Warnings: het sex, maledom, whipping
"All the world lay then in wonder at the coming of the Moon. But as the host of Fingolfin marched into Mithrim the Sun rose flaming in the West; and Fingolfin unfurled his blue and silver banners and blew his horns, and flowers sprang beneath his marching feet, and the ages of the stars were ended," - The Silmarillion
Very tall they were, and the Lady no less than the Lord. The setting sun shone behind their tall bodies and cast long shadows across the floor of the talan.
Celeborn's shadow now appeared to prostrate itself before the messenger who himself bowed before the royal couple. Celeborn's heart sank as he delivered his message. The messenger, Thranduil, had been sent by his father, Oropher, King of the Greenwood to inform him that he and his people who lived there, would be removing themselves from the city of Amon Lanc to settle two hundred leagues further north, deeper in the great forest.
Celeborn had known Oropher from when they were both children in Doriath before the War of Wrath, when the power of the Girdle of Melian still protected it. After the banishment of Morgoth and with it, the destruction of Doriath, Oropher had taken those elves that remained and settled east of the Misty Mountains in the Southern tip of the Greenwood among the Silvan elves who resided there. Among them were many of Celeborn's kin and oldest friends. Amon Lanc was little more than a day's ride from the Eastern border of Lorien. What was more, the warriors of the Greenwood were known to be both disciplined and deadly. So it was a grievous loss to hear they would be losing such beloved allies as they went north.
"My Lord Celeborn, my Father has asked me to assure that his love and loyalty to you as a friend remains unfaltering. He leaves only because the people demand it. They fear the growing darkness in the South. Not to mention that many of the Silvan elves are uncomfortable with our, uh, cultural differences," Thranduil said tactfully, casting a nervous glance at Galadriel.
Celeborn sighed inwardly. He suspected that this had to do more with "cultural differences" involving his wife than it did with the foundless rumors of stirring darkness which the abandoned fortress of the Necromancer presented.
Many Silvan elves resented the Noldor who came back to Middle Earth from across the sea as invaders and conquerors, who brought war and destruction in their wake. And in truth, Celeborn did not blame them - before the coming of the Noldor, Middle Earth, although never entirely free from evil, had never seen destruction on the scale of the War of Wrath. It had destroyed many a woodland realm and shattered countless Silvan tribes.
And so, it was not entirely incomprehensible that they should be weary of living within a stone's throw of people ruled by the most powerful Noldor woman to cross the sea, his wife, Galadriel. Indeed, it had been suggested that the people of Lorien only accepted Galadriel as Lady of the Wood because Celeborn was her mate, a Sinda and close kin to the predominantly Silvan elves who lived there. They would never have accepted the rule of a Noldo alone.
It did not help their relationship with Oropher's elves that Galadriel had recently decided that it was indispensable that the warriors of Lothlorien take control of the watch points around Dol Goldur, a fortress of Sauron that lay in the vicinity of Amon Lanc. These watch points had long been in the jurisdiction of the elves of Amon Lanc and Galadriel's commandeering of them was seen by many as nothing short of an act of Imperialism. Celeborn and Galadriel had known that Oropher's people removing themselves Northward away from the influence of Lothlorien would be a possible consequence but Galadriel had decided that it was worth having direct watch over Dol Goldur and Celeborn had, reluctantly, yielded to his wife's judgment.
"Thank you Thranduil. I regret that it has come to this between our peo-," Celeborn turned sharply as Galadriel cut him off.
"Very well. If Oropher wishes to be childish then we shall not miss him or his people. You may tell him that we wish him good fortune." Galadriel declared, curtly.
"As you wish, my Lady."
Celeborn's face burned with anger yet he said nothing – it would not due to argue with his wife in front of foreign dignitaries.
Thranduil gave his thanks and made his farewells and bowing, left the royal talan.
The day carried on and they saw more messengers. They spoke with their captains and scouts from throughout the realm and ordered the purchase and distribution of various goods. And all throughout the day Celeborn quietly nursed his anger and hurt. Of late Galadriel had grown ever more tyrannical, seeming to become more demanding and seeming to contradict and speak over him more each day. He could feel their bond weakening. No longer could he sense her thoughts and senses as his own. Their communicating was limited to words which oft fell utterly short or else were not freely given.
Already he knew that there were those who referred to him as Galadriel's dog. Alatariel's fawning pet kept to do her bidding. And yet somehow none found the courage to say it to his face. Let them talk. In truth, Celeborn was a master strategist, a commanding leader in his own right and a nephew of Thingol himself, giving him a lineage to match that of Galadriel.
But there are those who say, the moon shines only because it reflects the light of the sun, Celeborn reflected, a little sadly.
There had been a time when he had simply let Galadriel lead because she enjoyed it, and they were in so in harmony that there was little they disagreed on. For months now, somehow, there was little that they did agree on and Galadriel always insisted on getting her way. Noldor brat, Celeborn reflected.
Finally their last visitor for the day came; a merchant from the Grey Haven's who had come to negotiate the acquisition of mallorn wood for Cirdan's ships. Celeborn tired from the day, simply watched as his wife drove a hard bargain for the merchant, demanding a price twice that which was usually paid. He doubted he would be able to get a word in edge wise anyway.
He watched his wife as she argued with the merchant.
The golden sun shone on her golden hair and the reflection in Celeborn's silver hair made it seem golden too. He basked irritated in her golden glory. For all her domineering, controlling tendencies, she was beautiful. His eyes wandered up her slender frame, flitting over her firm breasts and slender neck. Her hair shone, thick and bright, seemingly independent of the sunlight which shone down through the branches. Hair that made the greatest of elf-lords beg. It framed her Noldorin eyes, as grey as steel. And as hard, as of late.
He noted her fists, unconsciously clenched. She had not always been so tense. Celeborn realized what he wanted to do that evening.
That night, after the evening meal, Celeborn rose from the table and bid his captains ad advisors a fair night. He stood by the stair and bowed to his wife, allowing her to pass first. He caught her hand as she passed and kissed it.
"Walk with me tonight, wife,"
Galadriel sighed, "Very well, if you wish,"
Celeborn and Galadriel descended the stair of their great talan and took a forest path. Celeborn had returned briefly to their private chambers to retrieve a small satchel of supplies and to slip out of his formal robes into more practical pair of leggings. He wore no tunic, preferring to feel the night air on his bare skin, after the manner of the Silvan elves of Lorien. He had a broad chest and tapered waist, a body honed by millennia of swimming in rivers and fighting to defend them. His body was scattered with faded battle scars.
Galadriel still wore her court dress, heavily embroidered and cunningly cut. She sniffed when she saw his bare chest, "I see that the Lord of the land has elected to neglect to dress himself."
"You never have become accustomed to the savagery, of those who have never sailed, have you?" Celeborn smiled.
Galadriel replied, "I do not begrudge the Avari their tribal ways. They are kin. I only wonder that they cling to their old ways even as we bring new ways to live from across the West. We can teach them to grow crops and build great fortresses and yet they prefer to hunt and live among the trees. Why cling to the dim light of the moon when you could instead have the light of the sun?
"The moonlight has its own beauty. It complements and seduces instead of revealing flaws. The moon changes its light to reflect the time. The sun can only ever burn."
"And yet there are those who say the moon is but a pale reflection of the sun." Galadriel countered.
Celeborn sighed, "And yet are we not all children of the stars?"
They fell into silence.
The twilight was ended and the moon began to rise in the night. The white light of the moon picked up the silver in Celeborn's hair and it seemed to glitter in the evening.
They first met in the twilight, Celeborn reflected as they walked. It was fitting. The Noldo were a people of great light – first the light of the Trees in the West, the Silmarils, and later the light of the sun that had first risen as Fingolfin first marched across Mithrim in ages past. Celeborn, on the other hand, was a child of a different kind of light – his forefathers never sailed across the sea to the West and instead lived under the light of the stars, and Melian, the Maia.
He led her to a small clearing in the woods. An ancient Earthquake had created a sharp drop in the terrain forming a natural wall over which the river Nimrodel flew in a noisy waterfall, perfect for drowning out noise. It was a private area, quiet and secluded, forbidden to all by the Lord's family and his most trusted servants. They would not be disturbed.
Celeborn leant into Galadriel and kissed her. His ran his fingers up and down her spine and pressed his warrior's body against her and held her tightly as he cunningly slipped his tongue between her parted lips. He ran his fingers up and down her spine and smiled as he felt her shiver in his arms.
He gazed into her grey eyes with his azure ones. "Will you give yourself to me tonight, Galadriel?"
Galadriel looked back at Celeborn. He could not read the thoughts that warred behind her eyes – their mental bond was too weak.
Finally, she breathed, "Yes,"
Celeborn sighed in relief. He ran his fingers through her silken hair. He had a right, she was his. He combed through the tresses with a hunger tempered with gentleness. And then, suddenly, he stepped away and as he did so he slipped her dress easily from her shoulders. He had undone the clasps as they kissed.
Galadriel gasped, caught off guard by his deftness and her sudden nakedness and reflexively covered herself with her hands. Celeborn laughed. He took the hand that shielded her breasts defensively and bringing it towards himself, kissed it,
"That was perhaps the least of the indignities you shall suffer tonight, my Lady,"
He reached into the sack that he'd left on the ground and pulled a length of hithlain rope out.
"Give me your hands," he breathed, and tremblingly, she obeyed. The rope was cool and hard but flexible and he felt it's smoothness in his hands as he wrapped it around the ladies wrists which were smooth but achingly soft, despite the iron fists they were said to yield.
He wrapped the rope around her wrists a few times before securing it tightly with an ancient Silvan knot.
Celeborn took the long end of the rope that bound his wife's hands and cast it gracefully over an overhanging tree branch. He pulled the long end of the rope down so that it pulled the Lady's hands up until she was lifted so that her toes were only just able to plant themselves on the forest floor.
Still clothed, Celeborn secured the rope around a tree trunk and then approached his naked, dangling wife.
He kissed her again. Where before his kisses had been gentle and restrained, they now became forceful and demanding. Galadriel gasped as he pressed his lips hard against hers, his tongue demanding entry and plundering her at will, his lips nipping at her lips.
Celeborn slowly allowed his own aggression and need for control, so often overshadowed by his wife's, to creep through.
As he kissed her, he stroked Galadriel's up stretched arms, working his way slowly down from her tied wrists to the sensitive places underneath her arms. The way to seduce a great lady, Celeborn reflected, was to first attack her where she is least guarded. And so he began at the extremities and worked his way inward. And judging by the way Galadriel was subtly pressing her body against him, it was working.
Celeborn was not a sadist, exactly, if anything he would call himself a dominating sensualist. He enjoyed forcing women to feel great emotion and sensation, and today, he was going to make his wife feel his mastery over her body and the intensities of pain and pleasure he could bring to her.
He ran his thumbs under the edge of her clavicles and tickled his fingers over her chest, just before the swell of her bosom began, again and again until Galadriel squirmed a little in frustration. She loved having her breasts touched.
Finally he slipped his fingers under her breasts and held them with his hands, weighing and squeezing them as if he were testing the ripeness of a fruit. Celeborn swirled his thumbs over her nipples before pinching them hard.
He bent his head to suckle hungrily at first one then the other hardened teat, his teeth grazing at her hardened flesh while his hand continued to pinch and pull the opposite nipple. Celeborn smiled and stopped when he heard her first small moan.
He left his wife to retrieve something from his satchel on the ground and when he returned he held a long coiled whip in his hands. It was as long as his leg, as thick as his thumb at the base and as thin as her little finger at the tip.
Galadriel stiffened in her bonds when she saw it.
"Where did you get that?" She asked, both fascinated and horrified.
Celeborn laughed harshly, "The hands of the Noldor are not the only ones skilled in arts of handiwork,"
He had, in fact, woven it himself. He had taken the leather from a Warg he had killed whilst hunting alone to pass the time during a period when Galadriel had been away to the White Council in Imladris to help order the affairs of Middle Earth, leaving Celeborn to deal with the lesser matter of Lothlorien itself. He had spent many days tanning the beast's hide to a softness and suppleness where it could bite and welt the skin without bruising.
He held the whip in front of her face, letting her smell the leather. He stroked her cheek with it whilst his free hand slid down her belly and between her legs. Parting her lower lips he found her wet and smiled – she had always enjoyed this game.
His hand toyed with her a little more, stroking and teasing her most secret parts before he kissed her mouth again, softly and chastely and stepped back.
He swung the whip behind his shoulder and brought it down hard against her breasts. Again, against her belly. The upstroke found its way across the fronts of her thighs.
Galadriel tensed at the first few strokes but refused to cry out. Celeborn knew the pain of a well-braided whip and he smiled to himself at the force of will he knew her pride cost her to not cry out. He folded the whip in half and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.
"Yield to me," he commanded.
Galadriel clenched her jaw and said nothing. She knew what he wanted.
"Very well," he said and stepped behind the Lady.
He paused for a moment to admire how the moonlight shone on the white skin of her back before he against brought the whip down hard across her shoulders.
He drove a fast pace now, raising criss-crossing welts from the tops of her shoulders to the middle of her calves, but most of all focusing on her wonderful buttocks. He loved the way they tensed and twitched in anticipation of the next stroke.
She began to writhe as he whipped her, twisting and turning in her bonds. As she struggled, Celeborn, allowed the whip to wrap around her body and again snap against her belly and breasts. Galadriel cried out, despite herself.
Celeborn felt a thrill in himself at the noise and began to whip her faster, crowding the welts together on her buttocks and thighs.
"My," he crooned, "How the Lady Galadriel dances beneath my whip,"
He continued to beat her until he heard the Lady struggling to speak in between her cries and moans. He stepped in front of her. He wiped her tears away with his thumbs.
"What did you say, my pet?"
"Saes, herdir," Galadriel whispered.
Celeborn smiled, finally hearing the words he wished and demanded from her.
"What do you want my darling?" He asked, stroking her hair, gently.
"Anything, herdir. Hir nin, saes, do as you wish with my body,"
Celeborn laid a hand on the rope around Galadriel's wrists and with one swift motion, pulled free the knot, freeing her hands.
Galadriel tumbled to the ground, her legs not used to bearing weight, her shoulders stiff and sore. She fell to her hands and knees in the dirt. She began to rise and regain her footing but a sharp stroke of the whip against her already welted back stopped her short.
"Stay," Celeborn said sharply, and Galadriel stayed, kneeling on her hands and knees in the dirt.
He walked once around her, allowing the whip to drag across her back. Galadriel shivered. He prodded her thighs further apart with his boot, forcing the Lady to reveal herself to the night air.
He still wore his leggings. He struggled for a moment as he pulled them down, as his upright cock caught in the laces. Celeborn's arousal burned as it pressed against his belly. He exhaled slowly, calming himself.
He knelt behind Galadriel and found her wet and wanting as she thrust against him. He inserted himself in her in one swift motion. Celeborn's eyes rolled back and he moaned softly as he felt himself encased by her sweetly warm flesh, which was somehow both soft and tight.
He thrust slowly and deliberately, breathing deeply. He angled his cock to graze that sacred spot within her and Galadriel began to moan and rock back against him. Slowly, he began to thrust harder and faster, each time hitting Galadriel's spot. He slapped her buttocks hard with his open palm and felt her clench around him deliciously.
Their moans intertwine and harmonized in the still night air as Celeborn fucked his wife until he felt her body spasming in orgasm, pushing Celeborn over the edged. He screamed out as he felt their bond reopen and he knew his wife again and all he could see was light and all he could feel was ecstatic, euphoric joy and her immense love for him as his seed pumped into his beautiful Galadriel.
They both collapsed onto the ground and Celeborn rolled onto his back so that Galadriel rested on top of him as both panted until they regained their collective breath.
Celeborn ran his hands through his wife's hair and over her back. He felt wetness on her skin and gasped when he saw blood on his fingertips.
Celeborn gazed at the welts he had marred his beautiful wife's body with. "There is darkness within me. You were right; I have never seen the light,"
"There is darkness within all of us, Celeborn, just as there is light within all of us. Without darkness the beauty of light should be lost.
Celeborn sighed, "Whereas the light perceives the very heart of the darkness, its own secret has not been discovered. I do not deserve you, Galadriel,"
"Nay, Celeborn. Do I deserve you? A husband who will allow me all the privileges of power during the day but will release me its burden in the night? We have fallen out of balance. I have needed this as much as you. We complete each other just as the night completes the day."
Celeborn smiled peevishly, "My Lady, I was unaware that any Noldo should weary of power," Galadriel blushed as she heard her people's history spoken of so lightly.
"Perhaps only in certain persuasive circumstances, Teleporno. Indeed they do not call you the silver tree for naught," She buried her face in his hair while her other hand danced between Celeborn's legs.
They laughed together and the sound mingled with the songs of birds as the dawn broke and light once again filled the forest of Lothlorien.
**Avari, elves of Middle Earth who did not accept the summons of the Valar to sail West to Valinor
**Alatariel, Quenya version of Galadriel's name
**herdir, master
**saes, please
**hir nin, my lord
**Teleporno, Quenya version of Celeborn's name