Lady of Battle

You Voyeur, You!


The sun trickled through the leaves of the trees, shading hints of gold onto the forest floor, illuminating just enough of the wood to provide a golden serenity. She walked briskly through the gardens, the sweet aroma of the trees soothing her with every step; each step taking her farther from the city, into the wilderness. It had been a trying day and she was starved for the peace the forest offered her. Day by day she was finding it harder to push away the harsh feelings from her past.

In the beginning, it had only affected her dreams, but had escalated into nightmares affecting her sleep and had begun seeping into her days. She had not known why these feelings had surfaced after so many centuries had passed, but had finally decided that it must have been her second senses seeing the return of this old friend, the author of the letter. But why were all the bad memories resurfacing? Maybe it was her sub-conscience trying to force her to heal these old wounds.

She slowed her pace and crept to the large mellorn tree, leaning into it and caressing its bark. She could feel the tingle in her finger tips from its life force and relished in the fact that these old friends would so intimately release themselves to her. It fed her its healing powers and she relented to it. She slowly slid down the trunk to the thick carpet of grass and relaxed back. This was the only intimacy she would allow. It was how she had survived.

She had fought in many wars for this realm and had bore witness to the fall of many great elven warriors. She had always known she could not allow that sort of loss to fill her heart again. It had nearly destroyed her. She had only survived before because of the magical life forces of those first trees of Gondolin. They had given themselves to her to ensure her survival and to this day she knew not why. Only the Valar themselves knew.

But it was why she had built such a trust in the trees of Lothlorien so quickly; they felt the presence of Tulka, their father, in her. He spoke to them through her and they welcomed him through her. And because of him, they trusted her, speaking to her freely, sharing their thoughts as though she were Tulka himself.

Suddenly she felt a presence. It was not far but it had not noticed her yet. She stood slowly and searched the forest feeling for where it was coming from. Suddenly she heard a laugh and turned in its direction. It was only a couple of elves and she did not feel like having company so she quickly headed for the bathing pool by the river. She usually did not go that far to bathe; few did. But today she required privacy.

It took about an hour before she reached the river and she looked around for a flat area to lay her clothes on. She found a rock by the river and began to settle in it. She removed her robe and leggings and had just started to rid herself of her long undershirt when she looked over toward the falls.

Indeed, the falls were noisy and it was no wonder she hadn't heard him. Behind the falls, barely visible, was an elf. He was rinsing himself under the falls and hadn't notice her. He was standing with his back turned to her; his arms were slumped to his sides and his head leaned forward, allowing the pressure of the falls to massage his neck. It would have appeared that he was just washing but she noticed his rhythmic swaying. She wasn't sure if she should alert him of her presence or just sneak away.

She started to gather her clothes when she heard a soft gasp escape him. It froze her to her spot. She watched, childlike and leaned over trying to discern what he was doing. The falls blocked her view and she wanted to know. Slowly she crept along the riverbank, inching closer to the falls and gaining a clearer view.

‘Stop this nonsense and go back.’

She was embarrassed of her actions. This was not her; Lady Brenauth would not spy. She cared not about these things but this elf looked like someone she knew, but the falls kept his face hidden. She realized that, if reversed, this kind of betrayal would anger her, but she could not make herself leave.

‘These sleepless nights have driven me mad. I have become child-like.’

She was closer to the elf now and slowly took two more steps, bringing herself to a side view of him. She froze at what she saw. It was a sight she was not prepared for.

He had leaned his head back had dropped to his knees. His hand clasped that which was most private, and he was caressing his chest with the other. With his eyes still closed, he had no idea he was being watched.

She had never seen an elf male in this private manner and had never dreamed it would have this effect in her. He was beautiful. His powerful hips were bucking slowly into his own grasp and his magnificent thighs flexed with each thrust. His grunts were becoming rhythmic and were intoxicating.

Her body became like fluid. She was mesmerized. Her eyelids were becoming heavy and she tilted her head down, her hair falling forward to hide her face, still continuing to watch with an expression like a large predator studying its prey.

‘Leave you fool!’

Every muscle in his body was flexed and his muscled arms worked expertly. She was panting and was so incapacitated; she did not even know enough of her own presence, to consider that he might notice her.

His grunts had now become moans of pleasure as he changed his breathing and gasped irregularly for air. She still stood clasping her clothes to her chest, and watched as she noticed a change in his rhythm; faster, as he rose slightly higher onto his knees and he began to voice his pleasure.

“I want it,” he whispered. His eyes were still closed and his voice broke her away enough to wonder why she continued to watch. His passion was fierce and she could sense it.

‘Powerful!’

His silver hair, wet and dark, cascaded down his back; his head was tilted completely back and his cries were now clear.

‘Who are you?’

"Come to me. You will come to me.” His pleas were uncharacteristic of such a powerful elf. She noticed that she was standing on his clothing, where he had shed his weapons. He was of the Galadhrim, a warrior, signified by the bow he had put down, and a high ranking warrior at that; this revealed by the markings on his armor, which served only to peak her interest. What feelings this elf harbored. Were all elven maethron (male warriors) this passionate about their feelings? This could be why the soldiers had regarded her with such distance in all her years. They thought she was incapable of such feelings and rightly so, through her actions. They probably believed her to be cold, frigid.

He was amazing. He emitted a pulse which caused her to shiver with feelings she had not known, until this day. She had heard stories; her student, Rhokrist, had told Brenauth of these feelings when the young elleth had come to realize them. But Brenauth had told her to dismiss them, being unsympathetic; they were simply a weakness and could only cause distraction.

Her attention returned to him and his moans again. Everything about this male drew her in. She could not pull herself away and realized for the first time since she was an elfling that she could not control herself. His knees had spread farther apart and he now worked with both hands. He had sped up again, and his panting and moaning had taken a different tone. She could not decide what was happening and watched closely.

Suddenly he thrust forward and drew his breath in. Every muscle in his body visibly locked and he shivered uncontrollably. At that moment he gasped and called out in a grunting command, “Yes! I will have you!”

As fast as it had left his lips, she had turned and ran from the river. She raced at full speed until she reached her quarters and locked the door behind her. She walked slowly to the bed and shrank down on the edge. She sat there still holding her clothes. She had not even worried about dressing when entering the guest quarters, but she had not seen anyone.

She contemplated what she had just witnessed. At the moment he had called out, he had turned his head to better enable her to recognize him.

‘The guard outside my room; a captain, not a guard.’

What had he been doing outside her room that night if he was not a guard?’

‘Her cries, Damn!’

He had heard them at night. Humiliation filled her face with redness. She drew a deep breath and thought carefully. Brenauth's many years in Middle Earth had taught her that the male way presented many questions even to the wisest. She knew quite well, from her past, that a male of any race, had a folly heart. There passion only being held true to two topics, sex and battle and all that it implied. And with this thought, she was angered.

She would try and forget this day. She had much to think about and had not the time to dabble with these trivial notions...


~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~


Back at the river, he finished his bath and walked to his belongings. He collapsed down and lay spread out on his back, staring up at the sky. He couldn’t shake the feeling of breathlessness. He would conquer this feeling. It would pass.

‘Don’t be a fool.’

He knew well his place. He was a simple Marchwarden. She was a Lady of ancient heritage. He bent down to gather his leggings when he noticed dirt gathered on top of them. Upon further inspection, he found tracks leading from his clothing into the forest. He realized that he had been spied upon but was too aggravated to be concerned about what they might have seen.

Convinced it had been his brothers, he dressed quickly and headed back toward the city. His brothers knew nothing of his affections; probably believed him incapable of such feelings. He started to weight the idea that maybe if he had her just once, he would get this need out of his system and be done with it.

‘Primal thought.’

But primal was how he felt. He walked into his quarters and stood in the center of the room. He did not know what to do with himself. His need went beyond emotion. His body ached to have her. He wanted to own her. The situation was driving him mad. He had thought of nothing but she for too long and on this day, he had made a decision.

‘I will have her.’

If only once. He would use what he could to bed her if only for one night. And why not? He was a powerful warrior. She a powerful she-elf. Would they not both enjoy it? Emotions did not have to be a part of this.

‘I have needs. I will physically drink of her and be done with this.”

In over twenty-five hundred years, he had not failed in anything. He would not start now. He knew this was against the Elvin custom, her having been sought by courting, but he would not face a future without having tasted her just once.

‘Lust is not love.’

His expression, blank as always, revealed nothing of his thoughts, but what suddenly showed on his face, was a slight pinkish tone, and an evil smirk for what he had just realized was that if he succeeded to pull her into his bed, well... the thought was quite filthy…TBC