The Half Breeds
folder
-Multi-Age › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
14
Views:
3,522
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
14
Views:
3,522
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Half Breeds
Author: Bird
Title: Half Breed
Chapter: Prologue – A Nightrider
Pairings: Haldir/OFC, Legolas/OFC, Elladan/OFC/Elrohir/OFC, Thranduil/OFCs, Rumil and Orophin/OFCs...
Rating: NC-17 overall/ HET
Warnings: the warnings will be by chapter…in this one…sexuality and rude language
Disclaimer: I own the OCs … but not much else…Morwë is owned by Tolkien…
Summary: Haldir needs distraction. Legolas runs-away. The Twins are bored. Rumil and Orophin want to get laid. And the Avari want to be heard...
Notes: Hwenti – an Avarin word created by Tolkien. He had created six words, all derived from the primitive elvish word Kwendi “The People”. For the purposes of this story, I am using them as the titles of six individual tribes of the Avari, and not actual language groups.
Timeline: Post War of the Ring during the early-ish Forth Age (no exact date will be given)
Setting: Endore (otherwise known as Middle Earth, and basically the whole of Arda.) All places will be in their elvish names as this story is completely from Elven points-of-view.
Betas: Amy and Kath (the sweet dears putting up with my ADD and constantly changing mind…:P)
------------
Beware of the devil my child
Beware of his charming ways
You'll fall under an evil spell
Just looking at his beautiful face
(Build a Levee, N. Merchant)
------------
Moonlight filtered through the loosely sewn edges of the canvas tent, playing upon her lashes. She watched it, listening to the quiet movements of the ellon moving behind her. Clutching the thin blanket tightly against her naked chest, Carniwen turned to face her husband while he silently pulled on his breeches. With the silver light speckling his back, she traced with her eyes every defined muscle, hardened to rock from years of fighting and war. Every ridge and rise, she knew and could find with her eyes closed, rippled with his movement.
Feeling her eyes upon him, Morwë turned to face her with a sneer on his face. His gaze dissolved to smoldering as he recalled the events of just moments before. No matter what distrust and disloyalty they held between each other, she still responded to him the same way. That is why he kept her; why he returned to her bed night after night. She knew exactly what made his body scream with pleasure.
Even now, as he was preparing to leave, he felt his body respond to her sensuality. Light played in her auburn hair, casting a red tint to the moonlight reflecting off of her. He watched the slow rise of her breast beneath the blanket thin enough to allow her hardened nipples to be obvious. The filtered light accented every curve and muscle of her body, bouncing off of her pale skin.
Steeling himself against the desire that welled up within him, Morwë pulled on his under tunic, covering her view of the hard body he knew she could not deny.
Picking up his belt from off the tent floor, he slipped it through the loops of his sword’s sheath before buckling it around his waist. He pulled out the gleaming weapon, and admiring its beauty ran his thumb lightly across the blade in a test of its sharpness. Carniwen’s eyes followed the flashing edge to the tip, as the sword curved wickedly. She shut her eyes, knowing of the countless of lives that same weapon had taken over the course of millennia.
“I am leaving.” He stated matter-of-factly, pulling his boots on and lacing them.
Her eyes flashed open, full of fire. He could see the pain and anger that dwelt there, though her response was colder than ice.
“You always leave,” she calmly replied. “It shall be no different.”
Ignoring her tone, he shrugged into his outer robe that swept the floor, looping the buttons closed down the front from neck to waist. The color of light beige, it covered him from neck to wrist to foot, and hung loosely about him. She noticed that he’d not bound his hair, and it flowed in a sheet of jet to his waist like a shroud.
“I am going to Harad, and I do not know when I will return.”
She stood wrapping her blanket about her tighter and approached him. Standing so close, she could feel his hot breath against her, and he could feel hers. His whole being emanated heat, and it filled her own body with tingling warmth. Flooded with the moon’s light, his whole being lit up. All glowed except his eyes, where no light could enter and left dark bottomless abysses. Her face was shadowed by darkness though her eyes sparkled with fire, and she could see his mouth twitch with a repressed smirk.
“You always come back to me, despite how much you despise me,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing against her ear and sending shivers down her naked spine. Reaching up, he captured a curl spiraling down across her shoulder, allowing the tendril to wrap softly around his finger. This time when he spoke, he flicked his tongue out lightly tasting the edge of her ear, eliciting a small moan she could not repress. “You are my Hwenti whore. Mine, and mine alone.”
When he spoke, she pulled back from him with pure unadulterated hatred in her expression.
“You are returning to Harad to find him, are you not?” She questioned him, stilling the shudder he caused in her. Desire and rage threatened to overwhelm her, and she fought for control over her emotions.
Starting from one corner of his mouth, a smile crept cross his lips.
“Aye,” he whispered. Grabbing her wrist, he jerked her forward, crushing his lips to hers. Devouring her mouth, he left her completely ravished. After all these years, she was still completely delicious and left him with a delirious rush. How he would miss her. But he would return with Nurwë, and they would find her to be most useful in the changing times to come.
Pulling back from her, he was met again by her searing expression as if she wished to set him aflame. “My lady,” he chuckled. Giving her a mocking half bow, he backed out of the tent into the cool desert night air.
Outside stood his already prepared beast, saddled and bridled, waiting for his familiar weight on its back. The white creature snorted, the night air cooling its hot breath to wisps of ghostly shapes. Watching him with interest, it thrust its head forward, reaching out for him as he stood thoughtfully outside the door for a brief moment. Shaking its head disapprovingly at its master, the horse jingled the tiny silver beads threaded through its wavy mane glinting in the night. Other than the beads, the animal was undecorated.
Morwe stared unseeingly into the distance.
The sandy dunes basked in the glow of the moon, and the stars sparkled above. But the beauty of the night did not move him, as he steeled his resolve to take the next step.
Finally becoming aware of the horse’s soft noises, he moved next to it and murmured quietly to calm it. Gripping its withers and the reins with his left hand, he inserted his foot into the stirrup and threw his other leg over its back. He settled into the saddle, listening to the creaking of the leather beneath him.
Morwë was an awesome sight, glowing in the moonlight like some pale deliverer of death in his light robes and on his stunningly white mare. All but his eyes and hair glowed in the pale moonlight.
With one last heated glance at the tent, he reined his horse toward the west, pressing his heels firmly into the animal’s flanks. In a spurt of energy, the rider and horse flew into the night, his dark hair flapping behind him wildly.
Carniwen closed her eyes shutting out the light listening to his rapidly disappearing hoof beats in the distance. She could not be sure if she was relieved or frightened that he was gone, knowing that when he returned they would both be here.
Title: Half Breed
Chapter: Prologue – A Nightrider
Pairings: Haldir/OFC, Legolas/OFC, Elladan/OFC/Elrohir/OFC, Thranduil/OFCs, Rumil and Orophin/OFCs...
Rating: NC-17 overall/ HET
Warnings: the warnings will be by chapter…in this one…sexuality and rude language
Disclaimer: I own the OCs … but not much else…Morwë is owned by Tolkien…
Summary: Haldir needs distraction. Legolas runs-away. The Twins are bored. Rumil and Orophin want to get laid. And the Avari want to be heard...
Notes: Hwenti – an Avarin word created by Tolkien. He had created six words, all derived from the primitive elvish word Kwendi “The People”. For the purposes of this story, I am using them as the titles of six individual tribes of the Avari, and not actual language groups.
Timeline: Post War of the Ring during the early-ish Forth Age (no exact date will be given)
Setting: Endore (otherwise known as Middle Earth, and basically the whole of Arda.) All places will be in their elvish names as this story is completely from Elven points-of-view.
Betas: Amy and Kath (the sweet dears putting up with my ADD and constantly changing mind…:P)
Beware of the devil my child
Beware of his charming ways
You'll fall under an evil spell
Just looking at his beautiful face
(Build a Levee, N. Merchant)
------------
Moonlight filtered through the loosely sewn edges of the canvas tent, playing upon her lashes. She watched it, listening to the quiet movements of the ellon moving behind her. Clutching the thin blanket tightly against her naked chest, Carniwen turned to face her husband while he silently pulled on his breeches. With the silver light speckling his back, she traced with her eyes every defined muscle, hardened to rock from years of fighting and war. Every ridge and rise, she knew and could find with her eyes closed, rippled with his movement.
Feeling her eyes upon him, Morwë turned to face her with a sneer on his face. His gaze dissolved to smoldering as he recalled the events of just moments before. No matter what distrust and disloyalty they held between each other, she still responded to him the same way. That is why he kept her; why he returned to her bed night after night. She knew exactly what made his body scream with pleasure.
Even now, as he was preparing to leave, he felt his body respond to her sensuality. Light played in her auburn hair, casting a red tint to the moonlight reflecting off of her. He watched the slow rise of her breast beneath the blanket thin enough to allow her hardened nipples to be obvious. The filtered light accented every curve and muscle of her body, bouncing off of her pale skin.
Steeling himself against the desire that welled up within him, Morwë pulled on his under tunic, covering her view of the hard body he knew she could not deny.
Picking up his belt from off the tent floor, he slipped it through the loops of his sword’s sheath before buckling it around his waist. He pulled out the gleaming weapon, and admiring its beauty ran his thumb lightly across the blade in a test of its sharpness. Carniwen’s eyes followed the flashing edge to the tip, as the sword curved wickedly. She shut her eyes, knowing of the countless of lives that same weapon had taken over the course of millennia.
“I am leaving.” He stated matter-of-factly, pulling his boots on and lacing them.
Her eyes flashed open, full of fire. He could see the pain and anger that dwelt there, though her response was colder than ice.
“You always leave,” she calmly replied. “It shall be no different.”
Ignoring her tone, he shrugged into his outer robe that swept the floor, looping the buttons closed down the front from neck to waist. The color of light beige, it covered him from neck to wrist to foot, and hung loosely about him. She noticed that he’d not bound his hair, and it flowed in a sheet of jet to his waist like a shroud.
“I am going to Harad, and I do not know when I will return.”
She stood wrapping her blanket about her tighter and approached him. Standing so close, she could feel his hot breath against her, and he could feel hers. His whole being emanated heat, and it filled her own body with tingling warmth. Flooded with the moon’s light, his whole being lit up. All glowed except his eyes, where no light could enter and left dark bottomless abysses. Her face was shadowed by darkness though her eyes sparkled with fire, and she could see his mouth twitch with a repressed smirk.
“You always come back to me, despite how much you despise me,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing against her ear and sending shivers down her naked spine. Reaching up, he captured a curl spiraling down across her shoulder, allowing the tendril to wrap softly around his finger. This time when he spoke, he flicked his tongue out lightly tasting the edge of her ear, eliciting a small moan she could not repress. “You are my Hwenti whore. Mine, and mine alone.”
When he spoke, she pulled back from him with pure unadulterated hatred in her expression.
“You are returning to Harad to find him, are you not?” She questioned him, stilling the shudder he caused in her. Desire and rage threatened to overwhelm her, and she fought for control over her emotions.
Starting from one corner of his mouth, a smile crept cross his lips.
“Aye,” he whispered. Grabbing her wrist, he jerked her forward, crushing his lips to hers. Devouring her mouth, he left her completely ravished. After all these years, she was still completely delicious and left him with a delirious rush. How he would miss her. But he would return with Nurwë, and they would find her to be most useful in the changing times to come.
Pulling back from her, he was met again by her searing expression as if she wished to set him aflame. “My lady,” he chuckled. Giving her a mocking half bow, he backed out of the tent into the cool desert night air.
Outside stood his already prepared beast, saddled and bridled, waiting for his familiar weight on its back. The white creature snorted, the night air cooling its hot breath to wisps of ghostly shapes. Watching him with interest, it thrust its head forward, reaching out for him as he stood thoughtfully outside the door for a brief moment. Shaking its head disapprovingly at its master, the horse jingled the tiny silver beads threaded through its wavy mane glinting in the night. Other than the beads, the animal was undecorated.
Morwe stared unseeingly into the distance.
The sandy dunes basked in the glow of the moon, and the stars sparkled above. But the beauty of the night did not move him, as he steeled his resolve to take the next step.
Finally becoming aware of the horse’s soft noises, he moved next to it and murmured quietly to calm it. Gripping its withers and the reins with his left hand, he inserted his foot into the stirrup and threw his other leg over its back. He settled into the saddle, listening to the creaking of the leather beneath him.
Morwë was an awesome sight, glowing in the moonlight like some pale deliverer of death in his light robes and on his stunningly white mare. All but his eyes and hair glowed in the pale moonlight.
With one last heated glance at the tent, he reined his horse toward the west, pressing his heels firmly into the animal’s flanks. In a spurt of energy, the rider and horse flew into the night, his dark hair flapping behind him wildly.
Carniwen closed her eyes shutting out the light listening to his rapidly disappearing hoof beats in the distance. She could not be sure if she was relieved or frightened that he was gone, knowing that when he returned they would both be here.