The Right Kind of Shield, part two.
I've been asked a couple of times to continue a little further with The Right Kind of Shield - Chapter Five in this series of short stories in the Returnverse. I have now done just that.
It isn't possible to insert chapters, or edit the chapter order here, that I know off, so I have a question for you, gentle reader(!) - should I put these two together and post them as a separate story in its own right? I would appreciate your thoughts on this.
Also this part is definitely FR18 - so upping the general rating....The Right Kind of Shield. Part Two
Eriathwen had been to Minas Tirith before. Admittedly only twice over the past forty-something years since she, along with a handful of others, had followed Tindómë from Lórien. But, on those two occasions, she had been there purely to shop. Being seen as the future betrothed of Prince Legolas, Lord of Eryn Ithil, was somewhat different.
She was given a suitable suite of rooms in the citadel, even though it was likely to get quite crowded. Arwen was amused at the whole idea of ‘the shield’ and joined in the subterfuge with enthusiasm, as did Éowyn; Arwen even added some dresses to Eriathwen’s wardrobe, and provided extra jewels, so that she would look suitably impressive.
The first few nights after the Elven contingent arrived in the city they had eaten in private, with the King and Queen, but there was a more formal dinner on the fourth night. That completed, the Eryn Ithil elves retired to Legolas’ private sitting room to talk and, it had to be said, to amuse themselves at the expense of some of the members of Court.
Eriathwen said that she was glad the others had warned her of the smell of the mortals in formal situations; only to be told that, since Arwen had slowly introduced lighter fabrics, and the very heavily jewel-encrusted brocades had become less fashionable, it was not as bad as it had been in the past.
“Although,” Legolas said, “at the really big events it will probably be somewhat worse. There will be elderly ladies from the countryside, and their equally elderly husbands, and there will be the distinct whiff of the privy closet and worse.”
“Worse?” Eriathwen queried.
“Some of the elderly men dribble urine into their leggings and don’t wash them often enough,” Tindómë explained. “When it gets hot… Eww!”
The conversation lingered for a few minutes on the vagaries of aging in mortals but fortunately moved on. Legolas was glad; he did not really want to consider the effects of age on the mortal vië, for a number of reasons. Instead the conversation turned to how effective ‘the shield’ was, and what the men and women seemed to think of her.
“You will really see the difference at the balls, atheg,” Tindómë said, “but, already, some of the younger women who were there tonight were looking as if they would happily strangle Eriathwen.”
“They do not know quite what attitude to take,” Lithôniel said, with a smile. “Within the same conversation, when I was in the withdrawing room, I heard you described as ‘a total innocent’ and ‘much too haughty’. Of course the first woman thought Prince Legolas needed someone with experience at his side, probably herself, and the second thought he needed someone ‘more sympathetic’.
“I think the most insulting, so far,” Eriathwen said, “was when I was asked, in quite atrocious Sindarin, if I came from an old and long established aristocratic family!”
“What did you say?” a chorus of elves asked together.
“That I was Galadhrim, of course, and all
Galadhrim are aristocratic. And then I told her that my paternal grandparents had served Melian in Doriath, which I thought may be taken as ‘long established’…”
Eriathwen gave a demonstration of her facial expression, as she spoke, and proved that Tindómë had been absolutely right when she had suggested her friend for this part; very few could look down their noses quite so perfectly.
There were a number of, not really serious, suggestions of what else she could have said, and then the conversation moved on to who else would be arriving over the next few days, and what functions and entertainments were planned.
“Well I have my own plans for entertainment for the rest of the night,” Orophin said, dipping his head to kiss the tip of Lithôniel’s ear, “as long as you concur?”
She did. And soon Rumil and Tindómë also took their leave, professing similar plans.
“Would you stay?” Legolas asked Eriathwen.
“Of course,” she answered straight away. They had shared a bed before, on a number of occasions, not to mention the occasional tree branch, patch of moonlit grass, or bathing pool.
“Would it please you if Galanthir also stayed?” Legolas then asked.
He knew she and Galanthir were no strangers to each other’s hroars either but, until now, there had been no occasion when the three had enjoyed the desires of the body together.
Eriathwen looked from one ellon to the other, her head tilted slightly. “Oh yes,” she said, “it would certainly please me…”
“Then let us take the wine with us, and retire to the bedroom,” Legolas said.
Whilst Legolas removed his own clothing, Galanthir was unlacing Eriathwen’s outer dress and taking the jewellery from her hair. As she reciprocated, by unfastening Galanthir’s tunic and sliding her hands over his bare skin, Legolas felt his cristhen beginning to rise. Galanthir slipped the elleth’s outer dress off completely and then stood back.
Legolas took his place, allowing the other ellon to undress, and eased Eriathwen down until she sat on the bed. He knelt in front of her, took off her shoes, and slid his hands up her legs to her thighs then followed the same path with his mouth. Her under-dress pooled around his shoulders as he reached the confirmation that, like many elleth, she wore nothing underneath.
As Galanthir rejoined them Eriathwen shed her under-dress, so that all three were naked, and hands and mouths began caressing, teasing, probing.
There was no hurry; if Eriathwen were to stay all night the Gondorian court was less likely to be shocked by elven behaviour, after fifty years of King Elessar’s rule, than they would have been when he first took his rightful throne. Even should a courtier or two be outraged to discover that Prince Legolas and his ‘intended’ had spent a night together, such a reaction would not undermine the monarchy as it may have in the beginning.
Most amusing, though, was the thought that, in all likelihood, anyone discovering that Eriathwen had spent the night in Legolas’ suite, with his ‘manservant’ in attendance, would assume this proved all they had done was drink wine, and talk, decorously! As he watched Eriathwen apply her tongue to Galanthir’s cristhen the thought amused Legolas so much that he shared it with them.
“Or,” said Galanthir, only slightly breathless, “Eriathwen’s presence would prove that you are not pleasuring yourself by sheathing yourself in my
body… as I have learnt some of their nobles do with their menservants… whether they wish it or not.”
Generations of servants within the Citadel had said things within Galanthir’s hearing that they presumed he did not understand; even now almost everyone assumed that he ‘did not speak Common’ because he could not, rather than because he chose not to!
“And,” he continued, “there is one now who… aaah! …who… who has his manservant… oh! …his manservant beat him with a… horsewhip before he can… fly!”
Legolas had moved to kneel behind the elleth, his own erect cristhen pressed against her back, and he slid his arms around her, teasing one of her nipples with one hand and taking Galanthir’s ceryn in his other – occasioning one of the gasps in Galanthir’s description.
Now he said, trying to keep his voice very serious, “For the first I would suggest taking it turn and turn about, although better still to both be sheathed in an elleth, but I would leave the second to the Men!”
He moved his thumb across Galanthir’s ceryn and Galanthir could refrain from flight no longer.
They paused for wine. Galanthir took the glasses and refilled them, to leave within reach, as Legolas lay on his back, his cristhen erect; Eriathwen straddled him and slowly sheathed it. He slid into her easily; her body was warm, wet, and welcoming. She stayed kneeling above him, not yet moving, simply applying a little pressure with her inner muscles.
Galanthir returned to the bed. “Both sheathed?” he asked, picking up on Legolas’ comment of a few minutes before.
Eriathwen made a small sound of assent and moved so that she lay on top of Legolas, her legs still outside his but now straighter.
Over her shoulder Legolas could see Galanthir dip his fingers in the small jar of slippery aloe gel that Legolas had placed by the bed much earlier in the evening. As Eriathwen’s tongue entered Legolas’ mouth he felt, first the coolness of the lubricant dripping onto his ceryn, and then Galanthir’s finger entering the same sheath that Legolas’ cristhen already occupied. Eriathwen remained still, as did Legolas, so the only movement was of that one finger edging in and then out a little, then in further, slowly stretching the entrance, followed after a minute or two by a second finger.
Eriathwen wriggled, as if to encourage him, and Legolas now felt the third finger rubbing his cristhen and knew that Galanthir’s knuckles would be stretching the sheath, making the entry easier… Then Galanthir straddled both Legolas and Eriathwen, his fingers still moving gently, almost as if he caressed Legolas’ cristhen where it was inside the elleth.
“Aaah!” Eriathwen’s cry was, briefly, one of pain as Galanthir’s fingers stretched her even further to allow the passage of his naith so the one sheath now held two cristhyn.
The first time Legolas had enjoyed this form of joining, many years before, he had worried about that same cry of pain from the elleth. That elleth had quickly made it clear that they should continue and he had asked her, only later, had it hurt? “Yes,” she had said. It felt, for a moment, as if she had been stabbed or burned – but then came a moment of accommodation and that small pain became a part of the pleasure.
So it was now; all three remained still until Eriathwen moaned, this time in pleasure, and tilted her pelvis a little.
“Yes?” asked Galanthir. “Now?”
“Yes! Now!” she answered, and Galanthir began to move.
Legolas, pressed into the bed by the two elves above him, did not move his hips at all; the movement all came from Galanthir. He set the rhythm, his shaft moving against Legolas’ own, underside to underside, ceryn against ceryn, the walls of Eriathwen’s sheath clinging to both. Then she began to move in counterpoint and to make soft moaning sounds. At this, Legolas moved his hand, between his body and hers, until he could press on her tuiw. She gasped and bit on his lip.
Now came the balancing act – all three adjusting pressure and movement so that they held each other on the verge of flight, but no-one quite soared. All three were now making sounds of pleasure; the other elves in nearby rooms would certainly hear, if they were not too busy themselves.
Eventually Legolas bucked his hips upwards, pushing back against Galanthir, against Eriathwen’s tuiw, changing the pressure on the pleasure point inside her sheath. He became the one in control, the nestling that pushed the others off the branch; Eriathwen’s voice rose in a long drawn out cry whilst her inner muscles were contracting around both cristhyn; Legolas forced himself to hold back until he felt Galanthir flooding their shared space before doing likewise and letting his fëa soar.
They lay, joined together, as the chords of their shared pleasure echoed in the greater song and died away. Galanthir, as the last to join, began to separate their bodies and soon all three were distinct hroars again.
After reaching for the wine, Galanthir produced small ginger cakes that he had acquired whilst the others attended the formal meal. The three sprawled on the bed companionably, teasing each other with the ease of old friends until, as the first rays of the sun began to lighten the sky, Galanthir stretched and stood up.
Reaching for his own leggings, he also passed Eriathwen her under-dress, saying, “Perhaps, my Lord Prince, your humble manservant should escort your not-quite-intended back to her rooms… if you would accompany me, my lady?”
Eriathwen smiled her agreement, getting gracefully to her feet, and was soon fastened back into her dress – although she left her hair loose, and carried jewellery and shoes in her hand as the two left.
Legolas lay back on his bed again; perhaps he would sleep for an hour or two before bathing and facing the day… he was more relaxed than he could ever remember being in the Citadel of Minas Tirith, even allowing for the times when he had joined with a maidservant or two. (They, at least, had no expectation that such a liaison would lead to a proposal – and so were most certainly a safer way to release bodily tensions than any of the young women against whom he needed a shield!)
Tindómë’s suggestion that he needed the right kind of shield, and should bring one with him, certainly was, as his ‘small sister’ would say, a win/win solution… for it also had ensured that his cristhen had a perfect scabbard.
Cristhen - short sword - used by the wood-elves as a euphemism for penis
Tuiw - bud - their euphemism for clitoris.
Ceryn - balls
Naith - head of arrow, spear... or penis.
Also; Melian was queen in an elven community called Doriath a few thousand years before these events - she is a mythical and wonderful figure to the humans of Gondor. Doriath was destroyed by earthquake and tidal wave.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.