Of Gold and the Raven

Title: Of Gold and the Raven
Author: Melly (meldeamaurea@yahoo.com)
Pairing(s): Eowyn/Arwen
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Eowyn is drawn into a dream and discovers the true reason she found Aragorn so attractive
Disclaimer: Don't own any of it.

Special thanks to Caz for being beta again. Her comments helped clarify some very important parts, and her encouragement and willingness to work outside her main field to help this newbie author made the whole process of writing and submitting infinitely less scary!

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The darkness parted, and Eowyn found herself standing in a star lit glade on the softest grass her feet had ever felt beneath a sky so velvety dark she though she might reach up and touch it. She looked about herself with wonder for this was not the land of Rohan where she had fallen asleep. This was... somewhere else.

"I have been waiting."

Across the sheltered grove a water gen gently cascaded from some unseen source. Through the fall Eowyn could make out a form. Dark hair, rich as the tapestry above, was covered in a spider web of silver drops from the water rushing by. Pale skin glowed in the faint light of the moon, the promise of a cool touch implied by its alabaster complexion. A gossamer gown of silver clung to slender curves as mist arising from the whispering stream below saturated the cloth.

"Who are you? And where is this?" Eowyn asked, tentatively stepping further into the clearing.

"We have not met, but I found you in the mind of my beloved when I woke him on the banks of the river Isen." The figure drifted out from behind the falls, and Eowyn's breath was caught in her throat at the embodiment of beauty that stood before her. "Perhaps Aragorn has not spoken of me. I am Arwen, and this place... this place is a dream he and I once shared."

"He is not dead?" Eowyn asked eagerly, remembering only after the words were said that this elegant creature before her was the source of the sadness in Aragorn's eyes and that perhaps she would wound the elf maiden with the joy she felt rising in her at the thought of Aragorn's survival.

"He lives," Arwen confirmed. "Were he gone I would be as well, for I will follow wherever he leads." One lily-white hand swept across the distance between them, beckoning Eowyn closer.

"My lady, I know not why you have brought me to this place but swear to you that I will not approach Aragorn with anything other than friendship so long as that is your wish," Eowyn promised, letting the raven haired lady draw her down to sit by the stream. She had finally remembered to breath, and it brought a flush to her cheeks, as did the intense gaze Arwen had fixed on her. She looked down, feeling clumsy as a newborn foal before the grace of the elf.

Arwen tilted the human woman's chin up to study her face again. The skin was fair and smooth, a light smattering of freckles betraying a life spent outdoors. She stroked the woman's hair. It was soft under her hand but wild, untamed, like the heart that burned in Eowyn's eyes. She could see why Aragorn had been drawn to this woman. Her spirit was bright, and she possessed an innate strength that was compelling. It was the same fire that had drawn Arwen to Aragorn so many years ago.

"I will not ask of you any oath that you will regret on waking," Arwen finally decided. "I brought you here to determine your worth. He is as you are, human, and as such he is governed by the heat in his blood as much as by the love that burns in his heart. If he must quench that heat with another, I sought only to ensure she would not fail my Aragorn in his time of need. You have fire in you as well, Eowyn. He will not burn you to a cinder and be left unfulfilled. You are worthy of him."

Eowyn felt a shiver course through her body when the delicate elf said her name. The night seemed suddenly cool, and her skin grew tight. She felt her nipples harden and turned away from the source of her confusion. "And if I find that I have no interest in him?" she heard herself ask. "If that fire you see is only kindled by the touch of another?"

"Humans are not given to subtlety, Eowyn," Arwen said with the faintest of smiles. "Speak what is in your heart. If it does not belong to Aragorn, for whom does it burn?"

"For you," the flaxen haired human whispered. She faced the elf, meeting her eyes boldly. "I think now it was the lingering image in his eyes of your beauty that drew me to him, the faintest scent from your hair that clung to him misleading my heart."

"You are fair, woman of Rohan, and I will not deny that there is in me some desire to warm myself by your splendor, but my heart does belong to him. While the touch would not be empty, it would carry no promise of tomorrow."

A spark flared in Eowyn's eye then, and she leaned toward the elf maiden, pressing her face into the thick blanket of Arwen's hair. Her lips sought the point of Arwen's ear, and she whispered, "Your knowledge of humans is not so great, my lady. While your people may live for tomorrows, having many of them stretching ahead, my people live for today, since there is never a guarantee of waking after slumber."

Eowyn felt the slender being beside her melt back against the thick grass beneath them and was greeted with a smile on Arwen's full lips. As the elf guided her down, Eowyn sought the smile with eager lips of her own, shivering again at the cool touch of Arwen's hand on the back of her neck.

Their lips met. For a moment Eowyn saw gold hair and raven blend into a maelstrom of silk then the lips beneath her own opened, and her eyes closed at the taste of the moon in her mouth. Skillful hands slid down her body, cupping her breast, finding the nipple so long hardened that it ached. She let Arwen roll her to the ground as the elf trailed her lips down Eowyn's neck and over the rough cotton of her dress. A gasp burst unbidden from her throat as Arwen took her nipple between her lips, rolling it gently through the confining fabric. Arwen's tongue rasped against the mound of her breast, the heat of her mouth easing the pain of constriction. Eowyn collapsed back against the bank of the stream, incapable of thought beyond the desire rising in her to touch and be touched.

A feathery touch on her ankle awoke Eowyn from her languor. Of their own accord her legs slid apart, allowing the ghostly fingers to drift upward, gathering her skirts as they passed. Arwen's hand stroked the inside of her thigh, brushing against her heat before continuing up under her dress to comfort the breast the red mouth now abandoned. As Eowyn's hands found purchase in the thick folds of Arwen's hair, the elf maiden drew her cheek across the woman's stomach.

Nestled between Eowyn's silky thighs, Arwen's mouth opened against the woman, and her tongue slid out to delve between folds of flesh. Eowyn's breath grew ragged, and her back arched against the hand at her breast holding her down. She bit her lip against cries that seemed out of place in the silence until the slow trailing of Arwen's tongue over the tender sliver of throbbing skin was too much to endure. Raising her hips to meet the elf maiden's mouth, Eowyn feared the fire in her veins w con consume her before the ethereal creature would grant her release.

Long strokes of Arwen's warm tongue drew nearer to Eowyn's burning desire. The first touch of the elf inside brought renewed voice to Eowyn's passion. The one hand so far unoccupied drifted down to tend the hardened nub of flesh that pulsed with every new entry of Arwen's tongue as firm thrusts opened her further. The sensation of tongue and finger swirling both inside and out was dizzying, leaving Eowyn gasping. Her lungs burned. The air was smothering, the heat in the grove overpowering. A pleasure that was very nearly pain filled her being as, at last, her desperate pleas were answered with an intense pressure inside, the elf maiden losing herself within the soft cavern of the woman.

The sudden absence of heat left Eowyn shivering. She felt herself drawn into Arwen's embrace, the arms that had looked alabaster cool only a short time before now providing a much-needed warmth. She sought Arwen's mouth and tasted herself there.

"Let me now grant you the joy you have bestowed upon me?" she asked the elf, her rough fingers tenderly tucking ebony strands behind one delicately pointed ear.

"While there is truth in the phrase it is better to give than to receive,"Arwen whispered, looking into the clear eyes of the Rohan woman, "I feel well gifted in return for what I have given this night. Your cries have filled this glade as it has never been filled before and will linger in my memory long after your tomorrows cease." Against the harshness of her words Arwen caressed Eowyn's cheek. "Perhaps in this way you will share in the immortality of my people."

Eowyn kissed the palm pressed to her skin. "If ever you have need of a fire to warm yourself by..." she offered freely.

"Wake now, daughter of Rohan. When you see my Aragorn, and you will, have no doubt, know that in some way I am watching you through his eyes and will share in what you do. He is the last gift I give to you, and I trust you to keep him safe until he returns to me."

Glimmering eyes in a thick mantle of ebony hair blended with the twinkling of the stars above until Eowyn found herself on the crowded floor of the courtyard in Helm's Deep, looking up at the night sky. Never had it seemed so beautiful before, and never would it again.