Whispers

Author's notes: I've only actually read two smut fics with Galadriel and Celeborn, and neither really struck me as being how I imagined their relationship. So I started writing this fic, then I hit a massive bit of writer's block. But a discussion with Emory Lee about whether or not Celeborn leaves Midde-earth helped me to get it done. :) This fic is rated NC-17, and if you are under the age of consent in your area you should not be reading it. It features graphic sex between male and female characters. I trust ya all to judge for yourself whether or not you should read it.
Disclaimer: Also, I own none of the characters. They're Tolkien's -- lucky guy!

::Whispers::

Caras Galadhon was a place of whispered words.

Some were spoken in soft elven voices, others in the ancient murmur of the trees, and many were not said at all. But every whisper was heard by the Lady Galadriel, clear as bells upon the wind.

She sat regally above the councilors of the Golden Wood, her blue eyes, fraught with the knowledge and the light of the everlasting stars – ancient eyes that followed every move as the councilors spoke and gesturstatstating their arguments with a calm fervor that only elves possessed. Beside the Lady of Lorien sat her Lord and husband, the wise Celeborn, nodding attentively as he took in the words spoken by the councilors, never knowing the true undertones of what they said. Though his assumptions were surprisingly accurate. He raised his hand to silence the councilor that had the floor, asking a pointed question before lowering his hand and waiting for a reply.

Galadriel turned and looked upon the golden leaves a moment and listened. It was like the sound of a bubbling brook, gentle water trickling over a hundred-thousand smooth stones, giggling and laughing. So many little voices, and every one unique. But above them all was a happy, playful sound – a whisper louder than the others.

Celeborn.

She turned back to the council before her, eyes elegantly casting a glance toward her husband. A slight smile creased her lips as she met his dark blue eyes, the hint of living green hidden in their depths.

They held each other’s gaze for a moment before returning their attention to the maiden explaining the additions she wished to make to the library, as well as the recent acquisitions she had made on her latest trip to Imladris. From the bright flashes of her eyes it was clear that she found this all immensely stimulating, though by the looks of the other councilors she was the only one.

“I should not want for the library to become confined and restricting, but neither do I wish to build another talan to house it,” Celeborn said as the maiden took her seat. “Perhaps if we rearranged what is already present. I will assign some elves to help you with this, and if it does indeed seem another talan is necessary, we will discuss this again.”

The maiden nodded graciously, though Galadriel could see the slight disappointment in her eyes and the brief sadness in her thoughts. “If that is all,” Celeborn continued, looking over the gathered elves and sparing his Lady a glance to obtain her consent to end the council. She nodded to him almost imperceptibly. “We shall think on all that you have brought to this council, especially concerning the border patrols, and give you our thoughts at a later date. For now we shall adjourn to meditate on the matters before us.”

Celeborn held his hand out to Galadriel as he stood from his seat, high atop the ivory colored stairs. As one the councilors got to their feet, bowing their heads as the Lady took her Lord’s hand and rose from her throne. With movements choreographed by centuries of companionship they descended the stairs as one, passing the councilors with their bent heads and leaving the talan.

“You seem restless this day, my Lady,” Celeborn said as he led Galadriel toward their private talan. As they passed elves ceased their actions and lowered their heads respectively.

“The council seemed a touch drier than usual, that is all my Lord,” she replied cordially as she glided beside him, her hand barely touching his. “But better tedious than filled with talks of woe and darkness, as I fear the gatherings shall soon be.”

“Let us hope you are wrong,” he said, though he knew as well as she that her visions were rarely misleading. “But for now let us enjoy the time we have together under the glorious spectacle of the mellyrn.”

Galadriel gave him one of her infrequent smiles as she clutched his hand in silent agreement. She adored Celeborn and his optimism; it was a rare thing in an elf so ancient. Raising their joined hands to her lips she brushed a kiss along the back of his hand in thanks for the joy he brought her. He smiled, pulling the clasped hands to his own lips and doing the same.

The hushed whispers became thunderous as their linked hands fell to a proper space once more and Galadriel turned to see the approaching whisper in its physical form. The elf moved toward them with all the grace his speed would allow, his thoughts radiating like the midday sun and telling her all his worries.

“My Lord and Lady,” he said, bowing low as he came close. “I am sorry to dis you you.”

“It is no urbaurbance,” Galadriel said, waving for him to rise from the bow and speak. It was a lie. He was a disturbance. But it was a lie the young elf needed to hear fhis his Lady. “What is it that you have come to tell us?” she asked, even as whispers in the distance answered her question.

“There is something of a fight that has broken out in one of the lower talans during a discussion of the kinslaying,” the elf said, hanging his head in shame. “I am sorry to say one of the participants is my brother. We have separated them, but we are in need of your guidance to help settle the dispute.”

Galadriel felt her face go stern, though she doubted many would be able to see a difference. She despised having to deal with any argument that involved the kinslaying. She was still a Noldor and kin to the Sons of Feanor, even if the Silvan elves of Lorien had accepted her as one of their own. But she also remained their Lady, and if her presence was needed, then she would go.

“I will deal with this,” Celeborn said before she could answer. He knew her distaste for such things well. “Go and rest, my Lady,” he suggested as he pulled away. She nodded graciously and released his hand. He bowed slightly, the other elf bowing as well, before they both turned to go and mediate the dispute.

She watched them go for a moment before turning and walking to the private talan she shared with her husband. No one disturbed her as she moved purposely forward and out of sight, quickly climbing into her talan and folding the privacy flap down behind her. Unless there was an emergency no one would dare bother her. And the whispers would tell her of such trouble long before any elf could.

She walked across the room and sat in front of the dressing table, removing the woven ornament from her brow and setting it down as she began untying her hair from the thick blue and silver ribbons one of the maidens had helped her don. Three tied knots in her hair today. One for every age she had lived. The maidens had thought it was clever, and she saw no reason to ruin their enjoyment, even if she did find tying her hair back a bit gaudy.

As she placed the last ribbon on the table there was a glint of silver light, drawing her pale eyes to the ring upon her hand. Nenya. The ring of adamant. The ring of water. She let out a sigh as she hel her her hand, watching the way the light of Lorien filtered through the facets of the clear stone.

Lovely.

She could feel it calling to her as her hand dropped to rest on her thigh. Its voice drowned out all other thoughts as it beckoned her to listen to it and it alone. Her eyes closed and her head lolled back slightly and rested on the back of the chair. Her body became relaxed and limp as the ring spoke to her in low seductive tones, whispering words of love and adoration, of power and protection.

It wrapped around her like a lover, pressing shadowed kisses along her jaw and neck, casually moving lower as invisible hands caressed her body. Inside the ring churned her stomach as it continued to whisper honeyed words. A pleased sigh escaped her lips as her head tipped to the side, submitting to the unseen lips.

The shadowed kisses seemed to ruffle her unbound hair as the hands moved up her thighs, first along the outside, then gingerly touching the inside. Almost instinctively her legs parted. Nenya had never been one for long drawn out foreplay, which was a pity since Galadriel found she enjoyed such things.

No, with Nenya it was always a powerplay.

She trembled as the invisible fingers penetrated her, rubbing and teasing the inside of her most private part, but refusing to move and give her release, even as she shifted. A reminder that it was one of the three elven rings, second in power only to the One Ring.

She was the mistress, but it was the master.

‘Moan for me,’ the ring of water whispered in her mind, the strongest of all the whispered voices she heard. Stronger than even her beloved Celeborn. She pressed her lips together in refusal as the ring did things that made her toes curl and her breath catch in her throat, but she refused to give in.

“My Lady?”

Galadriel let out a gasp as a hand touched her shoulder. Her head jerked up and her eyes opened as she looked into the knowing face of Celeborn above her. “Did… uh,” she panted as she straightened in the chair, silently cursing Nenya for not allowing her to know of her husband’s approach. “Did you manage to settle things?” she asked, looking away from Celeborn and wishing she could block the whispers of her husband’s mind, the sad look in his eyes was torture enough.

“Yes. It hardly required my attention,” he said as Galadriel pushed the ring away, baring it momentarily from her mind. “The elf that came to us overreacted.”

“He has a tendency to do so,” she nodded, stroking her shining hair behind a pointed ear. “I must thank you for dealing with it. I dislike being involved in disputes over the kinslaying if it can be otherwise avoided.”

“Mmm.” Celeborn made an acknowledging noise in his throat as he took his hand from her shoulder and moved away, removing his outer robe and hanging it over another chair. “Tell me, Galadriel, am I welcome in these rooms?” he asked, his eyes briefly glancing over the ring upon her finger before meeting hers. He was one of the few elves left in Middle-earth who could do so with nary a flinch. Most found them too haunttoo too deep and knowing.

“You are always welcome, my Lord,” she responded as he looked away and began to pace idly. “Perhaps the question should be whether or not I am welcome. You have seemed less than pleased with me in these past years.”

He smiled as he came to stand behind hnd snd she could hear the laughter in his mind. “My dear Galadriel, you have always pleased me,” he said, resting his hands on her shoulders. “You are the fairest of all that dwell in Middle-earth, wise beyond your many years and strangely you seem to have a care for me. How could I not be pleased?”

She found herself smiling as she reached up and patted one of his hands, gently holding it at the wrist as she listened to the comforting cooing of his mind. It was an unconscious thing that he did whenever she was upset, and it never failed to endear him to her heart. She was thankful that he was not excessively upset over Nenya. Other Lords would have been infuriated to find their wife caught in the throes of passion with another, even in such a strange situation where that other was one of the three elven rings. But Celeborn had always been special – in his optimism he never spoke of such disheartening things. He shined like a star in the heavens, brighter than even Earendil. He was her only sanctuary, the only pure and uncorrupted thing in the entirety of Arda, and she found peace in his arms.

A playful suggestiveness encircled her as her husband’s hand moved from her shoulder, slipping down and parting the high neck of her dress. She smirked slightly as she released the wrist she held and undid the intricate clasps of her gown partway down. No use doing all his work for him.

The warm hand continued its decent under her clothing, cupping her breast in the palm of the hand and rolling it gently as the hand still resting on her shoulder attempted to knead the ever-present tension away. Her body began to relax under the ministrations, even as his hand moved from her shoulder to stroke her upper arm comfortingly, the long fingers trailing suggestively.

“You know how to calm me, my Lord,” she said, enjoying the feel of tangible hands upon her body as she leaned to the side and bared her neck. Celeborn leaned down and pressed a kiss just below her ear. She smiled as his silver hair tickled her partly exposed chest and the hand upon her arm took to clumsily unfastening the ties of her dress as the other hand continued to fondle her breast, pinching the nipple lightly between thumb and forefinger, rolling it until she shivered.

“You never close your eyes when we are together,” he murmured into her ear as he licked along the shell of it, playfully nipping at the pointed tip. While she could not hear the disappointment in his voice, she could hear it in the whispers of his mind and she felt a great deal of guilt. It was true, of course. Other than the rare moments where Nenya bid her to shut them her eyes were ever open and alert to all things.

“No, I do not,” she agreed as his hand finished with the clasps, having undone them to just below her navel. The hand was now roaming freely over her belly, caressing gently as it traveled upward toward the neglected breast. His other hand continued to massage with more exuberance as the right hand reached her other breast, kneading gently before both hands disappeared from her body.

A thick ribbon fell over her eyes and she let out a yelp of surprise as it was tied in place. She had seen him reaching for the hair tie upon her dresser and heard his thoughts in the air, mischievous ideas playing for her amusement, but she still had not expected him to blindfold her. “It this well with the Lady?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and burying his face in the back of her neck, nuzzling through the waves of golden hair as he waited for a reply.

“Whatever pleases the Lord of the realm,” she replied, stroking his forearm through the fabric of his robe. That would have to go soon. She could feel his smile against her neck as he kissed the back of her neck. His hand moved, reaching down to stroke her smooth stomach as he nibbled gently at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. His free hand toyed with her long locks, looping them around his fingers as he teased her throat with the tips.

Galadriel reached back and hooked her hand behind her husband’s neck as she turned to face him, her lips slightly parted and inviting. Gentle lips pressed against hers, tongue gently licking and parting her lips as Celeborn demanded entrance. The denizens of elves that livedthe the Golden Wood would have been horrified by such a sight, they all though of their Lady Galadriel as the strength and power of all elvendom. And while she was strong and proud, this was one situation where the Lady of Lorien gladly submitted.

“Perhaps we would find more comfort upon the bed,” Celeborn breathed as he pulled away from the kiss. “I fear this position will give us only neck cramps.”

“Ever the practical one, my wise and noble Lord,” Galadriel smiled as she drummed her fingers against his neck. “But how shall we get to the bed? I find myself blinded by some force.”

“Mmm, only the finest silk of the realm,” Celeborn hummed in reply as her hand fell from his neck and he released her from his embrace, though his hand stroked her hair lovingly. “You have called me wise. Perhaps I shall endeavor to live up to your kind praise.”

“You are always deserving of my praise,” Galadriel said softly. Too often she felt that Celeborn was slighted because of her, that she outshined him as the Lady of the Galadhrim and the only daughter of Finarfin. It had never seemed to bother him that elves came for her counsel, when his would be more appropriate. But it bothered her.

Strong arms wrapped around her shoulders and knees, sweeping her from the chair and spinning her in circles. Galadriel laughed lightheartedly in spite of herself as she wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck. “Now is not a time for dour thoughts, my love,” Celeborn whispered, his breath tickling her neck as he walked as ths the room and laid her back on the bed. “I’ve never cared for your look of consternation. It tears at my heart.”

Galadriel found her lips covered by Celeborn’s before she could reply and she parted her lips happily for the invasion of his tongue. His hands moved over her body, baring it as best he could without pulling the gown over her head and breaking their kiss. Her hands moved over his shoulders and down over his chest, unfastening the clasps of his robe as he explored the familiar territory of her mouth and made war with her tongue.

She could feel the inklings of a plan forming in her husband’s mind as his hands stroked over her arms and raised them above her head, pulling away from the kiss. “Hold the headboard for me, my Lady,” he whispered, kissing where the blindfold crossed the bridge of her nose.

With a light chuckle Galadriel scooted away from her husband and latched on to the headboard, crossing her wrists and posing seductively. “Does this please you, my Lord,” she asked in a low voice as Celeborn’s mind bubbled with mirth.

“You know that it does,” he answered as his touch left her and she heard the rustle of fabric as his robes were removed and tossed aside. She grinned at the eager tone of his mind as he looked upon her body languidly laid out on the bed, half coved by her gown. Her breasts and legs were bared as she rolled slightly to the side and lifted one knee teasingly letting the fabric of her dress ride up further as she waited. It gladdened her that he still wanted her so much after centuries of marriage.

The bed shifted as Celeborn returned and covered her with his own body, kissing her lips and stroking her long hair. “You shall always be the most radiant of all elves,” he said, kissing her cheek and moving down her neck as his hands massaged her breasts. She could feel the strength of his body against hers and she shivered a bit as she sought to trap Celeborn between her thighs. The power of her husband’s body had always amazed her, that one so gentle could be so strong.

Teeth nipped at her nipple and she gasped, arching up against him. “My Lady was not paying attention,” Celeborn said, laving the hard tip of flesh with his tongue as his fingers teased the rosy flower of the other breast. “I did not mean to bore you.”

“You have never bored me, my Lord,” Galadriel replied as he began to kiss down over ser stomach and caressing her hips with his warm hands. “But you know that I become lost in thought quite often.”

“Mmm,” Celeborn agreed, the rumble drawing a laugh from her lips as he tickled her, his tongue dipping into her bellybutton as he undid the sash that held her dress to her body. “I suppose I shall just have to try harder in my bid to attain your attentions.”

Galadriel furrowed her brow as she tried to decipher her husband’s intentions, but as the first kiss fell upon her thigh it became obvious. A blush colored her cheeks as he nuzzled and stroked her inner thighs, arousing her in mere anticipation of what was to follow. She writhed as he continued to place kisses along her, moving ever closer to the wet lips hidden under the folds of her gown. He brushed the fabric from her body and kissed her deeply, parting the lips and lapping at her inner folds as she let out a sigh, pressing her head into the pillows as waves of pleasure made her quiver.

His tongue lapped her wetness as she parted her legs as far as she was able, his tongue teasingly darting against her entrance and making her shiver in delight. A wanton moan escaped her lips, something Nenya had never been able to do, and wished for erveervently. But the guttural sound of pleasure was a give for Celeborn alone, and, by the renewed vigor of his ministrations, he knew it.

Her hands released the headboard and dropped to twine in the soft silver locks she adored. But as soon as her fingers threaded through her husband’s mane, she knew her mistake. His attentions slowed and stopped as he pulled away, grasping a wrist in each hand as he shifted, his body sliding against her own with maddening intimacy. His hard length moving over her thigh and hip, resting against her belly as he placed her hands against the headboard once more.

She could not see him hovering over her through the blindfold, but she heard the laughter in his mind and knew he was smiling as he spoke, his breath brushing over her ear. “Please, sweet Lady, hold the headboard, lest I have to tie you in place,” he said, kissing her gently on the cheek as he moved down her body once more, taking care to toy with her breasts as he went.

A sudden flash of memory came to her and she was not certain if it had come from Celeborn’s mind or her own. An image of Celebrian’s conception. Of the Lord of Lorien bound to the bed as his wife knelt over him, grinning as she began a night of sweet torture. Galadriel felt herself chuckle slightly before she was brought back to the present by her husband’s talented tongue.

“You undo me,” she panted as he moved over her wet folds, his hands roaming over her thighs and buttocks, roving to caress her stomach and brushing over her breasts. The comment delighted him as he began toying with the hard nub of wet flesh and she groaned, all whispers and sounds ceasing as she reveled in the moment.

It was a surprise when her husband’s long fingers slipped inside her and began to massage her inner folds, his tongue lapping at the wetness. Her toes curled as he found the special place within her, navigating with centuries of intimate knowledge as the dexterous fingers made the world fade once more, save for the whispers of Celeborn’s mind.

She felt herself become wrapped in a warmth as everything faded, the sounds of the wind and the song of her people, the feel of the bed and the blindfold, even Nenya was a distant memory. There was nothing but her and Celeborn. “I need you, my love, my Lord,” she whimpered in a low whisper. “Please, I must have you.”

The fingers withdrew as the tongue gave a last lap, and for a moment Galadriel felt a wave of panic as Celeborn disappeared. But then she felt his lips upon hers and she relaxed as he positioned himself between her legs, his hands stroking every part of her body as he did. She crooned coaxingly to him, all but shaking as he pressed into her body.

She let out a sigh as her husband’s shaft penetrated her, wrapping her legs around him and forcing him in up to the hilt. He groaned and she felt his sublime delight as she wrapped his mind within her own as he began to move at a slow and steady pace. She could feel his every emotion as if it were her own. She saw and felt the world for a moment through his eyes.

His adoration for his people and family. The wish that they be happy and healthy. The heart-wrenching pain at the loss of his only daughter. His love of the trees, of Middle-earth, warring with the love he felt for his wife. The conflict of never wanting to leave either of his treasures, but knowing that he must eventually choose.

Galadriel mewled in sorrow that she should cause him such pain, but it was quickly pushed aside as she was assaulted by his love for her. His movements quickened as his mind revealed how her every movement aroused him. How during boring councils he wished nothing more than to reach over and touch the radiant locks that first drew his attention. How he longed for these moments, where he was almost one with his wife, would last forever. A spike of jealousy flared for Nenya, one that Galadriel had felt many times before, but it was washed away by thede ode of having a wife so strong she could bear the burden of such power.

Celeborn’s monts nts were fast and erratic, and Galadriel knew that their time was short as she bared herself to her husband, allowing him to see all that she was. Allowing him to know her sorrows and her pain. The loneliness she felt in all moments but these. How she wished to be with him and him alone. The bitterness at having to share herself with any but him, and the shame at being so petty.

His mind soothed hers lovingly as they became entwined completely, and for a moment they were one. He let out a roar of release as his mind flared with white ecstasy. She cried out as well and trembled in the wake of such release.

In that moment her mind bared all that was Celeborn before her. She groped and tried to trap his mind as it pulled away, closing and falling into a sound that, no matter how strong, was still a whisper. She yearned to keep them together as one being, to forever be in the perfect state of mind. But to her disappointment and delight, she always failed and he pulled away from her. The feel of the bed and the song of Lorien returning, her outer senses waking once more.

Nenya hissed with envy as Galadriel began to stroking her husband’s silver locks as he lay sweat-covered and panting atop her. With a sigh he rolled to the side, slipping the blindfold off as he gathered his wife into trembling arms. She wrapped herself around him, arms about his torso and one leg thrown over his side as she looked into his eyes, marveling at their beauty.

“For shame, you let go of the headboard,” he chided playfully, caressing her shoulder.

“I suppose you shall simply have to carry through with your threat to tie me next time, my Lord,” she grinned as he reached up and stroked her face, searching her eyes for something.

“I always feel as though I am fighting you to keep my identity,” he whispered as he stared into her eyes, his hand toying with her blond tresses. “And I fiyselyself utterly exhausted from a battle I am not certain I wish to win.”

Galadriel smiled, but had no words to give him. Instead she kissed him gently on the lips and stroked his hair over his shoulder. “Rest,” she whispered, lulling him into the realm of sleep with sweet caresses and soft sounds. He tried to resist a moment, but gave in quickly. While she was invigorated by their love-making, it drained him to the point of collapse.

“I love you,” he whispered as his eyes closed and his body relaxed.

“And I you,” she whispered back, stroking his cheek as she stared at his gentle face, a sad expression coming to her own. He gave so much to her and asked nothing in return, save the one thing she could not do. Stay in Middle-earth. “Elves must leave these shores,” she breathed as she huddled against his side, glad he could not hear her words. She feared the betrayal in his eyes when she spoke such things. “Whether by ship or the forgetfulness of Men, we are not long for these lands.”

Lost in dreams Celeborn did not reply. Though Galadriel could hear the stirring of his mind at her words as she hushed them and listened. Her husband’s mind was calm now, burbling with sweet dreams of happier times. The sound was strong, but whispers from outside became louder and she raised her head and listened intently.

Something grave had occurred, a marchwarden had been injured by an arrow coated in a poison unknown to the healers at his outpost. And now his comrades bore him back to Caras Galadhon in all haste, with the hopes that their Lady would be able to heal him. They would arrive soon.

Gracefully she rose from the bed, disentangling from her husband and humming gently as he tried to wake. Soothed by the sounds he fell back to the bed and Galadriel covered him, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she went to clean the stickiness from her body in the spa.

Nenya hissed and refused to warm the water even as she submerged herself in the waiting pool. She bathed quickly, reprimanding the Ring of Water only once, with then water of the pool began to caress her body in strange, sensual ways. She dried and dressed fast, choosing an unadorned pale dress of silk and a pale blue sash. There was no need for pomp and decoration when the life of an elf was hanging by mere threads.

Crossing to her vanity she picked up one of the ties and bound her long golden hair into a ponytail, smiling gently as she caught sight of Celeborn’s resting form. She turned to look at him, noting the empty place at his side. “I shall return when you wake,” she promised her sleeping husband, marveling at how peaceful he seemed in post-coital dreams. The urge to curl up beside him was strong, but the whispers of panic as the wounded elf crossed the borders into the city were stronger.

With a last look she turned and exited their talan, leaving the one elf she needed to see to the care of those that needed her. As she set foot outside head sad swam as the whispers of Lorien returned and she cast a last longing look at her solace before turning to face Caras Galadhon.

Fin.