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Autumn's End	By : Cee Category: -Multi-Age > Het - Male/Female Views: 848 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
A/N: I have to give Tammy a great big hug and thank you for all her help with this chapter, especially a certian scene, that without her willingness to write it for me would have been a hopeless wreck. Love you Tammy!!

Disclaimer: See first chapter

Chapter 7

Sweet Surrender
Varyar stirred from his reverie slowly, the tea had left him feeling slightly groggy and his sides ached terribly. He shifted cautiously into a sitting position, wincing at the pain that wrapped itself round his chest and sides. His hand darted reflexively to the poultice that covered the cut on his side.
"Don't be too eager to move, lad." Maratar spoke, from where he sat on a wooden chair in a darkened corner.
Varyar shifted uneasily. He'd been dreading this moment for sometime now. The healer's tea had given him a thankful respite but there would be no further avoidance.
"I am disappointed in you Varyar." Despite his pain, the Harbor Master slowly crossed his arms over his chest. "Disobeying orders, getting into fights, this is not like you."
Varyar didn't respond. He knew that Maratar was not finished and that an interruption would only further aggravate his commander.
"I am most concerned that I have judged you too swiftly. The elf I knew before appointing you as my successor would never have done half the things you have done since our arrival here." He sat back and sighed. "Tell me Varyar, am I wrong? Or are you still the same elf that I named my successor."
"Maratar . . .It. . I have not meant to disobey you, or to make you question my loyalty. It is just. . ."
Maratar silenced him with a hand motion and a glare. "It is just the gypsy girl you have been spending your time with. Do not think because I am older I do not understand the wonderings of the heart." He gave a pause nd stared at Varyar for a moment. "Or the flesh. But you can not let youthful follies interfere with your duties!"
"It is more than youthful follies!" Varyar tried to stand but winced as soon as he moved, his ribs protesting the sudden movement. He clenched his eyes shut against the pain and frustration, but opened them again when he felt hands on his shoulders gently pushing him back against the pillows.
"Fool. Do not try to move, it will cause you more pain." As soon as Varyar was settled Maratar reached over to the table and grabbed a cup. "Here, drink this," he instructed. "It will take the edge off the pain."
"Maratar, please do not be angry with me." Varyar put his hands over Maratar's to stop the cup from reaching his lips. "I love her, it is not just youthful follies, it is a gift from the Valar."
"It is no gift, Varyar, not this . . this thing you feel for a mortal." Maratar pushed Varyar's hands away and placed the cut against Varyar's lips. Anger was shining in the Harbor Master's eyes, and perhaps fear as well. Sighing, the Harbor Master returned the cup back to the side table. "This is your first extended trip to the mainland. As you know, normally I do not allow an elf any free time off the boat. As my successor, you will have to deal with mankind, Varyar. I need to know that every time you come back you will not find another mortal to love."
"That will never happen!" Varyar said angrily. "I love her! Don't you understand that? Can you understand?"
"I can understand what you think you feel, Varyar. I have no doubt that what you think you are feeling is love. But you are young yet, and there are still many years for you to discover what love truly is."
"I know what love is." Hissed Varyar. "Her name is Alamathea."
"Valar, Varyar she is mortal!" Maratar stood up and threw his arms in the air. "Mortal!" He turned back to the bed. "She is going to die, do you understand that! No amount of feeling will stop that, no amount of praying or wishing."
Varyar remained silent, allowing Maratar to continue.
"This is not an event to be celebrated. To love a mortal is dangerous; you know the ending, Varyar. Death."
He then sighed and sat back down on the bed, careful not to cause Varyar any further pain. "Even if this is what you want, do you really understand what it means? She cannot come back with us; you would have to remain here if you wished to be with her. Are you ready for that? To give up everything for her? Your home, family. . . your life?"
Varyar remained silent for a few moments. He stared down at the blanket, running his fingertip along the frayed edge. Then as the full depth of his emotions washed over him, Varyar looked at his mentor, and finding new strength - with the ease that the healing tea also gave his pained body, Varyar tossed the blankets aside. Without a word, he clenched his teeth and forced his body to obey and stand.
Maratar looked at him in surprise; this was obviously not the answer he had expected. Varyar remained silent as he reached for the clean undershirt and tunic that had been laid out, and with some effort clothed himself.
Once he was clothed, he turned and walked to the door; all the while he and Maratar remaining silent. He stopped at the door, and looked hard at his mentor; the elf that had watched him grow into adulthood. Varyar sighed and found the words that his heart screamed. "I am willing to give up my very life for her. Whatever the price to be paid, I give it willingly."

"She belongs with her people, and you with yours. For an elf to bond with a human is sure death!"
Then he turned and walked out the door closing it behind him, with an ominous thud.
Despite the soreness of his body, Varyar charged through the streets, nearly shoving people aside in his headlong dash to see Alamathea.

Although Varyar greatly respected the Harbor Master, and even thought of him as the nearest to his father, Maratar's words had stung like a cold slap in the face, giving rise to Varyar's desperate need to be near Alamathea. It was as though without her nearness, he was unable to breathe - despite the grave desperation of their situation. Perhaps, hearing it said aloud had made it tenfold more real to him, he did not know, but Maratar's words still rang clearly in his head, "She belongs with her people, and you with yours. For an elf to bond with a human is sure death!" Overhead, the sky began to darken.

Driven by his anxiousness, Varyar made the short journey to the gypsy camp more quickly than he ever had before; the dogs barked in alarm as he burst through the trees and into the clearing.

Although his presence was no longer a surprise to the human camp, his abrupt entrance was, and the men and women looked up curiously. Ignoring them all, Varyar headed in the direction of the mountain stream, near the edge of the clearing. There, he found the one he sought.

Alamathea stood over a tub of soapy water, scrubbing several of her father's shirts.

She looked up at him, seemingly surprised by the haste of his arrival. Despite the red ribbon that tied her long dark mane back, a few errant curls framed her delicate face. She wore a plain cream- colored blouse, with a full skirt a shade darker than her blouse. To Varyar, she'd never looked more beautiful than at that moment.

She quickly straightened, drawing her hands from the water. Obviously realizing the urgency of his visit, a slow smile spread across her face, which Varyar had discovered was her subtle way of calming him when he was distressed. Alamathea dried her hands on her skirt and ran to him, the wash now forgotten, and when they met, Varyar swept her into his arms, spinning her around, heedless of his body's painful protest.

Gently, he set her back on her feet, tenderly brushing a dampened curl from her face, before leaning in to sear her lips with a fiery kiss.

In response, several catcalls and whistles echoed through the clearing, but he cared not; Alamathea was here and in his arms, and that was all that mattered.

In fact, it was all that would ever matter. . .
"Can you go for a walk with me?" he whispered in her ear as he held her tightly to his body.

She pulled away to look at his face, concerned. "Yes, but. . ."

"Good." Varyar pulled her to him again, holding her tightly. "I wish to speak with you,"

With great reluctance, he released her so that she could tell her family she would be leaving, but from the look of

disproval on her mother's face, Varyar could tell that she was not pleased.

Within moments, Alamathea returned with a red shawl wrapped tightly round her shoulders.

"I am ready," she said, smiling up at him. "Where shall we go?"

"To the cabin." Varyar reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
By the time they made their way to the stream where they had shared that first glorious kiss, the wind had picked up and the sky had grown even darker.

In the distance there was the low rumble of thunder, and Varyar sensing her apprehension, nestled Alamathea closer to him, as she glanced at the sky nervously. He pulled the edge of her shawl up round her shoulders when the wind picked up, carrying with it a fall chill.

"Varyar, perhaps we should turn back,"� Alamathea suggested, snuggling closer as they began to follow the stream to the edge of the woods.

"We can make it before the rain begins, sweetness," he replied softly, glancing up to the sky as well. "We'll be safe enough there."
Alamathea gazed at him, puzzlement written upon her face, and instead of persisting that they return back to the gypsy camp, she simply squeezed his hand and allowed him to lead her into the dark trees.

The first dollops of rain tumbled to the ground as soon as Varyar and Alamathea stepped into the clearing of their cabin, and Alamathea lifted her shawl over their heads, sheltering them as they ran the final steps to the door and hurried inside.

Their efforts over the past few days had created quite a transformation in the tiny dwelling. The floor was swept clean, and sparse furnishings had been wiped free of dust. Alamathea had even placed a vase of flowers on the table near the window and a bright quilt on the bed. Varyar had chuckled at these additions, but now had to admit that they gave the cabin a cozy and homely feel.

As Alamathea draped her shawl over the back of a chair to dry and removed her boots, Varyar knelt by the fireplace and began arranging logs and kindling. Moments later, the interior of the cabin grew a warm yellowish-orange from the crackling fire, while outside, the rain pattered gently on the roof.

Varyar stood and brushed his hands clean, smiling when he turned around to find Alamathea gazing at him thoughtfully.

"Is everything to your liking, milady?" He asked playfully, settling comfortably in the chair that they had placed near the fireplace; the warmth of the room helping to ease the pain that he'd been ignoring in his desperate need to see Alamathea.

She nodded, smiling with contentment as she ran her fingers over the surface of the table. "Varyar?"

His curiosity piqued, Varyar noticed the far off gaze in her eyes. "Yes, is there something you desire?"
"No," Alamathea shook her head, then stopped and glanced at him. "Actually, yes."
Varyar turned more fully toward her. "Than tell me. I would do anything you wish of me."

"Just for tonight, let us imagine that this really is our house." She blushed, looking at the flowers on the table. "Imagine that you are my husband, and I your wife. Just for tonight, let us dream that we have built a life together . . . here, in this cabin."

For a moment, Varyar sat pondering her words and what she truly meant, for if he had misinterpreted her, the consequence could be dire. "Alamathea, what exactly do you ask of me?" She swallowed and looked away, folding her hands in her lap, twisting and wringing them nervously. Varyar rose from the chair and stood before her, kneeling on one knee. "Dearest?" he said, cupping her chin in his hand, lifting her face to his.

"I wish that just for tonight, to know what it is like to be with you, Varyar," she whispered, "to lay with you, as a wife would her husband."

Varyar drew a sharp breath, his mouth running dry. "Are you certain, Alamathea?" he asked at last. "Once you have lain with another, you can never go back to the way you were before; you will have known another's touch."

"This I realize," she answered with a slight nod," and "tis still my wish to be with you, unless. . ."

"Unless, what?"

Suddenly, her eyes grew misty and she glanced away for a moment, as if unable to meet his gaze. When he thought she would remain silent, at last she spoke. "You are elf-kind and I am human, Varyar," she said, stating the obvious."Perhaps you find me disdainful and do not wish any relations with me. . ."

Varyar took her by the shoulders, forcing her attention. "Alamathea, how could you ever think such a thing?" he asked, incredulously. "Never have I met another like you. Surely you know that."

Alamathea looked into his eyes, and there was a trace of that same sadness he had seen before. "I know only that I want to be with you and no other."
Varyar wrapped his arms around her, inhaling deeply the scent of her hair, like wildflowers and honey. When he pulled back to gaze into her eyes, there he saw that they had darkened. Slowly, ever so slowly he leaned in and claimed her lips with his own.

At first their kisses were chaste, but soon a fire ignited between them, consuming their desire for one another; Varyar sensed this and for a moment he hesitated, wishing to go slowly and savor the moment, as he had no other.

"Alamathea, tell me what you feel as I touch you," Varyar instructed, as he kissed her fully on the mouth, before moving to neck, running his tongue along the sensitive skin below her ear lobe to her shoulders. "What do you feel?"

"I shiver when you touch me there," she said, her voice deep and breathy, and in response, Varyar kissed her again, his tongue flitting inside her mouth to deepen the kiss.

A few moments later, when he ended the kiss, Varyar pulled the ties to Alamathea's blouse, slowly pushing it from her shoulders with the lightest touch of his hand. "Now what do you feel?" he asked, watching her cheeks flush a warm pink.

"A tickle," she said on a breathless sigh, trembling slightly.

Varyar pushed the blouse down a little more, revealing the rise of Alamathea's breasts, and until at last, she stood bare to her waist. He drew a sharp breath, running his tongue across his lips in anticipation . . .

When he touched her breasts, his fingers skillfully kneading the soft flesh, she gave a slight cry of pleasure and leaned into his hands. "And this? How does this feel, Alamathea?" he asked again huskily, rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

"I. . . I feel it," she breathed, "deep in my stomach and lower. Like a. . . like a coil ready to spring. . ."

Smiling, Varyar bent and ran his tongue across the two small peaks, first one and then the other, before he gently blew on them, watching as they drew tighter and deepened to a dark rosy color. "Did you like that," he asked when she stiffened and arched her back, burying her hands in his hair and drawing his mouth closer to her breasts.

"Yesssss," she hissed, fitting her body closely to his. In answer, once again, he drew one breast and then the other in his mouth, his tongue drawing tiny circles around her nipples before he took the hardened pebbles to suckle.

Lightning lit up through the small windows in the cabin, illuminating her face in its brightness, and few short moments later, a soft rumble of thunder sounded, indicating that the rain was moving on. Slowly, he ran his hands down her sides to her hips, where he undid the fastenings of her skirt, reaching inside as Alamathea ground against his need, nearly undoing his shaky resolve to take his time and savor their coupling.

Steeling himself, Varyar continued his oral exploration down her body, stopping at the soft flesh of her stomach, where he began to push her skirt downward with his hands, until at last, he reached the first thatch of dark curls. Overwhelmed by his strong emotions, he drew her close, wrapping his arms about her waist and placing his cheek against her lower abdomen. "Never have I felt this way, Alamathea," he whispered, closing his eyes. "This night I will treasure through the rest of my long years," he said as she wrapped her arms about him in response.

"Allow me to undress you now, Varyar," she said softly, urging him to stand.

Varyar did as she asked and stood before her, waiting patiently as her eyes flitted over his body.

With trembling hands, she reached for the hidden fastenings of his tunic, slowing pulling the leather strap back through the two rings used to hold it securely in place, until the heavy woolen fell away, revealing his well-toned chest and stomach to her waiting gaze. She drew a sharp breath and stepped back slightly. . .

"Varyar, what happened?" she asked as she made to touch him then quickly withdrew.

Varyar followed her eyes, to the angry looking cut on his right side and the bruises covering the rest of his chest and sides. "It is not as bad as it looks, sweetness," he said in an effort to ease her concern.

She starred at him dubiously, as if he were not being completely forthright with her. "You did not answer my question," she said. "Now I ask you again, what happened?"

"I had a *slight* run-in with Gathnen and Gurthdur and a few of their friends," Varyar replied, wincing when she reached out to touch where Gurthdur's dagger had gashed his side, causing her to quickly withdraw her hand and look at him, full of contrition. "It is fine, Alamathea, do you not know about an elf when he is injured?" he asked with a smile. "It takes much to injure an elf, and even when they are injured, they heal far more efficiently than that of a human."

"But it certainly must be painful, is it not?"

Varyar drew himself to his full height, towering over her, and puffed out his chest. "It will take more than Gathnen and Gurthdur to get the better of me, Milady," he said proudly, than bending, he kissed her tenderly for a long, lingering moment. "Now, let us speak no more of those filthy excuses for humans, for tonight you are my wife and I your husband. . ."

Slowly, Alamathea touched him again, drawing her hands from the center of his chest, outward to his shoulders, leaving his flesh tingling and warm wherever she touched.

Varyar watched as her eyes traveled downward to his stomach, and then that which beyond. . .

His mind screamed for her to move lower to his hardened, aching need, and as if in answer, she began to undo the lacings of his breeches, gently easing them down his hips, stopping only when he stayed her with his hands. With a smile, he quickly kicked off his boots, letting them fall where they may, and to his delight, she once more set to the task of removing his breeches, shoving them down his legs, to pool at his feet.

Closing his eyes, Varyar waited for what was to come when his heated flesh sprang forward, and was pleased when Alamathea gasped slightly. However, his pride quickly changed to that of worry when one moment passed into two, and she made no move to touch him any further.

Varyar opened his eyes to find her looking upon him in what he recognized as awe; it was after all, the same way he had looked at her. It was at that precise moment that he realized how truly innocent Alamathea was, and there was no doubt in his mind that he was the first male she had seen naked. . . and aroused.

"Alamathea," he said, bending slightly to look into her eyes, "is something wrong?" Shaking her head, she blushed and looked away. "Sweetling, we do not have to do this if you do not wish."

As if to assure him, she quickly met his gaze. "No, it is what I want," she replied. "It is just. . ." her voice fell away as her expression took on that same look of awe yet again, "you are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined."

Varyar's heart swelled in response and he grasped her by the shoulders and drew her up to him, hungrily kissing her as she leaned into him, perfectly molding her body to his. So close she was, that he could feel her heart pounding beneath her chest.

Or was it his heartbeat?

For a short moment, she pulled away from his mouth and her eyes met his. Varyar feared that she had changed her mind, but was pleased to see that they had grown yet darker with arousal, and that in their depths burned a fire perhaps as molten as his own.

"Love me, Varyar," she whispered, taking his hand in hers and placing it against her breast. Varyar heard a low growl, dimly recognizing it as coming from his own mouth, and once again kissed her hard, his hand skillfully kneaded the soft flesh of her bosom until she hummed sweetly with need.

While he had lain with many elleth, never had he felt such desire as he did with Alamathea; she was passionate and exciting, living each day as if it were her last - true to her human nature.

Varyar broke away from her, drinking in the sight of her, as if anew; her soft, feminine scent invaded his senses. To him, she was everything beautiful and divinely wonderful, and in the softness of firelight, her hair glistened a near silvery pitch and her eyes a dark beryl green. With his finger, he traced the delicate lines of her mouth as she watched him in rapt attention, but soon, beneath his ministrations, her eyelids began to grow heavy, until they slowly slipped shut.

"Please, Varyar," she whispered. "Make me yours."

With effortless strength, Varyar scooped her into his arms and carried her to the small bed, where he gently placed her. "Never have I seen such a stunning vision," he said, awed by her beauty. "You take my breath."

Alamathea smiled sweetly and wrapped her arms about his neck, drawing him closer, until his mouth covered hers. The kiss was slow and thorough, lingering and soft, yet promising of what was to come.

After a few moments, Varyar broke the kiss and stood before her, watching as her eyes raked over him, from head to toe, lingering at his maleness. When he could stand no more, his need becoming more demanding, he joined her on the bed, covering her body with his own.

Varyar wanted her in every possible way, but knew that she must be prepared for what was to come, or their joining would be more painful than need be. So, in response to her needs, he loved her completely with his mouth and hands, lingering on her breasts in an effort to relax her. "Tell me again, my darling, what you feel," he urged her between his wanton kisses.

"I feel a growing need, deep in my core, to be touched and filled," she said breathlessly, arching her body against his.

"Then touched and filled you shall be." With his mouth, he set a blazon trail down her stomach to that same thatch of dark hair, where he spread her legs. "Tell me," he said, as he tasted her for the first time.

Alamathea writhed beneath him, her breaths coming in short pants. "I feel a delicious warmth. . ." she cried, "a warmth that I cannot describe. . . only to say that I am. . . I am held captive by your touch. . ." Her cries of pleasure pierced the silence in the cabin, urging Varyar on until her first release filled her body in its bewitching grip, teasing and pleasuring her as she thrashed in sheer ecstasy.

When the cries of her orgasm lessened and calmed, Varyar slid back up her body, his own need demanding and molten, and as if to further claim her as his own, he covered her mouth in a lustful, probing kiss. "Are you ready, Alamathea?" he asked, his voice wantonly tight.

"Take me now," she hissed, spreading her legs to allow him entry.

A low, guttural growl flew from his lungs, and he reached down to grasp his length to guide his maleness inside her.

She is untouched, he reminded himself, as his most primal instincts begged him to make a quick and absolute penetration. Slowly! He must take her slowly!

Although her wetness made his entry much easier, she was tight around him, nearly so much that he feared he could not bury himself completely. However, as he slowly worked himself in and out of her female core, she began to loosen and allow him further inside until. . .

When he touched her innocence, he stopped and looked to Alamathea for her final acquiesce.

She smiled, although she was clearly in great discomfort from the invasion of his body, and with her hands on his buttocks, she pulled him nearer �- deeper inside.

"The pain will be brief," he assured her, and then kissing her tenderly, he pushed forward until he felt the small barrier give way and she gasped against his mouth. When her eyes welled with tears, a single drop slipping from the corner of her eye to meander down her cheek, Varyar gently wiped it away with his fingertip. For a moment he remained still, buried within her, enabling her to adjust to his length and width.

When a few moments passed and they lay joined as one, Varyar's arms and legs began to tremble and his maleness twitched within her. His need to move toward completion and release increased and became more steadily pronounced, nearly undoing him. However, just when he began to doubt his resolve to allow Alamathea the time needed to ready herself, her once sharp, pained breaths slowed and she moved, adjusting her body slightly underneath him. Varyar closed his eyes instinctively when she he moved again. . . and again. . . and yet again. . . And when her hips began to thrust against his, pulling him deeper inside, he at last gazed upon her, seeing that she had slipped into sublime pleasure. As if to answer her calling, he began to meet her with long, slow thrusts of his own.

Soon their lovemaking grew frenzied, as glorious waves of pleaure swept over them, pulling them closer and closer to their climax. Fiery blazes raced to their cores and spread enveloping every nerve, and when at last they found release, they cried out, holding each other tightly as their bodies melded as one.

Trembling, Varyar was hardly able to regain his breath as he gazed down at the woman below him. The emotions that coursed through his body were beyond anything he'd ever felt before. Suddenly, he knew with great certainty that life without her was something he could not bear.

"You're shaking" Alamathea's eyes glowed with warmth and love as she ran her fingers through his long black hair. "Are you well? Is it your side?"

Varyar leaned down, kissing her. "I am more than well."

"Then why do you shake, dearest?" Alamathea pulled the blankets more firmly round their bodies.

"Happiness." He replied simply, kissing her again. Her arms rose and wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, and Varyar felt his member twitch and harden deep within the sheath of her body.

She pulled away smiling at him playfully, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I see what you mean about elves recovering more quickly than men." She raised her head to claim his mouth with her own, encouraging him to do as he willed.

And he did.

* * * * * * * * * *

Varyar knew not how much time passed when at last he regained awareness. Her breaths were keened sweetly with his own as she lay asleep in his arms, her heart beating next to his. He reached out tenderly to touch one of her raven curls, bringing it to his nose, inhaling its soft flowery scent. A wave of contentment washed over him as she nestled closer. Until this moment, he had not known the depth that ones heart could truly feel.

With that thought came others less welcome. He knew now that being Harbor Master was not enough. He wished to spend his days with this woman, to wake just as he had this morning - next to her for every morning that followed. Yet, Maratar's words still rang as true now as they had before. He would never be allowed to bring her to the island. He had but one choice . . . and though he knew well where that choice would lead him, there was no other way he would have it.
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Autumn's End