Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Honeyed Tea	By : kathmco Category: -Multi-Age > Het - Male/Female Views: 1614 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Honeyed Tea
- 2-Part Two
- 1
- 2
Title: Honeyed Tea

Author: Emmess

Rated: NC17

Summary: Gil-Galad, wounded in a skirmish shortly before the Last Alliance is formed, seeks shelter and care for his wounds.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Het

Honeyed Tea

Part Two

Anor was halfway to her full height before Gil-Galad awoke. He cursed himself for having lay in repose for so long, having had intended to make an early start that morning. He had no wish to be caught after dark by the enemy in his still weakened condition.

Looking about the cabin, he realized that Calimë was gone, although as usual his simple breakfast of bread, cheese, and tea was readied for him on the bedside table. The tea was cooling, which meant she had been gone for a while.

When he had finished eating and she still had not returned, he grew worried for her. For the first time since he had staggered into the clearing, bleeding, both his heart and his body in pain from the battle, he stepped outside of the cabin with Aeglos in hand, intent on finding her.

He tracked her to a small stream, hearing the gurgle of the water and her splashing in it well before he saw it. Pausing in the brush, unwilling to intrude on the few moments she had taken for herself since he had arrived, he watched the young human woman bathe in the shallow water.

Her hair, freshly washed, hung in heavy, dripping ringlets down her back, brushing the curve of her backside. The sunlight that streamed through the canopy of leaves dappled the smooth, white skin of her shoulders. Although he had thought her too thin, it seemed his eyes had been deceived by the loose-fitting dress she had worn for her body was curvaceous enough to capture his attention, her breasts full and high and pink-tipped.

She stood up, water dribbling in sparkling droplets from her skin to splash back into the stream, wringing out her thick mop of golden curls.

He wanted her.

The thought came as a shock to himself, for as an Elf his self-control in such matters had always been impeccable. Matters of the flesh were not at the forefront of his agenda…they had never been. Always it had been his responsibilities to his people foremost in his mind, from the time Turgon had fallen with Gondolin and he had assumed his crown, despite his youth. He had never married, never taken a lover, for the matters of his realm had always taken precedence and consumed all of his time and energy. And yet, here and now, irregardless of the dangers that stalked his lands in this time of war and the responsibilities that weighed heavily on his soul, the fact remained.

He wanted her.

Calimë had just reached for her worn and patched gown when Gil-Galad made his presence known to her. Gasping, she quickly lifted the gown, holding it front of her to cover her nakedness from his dark blue eyes.

Although the threadbare garment provided a shield of sorts, Gil-Galad knew that the blush that colored her face would be coloring the rest of her fair skin as well, and the knowledge intensified his need. His leggings grew uncomfortably tight, his eyes darkening further as lust, an unfamiliar and alien sensation for him, coursed through his blood.

Approaching her he remained silent, simply lifting a gentle hand to touch her face, allowing his eyes to communicate his need. Her own eyes remained focussed on his face, her expression softening as his desire for her conveyed itself through the gentle smile that played at his lips.

Dipping his head, he brushed her lips with his own, finding hers soft and yielding and tasting of honeyed tea. Her fingers lost their grasp on her dress as they slid around his neck and laced themselves into his thick black hair, even as his own hands gathered her into his arms. Another kiss, this one deeper, longer, returned in kind, and he knew that she was his.

Laying her down on the mossy bank of the stream, he made short work of divesting himself of the homespun clothing she had given him. From the quickening of her breath he knew that the sight of him pleased her as much as the sight of her pleased him.

Centuries of wielding Aeglos in battle had honed his muscles into sharply defined knots, rolling beneath his satin skin as he lowered himself to lay beside her on the bank. One long leg swung over hers, as his hand slid up the taut skin of her belly to gently cup a breast. He sought her lips again and as she drew in a quick breath his tongue made its presence known, entering her mouth, tasting and teasing her own.

The taste of her, the feel of her nipple hardening against his palm and the silkiness of her flesh against his pulsing erection worked to accelerate the lust that consumed him, pushing all other thoughts aside. His organ burned hot against her thigh, and he groaned into her mouth, his desire reaching a fevered pitch. Feelings he had never before experienced flooded his being; a wildness, carnal in nature and overpowering, possessed him.

A near growl brought his lips to her throat, nipping and suckling, fueled by her writhing motions beneath his hand as it sought the prize that lay between her legs. Wet and warm, it invited his exploration, her thighs clamping around his wrist as he found the spot that sent her soaring.

Unable to hold back any longer, seeing nothing but melange of body parts - her eyes, an ear, her lips, a breast; hearing nothing but her moans and the heaviness of his own breath, he positioned himself between her legs, lifting them to allow him access to her depths. In a swift, almost brutal motion he impaled her, thrusting himself to the hilt into her body, losing himself in her sweet heat.

Swiftly he neared his completion, the clenching muscles of her core squeezing the lifeseed from him in an explosion that set stars before his eyes and his blood to pounding in his ears. Nearly collapsing on top of her, his arms trembled to hold his weight from crushing her as he fought to regain his breath and his mind. Her face swam into focus, and he was shocked and dismayed to see tears streaking it.

Calimë's eyes welled and overflowed and her lower lip quivered, but she managed a small, tremulous smile for the Elf King, seeking, even in her pain, to reassure him.

"I have caused you pain," Gil-Galad whispered, his voice cracking as his own eyes misted with the realization of what he had done came upon him. "Oh, sweet one…I am so sorry…"

"Nay, be not sorry…I do not regret it," she answered softly, wiping a tear from his cheek. "I…"

"No! I should have been more considerate…I…should not have done this at all!" he agonized, rolling to one side and pulling her to his chest. "I gave no thought to your feelings…I took your innocence without care except for myself. I am no better than the Orcs! How can you ever forgive me?" His tears escaped his control even as he fought to keep his voice calm against the rising panic in his chest.

"Gil-Galad!" she said sternly, the use of his personal name breaking through his bout of self-flagellation, quieting his outburst. "I do not regret it," she repeated, more forcefully this time. Stroking the side of his face, her fingertips traced the line of tears that traveled the planes of his jaw. "I will hold this memory dear to me, for the rest of my life."

"Sweet one, Calimë…I am to leave you today. This is how I repay your kindness, your selflessness…stealing your innocence!"

"You cannot steal that which is freely given, Elf-King," she answered softly. "I am yours, if only for this moment."

"You will come with me," he said, a smile breaking through his tears. "You will come with me to my home…you will be my Queen."

"Nay, Gil-Galad. Do you think your people would accept a human woman as their Queen? Nay…they would not. There is mistrust between your people and mine…it has been this way always. We have co-existed in an uneasy truce, but there is little trust between our peoples."

"My people are not so rigid…they will accept that which I would ask of them. I will not leave without you."

"You will. You must. Your people need you, Elf-King! Even now the enemy seeks them out…where is their King to protect them? I would only serve to hinder your return. You must go quickly, and you must go alone."

"I will return for you," he replied, a sternness in his voice that brooked no opposition from her. He drew her into a kiss, willing her to feel his determination, his adamancy. He would return for her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She watched from the doorway as he looked back, raising a hand to her in farewell before melting into the brush. He had made love to her twice more since that morning the day before when he had taken her body on the mossy bank of the stream, capturing her heart in the process. She missed him already.

Turning away from the door she went back inside the cabin, sitting herself on the edge of cot and wept.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keeping to the shadows, sunlight or not, Gil-Galad took no chances in his journey home. He tried to focus on his people, his responsibilities, but somehow his thoughts kept slipping back to a wraith of a mortal woman with silken skin and lips that tasted of honeyed tea.

Reaching the Elven stronghold, the gates were opened for the returning King, Elves flying from their homes to greet him. Thought dead, his return was a joyous one, regardless of danger that lurked out in the growing darkness.

Elrond met Gil-Galad in the Great Hall, ceremoniously returning the King's mithril crown with a happiness that lit his features. Truly overjoyed at Gil-Galad's return, he nevertheless did not hesitate to impart the news of all that had transpired in his absence.

"He calls himself 'Elendil'…he is of Men, Gil-Galad," Elrond said, nearly hissing the word "Men." The contempt in his voice startled the King, making him wonder if his own voice sounded that way when he spoke of the Secondborn. "He proposed an alliance, as if we could trust a pack of weak mortals to protect our backs in battle."

Gil-Galad sat on a soft, upholstered chair, drumming his fingers on the armrest. He turned his midnight blue eyes up to Elrond, asking, "Why do we mistrust them so, Elrond?"

"What?"

"Men. Why do we mistrust them so? What have they done to us?"

"They have allied themselves with the Dark Lord, Gil-Galad. They cannot be trusted," Elrond replied, settling himself into a chair opposite Gil-Galad. His dark gray eyes studied his King, watching his face carefully.

"Some, yes…but they are not the only ones who have taken that path. Some of our own have made that choice, as well."

"Our own were led astray by the Dark Lord's sweet words and empty promises…and by fear."

"As were the Men."

"They are usurpers! The Sickly…they have wriggled and schemed their way into the hearts of Eru and the Valar!"

"They are Eru's children, Elrond…as we are."

"Why do you defend them, Gil-Galad…why would you give consideration to such an alliance?"

"They are not all as you say, Elrond. I…have had reason to come to understand them of late. Some are as we…strong, capable, trustworthy…loving. We have the same enemy…the same purpose. I would meet with this 'Elendil' and hear his words for myself."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Last Alliance between Elves and Men was formed on a day when a fierce rain swept the plains and cities, turning streets to mud and fields to sodden quagmires. The wind whistled through the streets, knocking shutters and swaying lamps as the rain beat a staccato against the thatched rooftops of the Elven city.

No pomp, no ceremony, no documents were signed, merely a quiet nodding of heads in agreement between the Firstborn and Secondborn of Ilúvatar was all that signaled the beginning of the Alliance. Food was shared between the Elves and Men, although both sides treated the other with exaggerated consideration, watching with wary eyes from opposite sides of the table. An uneasy beginning…but forged from necessity, the Alliance would stand the test of time, holding together for eleven long and bloody years, and honored again an Age later by the Elves who would fight alongside Men once more when Sauron returned to spread his darkness across the land.

Gil-Galad sat quietly after the Alliance had been struck, his thoughts far from the Great Hall. In his mind's eye he saw a thatched hovel, with bare dirt floors and a rickety, narrow cot, and a green-eyed woman whose lips tasted of honeyed tea. Just this day he had made a promise that he knew he would honor to his dying breath, if it came to that…but he had made another promise not long ago. It was time to fulfil that promise as well.

Quietly, while the Elves and Men drank together, warming to one another by virtue of the freely flowing dark amber beer, Gil-Galad sought out Elrond, pulling the dark-haired HalfElven to a secluded corner.

"I have…an errand I must run, Elrond. I will be gone a few days at most. Until my return, I leave the fate of the Alliance in your capable hands. Remember it is fragile…newborn, and needs nurturing if it is to survive."

"What errand must you attend, Gil-Galad, that would take you from your people during such a time as this?" Elrond asked, clearly perplexed at the King's announcement.

"It is a private matter, Elrond. Be assured that I will return with all haste."

"Orcs are still about…the hills seem to crawl with them these days. It is dangerous and foolhardy to go alone. I will go with you."

"I will take a care, Elrond, I must do this," Gil-Galad answered, a note of finality in his voice. "You are needed here." Elrond knew that tone well, and knew better than to try to argue with his King when his voice held it. He could do no more than watch as Gil-Galad slipped away from the Great Hall, and send a silent prayer to Eru to watch over the King.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gil-Galad, armed with Aeglos as well as a pair of wickedly sharp knives, set out for the small hidden glade in the forest, backtracking through the thick of the wood, his keen eyes picking out landmarks he had set for himself when last he had walked this way. It was just as he had broached the stream whose banks held such sweet and poignant memories for him, that he smelled smoke. His feet took wing, carrying him swiftly toward the cabin he knew lay just beyond the small rise ahead of him.

The cabin was gone, a pile of splintered, smoldering rubble where it had once stood, the ground surrounding it blackened. Frozen for a moment, Gil-Galad began to search, tearing through the rubble as one possessed, screaming her name, screaming curses, then simply screaming as he dug deeper into the pyre. He found a broken piece of pottery that he remembered as having been given him as a drinking cup, and he remembered Calimë serving him tea in it.

He dug deeper.

He unearthed a fragment of metal that appeared to be a fireplace poker, and remembered Calimë worrying at bits of kindling with it as she made their supper.

He dug deeper.

From the ashes he pulled a burnt and blackened piece of material that might have come from a dress, or from the simple homespun sheets that had covered the cot, or from the hand-woven rag rug that had brought a dash of color to the bare earth floor. He brought it to his cheek, picturing Calimë in his mind, busying herself about the cabin.

He dug deeper.

In a corner, under of the pile of charred wood, near where the fireplace had once been he found her curled into a fetal position, a single arrow protruding from her chest. Burned and battered, she lay like a rag doll, heedlessly tossed away by a petulant child.

A moan that ripped his very soul filled the air as he gathered the slight, wretched form into his arms, cradling her to his chest. Without realizing it, he carried her to the bank of the stream where they had lain together not a moon's cycle ago.

Falling to his knees, still clutching her to his chest, he wept bitter and anguished tears for her loss…and for his own.

"I came back, sweet one…I promised that I would…" he murmured through his tears. "Too late…too late…" Words failed him again, as his voice deteriorated into heartrending moans. He rocked her body gently, his tears falling to leave a track in the soot that covered her face. Using his jerkin, he wiped at her face, uselessly trying to clean it.

He sat that way with her until darkness began to fall, although his sobs ebbed and finally drained away. In the fading light he buried her beside the stream, smoothing the dirt that covered her with his hand.

"I made a promise to you, sweet one…one I fulfilled, alas but too late. I will make another to you. I vow that I will see the one responsible for this dead. Dead by my hand, or at the hands of my people, but he will pay with his life, I swear it."

Standing, he closed his eyes and remembered…remembered her ordering him to sleep in the bed whilst she slept on the floor…remembered her sweet smile, her soft skin…her lips that tasted of honeyed tea. When he opened his eyes, they shone with a resolve that would not fade until the end of his days.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fighting was fierce, and Gil-Galad fought on the front lines as one possessed, slicing and hacking, Aeglos biting deeply into Orc flesh as he toppled one after another of the Dark Lord's minions.

He seemed to never tire although sweat flew from his brow, and it seemed to those who fought with him that he sought to slaughter the entire force of Sauron by himself, taking out one after another with pausing for breath.

Each time he felled another his lips would move, repeating the same words over and over again. If one could have heard him over the screams of the dying, one would have heard him say, "For Calimë."

During the final battle, just as it seemed the tides had finally turned in their favor, he met his end as an axe cleaved his chest open from stem to stern, his blood flowing to muddy the ground beneath him.

As his eyes began to drift closed and death bore him on swift wings to the Halls of Waiting, his last thought was of a slight, green-eyed woman whose lips had tasted of honeyed tea.

The End
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Honeyed Tea