness of oval fingernails. If I thought her ears the shape of shells, then these are the feel of tiny shells. The nerve endings on my tongue begin to tingle and vibrate. Yes, yes! I love it when my tongue springs into this awareness, when it sends these sensations to my mind. I lick gently between her fingers at the joining of the sensitive flesh there. I can feel her hand twitch, she shivers with delight.

Up across the delicate wrist bone I travel with my mouth, tracing the faint blue lines of veins, the flow of the lifeblood in her body, to the soft skin at the inside of her elbow. There I begin to nip and suck. Onward upward, licking where her arm joins her shoulder, my tongue probing and tasting. My mind taken over now, by the different flavours and textures I am finding here. I reach for her breast and lick at the rise of soft creamy skin. I can feel it quiver slightly under my touch. The swell of flesh warm against my mouth. I lick across her hardened nipples, first one and then the other and she arches into my touch. So sweet is she. She trembles now as I nuzzle and caress at such beauty.

Soft cries issue from her lips. I can tell that she is stifling them for fear of the elven twins overhearing her ecstasy. I smile to myself. I will not tell her now, but her concern is futile and misplaced. Should Dan and Ro wish to tune their elven hearing, then they would be able to hear her very breathing. And practised, as I know they are, in these arts, maybe her very heartbeat. I remember long ago when I was at my closest with the twins. Then we learnt to Farspeak across the great divide between Imladris and Mirkwood! They do not intrude upon my thoughts at this moment, and this I am thankful for, but so open to their minds also, am I, that if they wished to, then I am not sure that I could shut them out.

As I leave her breasts and travel downward, she moans. My tongue is tingling as it licks around the circle of her navel and dips into the whirled depression there, The sensitive tip of my tongue outlines the tiny delicate folds of this concavity. She starts to writhe against my face. Slowly my love. I would have more knowledge of you yet! I bring my hands to her hips and still her movement. My lips travel towards them and my tongue traces the sweep of bone as it curves out to reach her thigh. Down one leg I go, still holding her, until I reach her knee and then I bring my hands and raise her legs. Bending them and parting them, raising her knees and pressing them apart. She falls open for me with a sigh. I flicker my tongue behind the bent angle of her knee feeling the soft sensitive skin there, and then raising my body position myself between her legs. I dip to pleasure the other leg and then begin to travel upward sucking in short bursts at the full soft flesh of her inner thigh. I need my hands again to steady her hips as she begins pressing toward me.

“Be still.” I whisper. “I will not leave you unfulfilled. Do not rush me, just feel.”

Her breath catches in short bursts as she tries to relax and trust me. Then it slows a little and her head falls back on the blue blanket. I gently blow warm exhaled air from my lips across her labia, and although she quivers, her body lies still and waiting. Gently I run my tongue along those full swollen lips, feeling the swell of her pleasure there and then dip into the heart of her. Just the tip lapping at those folds at first, and then curling and pointing and pressing inwards. By the Valar, she tastes so good. She is wet and silken, so smooth, like salted honey. Such a surprise, such a contrast of sensation for my taste buds, so different to an Elf. I lap and drink there like a drunken greedy bee gathering nectar, and the taste of my own pleasure seeps across my tongue.

When I have had my fill, I draw my tongue first backwards across hard ridged flesh to her other opening and lick her there, she squirms again and I feel her tense. She is not ready for this yet. Sweeping back I collect more nectar and she relaxes again, her legs fall further apart and she begins to moan. My tongue travels upward, hot and tingling and like a feather tickles at her clitoris. So sensitive is she, I must proceed with caution. I want her to give everything to me and not withdraw. Such a fine line between pleasure and pain I must draw here.

I waft my breath across her erect flesh and with the very pointed tip of my tongue lick along the raised length of that precious bundle of nerves.

“Legolas!” she cries, her voice caught somewhere in another world. “Please stop.”

“Why?” I ask, perplexed. I am being so very careful. Surely I have not misjudged this?

“I cannot be silent if you pleasure me so. I cannot!” she cries softly to me, her voice caught in a dilemma between desire and modesty. “The twins will hear me cry out my ecstasy, Legolas. I cannot hold it in should you continue.”

I blow gently again at her exposed sex. “Then worry not my love.” I whisper back to her. “I can assure you, that should you NOT make a noise, then I will have something to answer for later. If you are silent, then Elladan and Elrohir will think I have no skill, and will take me to task. Spare me that embarrassment and give free voice to your joy.”

She gasps and laughs quietly. Her desire outrides her modesty and she makes no protest as I lower my head. So lightly at first, those nerve endings in the tip of my tongue touch hers. The tiny hard erection of her hidden sex is exposed and swells and presses against my tongue, as she grows hotter. I gently close my mouth around it and begin to suck it in between my lips, squeezing gentle pressure around it. High pitched moans issue from her lips and I have a hard time holding her still. I lap and suck alternately as her legs stretch further for me and she pushes insistently into my mouth. She can scarcely breathe now, cries tumble from her lips. I take my mouth away.
“AAAAii” she squeals in protest. I can feel her legs shaking. “Legolas, Legolas!” She almost screams, half crying, half laughing. My breath whispers against her and her trembling increases. As I dive again to lick and taste and pleasure her, the groans in her throat deepen. She is lost now, incoherent, incapable of anything but giving herself to me. I lick and suck at that sweet point of hardened pleasure and loosen my hands to let her move a little. Her body arches and presses against my mouth and with a great cry she releases herself for me. Shuddering against my lips. Her legs fall as the muscles grip and leap in spasms and close about my body. I slow the licking of my tongue, gentler and gentler and then press a last kiss to her as her climax dies away.

“Was that worth waiting for?” I ask quietly.

She cannot speak, her eyes are still closed. She nods happily.

I stroke her as she returns to me and opens her eyes. They are amazed and glowing.

“I had not known, that such pleasure was possible from just your mouth.” She whispers, and smiles at me.

“Now that you do.” I reply. “Perhaps you will be willing to return the favour, later?”

Her eyes laugh at me and she curls into my embrace.

“It will be my pleasure, Legolas.” She agrees.

‘Las!’ I hear the voice in my mind again, and a hand brushes and rattles at the canvas of the tent.

“People approach, Legolas. Are you ready to rejoin us?” The voice of Elladan asks softly.

“We will be with you in a moment.” I reply. I kiss her one last time before reaching for my garments. “Until later, then.” I smile at her.

She is flushed with pleasure and beautiful and soft as she reaches for own clothes and dresses again. Then together we part the flap and walk hand in hand outside into the clearing.


ROWANNEN:

My legs are still shaking as we emerge from the tent, so thoroughly have I been loved.
Eowyn is there, sitting next to a curious creature. A being with the stature of a child and the merriment of a mischievous one at that, yet still with the knowledge of an adult in the features. He stretches his short legs to the flames and reaches out and I notice flat wide feet and very hairy toes. This must be the Hobbit. His eyes shine and his curls dance. He tilts his head to one side.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend! Legolas.” He exclaims as he sees Legolas’s hand in mine and his protective arm around me.

Legolas winks at him. “It would seem as though magical, life changing things are happening to all of us who continue this quest Master Merry.”

The twins are sprawled at the other side of the fire. They have changed clothes and rebraided their amazing hair. Never have I seen hair of this colour and shine before. It is obsidian, like the darkest wet rock with water running down it. Elladan is wearing soft sueded leggings the colour of wet earth and a tunic of sapphire blue to echo his Lapis beads. Elrohir has dark green leggings and an open jerkin of silver grey, which echoes his eyes and beads. They look up at Legolas’s words and smile at him.
I smile also. It is life changing indeed. My world is indeed changing and a quest of my own has begun. Just days ago I was a virgin shieldmaiden, set on the path to become a princess of my realm and steeped only in the customs of mine own land. In these last few days I have spent time with a Wizard, a Dwarf, Rangers, fallen in love with and made love with an incredible Elf, met others of his kind and now a Hobbit is before me.

“You must be Merry.” I go to greet the Hobbit and shake his hand. “Aragorn and Legolas have spoken of you. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Rowannen of Rohan.”

“Meriadoc Brandybuck at your service and pleased likewise,” grins the Hobbit his eyes dancing.

The Elf twins have begun a game. They have opened a bag and shaken oblong tiles onto the ground. They distribute them to each other and also to Aragorn, and begin to place them in patterns upon the ground, each of them taking a turn to place a tile.

“May I play?” asks Merry. “I saw you play this once before in Rivendell.”

“’Twould take you too long to learn at this session.” Says Elrohir. “Just watch again for now, and see if you can see sense and progression to our pattern.”

“Can you play?” I ask Legolas.

“Nay, I never learnt this one. Our Mirkwood games are simpler.” He replies, “This is a game that the twins and Aragorn have played from childhood in Imladris, and I believe needs a lifetime to understand its nuances, despite it looking a simple thing.”

The elves and Aragorn continue to add tiles from their own stacks to the snaking pattern upon the ground. Spirals and offshoots appear until it looks like a giant spider is drawn upon the grass. Some tiles depict stars, some leaves, some flowers and others
have strange elvish symbols drawn upon their smooth surface. Aragorn is lost in concentration for a while and then, when his turn leaves him he raises his head to see Eowyn, intently watching the moves he makes. He no doubt thinks she is following his skill and trying to decipher his next move. I suspect she is just watching the movement of his fingers as he strokes and turns the tiles between his fingertips as he contemplates his next move.

“The tiles represent the movements of the stars and the herbs and blossom we gather at certain seasons to use for medicine,” he says to her questioning eyes. “It is a wonderful game, which our father Elrond taught to us. Fun in itself, but also of great educational value for an Elf or Ranger beginning to learn the healing arts. It requires some understanding of the healer’s skill. We play whenever we can to keep our knowledge alive.”

Eowyn smiles and watches as he places more of his tiles. Then as Aragorn puts down his last piece in the pattern, Elladan groans.

“How do you manage it, Estel?” he asks and pushes his own remaining tiles away from him. “You always beat us nowadays. I am just glad Ada is not here to see this yet again.”

Aragorn laughs as the twins gather the tiles and pour them from their palms back into the pouch. “You have been trapped in Imladris dealing with problems and affairs of state. I have been out under the stars walking amongst the healing herbs for many moons now. My mind is in tune with nature. You know it is not just intellectual knowledge of these matters that is important. One has to feel them with your heart also.”

Eowyn's expression is rapt as she listens to his words and then she recovers herself as he lifts his head.

“I too have a game we could play if you are willing,” she says a little shyly.

“That would be agreeable to us,” answers Elrohir. “We love games.”

Aragorn nods also, and reaches to draw out his pipe. Elladan and Legolas sigh.

“Not more pipeweed! Estel!” says the dark twin. “Even out here in the air it fogs my mind. I would prefer to keep some clarity.”

Aragorn raises his eyebrows and shrugs a little and stows the pipe back in his pack.

“Well I for one am going to smoke,” says Gimli, “though I will walk a way off and settle elsewhere with my habit for the comfort of others.”

“Count me in!” cries Merry, and leaps up to follow the dwarf. “There’s the barrel of Longbottom Leaf which we requisitioned from Isengard, in our supplies. I would not miss that for the world. Let us find it right away.”

Eowyn walks to her tent and when she returns she is carrying a long roll of cloth.
My eyes light up with recognition. Strange it is, but such pleasure I find I feel, that she has cared enough to bring this with her. It means she has hope of happiness and not just war. She unrolls the fabric and countless wooden horses fall softly into the grass. I help her to gather them and sort them. Two sets, there are. Silver polished ones worked in the palest white ash and dark bay and chestnut horses fashioned from whorled Rosewood and Cherrywood.

“I shall tell you how to play presently,” she says. “But first we must decide who shall play with whom. I shall teach two of you and Rowannen the other two.”

“Whatever you do, it should not be both twins on the same team,” says Legolas with a laugh. “They will mind speak with each other and discuss moves and strategy without others knowledge, It would give them an unfair advantage. I will play with Rowannen and Elrohir. You Eowyn, can instruct Aragorn and Elladan in the rules of this game.”

Eowyn laughs. “It will matter not if they do mindspeak, whatever that may be, for those on the same side must be in accord with each other and co-operate in tactics. It is permitted to confer.”

“Still we will separate.” says Elladan, “For we enjoy the opportunity for some competition. It is rare thing for us, as we are always in unison.”

Aragorn is sitting close to Eowyn already and Elladan joins them. Elrohir comes to sit cross-legged beside Legolas and myself. I can feel a faint thrill in the air like a lightning charge as he draws near. I know that Legolas has this effect upon me but had not expected to feel it even slightly from another. It would seem that the proximity of all elves is disturbing to mortal beings.

“We shall take the silver horses, the Mearas.” I say, gathering the pale horses to my side. I pick them up between my fingers and stroke across the polished surface. A little melancholy invades my mind as I remember many dark winter nights in the hall at Edoras, when Eowyn and I curled around the inglenook fireplace, warming ourselves at the blaze and light, whilst Eomer and Theodred sat companionably and carved these beautiful horses with their hands, taking the utmost care to represent
their beloved beasts beautifully. I remember Theodred’s perfectionism and how, if he made even a slight mistake that could not be rectified, he would toss the spoilt image into the fire and start anew. Both he and Eomer could be rash and idealistic at once. Often a trait of our people.

Legolas catches my sigh and strokes my arm. So sensitive is he to my mood. I look at him and smile gratefully. “Tell us then, how to play.” He asks.

“You must each take on a particular role,” says Eowyn and her eyes glimpse across Aragorn’s. “There is the role of the Stallion.” And she indicates the largest most impressive carved horse. “He must decide the important moves for everyone and the strategy. Then someone must be in charge of the mares and someone else the foals.” Her hands gather the darker carved figures towards them; she takes the stallion and gives it to Aragorn, gives the mares to Elladan and keeps the foals for herself.

Then Eowyn shakes out the fabric roll and more memories are revealed. She spreads it across the grass and a great pictorial sweep of Rohan is revealed, worked in fine coloured wool. She smiles at me as our eyes meet. This is our work, hours of our winter evenings sitting close under the lamplight, the fabric thrown across our touching knees as we sewed tiny intricate stitches at opposite ends of the cloth. There are the White Mountains and the streams flowing down in pale blue. Orchards of trees in many hues of minute green stitching and flat meadows, a central lake and at one edge the dark green of Fanghorn.

“That is beautiful,” says Legolas. “You did this, did you not Rowannen?”

“Both Eowyn and I together,” I reply. “How did you know?”

Elrohir smiles at us. “Elvish eyes see many things,” he says.

Legolas nods. “I can see you there in the colours and shapes you fashioned,” he says and his eyes seem to search into my very soul.

I offer the silver Stallion to Elrohir. “No, give it to Legolas,” he says. “He will be a better match against Aragorn at present. He will know his mind and see his tactics forming. We shall stand a better chance if Legolas makes our important decisions.
You take the mares Rowannen, and give me all the tiny foals.”

I show them where to place the pieces to begin and explain how each type of piece can move and how far or fast at each turn and how the foals must always be protected. I show them the different types of grassland, which we need to take possession of to feed the herd and the importance of the lake.

“If we can surround most of the lake then we have the richest grass and water and vantage and will have won.” I explain. “Also we must endeavour not to be beaten in a fight by our opponents or to be pushed into Fanghorn. Any piece which is manoeuvred there by the other herd is lost to us and if it should be the stallion then we have lost completely and they take possession of us all.”

“We should play for some prize,” says Elladan his eyes shining. I can see that he enjoys games. “I have a bottle of Miruvor that is worth a challenge.”

Aragorn raises his head from where he was placing the horses as Eowyn showed him.
“It would be better if you broke that open now my brother and shared it all around. Even the losers should not be deprived of such a treat.”

“You are right,” says Elladan. He rises from his crosslegged position, beads swinging and brings a dark slender necked bottle from his tent. I find some goblets and he pours the dark silky liquid for all of us. It is like a sharp blackcurrant wine and as soon as it slips down the throat, I discover it leaves you wanting more.

“It is good. Is it not?” says Legolas with mirth in his voice as he watches me drink. “Be careful how much you take or your head will fly away.”

Suddenly Elrohir is on his back laughing out loud, his hair and mithril beads spilled across the grass. He splutters as he tries to speak through his merriment.
“And you would know all about that, wouldn’t you Legolas? I will never forget that night in Imladris.” And he rolls over on the ground almost incapable of rising for his laughter.

Legolas reaches over smiling and shakes his shoulder. “Get up you fool! ‘Twas not that funny! And anyway it was a very long time ago. I was quite young then.”

Elrohir manages to sit up though he is still shaking with laughter and I can see him try to avoid Legolas’s eyes in case he sets himself off again. His own silvery eyes are sparkling and tears of mirth leak from the edges. I grin at Legolas, resolving not to drink too much Miruvor and also to ask him about that night. He smiles and shakes his head slightly at me as if to say ‘Not now.’

Dusk is falling as we begin the game. Aragorn is indeed a good tactician and Eowyn whispers instructions and suggestions to him but Legolas has an intuitive grasp of what is right and how to proceed according to our own plan and how it changes in relation to the others moves. It is not long before he has manoeuvred some of the dark mares and foals beyond help into Fanghorn and our own silver herd is advancing around the lake. Elrohir takes care of the foals and keeps them from danger with some well thought out strategy. Aragorn, Eowyn and Elladan manage to raise a challenge but I am skilled at this game and Legolas makes some masterful moves and before the night blackens completely around us we take the victory, surround the lake and command the plain.

“That was well done Rowannen, Legolas and Elrohir.” Says Eowyn as she gathers the horses and rolls them up into the fabric and ties it securely.

“I enjoyed your game, Lady Eowyn. Most interesting, I feel I know Rohan better because of it. I missed much of your land galloping over it through the dark hours,” says Elladan.

Elrohir seems pleased to have won and he laughs across at his twin.

“Legolas and Rowannen played well. I think they perhaps deserve a prize after all.”

He reaches into his bag and rummages around in his belongings, drawing out a small leather pouch held tight by drawstrings. He passes it to Legolas. Even through the leather I can smell a heady spicy scent.
“Hannon lle, mellon nin.” Legolas smiles at him. ((Thank you, my friend.))

“I have smelt that before, I am sure.” I say.

“At Edoras.” Replies Legolas. “I put some in our wine.”

“What is it?” asks Eowyn curious.

“A spice mixture.” Replies Elrohir. “We call it Ithilmin. It is made in the greater part from the pollen of Mallorn blossom found only in Lothlorien and from the leaves of Ithilotha, the moonflower found only in Mirkwood glades. It is a source of wealth and trade between the two realms, for combined these two ingredients have great power.”

“To what use do you put this power?” Eowyn asks, intrigued.

Aragorn turns to her and speaks. “It is mostly used in Lembas, the elvish wayfaring bread which we carry for journeys. Very little of it can give great strength and endurance to the body for a small intake. It has no adverse effect whatever on the body, only good, and it enhances the nourishment of the food in which it is contained and allows for untiring stamina when travelling and keenness of mind and body in battle. Much of it has our fellowship consumed on this quest and it is my hope that it’s magic will sustain Frodo and Sam on their quest through Mordor.”

“It does have other uses also,” interjects Elladan and winks at Legolas. “Whatever activity one is engaged in, it will increase stamina and also sensation. May you put it to good use, Las.”

I turn to Legolas and blush slightly. Eowyn raises her eyebrows at me.

Aragorn stands and stretches. “I will walk a while and instead partake of some pipeweed before I sleep. There is much I would think on,” he says.

“Would you walk with me to my quarters?” asks Eowyn.

“Most certainly my lady,” he replies and dips his head.

The twins come and kiss us both on the cheek and take their leave and retire to their tent, and Legolas pulls me to his arms and we watch the flames and the stars for a while. We do not need to speak. I can almost hear his thoughts and feel his contentment and I know that he feels the same for me. He sprinkles some of the spices from the leather packet into the last of the Miruvor in our goblets.

“We should enjoy our prize.” He says as he kisses my neck. “If I recall, you have a promise to keep for me!”

I take a deep draught of the wine remembering the taste of the spice from my first joining with him in his chamber at Edoras and fold myself into his body. Playing the game has made me think of my younger years. Seeing Legolas with the twins has reminded me of his long past and suddenly I feel so young again compared to him.

“I hope I will not disappoint you, Legolas.” I say softly, as I think on what may be to come.

“I do not think that will be my experience, meleth nin,” he whispers back. “Well have you loved me already. Come, let us begin.” He stands and leads me from the night air and the flames into our tent. He lights the lamp and turns it up a little so we have light enough to see each other well and the shadows play across our bodies. Sensuously he divests himself of his clothes as I stand and watch and then he helps me with my garments until I am naked again before him. As I stand he unbraids my hair with his long fingers and runs his hands down the length teasing it into freedom. As I reach and do the same with his silver braids he pulls long handfuls of my hair into his fingers and rubs it across his body. The waving strands run down his skin and trickle over his elfhood, which is hardening and lengthening rapidly. His hands trace down my arms as he holds me to him and his lips find mine. For a moment I want to weep for the beauty of it. I can hardly believe that I am here with him and he loves me.

“Your mouth is sweet,” he whispers. “Love me with it.”

I begin by standing on tiptoe and kissing gently across his cheekbone toward his ear. His hands stroke in symmetry down my back, fingers tracing my spine. I reach his ear, brush the fine hair away with my fingers to spill over his shoulder, nibble lightly at the pointed lobe and then run my tongue lightly along the edge up to the pointed tip. He shivers and his hands hold my hips. I trace my tongue down again, into the hollow behind his ear, down the firmness of his neck to his shoulder and there I rest my head. The scent of him overwhelms me. There is the faint tang of wood smoke from his hair, the waft of pollen and strange leaves from the spice on his breath and the perfume of his own skin. Clean and musky at once, the air, the river, the earth, leaves, all swim through my mind as my breathing grows faster. My legs start to tremble. He knows how I feel. He takes me gently to the blankets and lies down,
drawing me with him and cradles me in his arms. His eyes gaze into mine and there is nothing else in the universe but me and him. I find new strength.

My mouth gently brushes his lips then kisses downwards to his shoulders, travelling across his body across the raised muscles, towards his nipples and then finding one. Soft and gentle at first under my lips is his flesh and then as my tongue circles, it hardens and peaks and pushes into my waiting mouth. I move to the other and he groans as the same thing happens again. My fingers stroke against the nipple I have left. It is erect and cooling as the moisture of my mouth condenses in the cool night air. I suck and nip at each one in turn and so exciting do they feel in my mouth as they harden and tingle against my tongue and my fingers, that the wetness begins to flow from me and I squirm and press myself against his thigh. My head spins with the effect of the Miruvor. I must hold on. I must pleasure him as he wants. My mouth traces down across the muscles of his chest to his hard flat stomach. Licking and tasting and carefully nibbling at his perfect skin. My hands stroke down his arms and then as he tries to move toward my mouth; like he did with me, I reach to hold him still. My hands stroke onto his thighs, feeling hard muscle and fine skin and a silver dust of hair beneath the tips, I press down with my fingers as my mouth travels lower. He groans as my tongue runs over his hip, down his thigh and back up, kissing and sucking and tasting as I go.

His hands catch in my hair as it trails across his legs and he pulls my head toward his erection. “Saes.” He murmurs. ((Please))

My mouth moves toward him and licks at the base of the hard column, moving ever upward across that hard, yet tender, silky flesh. My lips press kisses against him until I reach the tip and then my mouth opens to take him in. Oh, the taste of him is beautiful and I feel my own wetness respond and I press my legs together as the juice leaks from my inner being, onto my thighs. He moans as I move my mouth over him and slide down over that pointed tip, my tongue moving and lapping and my lips stretching. I moan also, as my mouth widens and I take more of his length. He pushes further into me, at the feel of the vibration and his tip touches my throat. I begin to suck, at the same time my tongue circles against the shaft and I feel him tighten further inside the hot wetness of my cheeks. I move one hand from his thigh and stroke it across the firmness of his sac, feeling those globes within, move deliciously beneath my fingers. I keep my hand there, massaging and exploring as I suck harder. His moans increase. I bring my mouth back up to the tip and kiss him there. “Aaaiy.”
He groans as the cool air replaces my warm mouth, and I look at him. His hair is flung across the blanket as his head falls back and his eyes are darkened, the pupils dilated almost beyond sight with need. “Don’t stop!” he pleads.

I lick at the pearly silver fluid leaking from the tip of him, my tongue teasing into the slit. His breath comes faster now, as my hand strokes down the silky hard column and I follow it with my mouth, sheathing him again in wet warmth, sucking as I move up and down upon him and press against the swelling flesh with my tongue. I can feel his climax building under my fingers and in my mouth, as he grows even larger and presses further into me. My own excitement rises and I cannot stop my own body from squirming against him. His back lifts from the blanket a little and I feel an unquenchable force gathering in him. He is holding his breath as he thrusts one last time and my tongue flickers and I suck hard and then it comes. Pulsing all through his body in great waves one after the other, rushing up the hard rod filling my mouth, feeling as though it will explode and then gushing hot and silky into my throat and back over my tongue. He lets his breath out in a great rush. I lick gently at him until the last of the tremors die away and then lift my head. I swallow all his silken seed and lick my tongue around my lips. That was so good. His eyes are closed but he opens them as I sit up and he looks at me. “Rowannan, that was wonderful,” he says and begins to laugh. He pulls me to him and can sense my own need and heightened excitement.

“Just give me a moment to recover. I want you so much, it will not be long,” he whispers and holds me close and kisses me. The taste of him is still on my tongue and he licks and explores with his own. As we are kissing I become aware of sounds and elvish words drifting from Elladan and Elrohir’s tent. I break away from Legolas and my eyes widen in amazement.

“Ah! I think I may have a little explaining to do here for you now.” Says Legolas with a smile.