A Night of Comfort

Title: A Night of Comfort
Author: Genesis Grey (helfireclub@hotmail.com)
Pairing: Elrond/Gilraen
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own neither Elrond nor Gilraen, nor anyone else from Lord of the Rings, I’m just borrowing them to play in a way I’m sure Tolkien never intended.
Author’s Notes: This was actually supposed to be a side story to an Elrond/Gilraen story I’m still writing, but it was finished first and can pretty much standalone. Anyway, reviews make me happy and tell me if I should write more. Feeee tee to tell me if you’d like to see more of this or just that I’m a perverted hack. I’ll take it anyway I can get it. ^_^


-A Night of Comfort-

Gilraen stood in the rain, staring up at the dark gray sky. Estel had left Rivendell to wander in the wild and learn of the world, leaving her alone, the sole human living in the great elven refuge of Rivendell. She could feel her warm tears mixing with the cold rain that fell on her upturned face as a shiver ran though her body. With a sigh she turned and walked toward the Last Homely House, brushing her wet hair behind her ears. It would not do to catch her death in the rain.

As she walked the halls she could feel eyes upon her, looking disapprovingly at the way her dress clung to her, showing nearly every contour of her body. She held her head up high as she walked. She was the wife of the departed Arathorn and the mother of Aragorn, who would someday reclaim his heritage as King Elessar, and she was not going to allow any prudish elf to make her feel ashamed of herself.

With a last defiant glare over her shoulder at one of Elrond’s councilors she entered her room, swinging the door firmly shut behind her. As the door clicked her shoulders slumped and she let out a soft cry.

She was frightened her son would never return. The wild of the world was a dangerous place filled with orcs, goblins, evil Men, sickness, and hundreds of other cruelties that Estel had rarely known in his life. True, he had been trained by the elves, and she took some comfort in that; but even Elladan and Elrohir with their many hundreds of years of training had been unable to save Arathorn from the orcs arrow.

“Arathorn,” Gilraen called restlessly as she stripped off her wet clothing. She still missed her husband after all this time and since Estel had told her he would venture out into the world she had thought of him more. Their time had been short, but she had grown to love the man more than her own life. If not for Estel she would have followed her husband into death. “I live for your hope and the hope of the Dunedain,” she said to the air as she caught sight of a movement beside her.

She turned and stared at herself in the long mirror that adorned the wall of her room. Little had changed from the young lady Arathorn had taken as his wife. By the blood of the Dunedain she still looked as if she were in her twenties and there was little sign that she had ever born a child. Her long dark hair lay unbound along her back, the wet curls wrapping around her body as her hands moved over the smooth skin of her stomach, brushing the curly locks between her legs before she took her hands from her body.

Taking a last look in the mirror she turned to find her nightgown. She let out a small sound that was half a laugh and half a cry as she picked up the thin white shift from her bed. Before coming to Rivendell she had never worn a nightgown. After all the traveling she had done at Arathorn’s side she had learned to sleep in whatever she was wearing; and when there was a moment to rest and when they had time enough to make camp she had slept naked in her husband’s loving embrace.

She sighed at the memory of Arathorn holding her and the shift slipped from her hands as they slowly slipped to her breasts and kneading them. Hands too small and soft to be the sword wielding hands of her husband. She let out a small moan as she lay back on the bed and remembered how much he had loved to touch her breasts. How he would wrap his arms around her and squeeze them even when company was around. How he would lay her back on their bed, often nothing more than a pile of blankets and cloaks, and laugh at her insecurity of them being small and tell her they were the perfect size for his hands.

Gilraen pinched the hardening flesh of her right nipple, rolling it between her fingers as Arathorn had done before gently biting them, delighting when she cried out in surprise. Her other hand began drifting down her body as his often had, running fingers through the soft hair between her legs and teasing the lips of her most private part. She felt herself thrust upward expectantly and she opened her eyes when no warm body pressed back against hers. Suddenly she remembered again that Arathorn was dead and only his memory pleasured her now.

Hot tears filled her eyes and she could feel her hand groping her breast harshly, her nails digging into the flesh of the nipple as her other hand hovered, barely touching the wetness between her legs. She bit her lip and trembled, unsure if she dared continue.

There was a knock on her door. “Lady Gilraen?” a voice called.

“A moment… please…” she called in a shaking voice as she sat up and wiped away the tears in her eyes, pulling on her nightgown.

The decision had been made for her.

She looked at herself in the mirror, brushing her wet hair over her shoulders. Her eyes were red from all the tears the day had brought and there was a faint blush on her cheeks. Her thin white nightgown hung close to her, sticking to her body, still wet from the rain and her erect nipples were clearly visible. Grabbing a robe she opened the door.

“Lady Gilraen,” Elrond’s voice said and she was surprised to find the Lord of Rivendell at her door on such a stormy night. His daughter was visiting from Lothlorien and Gilraen had thought he would spend his time with her before she traveled back.

“Is there something I might do for you, Lord Elrond?” Gilraen asked, stepping aside and allowing him entrance to her room before shutting the door.

“My sons told me you seemed distraught as you wandered the halls this evening,” Elrond replied as he walked into the room. “Glorfindel also feared that Estel’s leaving may have caused you to become… unstable.”

Gilraen let out a laugh. The sons of Elrond had always been kind to her, in part because they felt responsible for the death of her husband. “I am fine,” she said, trying to smile, but having the half-elven before her only served to remind her of how much she missed Arathorn.

“You have been crying, Gilraen,” Elrond said softly as he touched her face, caressing his thumb over her cheekbone.

“With Estel gone I remember my loneliness,” she replied with a sniff as a tear rolled down her cheek, unable to hold it back. “I remember Arathorn so clearly and I remember the way he would hold me in the night and make all the troubles in the world disappear.” Much to her shame she was crying again as Elrond led her to sit on the bed.

“I understand your pain well,” Elrond said soothingly, stroking her wet hair as she sobbed into her hands. “After my Celebrian left I had my children and my duties to occupy my time, but after Arwen went to Lothlorien and my sons began to ride with the Dunedain…” he trailed off momentarily, “I began to feel the pangs of loneliness and would think of the moments she and I spent together.”

“What do you do about it?” Gilraen asked, looking up at Elrond with a tearstained face.

“I endure,” Elrond answered solemnly as she turned away and silence fell between them.

After a time Gilraen spoke, though she did not turn to look at Elrond. “Do… do you ever miss her touch?” she asked. “I know you are an elf and probably above such physical trivialities, but do you ever think of her at night and wish for that embrace?”

“Yes,” Elrond answered simply.

“W… would you ever… seek comfort in the arms of… another?” Gilraen asked hesitantly, turning her head so she could see Elrond’s face out of the corner of her eyes. He said nothing for a moment and the Dunedain woman took the silence as a sign of disgust and turned away again. “Forgive me,” she said, pulling away from the comforting hand that had been stroking her hair. “I did not mean any insult. ‘Tis my own weakness that caused me to ask. Forget it.”

“It is common for elves to take comfort with another in the years after the passing of a lover,” Elrond said, at last answering her question and Gilraen looked up almost hullyully. “Though I have not engaged in the practice… yet.” He met eyes with Gilraen. “I did not come here tonight to seduce you.”

“Nor did I come to Rivendell to seduce you,” she replied shakily, hoping she had not misunderstood the elven lord, “but I believe you did come to give me comfort this night, as you have been kind enough to give me before.”

“I would give your comfort this night as well,” he said as he reached out and stroked the side of her face, letting his hand fall through the wild tangles of her hair before pulling back, though the human woman rose and moved toward him, “and perhaps take my own.”

“I would not be your Celebrian,” Gilraen said, cupping the half-elf’s face in her hands and straddling his waist as she pressed a kiss to his lips. Gentle at first, testing and taunting, until she parted his lips and slipped her tongue into the warm recesses of his mouth. After a moment his tongue began to war with hers for dominance as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as she felt something stir under the folds of his clothing.

“Nor I your Arathorn,” Elrond replied, breaking the kiss and stroking a hair behind Gilraen’s round ear. “I wish to look upon you, Gilraen. I wish to see the body of the woman that enticed Arathorn so.”

Gilraen felt a cold chill in her stomach. No one had ever seen her naked, save her husband, but the need of her body to be touched as it had not been in over twenty years overpowered her. She pulled away from Elrond, standing up and letting the robe and the nightgown fall to the floor. She stood proud as he looked over her body, despite the blush on her face.

“You are as beautiful as Arathorn boasted,” Elrond said, rising to his feet and Gilraen felt her blush deepen. He walked around, letting his gaze fall over every inch of her skin before standing behind her and whispering in her ear. “You have let me have a request, now what would you have of me?”

“L… let me undress you…” Gilraen said, looking over her shoulder at her host. It was a strange request, but she loved to watch a man’s body slowly appear as she removed each piece of clothing; it was like unwrapping a present.

She turned slowly as Elrond gave a nod of consent. Her fingers ran over the soft fold of his outer robe as she hooked her fingers in the fabric and let it slip to the floor. She licked her lips as her fingers trailed over the clasps of his shirt, undoing them and peeling the clothing from his body. She marveled at the smoothness of his chest, so different from Arathorn as she moved her hands over the broad expanse, leaning close and flicking at one of the pale pink nipples with her tongue. Elrond let out a low guttural sound and Gilraen smiled at the thought of an elf making such a human noise.

Gently she bit at the nipple, her hands riding low to the elven lord’s hips and working to untie the breeches he wore. His hands moved through her hair as she continued licking and biting at the nipple while her hands finished undressing him. When his breeches fell to the floor she stepped back, pulling away from his hands, her face flushed as she looked at him. The elven form was magnificent. It was like that of a Man, but without flaw.

Elrond stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Gilraen and pressing a kiss to her lips, his tongue delving into her mouth as he guided her backwards onto the bed, kissing at her throat as they moved to the middle. His hands searched all over her body, moving along the soft skin as his kisses moved lower, along her collarbone, between her breasts. His hands moved up along her sides and to her breasts, kneading them gently, his thumb gently flicking at her already hardened nipples.

His left hand slowly slipped from her breast, gliding down the smooth skin of her body, over her side, her hip, and down to her thigh. His hand slipped between her legs, long fingers gently caressing the tender skin of her inner thighs. She shuddered a bit at the touch of his fingers as they moved upward while his mouth pressed against her breast and his tongue taunted her hard nipple to a hardness she had not thought possible. She tensed and let out a surprised sound as the soft fingers touched her, two fingers gently trailing along the lips of her most secret part as a third taunted her, moving along the wet folds but never delving further.

She bucked against his hand desperately, but he pulled away every time she tried, teasing her until she began to whimper. He smiled as he pressed a kiss to her lips, silencing the sound as his long fingers finally pressed inside of her. Elrond felt the human woman moan against his lips as her hands ran through his hair and stroked down his back. The fingers moved within her, slowly penetrating deeper and then pulling out as they massaged her. Her wetness was beginning to drip on the sheets as Elrond pulled away from the long kiss.

Gilraen panted, her eyes dilated as she looked up at the elven lord whose cheeks held the faint blush of pleasure. Her hand moved from his hair and she gently caressed the line of his jaw and touched his high cheekbone. His fingers still moved within her and her toes curled as she realized he would give her release. “I wish to feel you inside of me,” she said, the haze of pleasure giving her courage to request such a thing.

For a moment surprise and indecision sparked in Elrond’s ancient eyes and Gilraen was sure he would deny her. “Part your legs wider,” Elrond said after a moment, the indecision gone from his eyes as he leaned down and kissing her briefly.

Gilraen found herself spreading her legs wide and trembling as the long fingers left her. She whimpered into Elrond’s mouth once before he pulled away as well, moving between her parted legs.

There was a twinge of fear in her eyes as she looked upon Elrond’s fully erect member. It was larger than Arathorn’s had been and it had been so long since she had taken anything within her body…

Elrond noticed the fear and reached up toward her face, stroking her dark hair from her eyes. “Are you ready?” he asked softly as she nodded, forcing herself to look in his eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked again, running his thumb gently over her cheek.

“Yes,” she said, turning her head and pressing a kiss against his palm. “I asked this ou, du, did I not?”

“I would not give you pain,” he said even as he pulled his hand away and raised her hips.

“You will not,” Gilraen replied with a shaky smile, gripping the sheets with her hands and taking in a trembling breath. Her body ached with need. “Please…”

She arched her back and let out a low cry as Elrond pressed into her. It hurt a little, but it also felt wonderful. He was slow and careful, almost maddeningly so, allowing her body to adjust and stretch to accommodate his length. Her fingers twisted in the sheet and she trembled as he became fully sheathed within her body.

A light touch caressed her face and she opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them, and looked up in the face of Elrond. His face was composed as ever, but his eyes were dark with desire and asked a last time if it was alright to proceed. As a reply she pressed against him, untangling one hand from the sheets and reaching out to grasp his strong arm.

Slowly he began to move and Gilraen let out a cry of elation, clutching his arm tight enough to bruise. His thrusts steadily began to increase in pace as she moved to meet every thrust, grunting loudly as his breathing became heavy and his movements erratic. Their bodies moved in wild abandon as she tightened her grip on his arm, her nails biting into perfect skin.

Suddenly Gilraen let out a scream of joy; the entire world briefly dissolving into a white fog as her body shuddered with release. She let out a low moan of ecstasy as the world came back into focus. She saw the contorted look of pain on Elrond’s face that meant his own release was soon to come. She was not disappointed and let out a yell of surprise and rapture as she felt him explode inside her. He panted as he looked down and gracefully fell upon her.

She had missed this as well. The near crushing feel of a man atop her, between her legs, spent from an evening of pleasure. The arm she could move wrapped around him, gently stroking his long hair and strong back, smearing the droplets of sweat into a smooth sheen down his body.

Gilraen shivered as the night air caressed her own body damp with sweat, but she could not find the will to force Elrond off and retrieve a blanket. They lay that way for a while as she relished the touch, the closeness of a body, and even the scent of sweat and sex that filled the room.

All to soon Elrond moved, rolling to the side and standing up from the bed. For a moment Gilraen worried that he was ashamed of what he had done and would exile her from Rivendell, forbidding her son to return as well, denying him the only home and father he had even known. But the elven lord simply picked up a blanket that had been cast off the bed and lay down beside her again, wrapping her in the silky blankets of blue and gold as he pulled her close to his warm body. His hand moved along her back, trying to ward the chill that had already begun to set in as she pressed her face against the smooth expanse of his chest.

“Thank you,” Gilraen said, when she finally found her voice. “I doubt I was much comfort to you this night, since at least your children are near, but I no longer feel the pangs of loneliness so close to my heart. My thanks.”

There was a stretch of silence before the Lord of Rivendell responded to her.

“There will be times in the future when my daughter has returned to Lothlorien, my sons ride with the Dunedain, and even my adopted child has left me,” Elrond stopped a moment and Gilraen lay perfectly still, waiting for him to continue, “and in those dark nights when it is hard to endure, will you offer me comfort?”

Gilraen moved slowly, sitting up and shivering a bit as the blanket fell from her form. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Elrond’s forehead before leaning back and looking in his eyes. “I would give you comfort whenever you are in need of it.” She smiled gently and sadly at him. “You are not my Arathorn, but that does not mean I do not care for you or that I could find no love in my heart to spare. If you agree we will share this affair for as long as if may last, but when it ends it will be the end. You will go to Valinor to be ever with your Celebrian and I shall reunite with my beloved Arathorn in death.”

Elrond caressed her face and Gilraen found herself closing her eyes and pressing against the soft hand. “It is a good bargain,” he said and there was a note of weariness in his voice, “it has been long since any have come near me in more than an accidental brush.”

Gilraen let out a light laugh that rang through the room as she fell against Elrond and curled against him for warmth. “I would do more than touch you with an accidental brush,” she said laughingly as he pulled the blanket about her shoulders and ran his fingers through her dark hair. He let out a small chuckle as Gilraen closed her eyes. She knew Arathorn would forgive her for this and she hoped Celebrian would be as forgiving. Neither she nor Elrond wished a new spouse, only someone to keep them warm until they could return into the arms of those that had left them.

She opened her eyes contentedly and let out a gasp. “I’m sorry,” she said as her eyes fixed on Elrond’s arm. There were deep scratches and trickles of blood fell from where she had gripped him with her nails. She reached out intent of doing something for the small crescent shaped wounds but Elrond stopped her.

“I feel little pain,” Elrond said soothingly, “and it reminds me of nights spent with my first lover and the early years when Celebrian would raze my back during the mindless passion of our lovemaking.”

“I would not have thought elves so violent in their love,” Gilraen said as she pulled her hand back.

“Celebrian was always quite embarrassed by the marks she left upon me. She was a gentle sort,” Elrond said, lost in memory. A smile curved on his lips. “I shall never forget the look upon her face the day I was training and Glorfindel asked if I had gotten in a fight with a wildcat when he had not been looking.”

Gilraen laughed at the thought.

Silence fell between them as they lay listening to the sound of the rain falling outside. As Gilraen felt her eyelids become almost impossibly heavy with sleep a question crossed her mind.

“Elrond?” she said and the elven lord gave a noise of acknowledgement. “You spoke of another,” she said, trying to force the grip of sleep away with little luck, “another lover before Celebrian. Who was she?”

There was silence and Gilraen feared she had already overstepped the bounds of the dshe she had struck with the half-elf. “You are tired,” Elrond finally said, and his words were kind and appeared to hold no anger as he ran fingers across the side of her face, “and it is a story for another night.”

Gilraen bit her lip. She was very curious. The love of Elrond and Celebrian was known even among the Dunedain, admittedly due to the fact the twins spoke of it so often. To think that their had been another before her… Gilraen wished to know who they had been and what had happened.

But Elrond was right, she was tired and she had asked much of him already. A content sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes. “Thank you, for this night of comfort,” she said as she drifted off to a peaceful sleep in the warm embrace of Elrond’s arms.