There is an extradorinary amount of filthy, dirty sex in this chapter. Even Guy and Gen haven’t experienced this.

Well they have, I’ve just not written it.

You’ve been warned.

The  Vessel

Chapter 15

Because, I am the King, dammit – or – A Dentist’s Wet Dream




Clowns to the left of me

Jokers to the right

Here I am

Stuck in the Middle with you…


“…pretty March Warden…”

Haldir’s head jerked up, his eyes narrowed in undisguised fury at the Elf-Lord who dared to say those words. Not that he had to really look to see who it was; he knew. Only one Elf would have the gall, the audacity to call him ‘pretty’ to his face in front of a crowd.


He stood, arrogance personified in hand-tooled green padded leather, long white-blonde hair braided in the style favored by the Mirkwood Elves, completely behind him. Tall, powerful, born to rule.

Born to be bad.

In the simple words of Bronwyn; A complete and total jack ass.

“Mae Govannen, Thranduil. Too long has it been since we have shared a common goal with our Woodland kin. It does my heart good to see you alive and well.” Galadriel had dismounted from her palfrey and strode up to him, effectively putting herself between him and Haldir. Celeborn joined her, after grinning at Haldir. His wife was good!

“Galadriel. Celeborn.” The words and tone were clipped, short. “I trust your losses were not great.” He did not take the hint, and stepped between them to stand over Haldir and Bronwyn.

Bronwyn had come to and rolled over on her side, her back to the Mirkwood King. Large brown eyes begged Haldir to protect her from the owner of the voice. She felt vulnerable, weak and did not wish to battle words with this one at this time. Her hand reached out in search.

“…guitar…” It was whispered

“It is safe, Baraermin. Rumil has it.”

Which in truth he did, his brother was caressing the worn wood and strings. He had never seen the like of it, but could feel the song longing to escape, a song he knew only Bronwyn could coax from it.

“Even the loss of one Elf is great, Thranduil. You know that.” Celeborn’s voice was not the jovial tone that Bronwyn knew and loved so well. She could feel the heat of the Mirkwood King’s body at her back. “We have lost many this day, many I knew and loved well, as I am sure you have as well.”

Haldir was helping Bronwyn to her feet. He recognized the meaning of the grim, white line her mouth had become and his mind worked feverishly on how to haul her out quickly without overly offending the self-centered Elf-Lord behind her. But then, he decided on a different plan. He pressed his lips to her ear and turned her to face the group and Thranduil, encasing her in his arms.

“Aye. Too many good Elves and Elleths lost their lives in this debacle.” He glanced at the ruins of Dol Guldur. “Perhaps, this will be the end of it.” He looked at Haldir and Bronwyn. “This, I take it, is your ‘seer’? What was it Lialidrul said you called her, Haldir… Baraermin?” His fingers grabbed at her chin and he was secretly amused at the scornful way she looked at him, thinking she was safe in the March Warden’s arms. Apparently she thought the pretty Elf’s embrace would be all she needed to protect her. She would learn.

“Her name is Bronwyn. You may call her that.” Haldir was seething that the King would have the gall to lay hands on her, but he knew what was coming. He strained to keep his hands from yanking at his grimy, gore-encrusted braid.

Bronwyn was of equal mind-set. His touch made her feel dirty, fouled and it took all of what little self discipline she possessed to not jerk her chin away. She awaited her body’s normal function to enact itself. She used the time to inspect him back. She could see Legolas in the eyes, the facial planes, the look. But that was where the similarities ended. Where Legolas’ gaze was kind, open, and friendly, Thranduil’s was hostile, calculating, and suspicious. Where Legolas was quick to smile and a smile that reached his eyes, his father apparently did not smile often and when he did, it was the grin of a ferret.

Thranduil turned her chin back and forth, inspecting her like a prize brood mare.

“Nay. That is too much to say. I would call you…pet!”

Bronwyn smiled.

And immediately threw up at and on Thranduil’s feet. Haldir held her up, while Thranduil jumped back in disgust. It was quiet in the clearing while she heaved. All of the Lothlórien Elves had a difficult time keeping a straight face as they knew her reaction to battle. The Mirkwood Elves were…less forgiving. Rumil, Orophin, and Heridil had moved quickly behind the trees to smother their giggles. She inelegantly wiped her mouth across her arm and smirked at Thranduil.

“My apologies.”

Even Thranduil could see her repentance was insincere. He leaned and hissed to Celeborn. “You have not taught her better manners than that?” Celeborn put his hands out in complete hopelessness.

“She is Haldir’s responsibility. He finds her amusing this way. Besides, as he and I told your emissary, she is no pet. She is her own person.”

Thranduil scowled and turned away from Haldir and Bronwyn, wiping his boots in the grass. “I suppose the mereth is on me?”

Galadriel smiled sweetly. “Thranduil! We did not expect repayment of any kind. But your offer of a mereth is generous. I suggest we wait seven days in order to allow all of us time to send the soul’s of our dead to the Halls of Waiting and to allow our wounded time to recuperate.” She turned to Bronwyn and Haldir. “I would not want any of our people – yours or ours – to miss such a good time due to exhaustion or injury. After all, it is because of their sacrifice and determination that we have any reason to celebrate.”

Celeborn and Thranduil continued to talk, while Galadriel approached Haldir. Bronwyn had turned around and was leaning against him, almost in a trance, with her eyes closed. Her breathing was shallow.

“How badly is she injured, Haldir?”

Haldir’s arms encased her in a protective embrace. Her head was tucked under his chin and Galadriel heard him murmur a sleep spell in her ear. Bronwyn completely melted into his embrace and he lifted her into his arms.

“She is exhausted, mentally and physically. I truly hope what I saw in the library was the total extent of her powers. I cannot imagine them being any more potent than the destruction to the living thing I witnessed, regardless of its evilness.” In a low voice, he described to Galadriel the battle and gruesome death of Smut the Dragon. “I was aware that constant use of stunning adversaries was wearing and exhausting to her, but this seems to become a complete overload on her senses and her body. If she were forced to use this weapon in a situation and I nor any ally could help her afterwards, she would be an open target for anyone or anything that came.” He pondered deeply for a moment. “My Lady, she needs total rest. There is a place, an abandoned farm, we stayed for several days and I would like to take her there. We will be well protected and…”

“You will get the privacy you desire without your brothers or friends or even my husband or myself barging in on your newfound happiness or…what IS that delightful phrase she uses?…”

“Uhm…shagging like randy teenagers?” Haldir had the decency to blush. Galadriel smiled.

“Yes. I do believe that was it.” She ducked her head in closer to Haldir and whispered in a conspiratory way. “What exactly does that mean?”

Haldir’s blush deepened. “I…uh… think it means to …uh… join with alarming frequency.”

Her head reared back and she laughed deeply, bringing Thranduil and Celeborn, not to mention everyone else not paying attention to the conversation, to stop what they were doing and look at the unlikely threesome. Galadriel went to her husband and after a few exchanged words with Celeborn and Thranduil, had a large destrier brought to Haldir.

“You cannot carry her such a long way.” Haldir handed her to his brother Rumil, while he mounted the skittish animal. A few pats and well-placed words in its ear brought it to reign. Rumil handed Bronwyn up and Haldir settled her so she faced him, her head on his shoulder and her legs slung across his thighs, still sleeping. Rumil also handed up the guitar and his older brother slung it across his back by its strap. He prayed they would not be attacked between here and there leaving the possibility of the beautiful instrument to be damaged in the battle.

“If you do not mind, we will leave the two of you alone until time for the mereth. We will send your brothers and Heridil to fetch you in time. Shall we pack a few things for you for your arrival at Thranduil’s fortress?”

Haldir whispered directions to Rumil and nodded to Galadriel. “You would know what she would like brought, better than I or my brothers. Rumil will know what it is that I will need.” He bowed and brought his hand to his heart, acknowledging both Galadriel and Celeborn, before turning the horse with the grace and beauty of one who sat well on a horse many times. He pointedly ignored Thranduil.

It did not go unnoticed.


I found love

When I found you

When I look in your eyes

I know that it’s true….


The journey on horseback took a little over a day. Haldir found a narrow, shallow spot to cross the Anduin and found the little hovel easily enough. It was still abandoned, still ram-shackle and he could still faintly detect the smell of sex in the dusty room. The hay was now totally inedible, but there was grass growing in a moderately sized paddock and Haldir turned the horse loose there, after rubbing him down with some of the less moldy hay.

He carried Bronwyn inside and laid her on the pile of furs. He scavenged the rooms – there were three – for anything and found a small pot, a spit, several glass jars of preserved and salted vegetables, and what appeared to be a large cooking pot. Using water from the rain barrel, he heated some and stripping Bronwyn down to nothing, he carried her to the rickety table, bathed her and washed her hair. And he talked to himself, quite a bit while doing it.

“This is becoming habit, Baraermin. I believe I bathe you more than you bathe yourself!” Had she been awake, she would have been surprised to hear him whistle quietly to the walls while intent on his task. Mostly he whistled jazz tunes with amazing riffs – his favorite being “All of Me”. He treated and handled her with infinite care. Before he bathed her, he had taken the furs out to the fence and had let them air. They still smelled profusely of their sexual encounters from weeks before. While her hair dripped in a puddle on the dirt floor, he brought the large pelts back in from the fence and placed them away from the fireplace. The weather was now warm and he planned to use the fireplace for cooking. When her hair finished dripping, he wrapped her in his cloak and laid her gently on the warm coverings. He used more water from the rain barrel to wash her blood and gore encrusted clothes and laid them out on the fence to dry as well. Checking to make sure she slept soundly and that the horse was doing well, he went hunting for food, never venturing far from the homestead. He managed to shoot several rabbits. They roasted nicely in the fireplace on the spit and he managed a rather tasty pot of roast rabbit stew, complete with preserved vegetables. He was the first to admit it needed some seasonings and less salt, but he was happy with the results.

She slept for two days, waking only to eat, which he spooned down her and to relieve her bladder, which he kindly assisted her to the barn, allowing her privacy in a secluded stall. (After she made him check for spiders!) Despite everything he had been through with her, she still treated bodily functions as something to hide and he decided that that was just an idiosyncrasy he would just have to live with from her. He concluded that if he thought long and hard enough, he probably had one or two habits that she would find strange – although he thought he was perfect – and she would just have to live with them as well.

And while she slept and he kept watch, he quietly fletched arrows, washed his own clothes and cleaned blood and gore from their combined weapons and his armor.


Once in a lifetime, hey that’s how it feels

Something so good, so damn good

How can it be real…


“Good morning, Baraermin.”

She opened one eye and looked up into the bemused eyes of Haldir and yawned inelegantly, scratching her neck.

“Is it? Morning, that is?”

His lips brushed her forehead. “No. In all honesty, it is afternoon.”

“Ah.” She was starving and needed desperately to pee. “How many days?” His arms tightened around her and pulled her close to his warmth. His lips roamed to her ears, sending a chill down her spine.

“Three, since the dragon. Are you hungry? Do you need help to the barn?” She was now stretching in his embrace, toes pointed and hands above her head.

“Nah. I can make it to the barn. And yes, I am starving.” He brought down a small deer the day before and  slow roasted parts over the smoldering wood all night. The smell of it made her mouth water. As much as she hated to, she rolled out of his arms and grabbed her clothes from the table, thanking him for washing them.

She quickly made her rounds in the barn, taking care of necessary business and then stopping at the rain barrel to wash sleep from her eyes. She saw the beautiful stallion in the paddock and he made a show of tossing his head and acting disdainful. She headed back to the house, ready to eat.

Haldir dressed completely while she was out, all the way to his armor, which now shone and included the red cloak. He was pulling shreds of meat from the carcass, which he handed to her. She accepted gratefully and stuffed herself while they conversed quietly.

“You are well rested?” She nodded, mouth full. The hut was blissfully quiet. “Did you have any idea what breaking the glass could possibly mean? What it was to do?” He waited for her to swallow.

She shook her head. “No. No idea. It frightens me now, the power, the scope of it.” Large eyes slowly slid to his face. “I never want to do that again; I never want to be in that position again. So destructive. That dragon needed to die, but not like that.” Her eyes settled off into the fire of the fireplace. “All those books, the scrolls…what a waste.” She did not notice the gleam in Haldir’s eyes.

“Do you remember anything?” She was silent for a moment.

“I remember the dragon…Smut…Lord, what a name…”

He was pulling strips still from the bone of the deer. “You found laughter, amusement at his name. Why?” He saw her smile as she sought the words.

“Smut, from my time, is a term given to risque writings and drawings, photographs.”


“Not very nice. Erotic. Not for public consumption. It isn’t anything you would show or read in public, around your parents or spiritual leader. It’s…naughty.”

“Ah.” It was quiet for a few moments. He noticed she looked as if bothered by something. “Baraermin, what is wrong?”

“Music. The music. I can’t get it…going.” Frightened, tear-filled eyes looked to him. “Did she take that away from me as well?”

He pulled her into armor-covered arms. “No, darling, she did not. Breaking the glass caused you to collapse, completely. You will get all of them back slowly, the music, the waves, the glass. You need rest. She said they would come back.”

She continued to eat, but stayed put next to him.




Oh when you touch me

You touch me through and through

Yes you do

Oh I found love

When I found you



“Yes, Baraer?”

“Did I really throw up on Thranduil?”



Eyebrows arched and a rare grin graced his beautiful face. “I agree. Completely.”

It was quiet for a few more minutes, while she chewed in silence.

“Haldir?” She apparently was full and was noisily licking the grease from her fingers. “Why are you wearing your armor? Are we leaving?”

“No.” He crawled over her on all fours and captured her lips in a searing kiss.

‘Wha…” He settled on his knees, straddling her thighs and held her face in both hands. His cloak settled around them.

“Shh.” His mouth was insistent, hot, his tongue stroking her lips, demanding entrance into that hot cavern. She gave in to his demand and opened for him, flooded by the sensation of his tongue dancing with hers. He allowed her no say, gave her little chance to do anything but breathe. She felt the rush of wetness between her legs and her nipples hardened. Her hands snaked around to the straps that buckled his plates on and she attempted to undo them. His hands grabbed at hers and he broke the kiss.

“No. Not that way.” His forehead was pressed to hers and both of them were breathing raggedly. He kissed her anew and she attempted to reach the buckles again. He broke the kiss, removed her hands from his body, and smiled ruefully. “No. Look.” He stood up and went to the spot where he had laid their weapons. He picked up the quiver.

There were a few arrows left in it and he laid them on the broken bed. He stuck his arm into the depths and pulled out a scroll. Holding it between his thumb and middle fingers, he flicked it back and forth, his eyes watching hers.

“You saved one…”

“N’uma. Wait.” He laid it on the bed and reached in. And pulled out a second scroll. Bronwyn was on her knees, bouncing. He could feel her joy, her anxiousness to get her hands on…the third scroll he pulled from the quiver. By the time the fourth scroll came out, she was on her feet, hands reaching for them. He then pulled out a double scroll, mounted on wooden dowels and tied together with an aging silk tassel.


“No, no, no.” He wagged a finger at her. He reached in and pulled out two small, cloth-covered books. She squealed in delight and made a beeline to the salvaged items. He caught her by her arms took her back to the hides.

“You must earn the right to read these.”

Dazed and confused eyes jerked up at him. “Earn the right?”

He stood in front of her, arms across the broad chest. His eyes glittered like snow in moonlight and his smile split his face. “Do you remember what you said to me before the battle?”

“Haldir, we said a lot of things in anger before the battle. You were angry, I was angry…”

“Nay. Not what was said during our argument. Do you remember what you said about removing my armor?”

Bronwyn thought hard. And remembered the words he referred to.

When this is over, can I remove your armor? With my teeth?’ Her jaw dropped in indignation and she gasped for breath.

“Haldir. I was joking. Surely, you do not think that I could possibly remove your armor with my teeth alone?” Unbelievable as she thought, his grin got bigger. “Haldir! It was said in jest.” Her hands were spread in supplication.

He picked up a scroll. “Do you want to read this scroll?” She nodded profusely. “Then you must remove my right arm plate. With your teeth.” The scroll was dropped back into the quiver. He picked up the second scroll. “Left arm and gauntlet.” It went into the quiver. “The third scroll…right leg. The fourth scroll…the left leg. This small book…my chest plate. This other small book…my cape. The double scroll on dowels…the undertunics and leggings.” As he went through the list, he dropped each one, one at a time into the quiver. Her mouth had dropped, gaped open.

“You mean to tell me, that after saving those wonderful pieces of history, you will force me to…”

“I am not forcing, Baraermin. It is your choice.”

Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes narrowed. “I have to remove EVERYTHING, with my teeth, in order to read what you rescued? Down to your boots?”

He looked down, sticking out one appendage and turned it several angles. “No. If you can get the armor off, I will remove the boots for you. However, the socks are considered part of the undertunic They were washed along with the rest of my things yesterday.” He smiled sweetly.

“One more thing. Would you be so kind as to allow me to use my hands to anchor things and hold your plates still?” The look she gave him was calculating.

“Just so that I do not see your hands anywhere near the ties or the buckles or pulling. Do we have a deal?”


Additional disclaimer:

If you are eating, or have food and drink at your computer, I am no longer responsible for the condition of the keyboard or monitor upon the completion of the next scene. If you moan and groan out loud and are in a public place, I am not responsible for the stares you will receive. If you are easily aroused and fall off your slick rolling chair and bust your ass on the floor, nuh-uh, don’t blame me. If it were me, I would get rid of the food and drink, print this out and take it to my bedroom and/or put a towel on the chair. If ANYTHING beyond standard sexual innuendoes or missionary make you squick, stop now! That’s just how I am! You have been warned.


She pulled him forward, grabbing him by the shoulder seam of his armor, to the animal skins. She kissed him hard, fast, her tongue invading his mouth. She ensnared his bottom lip between her teeth and her tongue licked at the points of pain she caused. Both were breathing heavy and breaking the kiss, she took a step back. She had him hold his arms out and she inspected the buckles, the lacings, the ties. The arms pieces and chest plating would have to come off first, before she could begin on the cloak.

“Put your left arm behind your head and touch your right shoulder.” He obeyed with a smile and she used her hands to immobilize the front and back plate. There were three straps and she ran her nose around the seams where the plates came together. She nipped gently at an exposed piece of undertunic, right at his arm pit, causing him to inhale sharply. Her heated gaze took him in as she ran her tongue around the area that covered his chest. Although the minx hadn’t touched it, he felt the small, flat nipple strain for her tongue. By the Valar, how could she make him yearn for her touch, when they were separated by cloth and metal?

Her mouth returned to the straps under his arms and her teeth clamped hold of the small loop encased between the metal bracket at the top of his arm. She pulled gently. It loosened very slowly and she felt it give. Just as she thought it was working loose, he suddenly lowered his arm and readjusted his leggings across his rear end. She glared into the mocking eyes.

“I am sorry, Baraermin. They were…not laying right.” He again stretched his arm across his back and touched his shoulder. The strap was loose and she managed to pull it through one side and began work at the base where the strip was attached to the plating. It was tight and it took several tugs to finally get it to pull free. He started to lower his arm, so she could reach the elbow.

“No. Leave it be. For now.” She focused her attention on the breast plate and nipped his underarm. She began the process again with the top strap, holding the breast and back plate together, slowly pulling the strap through its clip and then continuing its procession through the other side. She repeated the process through the remaining four straps, taking note to nip and bite as tunic was exposed. His right hand snaked around her waist and he pulled her back against him as he lowered his left arm and brought it to her face. His gauntleted hand pulled up her tank top, exposing her to the air, and she groaned when the rough leather he wore on his hand made contact with her nipple. It not only hardened and stood erect, but her areola pebbled and bumped up, aching for more contact. Her lungs struggled for air as leather edged finger tips rolled the taunt nubbin. Her mouth went to the strap around his elbow and made short work of the loop. The palm of his leather encased hand was now rubbing, gently scratching across both breasts, making her moan from deep within her throat. Her mouth was now at his wrist and his fingers deftly played with her ears. She was thoroughly encased in his arms.

“Errr nah hel ing”

He leaned down, his lips tickling her ear. “What was that, my love?”

“Grrrrrr” She growled deep and went after the loop again, that she had now dropped twice. ” Ah sed er nah hel ing!”

“Did you say ‘I’m not helping?’”

Her backside slid into his obvious erection and the final strap came undone. She smacked his arm with her forehead and the armored armpiece fell to the floor.


No girl, you’ve gotten hold of me

And I want you to know

That there’s nothing in this crazy world

That will make me want to let you go…


(Kenny Wayne Shepherd – I found love)


“HAH!” she chortled. “One scroll. Mine!” She twisted and turned in his arms and grabbing the back of his head, pulled his mouth to hers, taking possession of it hungrily. Their lips parted in a loud, wet pop. “When I finish this, I’m going to fuck you like there is no tomorrow. You won’t be able to walk straight for a week!” His mouth descended greedily and he found her open and willing. Tongues met in a struggling dance for dominance and neither one won. He broke the contact with her mouth and followed her jaw line, insatiably, with his tongue. Her tank top was pulled over her head and both hands seized her aching breasts.

“That is the plan, my pet.” His mouth descended again and his right hand went up and over to his left shoulder. “But remember, that will work both ways. If I am to be rendered unable to walk straight, then I shall make sure you shall walk bowlegged for just as long!”

Her mouth went to work on the straps beneath his arm, down his right side and with the urgency of a woman with a mission, she quickly pulled through the belted straps. In short time, the breast and back plate hit the floor.

“One small book. Mine!” Her mouth went to the strap underneath his right arm pit. “An ein nah her het!” The strap pulled loose. Shit, but her jaw hurt!

“What language is this you speak? You must teach it to me, my Sweetest Pet!”

She leaned back and spit out a shred of leather. “I said I’m not your pet.” She bit the tender skin of his inside upper arm, just to get his attention. He pressed her back into his chest, his right arm to her face, his left hand at the lacings of her pants. Tugging, yanking, his lips at her ear.

“At this point, My Pet, you are in no position to argue, much less negotiate with me.” He nipped the lobe and she felt heat spread throughout her body and her juncture juiced itself. Damn, if she hadn’t just creamed her jeans! She ground herself into his groin and his hand slipped to her crotch. His mouth released her ear and he looked at her in mock horror.

“Baraer! Your leggings are wet! Do you need a moment to run to the barn? I can wait.”

She stomped on his boot (Not that it did any good, she was barefoot) and attacked the arm plate with her teeth. The elbow strap fell away and was soon followed by the wrist strap. Another butt to his arm with her head and it too fell to the floor.

“Another scroll! Mine!”

“Not yet. You forgot the gauntlet.” He wriggled the fingers concealed by the offending glove at her. She grabbed his hand and none too gently pulled the wrist over the heel of his hand. Her teeth scraped along the sensitive skin. She then went to his finger tips and starting with the thumb, began to pull the glove off his fingers. She nipped the tips several times. When the glove finally came off, he gripped her by the chin.

“If you bite me a-purpose again, I shall smack your bottom!” And with that, he yanked her pants down to the tops of her thighs, exposing generous cheeks. Just for good measure, he applied his hand, firmly with a pop that did not hurt – much – but still got his point across. She exploded into a low, evil laugh.

“Bwahahaha!” His cape had tied on at the shoulders and pulling on the laces, she dispatched it easily. She raised three fingers. Removing her jeans completely, she sank to her knees and turned him around.

She began with his left thigh, grasping the strap again with her teeth; now her jaw was REALLY hurting. She pulled it through the loop and opened. She repeated the process on the right thigh.

At the knees, it was difficult, but she managed. But around the lower leg, the ankle?..

“Haldir. I don’t think I can lay in the floor and do this.”

He looked down at her with a gleam in his eye. “I will give no quarter, dearest. The rules do not change.” With that, he sank to his knees and enveloped her with his mouth. His hands roamed her body and reaching from behind, slid to the folds between her legs. She arched into his fingers with a whimper and responded by sliding her hands down inside the waist of his leggings, caressing a marble hard backside. He groaned and lifted her off the floor and into his beyond a shadow of a doubt erection.

“Haldir…I need…we need…”

“I know. I have an idea.” He kicked off his boots and lay down on his stomach, knees bent up, feet waving in the air. “Sit on my back.” She slid onto his ass and leaned to the ankle strap. It took maneuvering, but she managed to get it unwrapped and it dropped with a thud. She slung it away.

“Another scroll!” she whispered.

The fourth leg piece soon followed.

Now to the undertunics. She grabbed a foot and pulled the cuff over the heel. She pivoted around and settling on her knees, she nipped his toes has she grabbed the edge and pulled it off. She went to the other foot and simply grabbed at the tip and pulled, comically yanking and yanking until it came off. He smirked at her over his shoulder, eyebrow debonairly arched, forgetting she still had a hold of his ankle. She smiled back and revolved back onto his leg. She looked at him over her shoulder and smiled evilly. He wondered what in all of Middle Earth could she be up to?

He soon found out.

She admired the graceful, long toes in her hands and licked the ball of his foot. She was delighted to hear his intake of breath, his slight jerk. She continued to circle her tongue around the arch and placed sweet kisses in the instep, her tongue spiraling. She heard a sound escape his lips; a sound that she had never heard from him.

A chuckle.

Haldir had a tickle spot!

Her lips smiled in spite of herself. Her tongue swirled upwards and before he could inhale, her mouth sucked down on his big toe, her tongue twining around the digit. He arched backwards and moaned.

“Iluvatar’s Balls woman! You are killing me!” She released his toe and kissed the arch one last time. She sighed theatrically.

“Stand up, spoil sport!” She had climbed off his back and waited for him on her knees. As his torso passed her face, she took a moment to look up at him and admire his powerful figure. Mine, she thought. He is mine for eternity! How did I get so lucky? His thoughts were similar.

Hmmm. How often over the next ten thousand years will I get her in this position?

She began with the shirt. Her teeth went to the waist band of his leggings and she gently pulled the shirt from the waist. Using her hands, she coaxed him to turn slowly in a circle, her lips and teeth pulling the shirt up. As he completed the circle, she began to pull up towards his chest.

It would not cooperate.

She looked at him, eyes on fire, body screaming for union, for completion, his member hard and insistent in the cupped palm of her hand She stroked and caressed gently, moving in an upwards fashion.

“Not fair, sweetling.” The consistent use of endearments had not been lost on her and she reveled in his attention. She looked closely at his shirt. Her teeth went to the cuff of the sleeve. She pulled it over his hand.

“Ull yer ann ow.”


Scorching eyes looked at him. “Ull yer hhhan owt.”

“Pull my hand out?”


“But, you have the cuff in your mouth!”

She dropped the sleeve and glared. “Pull your arm out of the sleeve!” She grabbed his hand and pulled on the sleeve with her teeth again. While she held on, he pulled his arm through the sleeve and to his side. They repeated the process on the other side. Again, she grabbed the bottom with her teeth and he pulled backwards out of the shirt. She did not stop. Throwing the shirt to the side, she went straight to the waist band and took the ties into her mouth. Slowly, she pulled the first and loosened it, her nose in the indention of his belly. Her exhaled breath rained gently down inside his leggings. She slid her teeth behind the half knot and pulled it apart. His breathing was ragged and he could feel pre-cum oozing from his prick. She was slowly unlacing the ties, moving from side to side, criss-crossing back and forth.

“Baraermin. Hurry. Please.” His plea was whispered. The ties were completely undone and as she had done with the shirt, she pivoted him slowly around, pulling the waist band of his leggings down inch by inch.

One rotation

Second rotation. The velvet head sprang free and she nimbly slid her tongue over the eye, Molten lava eyes looked up at him from under sooty eyelashes.

“Your pants are…wet…love. Shall I wait while you visit the barn?” She laughed at his growl.

Third rotation. He had sprung completely free, but she ignored… damn her woman’s teasing mouth… she IGNORED that which would make her scream in fulfillment and continued to turn him, the leggings also exposing his pale backside.

She blew. And her tongue snaked around the curve of his cheek and licked the top edge where both cheeks joined.

At that point, Haldir lost control.

He jumped back, whipping what was left of his leggings off of his body and attempted to pin her to the furs. But before he could straddle her and bury himself into her, Bronwyn did something completely unexpected that caught him off his guard.

She neatly rolled to the side, causing him to sprawl on his stomach and jumped onto his shoulders facing backwards.

“I was not done. I earn that scroll by default!” She smacked his derriere, with a sharp pop. And with that, she leaned down and proceed to lick and suck on every inch of his exposed ass, cooling where her hand had stung, delving deep around the cup of the cheeks and finally into the crack. He cried out his frustration into the furs and he felt her wetness trickle between his shoulder blades. Her tongue searched deeper and deeper into that most private body part.

“ENOUGH!” he roared and flipping, he pinned her in his arms and carried her to the depths of the bedding. He found himself straddling her upper arms, his hardness nestled in the crook between her breasts. Sweat trickled in rivulets there and he watched her grin seductively and pressed them upwards, totally covering him with them. He began to pump slowly and as the head slid through the opening at her neck, she leaned over and licked. He smiled back.

“You are a wicked woman, Baraermin.” His hands took over hers and he played with her nipples. Her head was thrown back at this point and she had grabbed his ass cheeks, fingers dug in and was propelling him onward to this unusual turn of events. He felt himself losing control yet again. “You are a wicked woman, a bitch, wanton, but you are mine and … by Melkor’s Chains if you do not stop this, I shall explode here!”

Another deep giggle escaped her throat. “Do it! Go ahead! I want to watch.”

Several hard thrusts later, he complied. Silky, pearly semen poured, shot forth, coating her chest, neck and chin. His body jerked for what seemed forever. When spent, he collapsed, hunched over her, kissing her, confirming his love, the depth of his feelings. He finally stretched next to her and pulled her close, sheltering her in one arm and his free hand, moving to her slick folds. His mouth searched hers sweetly, plunging deep into the depths of her flame, his index and middle fingers matching the rhythm of the plunging of his tongue. She moved with him and when he began to speed up, she grabbed his hand, pulled it out and up towards their faces, She broke the kiss and replaced his mouth with the two honey coated fingers, sucking them delightfully, her tongue seeking each drop of her own salty essence between his fingers. She rolled into him, her breasts pressed against his chest and kissed him full on the mouth. His manhood decided immediately that it had rested long enough and sprang up from his nest of curls. He rolled onto his back and pulled her with him.

“Ride me. Take your pleasure as you will.” She quickly straddled him, knees by his hips, placed him at her entrance and shifted down.

The sound of her  cheeks smacking his thighs rang through out the room. A low moan escaped her throat and she arched back, taking in every inch. She set a wonderful, steady rhythm and soon he was holding on to her breasts, their bouncing too painful to watch. He was building again, but he was determined to watch her come to completion. She smacked down hard. And stopped. She moved up to kiss him and he felt cool air around his testicles and wet member. Her tongue slid around his lower lip and he closed his eyes in ecstasy.

“Take me from behind.”

One eye opened and he looked at her. “From behind? As in…there?” His hand stroked her bottom. She smiled and nodded happily. She kissed him again and slid back over onto the animal skins – they had sort of, well, moved to the side and rolled off the hides and the last thing she wanted was dirt burns. She positioned herself on her hands and knees and placed her head on her hands, her bottom, rising in the air. Haldir’s finger moved into her heat and discovered she was equally soaked from one end to the other. One finger slid into her darkest grotto. Over the past few weeks, she had schooled herself to relax and enjoyed the gentle invasion. A second and third finger quickly followed as he prepared her for his entry. Satisfied she was completely ready, he moved behind her…

“Well, Dammit to hell!” She looked at him, startled that he would use her favorite epithet. It sounded strange coming from his lips. She sat up quickly and searched his face in shock.

“Haldir, what’s wrong?” He sat back on his feet and smacked both hands on his thighs.

“You are too short. I cannot get low enough!” His disgusted look said it all. She couldn’t help it; her laugh escaped like a dog bark and she honestly thought she would never stop.

He ignored her hysterical laughter and looked around the room. He espied the answer to their problem. With her still howling uncontrollably, he pulled her to her feet and cleared the table in one swipe. Before she could ask what he was up to, he bent her over it, one leg raised over the corner, the other, toes barely on the floor. He pressed her face to the wood. When he was certain she would stay put, he used one hand to spread her cheeks, exposing the rosebud opening, with the other hand, he guided himself to her Gate of Sodom. With the whispered request to relax, he pushed slowly in. Her laughter was replaced by a whoosh of air, followed by a moan of sheer pleasure. He waited until he was completely incased  before setting rhythm and reaching around to her drenched clit. He found it hard to get hold of and the fumbling drove her quickly to a teased fever pitch.

Finally, he was able to grasp a hold of the knot beneath the satiny slick nubbin and began teasing her to a delirious rise. As no one was near and she did not worry about being heard, her moans of pleasure were loud and abundant. He found it erotic and stimulating above and beyond the whispered encouragement she normally gave him at their talan, her cries of ecstasy either muffled in the pillow or into his shoulder.. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Are you going to come for me?”

“If you keep this up, yeeesss, and soon. Oh shit, Haldir, this position is …aaaah! This is tooo-oo good!” He heard her forehead bang on the table top. He smiled, despite the sound her head made, cracking on the wood.

“Will you scream? Will you tell me how good it is?” He saw her head roll backwards as she moaned in exasperation.

“I will scream the fucking roof down if you come with me!” She sped the rhythm up, pushing harder against him. Above the roaring of blood in his ears, he could hear his testicles smacking against her mound. His own orgasm was only thrusts away. Her anal walls were hot and tight and he felt a powerful bellow rising from his chest. He heard her scream “NOW” , bellow profanities, his name, the names of several different deities, pour forth from her mouth as her forehead tapped a rhythm on the table and he realized in mid-explosion, spilling his seed deep within her, it wasn’t just her voice he heard. His was also mingled in. He pumped into her body until he could pump no more. He collapsed on her back, pinning her to the table, cheek to cheek, his hands covering hers, both of their breathing heavy. They lay that way for several minutes.

Finally, they broke apart and kissing him sweetly on the lips, she found the cloth he used to bath them with. With a quick lick on his ear tip, she darted swiftly outside, looking to make sure there were no watchers, and dipped the cloth into the rain barrel. The water was tepid and she quickly cleaned her used areas and the dried, sticky seed left on her chest and chin. She dipped the cloth into the water again and after wringing it out, went inside where, dropping to her knees, she repeated the process with Haldir. His breathing had returned to normal and he caressed a rounded ear as she finished and they sank into their make shift bedding together. He pulled her into his embrace and rained honeyed kisses across her forehead. He felt her smile against his chest, one finger idly playing with his nipple.

“Are you sleepy?”

He nodded wearily. Between not truly sleeping for four days plus, the experience of watching her tease him for so long followed by two huge back to back orgasms, he was nearly worn down. His eyes glinted down at the top of her head. “You are amazing. I never thought it would be this way. Ever.” He resumed kissing her hair.

She looked up at him and looked at him straight on. “Well, do not fall asleep yet.” His hand caressed her shoulder.

“And why not?”

She smiled slyly.

“Because, my love. I am not through with you yet.”




mereth – festival