Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Only One
By : HollyHobbit13
Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Crossovers
Views: 4468 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
As the little company rode higher and higher into the mountain, the air became cooler, crisper and thinner. At first, Jordan has difficulty adjusting to the high altitude; she is short of breath. To compensate, Jordan begins to hyperventilate. The increasing frequency of the Buzz sets her on edge. Noticing her discomfort, Legolas murmurs softly into her ear.
“It will ease momentarily. Not much further, Jordan, we are almost there.”
Nodding in acknowledgement, Jordan concentrates on her breathing. Slow, deep breaths make the ascent more bearable as they pass misty, roaring waterfalls, and occasionally, other Elves appearing and disappearing into the foliage, silent as shadows. The steep incline is terrifying; the path narrows markedly so the horses walk in single file; the surefooted animals continue upwards, unconcerned how some areas of the mountainside seemingly fall completely away. When she braves a look over the side of the narrow path, Jordan can no longer see the forest floor far below.   She keeps her eyes front and center, having no choice but to trust in the Elf and his mount.
It’s Mt. Fuji all over again.
Gimli and Legolas greet by name those they know, and are be greeted in turn.   Finding it easier to breathe with each passing moment, Jordan is in awe, her head is in constant motion as she takes in her surroundings. Legolas is amused, a tolerant smile on his face; unconsciously, Jordan clutches his arm. Occasionally, she strains to peer over Legolas’ shoulder at something that catches her attention.
“Are you pleased with Rivendell?” He asks her teasingly.
“It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen…” she says reverently. Her green eyes are shining, their color intensified by the lush foliage.
“Our journey is almost over.” Legolas assures her. Turning to face forward, Jordan follows his gaze; her eyes grow wide with wonder as the magnificent structures and statues perched upon the mountainside come into full view.
They ride into a vast, open courtyard. Gimli dismounts, the reins of his horse loosed from Arod and taken by a stable hand. Legolas follows suit. The beauty of Rivendell leaves Jordan speechless; everywhere she gazes, graceful arches, lush groves, silhouettes and buildings perfectly intertwine with nature itself. It is difficult to determine where a building begins and nature takes over. Jordan is still marveling at the architecture, when she pauses, raising both hands to her temples; the Buzz -- low in intensity since their ascent, becomes a constant, insistent crescendo upon their arrival, increasing by seemingly a thousand fold as more Elves arrive and gather to greet the travelers and tend to the animals. Resting his forehead upon Arod’s neck and stroking him affectionately, Legolas speaks briefly to the Elf holding the pale horse’s reins, before turning to help Jordan down; the alarming pallor of her skin, and look of distress do not escape him.
“Jordan, what is the matter --Are you ill?” Perplexed and alarmed, the Fair Elf’s concerned eyes train upon her; one moment she is fine, the next she appears nauseated and decidedly unwell; body rigid with tension, Jordan’s hands ball into fists and she presses them against her temples. “Legolas, I don’t feel so good…” Swallowing hard against the bile threatening to come up, Jordan closes her eyes and takes a deep, controlled breath, visibly trembling.
The overwhelming Buzz -- in combination with the strain of their hard ride -- turns Jordan’s already sore legs to jelly. Her efforts to resist the onslaught against her senses become too much. Slumping against Legolas Jordan concentrates on not vomiting on the Elf’s boots; whimpering softly, she offers no resistance when he lifts her up in his arms. Everywhere, the musical voices around her become garbled and discordant as the Buzz roars in Jordan’s ears, filling her head and overwhelming her ability to react; the woman’s body becomes limp, and her eyes roll back in her head.
Alarmed by the unexpected turn of events, Legolas quickly carries Jordan to the quarters indicated by a servant and lays her upon the bed; caressing her cheek softly, he takes his leave, entrusting her to the capable hands of Læurenthail, Rivendell’s head Healer, confident Jordan will receive the best care possible. The tender gesture isn’t lost to Læurenthail’s sharp eyes, though her face remains expressionless. Nodding to the Healer, Legolas departs, seeking the Elf-Lord.
Seated at an impromptu council meeting, Elders of various ranking are in attendance, listening intently as Legolas and Gimli tel of the strange flash of light leading them to this woman, Jordan Waters, and how she alone battled Orcs until their arrival. An occasional frown mars Lord Elrond’s smooth forehead. The Companion’s tale corroborates reports of increased sightings and skirmishes with renegade bands of Orcs; the latter occurring with disturbing frequency.
The Lord of Rivendell’s first priority is to rid the surrounding outlying areas of the Orc scourge. Then he will consider this Jordan Waters, who is currently unable to speak for herself. His course of action determined and met with approval by the gathered Elders, Lord Elrond decides to pay his unexpected guest a visit, knowing his Elven guards will deal with any fell ilk that dare enter his realm, his orders already relayed commanding the borders of Rivendell be heavily fortified. The coming festivities will continue without interruption.
“She stirs.” A soft, female voice says quietly. The Buzz has become a steady drone in Jordan’s head and her eyes fly open in alarm, hands instinctively searching for her Katana, preparing to deal with the threat so near. Struggling to sit up, gentle hands firmly hold her down.
“You are still weak. Rest.” Jordan’s disoriented mind barely takes in the she-Elf.
Beautiful, aristocratic features grace her flawless face; pointed ears peek out from behind gorgeous, flowing chestnut brown hair. The she-Elf’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rise slightly, as she silently observes her curious charge. Jordan slowly and then vigorously shakes her head from side to side, attempting to silence the noise in her head. It is a futile attempt. Pressing the heels of both hands against her tightly closed eyes, Jordan cannot prevent the grimace of pain upon her face. The woman breathes deeply, forcing herself to relax. Giving into the insistent sensation, Jordan does not resist the thrumming, tingling that fills her entire being, insisting she flee or fight. Struggling against the urge to panic, Jordan mentally adjusts to the feeling, focusing, pushing the Buzz to the back of her mind. Long moments pass before Jordan is able to raise her head, fighting the urge to purge her already empty stomach. Drawing a deep, and shaky breath, face devoid of her internal struggle, Jordan’s hands lower and rest at her side; she looks at the she-Elf with clear eyes.
“I am Læurenthail; you are in the House of Elrond, Lord of Imladris, Jordan Waters.” The elleth says in a low voice; she smiles briefly at Jordan’s look of confused astonishment.
“Welcome to Imladris, or in the Common tongue -- Rivendell, Lady Waters. “I am Elrond; Lærenthail, our Head Healer, has been tending you.”
Startled at the low voice opposite from the elleth, Jordan’s head swivels to gaze at the new speaker, a tall Elf with regal bearing. His rich robes and the elaborate circlet upon his head indicate his rank as royalty. Jordan’s cheeks color a becoming shade of rose, indicating her chagrin at meeting the Lord of this realm in such manner, unsure if she should rise from the bed and curtsey, or remain where she lay. What she longs to do is pull the covers over her head and hide. Elrond’s sharp features and even sharper gaze take in Jordan’s appearance. Sensing no shadow in her person, only acute embarrassment and wonder, he decides to leave her in her quarters until the evening’s festivities.
“My Lord, thank you for your hospitality. I’m afraid your first impression of me is not a favorable one.”
“We will speak more later. There is a feast this even; I pray you will be well enough to attend. In the meantime, Lady Waters, rest well.”
“Thank you, my Lord.” Jordan relaxes against the pillows as Læurenthail walks Lord Elrond out, their voices low in conversation.
“Do you think she well enough to attend this even, Læurenthail?” He asks the Healer.
“Yes, my Lord. Exhaustion is all I see that plagues her. Lord Legolas says she is not a skilled rider. No doubt her body is most sore from their travels; I believe she is unaccustomed to high elevations, My Lord, yet she has adjusted well rather quickly.” Lord Elrond nods, satisfied with the Healer’s assessment of their guest. While the woman is unconscious, he took the opportunity to examine her unusual clothing and weaponry.   Spying the leaf of Lórien around Jordan’s neck, Elrond Half-Elven is intensely curious to know how a strange mortal woman is in possession of it. It only serves to raise more questions. When he touches it, images of landscapes and structures that are alien fill his mind.
Most prominent is the face of a handsome, dark-haired Man that flits thru the Elven ruler’s mind; fragmented images and impressions give him the sense the Man is a . . . Swordmaster of some manner, and of great significance to the unknown woman. As for the woman, no threat or shadow can he sense from her, yet he determines her presence in Imladris to be noteworthy, to say the least. The answers will reveal themselves, all in good time, and time is certainly something the Elves have. If answers are not revealed, then surely Mithrandir will be able to lend clarity to the situation. Deep in thought, the Elf-Lord grants the Healer her leave to return to their guest; he has much to ponder.
Jordan lays back against the pillows of the bed, watching Læurenthail silently and efficiently move about her room. Idly, she toys with her necklace. Pleased Jordan remains awake and alert, Læurenthail remarks, “You heal quickly, Lady Waters. Your clothes have been sent for cleaning and will be returned to you shortly. In the meantime, I hope you deem the wardrobe contents acceptable for your use.” Indicating a large armoire decorated with intricate carvings, the elleth continues, “You will find other items for your stay at Rivendell. If there is any thing you require, let Ceallach know.”
“Please call me Jordan, Læurenthail. I can’t thank you enough for your care. I only hope there is a way for me to repay you and Lord Elrond for your thoughtfulness and hospitality.” Jordan says earnestly; Laeurenthail gives her a ghost of a smile and turns towards the door.
“I shall leave you now. Ceallach will show you to the washroom; a servant will escort you to the feast. No doubt Lord Legolas and Master Gimli wish to know how you fare.” With a reassuring smile, the Healer leaves, closing the door silently behind her.
Jordan waits for a beat of three before sitting up in bed, the bed sheets fall away; she notices her bra and panties are missing, and wonders wryly what the Elves think of her clothes; Jordan looks down at the gown she is wearing. Brilliant white in color, the sheer, gauzy material does little to hide her nudity but feels so good next to her skin, the supple scoop neck is heavily embroidered in gold and green thread; apparently Elven maidens aren’t petite. The gown is made for a tall person; on her, the neckline reaches from shoulder to shoulder. When Jordan gathers it closer, the neckline only dips lower, into a deep “U”, all the way to her belly button, presenting a dilemma of sorts. On the other hand, if Jordan isn’t careful, it will slip entirely off her shoulders to the ground. The long, bell shaped sleeves reach well past her hands. It is one of the most beautiful sleeping gowns she’s ever seen. A sudden feeling of homesickness overcomes her.
If I were home, I’d be shopping and getting a pedicure. Then I’d go home, happily exhausted while I eat popcorn and watch a DVD Sighing, Duncan’s face comes to her mind; she wonders what he is doing.
Much as I’d love to stay, I’ve must find a way back home.
Feeling stronger, Jordan notices the Buzz remains a steady, low-level hum.
Definitely more tolerable. Elves must be immortal. I wonder if there are any more of Us here. Or am I the only one? If Duncan could only see me now!
Looking around the room, the carvings and appointments are all beautiful, natural, and Elvish in design.
Home and Garden TV has nothing on this place.
Looking up at the ceiling, suspended is sheer netting that is currently pulled aside; if drawn, it will act as both an insect shield, and a romantic curtain. The white bed sheets are made of the softest cotton-like material, the neutral and earth colors of the room are rich and vibrant. Her well appointed room, exquisite sleep gown and otherworldly setting makes Jordan feel feminine and dainty.   As the fading rays of the sun come thru the open windows, a soft, refreshing breeze circulates through the room, bringing with it rich scents of the world outside and the tranquil sounds of nature. Jordan crawls across the large bed until she is able to slip off. Taking a step, she trips over the long hem of the nightgown, but catches herself on a beautifully carved stand beside the bed, almost knocking it over in the process. Steadying it, she sighs in relief.
“You break it, you buy it.”
To her delight, Jordan notices her weapons are complete and in their holsters, draped across a chair at the side of the armoire.
How thoughtful. And trusting. Obviously they don’t consider me a threat.
Jordan carefully opens the armoire doors to see it contains various articles of clothing.   Finding a robe, Jordan slips it on; delighted to see its length is perfect. Belting it closed, she crosses the room and opens the door. In the hallway, she meets another beautiful she-Elf who introduces herself as Ceallach; the Elven maiden quietly leads the woman to a room that is straight out of a fantasy. Another architectural wonder is before her; a natural, spring-fed sunken pool dominates the center of the room; large enough to swim in, fresh water pours from a graceful statue of a she-Elf tipping an urn; various, lush green plants and ferns are everywhere, the scent of flowers permeate the balmy air.
            “This pool is fed by a waterfall that falls away to the river below. Lady Waters, you will find what you require to complete your cleansing on the stand. I shall be outside. You may leave your shift by the pool if you wish.” Looking around the room, Jordan turns back to thank her, only to discover she is alone.
“Silent as shadows.” She murmurs to herself.
Shrugging, Jordan counts to three before squealing in delight. She runs to the water’s edge; carefully folding her robe and gown, Jordan places them on the ledge where they won’t get wet. Dipping her toes into the water, Jordan finds it is wonderfully warm. Easing herself in until fully submersed, beneath the water, Jordan hugs herself with a smile, her long hair fanning in a dark cloud about her. Wading to the stand by the pool, she sniffs the scented bars and studies the delicate combs, admiring the exquisite craftsmanship. Deciding on the soap that smells like herbs and flowers, Jordan stands in the shallow area, working it into a rich, luxurious lather, covering her hair and body with the fragrant foam. Looking like she is covered in marshmallow cream, Jordan’s green eyes are the only visible part of her body. Diving into the water, the bubbly foam floats on the surface, before disappearing. Breaking the surface, Jordan swims to the edge of the pool and rests her head on her hands whilst studying her surrounding.
I wish I could take this home.
Not wanting to linger too long, she finishes her bath. Jordan sits on the ledge, her legs still in the warm water as she selects a comb made of mother-of-pearl. Pulling it through her wet locks, Jordan carefully wrings the excess water from her long hair. She places the used comb beside the bowl, separating it from the other combs, before drying off with a large cloth and slipping back into her robe. Refreshed, Jordan gathers up her shift, blows a kiss good bye to the room and steps into the hallway where Ceallach is waiting for her.
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Only One	By : HollyHobbit13 Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Crossovers Views: 4468 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: See full disclaimer below.

Only One