Celeborn's Nine - Riders of the Night

Once in their youth Glorfindel and Celeborn had wandered east of Mordor, but as Galadriel had been so apt to point out, the world had changed. Where there had once been wide open grasslands, now the land seemed to be crying out for water. Still they continued east to the ruins of a fort that now seemed to harbor only ghosts. In the shadows the two elf lords called upon the spirits of another time.

Suddenly the ground quaked beneath them, and the air became electrified. With a heave, shapes rose in front of them. The younger elves looked on in horror as an enormous hoof stepped out the of shifting sand and lifted an even greater body upwards. A bull, larger than anything they had ever imagined glared down at them, but where the bull's head should have been there was a man's head, a great beard flowing from his chin. On his head two ebony horns grew.

"An ashvavaris," Elrohir whispered in disbelief.

"That is neither horse nor elf," Rumil whispered.

"But it is magic," Orophin said and glanced back at the other Galadhrim who were also staring with open mouths at the enormous beast standing in front of the two elf lords. Only Haldir seemed mildly curious.

"Arshack," Celeborn called out, "it has been ages my friend."

"Too many lifetimes," the ashvavaris replied, his voice a deep roar. "What brings an elf to Parsi?"

"We are seeking the Nazgul Khamul," Glorfindel answered. "We know he lives in the East, but that is all."

The ashvavaris heaved a great sigh and said, "He lives in the farthest mountains that touch the top of the world. And there are many dangers between here and there, elf lords."

"What lies ahead of us?" Celeborn asked.

"There is one village of men and then nothing for weeks," the ashvavaris answered. "It is best you rest and feed your horses before attempting it. It is a hot world you enter."

"May we stay here?" Glorfindel asked. "WE have seen no trees or any other shelter for days."

"Beware of the manicore," the ashvavaris said. "It is why this place is silent."

"A manicore?' Rumil asked curiously.

"A demon," Elladan answered.

"Demon, this is good," Rumil replied and glanced at Haldir who was smiling....sort of.
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Celeborn did not want to take the nine into the village, but they were in need of fresh food and other supplies. It was decided that Glorfindel would go and pick up what they needed, also purchasing a pack horse if he could find one. Celeborn would stay at the old fort with his grandsons and the Galadhrim.

To avoid drawing unneccessary attention to himself, Glorfindel wrapped a piece of tan colored silk around his head and most of his face in the style of the Parsis. Only his eyes and weapons would betray his nonParsi heritage.

Cantering slowly down a narrow road, he remembered the exotic sights and smells of the land. Parsi was like a pepper on his tongue, hot and pungent, its people dark and slender. Asfodel's ears pricked as they neared a roadside well, a soft whinny from the horse telling the elf that he desired a drink of water. Reining in, Glorfindel threw his right leg over the pommel and slipped off the left side. Finding a bucket attached to a rope, he dropped it into the well and waited for the splash. Asfodel fairly quivered as he brought it up and emptied it into the trough.


Barnera raised the delicate piece of violet silk and stared at the man through it. He was tall, and even though his clothes hung on him, she could tell that there was a fine shape beneath them. She could also see that his eyes were fair. For a moment he looked her way and then resumed caring for his horse.

Barnera reached into the basket beside her and took out an orange. She peeled it and tasted the fruit. It was sweet. Rising to her feet, she stepped off the porch of the her home and walked towards the man with the fair eyes. Now he truely noticed her. Seperating a piece of fruit from orange, she put it in her mouth and let the juice run down her throat. She offered the horse a taste, and it greedily accepted the section. She removed another section and offered it to the man. He hesitated a moment and then lowered the scarf from his face. He started to take it from her, but she withdrew her hand and then held it up to his mouth. A fine brow arched and then he opened his mouth. She fed him the orange. She could see he liked the way the juice slid down his throat.

"I have more," she said and turned back to her small house. He hesitated a moment, glanced around and then followed.

Barnera offered him a whole orange and then bid him sit on her thick carpeted floor, the carpet made by her and her sisters. He accepted and sat down while she took a water pipe out of a wall cubby hole. Filling it with just enough hashish to feel pleasant, she lit it and took a slow drag off it.

Without the scarf hiding his face, she could see he was beautiful, more beautiful than any man she had seen before. Blowing the smoke away from him, she offered him the end of the pipe. He took a drag, held it in his lungs and then smiled. Hashish worked quickly.

Barnera had never seen a man with a face as fair as his, and she wondered if he was fair all over. Men in her land had skin warm like honey or dark like the earth. He looked at her with hooded eyes, the hashish and his own desires setting a blush to his face. He leaned forward and offered her his mouth. Hungry to taste him, she met his lips, but that only inflamed her desires more. He wrapped his arms around her and laid her back on the thick carpet. She removed the scarf and stared in awe at the golden hair that framed his face and brushed hers. What a wonderous creature was this? He had pointed ears.

She let him finish the hashish while she found something else to entertain them, oil that smelled like sandalwood and jasmine. He moved the water pipe away as she opened the vial and poured a small amount of the oil in her palms. She made him lay on his back, and then she unfastened the horseman's robe and raised the dark tunic beneath. He was fair, so very fair. She rubbed the oil into his skin and then blew on it. He moaned softly and closed his eyes as the oil warmed. She rubbed it into his nipples watched the passion darken his face even more. She tasted the sweet oil on skin and then took a gentle bite out of left nipple. He jerked with pleasure.

He reached up and fondled Barnera's right breast. She took the jesture to mean she should show him her body. HIs nostrils flaired like a stallion's when she exposed herself to him. He was so beautiful she hungered to taste him. Untieing his leggings, she helped him remove them, and then to satisfy her hunger for his flesh, she took him into her mouth. He moaned like a lost soul and fell back on the carpet.

Barnera was in no hurry to finish the deed. AS long as she denied him release he would lay beside her, but once his body found the pleasure it desired, he would leave. She postponed it as long as she could, but eventually he made her rise on her hand and knees, and he took her like a stallion. With his free hand, she teased her mercilessly until she could take no more. She was dieing against his hand with his erection deep inside of her. Shamelessly she moaned. Then he rammed himself deep inside of her and found his own extreme pleasure.

She fed him the rest of the orange while he recovered.
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Glorfindel mounted Asfodel and gave the Gypsy girl a parting smile. He was still a little dizzy from the hash, but not as dizzy as he had been. It would be worn off by the time he returned to the camp with the new pack horse and the supplies that Celeborn had requested. Of course he would have the musky smell of sex about him, but he didn't mind that either.