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STORY TITLE: A HANDFUL OF LEAVES
CHAPTER TITLE: CHAPTER ONE: A VISIT TO HIMRING
RATING: NC-17
CHARACTERS: Celegorm, Curufin, Celebrimbor, Huan, Maedhros, OFC.
SUMMARY: (This chapter.) Celegorm, Curufin and Celebrimbor visit Maedhros at Himring. Celegorm is taken with a comely maidservent. (Whole story: This will be an AU tale of what happens when Lúthien decides to marry Celegorm, and they both rule Nargothrond.)
WARNINGS: This story contains graphic descriptions of HET sex.
CHAPTER ONE: A VISIT TO HIMRING
Through the bitter cold and windy pass rode the sons of Fëanor, Celegorm and Curufin, accompanied by Curufin’s son Celebrimbor, and Celegorm’s faithful hound Huan. They rode like demons, pushing back a band of Morgoth’s Orcs, preventing them from entering Himlad through the Pass of Aglon. When the foul creatures were routed, the three riders stopped and let the rest of their men chase the enemy back through the northern mountain range.
Celegorm leapt from his horse and took off his bright helm, whistling to Huan to cease the chase. The tall Elf’s thick braids were blown about by the wind, turning into whips lashing against his face. “Let us take shelter!” he called out to his brother and nephew. Pellets of rain turned to ice began to fall.
“Where?” cried Curufin in answer from atop his horse.
“Let us go to Maedhros in Himring,” replied Curufin, “and stay with him a while.” He grinned broadly at his brother.
“What causes Uncle to smile in such a way?” asked Celebrimbor of his father. “One would not expect his mood to be this good on such a dark, miserable day, even though we have rid the area of Orcs for at least a fortnight.”
“It must be a woman,” Curufin replied. “Let us ask him. What causes you to so eagerly seek shelter with brother Maedhros and smile so brightly when speaking of it?” asked Curufin of his brother.
“Ah. There is a lusty maid in his employ that I wish to take to my bed,” replied Celegorm. He put on his helm and remounted.
Curufin nodded to Celebrimbor and laughed. “See? I thought it might be a female”. His son smiled in response and turned his horse northward. All three then rode in haste to Maedhros’ hill-fort.
The citadel at Himring was a tall structure with a watch-tower, from which one could look out over the cold lands of this northern region. The hill upon which it stood was flat-topped and bereft of trees, and was surrounded by lower hills. Icy winds blew through this region and through the Pass of Aglon that Celegorm, Curufin and Celebrimbor guarded. Some of their men had returned to the Pass, and others to the banks of the Celon near Nan Elmoth, where Curufin made his home. Celegorm preferred to live near the Pass, and closer to the great forest of Doriath, although the brothers spent most of their time together.
Maedhros welcomed them into his vast, forlorn home. Inside, the fortress was for the most part chilly and drafty, but its living spaces were well-heated and appointed. The brothers and Celebrimbor were shown to their rooms where they could dress for dinner. Celegorm insisted that Huan be let inside the house and be taken to his room to be fed and groomed. When they had all freshened themselves, they joined their older brother in the dining hall for dinner.
Maedhros remained pale and thinner than normal since his ordeal on Thangorodrim, but he was a warrior of fierce pride, stronger than before despite his spectral appearance. Always tall, he was now willowy, yet with strength of steel, and could wield a deadly sword. Hair of an unusual dark red color fell about his shoulders unbound, framing a porcelain face of singular beauty. His grey-green eyes shone with a fiery, unholy white light, but the voice that issued from his elegantly sculpted lips was warm and friendly for his brothers and nephew, though he did not smile.
The visitors took their place at his table, and Celegorm cast his glance about the spacious room. Magnificent tapestries hung upon the grey stone walls, displaying heroic scenes of battle. The wall sconces holding brightly burning candles were of solid gold, gifts from wealthy brother Caranthir of Thargelion. The furniture was of sturdy oak, polished to a high shine, and many servants attended their master and his guests as they ate and conversed.
Celegorm noticed that there was one manservant who stayed by Maedhros’ side and waited on him with much solicitousness. If Maglor had been present, this would have been his chosen role. The second of Fëanor’s sons was fiercely protective of his older brother. But Maglor was not here, and the job of looking after Maedhros’ needs fell to this manservant, who was named Hollencil.
Celegorm’s glance settled upon the servant girl that he had been thinking about when they were in the Pass. She was carrying a stack of clean plates from the kitchen to place upon the dining room buffet cabinet when Celegorm caught her notice, and winked at her. She started, alarmed by the sudden attention from him.
He was magnificent, she thought. Never before had she seen such a striking Elf. To her he was even more appealing than her master, whose beauty was astounding, but more of an ethereal rather than virile nature. Celegorm, by contrast, was not quite as tall as Maedhros, but he bore the same lustrous hair, although of a different color, and it was heavily braided, whereas Maedhros wore his loose to cascade about him. Her fingers tingled when she imagined untying those braids. Perhaps she could gain permission to wait upon this particular brother of Master’s in his room later, and help him undress and get ready for bed. She blushed at the thought of lying with him, and her glance took in the shape of his body and his posture as he winked at her.
He sat with his legs spread apart. He had let his robes fall open so that they draped down the sides of his chair and pooled on the floor below him. His thighs were strong and beautifully-shaped, and were clothed in tight light-brown leggings that left very little to the imagination. One large hand was pressed upon one of his thighs in an unmistakably inviting gesture, even if she had missed the lascivious wink he had given her. Her glance rose again to his face, lingering for a moment upon his well-muscled, broad chest. His eyes were of a stunning shade of blue, and his white teeth gleamed at her from a wide mouth curved into an easy grin. The stack of plates clattered noisily onto the buffet surface as she set them down with unsteady hands.
Hollencil gave her an admonishing look, and at this time she decided to whisper her question to him, asking permission to be reassigned to the guest’s room, citing her clumsiness in handling the kitchen china. Permission was granted, and she left the dining room to hurry upstairs.
Celegorm looked disappointed when she left, and reluctantly turned his attention to the conversation among his brothers and nephew. They were discussing the renewed strength and aggression shown by Morgoth’s host in their recent assault.
“I worry that he may yet come at us with full force while we maintain our siege of his lands,” Maedhros was saying. “The present situation has continued for far too long. I have been discussing our positions of late with Uncle Nolofinwë and Findekáno. We think it wise to ready ourselves for a sudden onslaught.”
“We are with you, brother, in whatever you decide is best,” said Curufin, “and we shall continue to hold the Pass.” Celegorm became restless, since they were speaking of nothing new, and he was not in a mood tonight to discuss strategies. He yawned heavily, and since there was no comely maid in the room to entertain his lusty imagination, he excused himself.
“My apologies, brothers,” he said, “and to you too, Telperinquar. But I would like to retire early. I am cold and spent from the day’s chase and would like to crawl into a warm bed tonight.”
His brothers excused him, Curufin giving him a suspicious smile. He was sure that Celegorm would not be sleeping in his warm bed alone.
Celegorm entered his bedchamber, shutting the door quietly behind him. He was surprised that Huan did not rush to greet him right away, but was too tired to do more than shrug and he crossed the floor to the bed, sat down and removed his footwear and leggings. Wrapping his robe around his naked body, tying it closed with a cord, he moved to the dressing table and sat down with a sigh. Gazing at his reflection in the glass, he began to unravel his braids, his fingers working slowly to undo each tightly-plaited strand of hair.
Suddenly a voice from the bathroom called out cheerily, “May I help you do that, Sir?” And the maid from the dining hall stepped into view, followed by Huan.
Startled, Celegorm turned toward her, and a bright smile transformed his face. Huan bounded up to him, placing his large paws upon his master’s knees. “I see you’ve made a new friend, boy,” he murmured, ruffling the hound’s fur and burying his face in its neck in order to give it a sloppy kiss. He raised his head from his pet and asked, “May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”
“It is Lowen,” the maid said, dropping a curtsy.
“It is nice to meet you, Lowen,” said Celegorm. “May I ask why you are in my rooms?”
“I was transferred from the kitchen to serve as your chambermaid,” she replied, “where I thought my talents might be put to better use.”
Celegorm chuckled at her words. “Would you like to help me unplait my hair, Lowen?” he asked.
“Of course, Sir,” Lowen replied. “I shall be happy to help you with your hair, help you undress, and even help you bathe if you so desire.”
He raised an eyebrow at her bold speech. “I do desire all three,” he said with a smile. “Tell me. Are there any other services you are willing to provide?” He said this with a wicked grin.
“You only need but ask,” Lowen replied with a bow, and moved behind him. Her deft hands swiftly unwound his braids. She bent over his shoulder to remove a hairbrush from the table in front of him, and their eyes met in the reflecting glass. An unmistakable spark flew between them, and one of her hands that rested upon his muscled shoulder gave it a light squeeze. She began to brush his long hair, gently smoothing out the luxurious waves that fell down his back almost to his waist. She noticed that his scent was overtly male and musky. Her breathing quickened and her knees grew weak.
Huan yawned and went to curl up in a corner of the room hear the fire. It was warm and the diffused light from the wall-candles bathed everything in a golden glow.
“Your hair is beautiful, my lord,” Lowen remarked, her hands running through it as she brushed. He smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of her compliment. When his tresses were free of tangles and gleaming, she set the brush down on the table. “Would you like me to bathe you now, my lord?” she asked, licking her lips as she did so. She hoped she was not being too bold.
“I would indeed,” he replied, smiling and standing, towering over her. She grinned and walked toward the bathroom and he followed, admiring her form from behind.
Lowen was of medium height, and slender but shapely build. Her hair was a rich dark brown, falling in ringlets about her shoulders when she let it down, but she now wore it pinned up and back, allowing the ringlets to fall behind her neck, and her face was framed with bouncing curls. She wore a thin frock of pale blue silk that clung to the cleft of her bottom when she walked. Celegorm licked his lips as he followed her.
When they reached the bathtub, he could see that it was filled with water, and steam rose into the air in wispy tendrils of white. “It looks hot,” he said.
“I tested it earlier,” said Lowen, moving behind him and reaching to untie the cord that held his robe closed at his waist. When it fell open, she began to slide it from his shoulders. “It is not too hot. Quite pleasant, in fact,” she said cheerfully. She noticed with admiration the smooth muscles of his shoulders and back, the slender tapered waist, and the attractive swell of his buttocks. He stepped into the tub and sat down, the water rising to his waist. Lowen gathered his hair and tied it behind his head with a satin ribbon, letting it fall outside the tub, and easing his head back against the rim.
“I am assuming that you do not wish your hair to be washed tonight,” she said.
“You assumed correctly,” he said. “You may leave that chore until later.”
“Later, my lord?” she asked, raising a slender eyebrow.
“May I assume that you will stay with me awhile after my bath?” he asked.
“As you wish, my lord,” she replied, a small smile upon her lips. “Do you wish me to assist you in washing now?”
“Yes, I would love that,” said Celegorm, and handed her a vial of liquid soap. “Try this one. It is lavender, my favorite scent.”
“Very well, my lord,” she said, and knelt down beside him. She poured some of the fragrant liquid into her hand and began to rub it onto his chest and shoulders. He moaned softly as she massaged it into his skin, and then used a sponge to rinse it off with the warm water. The sweet scent of lavender filled the air with its relaxing aroma. Lowen continued to apply her sponge to the part of his body that appeared above the water, until he was clean, and then she stood and picked up a towel from a rack beside the tub. She held it open for him. “Would you like to get out now, Sir?” she asked.
He obliged, stepping boldly from the tub without trying to cover himself. Lowen caught herself before she gasped, so struck was she by his naked beauty. She wrapped the towel around his hard, virile form. Her hands were trembling. She was not sure she would be able to control herself much longer, and a flush rose in her cheeks.
The change in her demeanor was not lost on Celegorm. She had kept her self-control very well until now, but he knew the effect the sight of his naked form had upon women. Very few could resist him. He felt it was time to make an overt move toward Lowen, and he did not think that she would mind. He crossed to his bed and sat down upon the edge. “Lowen,” he asked softly. “Would you please bring a fresh towel and help me dry myself?”
Lowen took another towel from the rack, and with hasty steps, approached the bed. Her lusty eyes took in Celegorm’s magnificent form. He sat with his towel draped across his lap, and beads of water collected upon his muscular chest and back, droplets coursing down his shapely legs to the floor. She sat beside him and began to dry him with the towel she had brought with her. He threw his head back and sighed.
Celegorm enjoyed the feel of Lowen’s skilled hands rubbing over his shoulders, back and chest, and after letting her dry him for a few minutes, he turned his face suddenly toward her and sought her lips with his. After the brief kiss, he looked at her closely. “Would you let me make love to you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered, leaning against his shoulder.
“Come and sit on my lap,” he invited her, placing an arm around her back, and pulling her onto his knees. As he did so, his lap-towel slipped off of one leg, and she put her hand upon his bare skin for balance. He hissed at the touch, his breath a hot breeze against her throat.
She gasped to feel the heat of him. His skin under her hand was silky-smooth but hard as steel. She could feel lascivious warmth grow from her belly to her loins.
“Let me help you remove this,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper, and he began to tug at her dress, pulling it up above her waist. The backs of her soft bare legs caressed his thighs. She raised her arms and he slid the garment off the rest of the way, stopping when it was thrown to the floor to rub his hands down both of her arms and legs. His breathing grew ragged.
She stared hard at the rugged beauty of his face. His eyes were glazed with lust, softening his features, and his lips parted. He enveloped her in his strong arms, and placing one hand beneath her bottom, he stood, lifting her with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and his towel fell to the ground. He kissed her with his fierce lips pressed hard to hers, one hand wound in her hair. He pulled off the tie holding her ringlets and let them fall about her shoulders. Turning in a circle with his hand cupped around her buttocks, he engaged her in a passionate kiss, thrusting his tongue between her parted lips to seek the soft velvet surface of her own.
He laid her down gently upon the pillows piled at the head of the bed. She looked up to see him standing over her, his hair cascading to his waist in shining waves, the muscles of his body looking rippled in the golden candlelight. She lowered her gaze to his belly, and gasped to see his generous hardness protruding from between his loins. Bending low, he removed the flimsy scraps of her underwear, tossing them to the floor, and then he climbed onto the bed beside her.
Her loins ached for him. He lay next to her for a moment, and traced a finger along the curve of her neck, down one arm, and then to her belly and hip. She shivered beneath his gentle touches. His eyes feasted upon her slender shape, her small, firm breasts and the raised points of her nipples. He lowered his head to one breast, and took the small, hard nub into his mouth. She emitted a low squeal of pleasure as he sucked it, and turned her body toward his, aching to feel his arousal against her thighs. She caressed his smooth, silken hair while he played with her nipple, circling it with his tongue before taking it into his mouth again.
When he finished and raised his head, he turned and lay on his back beside her. His erection pointed straight into the air, and he looked at her. “Have you ever—“ he began to ask, but before he could continue, she had lowered her head, and placing one hand around the base, and the other upon his thigh, pressed her lips upon the glistening head and slid her fingers up his shaft. Her tongue flickered over the satiny smoothness of his skin, from the tip and down his shaft to the silken softness below.
He moaned sharply when he felt the warmth of her mouth envelop him. His hands sought the slender curve of her back and bottom while her talented mouth and tongue worked him into a frenzy of passion. “Stop,” he cried, his voice a whisper. He put his hands in her hair and gently pulled her upward. He gathered her into his arms and lay beside her, facing her. He kissed her again, his lips full and soft, and pulled her hips against his groin, his length sliding between her thighs. She put a hand down to touch it, grasping it with her fingers, feeling its warm rigidity, missing the taste of it in her mouth. She began to slither down his body that she might lick its sweetness again, but he said, “No,” in a hoarse voice. He pulled her up to look at him. “Will you let me make love to you?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
He pulled her beneath him, rolling over top of her, and raised his body on his hands to hover above hers. He positioned himself so that his member dangled just above her pubic mound, and he reached for a vial of oil upon his bedstand. He slicked some of the viscous substance onto his hand, and she parted her thighs for him. While he smoothed the oil into her soft folds and cleft, she felt herself throb beneath him. He offered her the vial, and she spread some of the oil eagerly onto her own hand, and took his length in it, oiling his member, relishing the sensation of its slick hardness against her fingers. She guided it into her opening, crying out as he entered her.
He was gentle, letting his hardness lie within her a moment before he started to pump. She moaned and writhed beneath him, wishing that he would thrust harder and push her against the headboard. Her hips bucked beneath him. Spurred on by her passion, he began to plunge into her more fiercely, driving his shaft home to the rhythm of her squeals, joining his voice to hers in a series of lusty groans. Her fingernails left a trail of red marks upon his trembling back.
Suddenly he came, spending his seed with a great thrust, plunging into her warm depths. She cried out his name and shuddered happily under his warm, enveloping embrace. They lay together afterward, she stroking his hair, with his handsome head resting against her breast.
When he had fallen asleep, Lowen pulled the covers over him, climbed out of his bed, and went to gather her clothes. Huan stirred in the corner, raising his huge head to stare at her with dark, liquid eyes. “Shh…”, she admonished, a finger to her lips. “I cannot stay,” she whispered to the hound. “I have chores to do.” She dressed hurriedly and then went to lay an affectionate hand upon Huan’s great head. He wagged his tail happily. “If you could talk,” she said, “you could tell your most beautiful master that I shall always be here for him whenever he visits Himring. He has both ferocity and softness about him, and that intrigues me.”
She then laid a kiss upon the top of the hound’s head, and tiptoed to the door, where she let herself out quietly, the door closing with a soft click behind her.
TBC
STORY TITLE: A HANDFUL OF LEAVES
CHAPTER TITLE: CHAPTER ONE: A VISIT TO HIMRING
RATING: NC-17
CHARACTERS: Celegorm, Curufin, Celebrimbor, Huan, Maedhros, OFC.
SUMMARY: (This chapter.) Celegorm, Curufin and Celebrimbor visit Maedhros at Himring. Celegorm is taken with a comely maidservent. (Whole story: This will be an AU tale of what happens when Lúthien decides to marry Celegorm, and they both rule Nargothrond.)
WARNINGS: This story contains graphic descriptions of HET sex.
CHAPTER ONE: A VISIT TO HIMRING
Through the bitter cold and windy pass rode the sons of Fëanor, Celegorm and Curufin, accompanied by Curufin’s son Celebrimbor, and Celegorm’s faithful hound Huan. They rode like demons, pushing back a band of Morgoth’s Orcs, preventing them from entering Himlad through the Pass of Aglon. When the foul creatures were routed, the three riders stopped and let the rest of their men chase the enemy back through the northern mountain range.
Celegorm leapt from his horse and took off his bright helm, whistling to Huan to cease the chase. The tall Elf’s thick braids were blown about by the wind, turning into whips lashing against his face. “Let us take shelter!” he called out to his brother and nephew. Pellets of rain turned to ice began to fall.
“Where?” cried Curufin in answer from atop his horse.
“Let us go to Maedhros in Himring,” replied Curufin, “and stay with him a while.” He grinned broadly at his brother.
“What causes Uncle to smile in such a way?” asked Celebrimbor of his father. “One would not expect his mood to be this good on such a dark, miserable day, even though we have rid the area of Orcs for at least a fortnight.”
“It must be a woman,” Curufin replied. “Let us ask him. What causes you to so eagerly seek shelter with brother Maedhros and smile so brightly when speaking of it?” asked Curufin of his brother.
“Ah. There is a lusty maid in his employ that I wish to take to my bed,” replied Celegorm. He put on his helm and remounted.
Curufin nodded to Celebrimbor and laughed. “See? I thought it might be a female”. His son smiled in response and turned his horse northward. All three then rode in haste to Maedhros’ hill-fort.
The citadel at Himring was a tall structure with a watch-tower, from which one could look out over the cold lands of this northern region. The hill upon which it stood was flat-topped and bereft of trees, and was surrounded by lower hills. Icy winds blew through this region and through the Pass of Aglon that Celegorm, Curufin and Celebrimbor guarded. Some of their men had returned to the Pass, and others to the banks of the Celon near Nan Elmoth, where Curufin made his home. Celegorm preferred to live near the Pass, and closer to the great forest of Doriath, although the brothers spent most of their time together.
Maedhros welcomed them into his vast, forlorn home. Inside, the fortress was for the most part chilly and drafty, but its living spaces were well-heated and appointed. The brothers and Celebrimbor were shown to their rooms where they could dress for dinner. Celegorm insisted that Huan be let inside the house and be taken to his room to be fed and groomed. When they had all freshened themselves, they joined their older brother in the dining hall for dinner.
Maedhros remained pale and thinner than normal since his ordeal on Thangorodrim, but he was a warrior of fierce pride, stronger than before despite his spectral appearance. Always tall, he was now willowy, yet with strength of steel, and could wield a deadly sword. Hair of an unusual dark red color fell about his shoulders unbound, framing a porcelain face of singular beauty. His grey-green eyes shone with a fiery, unholy white light, but the voice that issued from his elegantly sculpted lips was warm and friendly for his brothers and nephew, though he did not smile.
The visitors took their place at his table, and Celegorm cast his glance about the spacious room. Magnificent tapestries hung upon the grey stone walls, displaying heroic scenes of battle. The wall sconces holding brightly burning candles were of solid gold, gifts from wealthy brother Caranthir of Thargelion. The furniture was of sturdy oak, polished to a high shine, and many servants attended their master and his guests as they ate and conversed.
Celegorm noticed that there was one manservant who stayed by Maedhros’ side and waited on him with much solicitousness. If Maglor had been present, this would have been his chosen role. The second of Fëanor’s sons was fiercely protective of his older brother. But Maglor was not here, and the job of looking after Maedhros’ needs fell to this manservant, who was named Hollencil.
Celegorm’s glance settled upon the servant girl that he had been thinking about when they were in the Pass. She was carrying a stack of clean plates from the kitchen to place upon the dining room buffet cabinet when Celegorm caught her notice, and winked at her. She started, alarmed by the sudden attention from him.
He was magnificent, she thought. Never before had she seen such a striking Elf. To her he was even more appealing than her master, whose beauty was astounding, but more of an ethereal rather than virile nature. Celegorm, by contrast, was not quite as tall as Maedhros, but he bore the same lustrous hair, although of a different color, and it was heavily braided, whereas Maedhros wore his loose to cascade about him. Her fingers tingled when she imagined untying those braids. Perhaps she could gain permission to wait upon this particular brother of Master’s in his room later, and help him undress and get ready for bed. She blushed at the thought of lying with him, and her glance took in the shape of his body and his posture as he winked at her.
He sat with his legs spread apart. He had let his robes fall open so that they draped down the sides of his chair and pooled on the floor below him. His thighs were strong and beautifully-shaped, and were clothed in tight light-brown leggings that left very little to the imagination. One large hand was pressed upon one of his thighs in an unmistakably inviting gesture, even if she had missed the lascivious wink he had given her. Her glance rose again to his face, lingering for a moment upon his well-muscled, broad chest. His eyes were of a stunning shade of blue, and his white teeth gleamed at her from a wide mouth curved into an easy grin. The stack of plates clattered noisily onto the buffet surface as she set them down with unsteady hands.
Hollencil gave her an admonishing look, and at this time she decided to whisper her question to him, asking permission to be reassigned to the guest’s room, citing her clumsiness in handling the kitchen china. Permission was granted, and she left the dining room to hurry upstairs.
Celegorm looked disappointed when she left, and reluctantly turned his attention to the conversation among his brothers and nephew. They were discussing the renewed strength and aggression shown by Morgoth’s host in their recent assault.
“I worry that he may yet come at us with full force while we maintain our siege of his lands,” Maedhros was saying. “The present situation has continued for far too long. I have been discussing our positions of late with Uncle Nolofinwë and Findekáno. We think it wise to ready ourselves for a sudden onslaught.”
“We are with you, brother, in whatever you decide is best,” said Curufin, “and we shall continue to hold the Pass.” Celegorm became restless, since they were speaking of nothing new, and he was not in a mood tonight to discuss strategies. He yawned heavily, and since there was no comely maid in the room to entertain his lusty imagination, he excused himself.
“My apologies, brothers,” he said, “and to you too, Telperinquar. But I would like to retire early. I am cold and spent from the day’s chase and would like to crawl into a warm bed tonight.”
His brothers excused him, Curufin giving him a suspicious smile. He was sure that Celegorm would not be sleeping in his warm bed alone.
Celegorm entered his bedchamber, shutting the door quietly behind him. He was surprised that Huan did not rush to greet him right away, but was too tired to do more than shrug and he crossed the floor to the bed, sat down and removed his footwear and leggings. Wrapping his robe around his naked body, tying it closed with a cord, he moved to the dressing table and sat down with a sigh. Gazing at his reflection in the glass, he began to unravel his braids, his fingers working slowly to undo each tightly-plaited strand of hair.
Suddenly a voice from the bathroom called out cheerily, “May I help you do that, Sir?” And the maid from the dining hall stepped into view, followed by Huan.
Startled, Celegorm turned toward her, and a bright smile transformed his face. Huan bounded up to him, placing his large paws upon his master’s knees. “I see you’ve made a new friend, boy,” he murmured, ruffling the hound’s fur and burying his face in its neck in order to give it a sloppy kiss. He raised his head from his pet and asked, “May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”
“It is Lowen,” the maid said, dropping a curtsy.
“It is nice to meet you, Lowen,” said Celegorm. “May I ask why you are in my rooms?”
“I was transferred from the kitchen to serve as your chambermaid,” she replied, “where I thought my talents might be put to better use.”
Celegorm chuckled at her words. “Would you like to help me unplait my hair, Lowen?” he asked.
“Of course, Sir,” Lowen replied. “I shall be happy to help you with your hair, help you undress, and even help you bathe if you so desire.”
He raised an eyebrow at her bold speech. “I do desire all three,” he said with a smile. “Tell me. Are there any other services you are willing to provide?” He said this with a wicked grin.
“You only need but ask,” Lowen replied with a bow, and moved behind him. Her deft hands swiftly unwound his braids. She bent over his shoulder to remove a hairbrush from the table in front of him, and their eyes met in the reflecting glass. An unmistakable spark flew between them, and one of her hands that rested upon his muscled shoulder gave it a light squeeze. She began to brush his long hair, gently smoothing out the luxurious waves that fell down his back almost to his waist. She noticed that his scent was overtly male and musky. Her breathing quickened and her knees grew weak.
Huan yawned and went to curl up in a corner of the room hear the fire. It was warm and the diffused light from the wall-candles bathed everything in a golden glow.
“Your hair is beautiful, my lord,” Lowen remarked, her hands running through it as she brushed. He smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of her compliment. When his tresses were free of tangles and gleaming, she set the brush down on the table. “Would you like me to bathe you now, my lord?” she asked, licking her lips as she did so. She hoped she was not being too bold.
“I would indeed,” he replied, smiling and standing, towering over her. She grinned and walked toward the bathroom and he followed, admiring her form from behind.
Lowen was of medium height, and slender but shapely build. Her hair was a rich dark brown, falling in ringlets about her shoulders when she let it down, but she now wore it pinned up and back, allowing the ringlets to fall behind her neck, and her face was framed with bouncing curls. She wore a thin frock of pale blue silk that clung to the cleft of her bottom when she walked. Celegorm licked his lips as he followed her.
When they reached the bathtub, he could see that it was filled with water, and steam rose into the air in wispy tendrils of white. “It looks hot,” he said.
“I tested it earlier,” said Lowen, moving behind him and reaching to untie the cord that held his robe closed at his waist. When it fell open, she began to slide it from his shoulders. “It is not too hot. Quite pleasant, in fact,” she said cheerfully. She noticed with admiration the smooth muscles of his shoulders and back, the slender tapered waist, and the attractive swell of his buttocks. He stepped into the tub and sat down, the water rising to his waist. Lowen gathered his hair and tied it behind his head with a satin ribbon, letting it fall outside the tub, and easing his head back against the rim.
“I am assuming that you do not wish your hair to be washed tonight,” she said.
“You assumed correctly,” he said. “You may leave that chore until later.”
“Later, my lord?” she asked, raising a slender eyebrow.
“May I assume that you will stay with me awhile after my bath?” he asked.
“As you wish, my lord,” she replied, a small smile upon her lips. “Do you wish me to assist you in washing now?”
“Yes, I would love that,” said Celegorm, and handed her a vial of liquid soap. “Try this one. It is lavender, my favorite scent.”
“Very well, my lord,” she said, and knelt down beside him. She poured some of the fragrant liquid into her hand and began to rub it onto his chest and shoulders. He moaned softly as she massaged it into his skin, and then used a sponge to rinse it off with the warm water. The sweet scent of lavender filled the air with its relaxing aroma. Lowen continued to apply her sponge to the part of his body that appeared above the water, until he was clean, and then she stood and picked up a towel from a rack beside the tub. She held it open for him. “Would you like to get out now, Sir?” she asked.
He obliged, stepping boldly from the tub without trying to cover himself. Lowen caught herself before she gasped, so struck was she by his naked beauty. She wrapped the towel around his hard, virile form. Her hands were trembling. She was not sure she would be able to control herself much longer, and a flush rose in her cheeks.
The change in her demeanor was not lost on Celegorm. She had kept her self-control very well until now, but he knew the effect the sight of his naked form had upon women. Very few could resist him. He felt it was time to make an overt move toward Lowen, and he did not think that she would mind. He crossed to his bed and sat down upon the edge. “Lowen,” he asked softly. “Would you please bring a fresh towel and help me dry myself?”
Lowen took another towel from the rack, and with hasty steps, approached the bed. Her lusty eyes took in Celegorm’s magnificent form. He sat with his towel draped across his lap, and beads of water collected upon his muscular chest and back, droplets coursing down his shapely legs to the floor. She sat beside him and began to dry him with the towel she had brought with her. He threw his head back and sighed.
Celegorm enjoyed the feel of Lowen’s skilled hands rubbing over his shoulders, back and chest, and after letting her dry him for a few minutes, he turned his face suddenly toward her and sought her lips with his. After the brief kiss, he looked at her closely. “Would you let me make love to you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered, leaning against his shoulder.
“Come and sit on my lap,” he invited her, placing an arm around her back, and pulling her onto his knees. As he did so, his lap-towel slipped off of one leg, and she put her hand upon his bare skin for balance. He hissed at the touch, his breath a hot breeze against her throat.
She gasped to feel the heat of him. His skin under her hand was silky-smooth but hard as steel. She could feel lascivious warmth grow from her belly to her loins.
“Let me help you remove this,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper, and he began to tug at her dress, pulling it up above her waist. The backs of her soft bare legs caressed his thighs. She raised her arms and he slid the garment off the rest of the way, stopping when it was thrown to the floor to rub his hands down both of her arms and legs. His breathing grew ragged.
She stared hard at the rugged beauty of his face. His eyes were glazed with lust, softening his features, and his lips parted. He enveloped her in his strong arms, and placing one hand beneath her bottom, he stood, lifting her with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and his towel fell to the ground. He kissed her with his fierce lips pressed hard to hers, one hand wound in her hair. He pulled off the tie holding her ringlets and let them fall about her shoulders. Turning in a circle with his hand cupped around her buttocks, he engaged her in a passionate kiss, thrusting his tongue between her parted lips to seek the soft velvet surface of her own.
He laid her down gently upon the pillows piled at the head of the bed. She looked up to see him standing over her, his hair cascading to his waist in shining waves, the muscles of his body looking rippled in the golden candlelight. She lowered her gaze to his belly, and gasped to see his generous hardness protruding from between his loins. Bending low, he removed the flimsy scraps of her underwear, tossing them to the floor, and then he climbed onto the bed beside her.
Her loins ached for him. He lay next to her for a moment, and traced a finger along the curve of her neck, down one arm, and then to her belly and hip. She shivered beneath his gentle touches. His eyes feasted upon her slender shape, her small, firm breasts and the raised points of her nipples. He lowered his head to one breast, and took the small, hard nub into his mouth. She emitted a low squeal of pleasure as he sucked it, and turned her body toward his, aching to feel his arousal against her thighs. She caressed his smooth, silken hair while he played with her nipple, circling it with his tongue before taking it into his mouth again.
When he finished and raised his head, he turned and lay on his back beside her. His erection pointed straight into the air, and he looked at her. “Have you ever—“ he began to ask, but before he could continue, she had lowered her head, and placing one hand around the base, and the other upon his thigh, pressed her lips upon the glistening head and slid her fingers up his shaft. Her tongue flickered over the satiny smoothness of his skin, from the tip and down his shaft to the silken softness below.
He moaned sharply when he felt the warmth of her mouth envelop him. His hands sought the slender curve of her back and bottom while her talented mouth and tongue worked him into a frenzy of passion. “Stop,” he cried, his voice a whisper. He put his hands in her hair and gently pulled her upward. He gathered her into his arms and lay beside her, facing her. He kissed her again, his lips full and soft, and pulled her hips against his groin, his length sliding between her thighs. She put a hand down to touch it, grasping it with her fingers, feeling its warm rigidity, missing the taste of it in her mouth. She began to slither down his body that she might lick its sweetness again, but he said, “No,” in a hoarse voice. He pulled her up to look at him. “Will you let me make love to you?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
He pulled her beneath him, rolling over top of her, and raised his body on his hands to hover above hers. He positioned himself so that his member dangled just above her pubic mound, and he reached for a vial of oil upon his bedstand. He slicked some of the viscous substance onto his hand, and she parted her thighs for him. While he smoothed the oil into her soft folds and cleft, she felt herself throb beneath him. He offered her the vial, and she spread some of the oil eagerly onto her own hand, and took his length in it, oiling his member, relishing the sensation of its slick hardness against her fingers. She guided it into her opening, crying out as he entered her.
He was gentle, letting his hardness lie within her a moment before he started to pump. She moaned and writhed beneath him, wishing that he would thrust harder and push her against the headboard. Her hips bucked beneath him. Spurred on by her passion, he began to plunge into her more fiercely, driving his shaft home to the rhythm of her squeals, joining his voice to hers in a series of lusty groans. Her fingernails left a trail of red marks upon his trembling back.
Suddenly he came, spending his seed with a great thrust, plunging into her warm depths. She cried out his name and shuddered happily under his warm, enveloping embrace. They lay together afterward, she stroking his hair, with his handsome head resting against her breast.
When he had fallen asleep, Lowen pulled the covers over him, climbed out of his bed, and went to gather her clothes. Huan stirred in the corner, raising his huge head to stare at her with dark, liquid eyes. “Shh…”, she admonished, a finger to her lips. “I cannot stay,” she whispered to the hound. “I have chores to do.” She dressed hurriedly and then went to lay an affectionate hand upon Huan’s great head. He wagged his tail happily. “If you could talk,” she said, “you could tell your most beautiful master that I shall always be here for him whenever he visits Himring. He has both ferocity and softness about him, and that intrigues me.”
She then laid a kiss upon the top of the hound’s head, and tiptoed to the door, where she let herself out quietly, the door closing with a soft click behind her.
TBC
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