Chapter Forty-Four
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SUMMARY: In the last chapter of Part V, we finally, FINALLY have a wedding!
And a wedding night…
Tur is terrified. After everything, will he disappoint them both?
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"In my life there's been heartache and pain
I don't know if I can face it again
Can't stop now, I've traveled so far, to change this lonely life
I want to know what love is, I want you to show me
I want to feel what love is, I know you can show me…"
By Foreigner
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Lothlórien, 20th of August 2946 T.A.
The night before the nuptials, and for the first time in Lothlórien's long history, a 'Stag Night,' for a prospective Groom was held in the Golden Wood. Haldir, having enjoyed this indulgence at Daeron's wedding (and who was always looking for an excuse to inflict his concoction on others), was especially generous. As was expected, the merriment that lasted long into the night was followed by agony in the morning. 1
During that ruckus, the Lady of Light, acting Mother of the Bride, hosted a party just for the female friends and acquaintances of the bride. Fortunately for Evvy's party, Galadriel had long ago banned the Marchwarden's vintage from her home, so the Ellyth and Women were in no danger of any similar misfortune.
Still, once her party broke up, she prepared herself.
Her first 'patient' was Celeborn. Three hours before dawn, the Lord of Lothlorien was dragged up to their Talon between two bemused Sentinels, and singing the filthiest song she had ever heard at the top of his lungs. King Thranduil was close behind him, and his baritone harmony did nothing but add to the spectacle. Feren's efforts to support his king were hampered by his own impaired state, which only made more work for Ruvyn and Elion. Bard was easier to deal with; he was passed out cold, and when Ivran carried him in over his shoulders, the King of Dale was snoring loudly and drooling a bit.
"Please take the Kings to their room, and make sure there are waste cans near the side of the bed," she ordered. "I will attend to them soon. Do you know where Rôgon and Galion are staying?"
Warden Lindo saluted her. "Rôg wished to stay with Lord Galion at his former home."
"Thank you. Send a message for Master Gilfanon to attend them right away and have him brought here to attend to his King."
"That might pose a problem," Lindo winced. "The Master, as well as Penlod and Orlin are passed out just outside your east garden; we planned to pick them up next."
Her mouth went slack. put her hands on her hips. "Surely, you jest!"
"I wish I were, My Lady. It will take us hours to pick up the bodies."
With a disgusted sigh, she said, "Well, our first priority is the Groom. Find out where Turamarth landed and take him to Mithrandir immediately. After you make sure the rest of our guests are in their proper places, gather the Galadhrim and leave them by the Fountain on the Forest Floor. Since they know full well the consequences of the Marchwarden's wine, they just suffer until we can get to them."
The Warden's shoulders slumped in relief. "Thank you, My Lady."
Galadriel pursed her lips to hide her smile and turned to her personal bodyguards, "Has Lord Celeborn been put to bed?"
"He has, My Lady."
"Thank you."
Celeborn was flopped face down on the bed, still humming when she entered their room, and he greeted her with a cheerful leer. "There is my Maiden with the Golden Crown!"
"You only call me thus when you are feeling amorous," Galadriel pursed her lips. "I doubt anything will be happening on this bed tonight but sleeping."
"But I am feeling frisky."
"You will not be so frisky later, Meleth nîn." She pulled off his boots, got him out of his leggings and tunic, and tucked him in.
"I was singing."
"I noticed, as did most of the City," she said wryly. "It is a good thing most of our Elves do not understand Westron."
"I believe I like these… these…"
"'Stag Nights?"
"Yes, that is it!" his arm swept out gaily.
"What you like, my darling husband, is Haldir's wine, but you always threaten to set fire to his vineyard the following day." She kissed his brow, and murmured a few words of Quenya. "I must attend some more victims. Go to sleep."
"As you wish," he mumbled, and drifted off.
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21st of August 2946 T.A.
At the wedding, Celeborn's posture gave no indication he had spent the first few hours of that day wishing his head would just explode and be done with it. The slightly greenish tinge to his face gave it away. Galadriel could have helped him with that, her husband needed to learn his lesson.
At this moment, all her attention was given to the lovely bride and her tall groom with rich, mahogany hair. She was stunning in light green silk, her hair (style by herself) was filled with flowers, and he was dressed in a green tunic and leggings, a gift from Commander Feren's wife.
Evvy's dark brown eyes glowed with pure joy, as she stood by her father and brother, and repeated Mithrandir's words full of promise to her Captain. At the appointed time, Daeron presented Tur with Evvy's ring, the same gold band which had once belonged to her mother, Vériel. Some weeks ago, Evvy requested this, and Tur had supported her choice and chose a similar plain ring for himself.
What the couple didn't know was that Galadriel had asked the jewel-smith to carve a special crest of her own design on both of them: a silver bird clutching an arrow in its claws, as it in the light of both the Sun and the Moon; the crest of the House of the Dove.
The true significance if this would be revealed much later. For now, Elrond had advised that the young couple be convinced that this award was given simply because Evranin was the Ward of Galadriel.
When Tur took the ring, kissed it, and slipped it onto Evvy's finger, he noticed the engraving, glanced up at Galadriel and Mithrandir, and whispered, "This is beautiful. Thank you."
"You are most welcome, my boy," the Wizard smile. "Now repeat after me."
The Captain spoke the words of commitment and devotion in a strong, sure voice, as tears dropped from his chin. Evvy smiled up at him, then wiped his cheeks with the same handkerchief given to her by Nienna. 2 Orlin gave Evvy Tur's ring and she did the same as she placed it on his finger.
The Lady of Light stepped forward and said. "As Evranin's foster-mother, it is tradition that I present a gift to Turamarth. However, there could be none greater than the jewel, he now wears, which was bequeathed to him by my daughter, Lady Celebrian, at the behest of Eru Ilúvitar himself. The Gîl-Naur bears the strength and steadfastness of Arien, the Keeper of Anor who brings the sun across the sky every day without fail. 3 Evranin was also given a great jewel: the Gîl-cýron, made from a tear of the Vala Nienna, is a sign to us all of her comfort, hope, and wisdom. Just as the we share in Anor's warmth this afternoon, let us also treasure the silver light of the Moon, and remember all the blessings from Tilion, its keeper." 4
Ómar stepped forward with their family's cord and wrapped around the couples joined hands. Then Óhtar did the same with the cord that was an heirloom in his family.
Galadriel and Mithrandir placed her hands the bonded couple, along with their families, invoked the name and blessings of Eru Ilúvitar over their union, and they were married.
When Tur cupped Evvy's face with love in his eyes, the Lady of Light's vision blurred. They must have kissed, but she couldn't quite see.
Strong, loving arms came around her from behind, and wrapped around her waist. "It was a beautiful ceremony, Alatáriel nîn." 5
"It was," she dabbed at her eyes. "Evranin was almost as lovely as Celebrian on her wedding day."
Celeborn kissed her just below her earlobe and whispered. "I was thinking of her, as well. Will you be all right after Evranin leaves us?"
"I will miss her," "It was good to feel like a mother again," she admitted, "but our Aewpin must go and live her own destiny."
"I think she helped you as much as you helped her, Meleth nîn," Celeborn rested his chin on her shoulder.
"Perhaps," She wiped her eyes and turned her head to give Celeborn a soft kiss. "I see you are still a bit wobbly.
"I would have liked a day or two to recover before this. Why could we not have postponed the ceremony?"
"You know they must be married on this date," she smiled. "That was a wild party last night."
"It was, but I am told though Tur's Stag Night was not nearly as rambunctious as Daeron's."
"Dare I ask?" Galadriel chin lifted in surprise.
"That event included Dwarves and a belching contest."
The Lady twisted in her arms to stare up at him. Celeborn's eyes danced as he tucked in his lips to stifle a grin. Galadriel's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a guffaw, and the tears of joy were soon replaced by tears of laughter. She threw back her head and laughed like she had not done in an exceptionally long time.
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During the Feast, Turamarth and Evranin could barely keep their eyes off each other, as toasts were made and drunk to their health, their happiness, their children, and their children's children.
Galadriel studied the groom carefully as he talked with his wedding guests. He was still a bit delicate from his revelries of the night before, but while his smile and laugh were genuine, there was anxiety in eyes.
Turamarth looked up from his conversation with Ruvyn and met her eyes. Bright patches of red appeared in his cheeks and he lowered his gaze shyly. His throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously.
Mithrandir came over to her. "You see it, as well?" he asked.
Her chin lowered in a slight nod. "Will he be all right?"
"Who can say?" The Wizard's shoulders rounded in a nervous shrug.
"We have done all we can do, Mellon nîn."
"But they must join, tonight!" Mithrandir groaned in frustration. "To delay even a day would be too late! Have you heard from Elrond?"
"I have, and the message from Palantir at Emyn Beraid is the same." 6
"I hate keeping something like this from them—"
"I do not like this manipulation either," Galadriel put her hand on his arm, "but we agreed it is better this way. Like so many of the Valar's plans, this must come naturally, or all will be for naught."
"Blast!" he sputtered. "There must be something we can do! Where is Evvy?"
"Over there," she jerked her chin to the left, "speaking with Daeron's wife."
Evvy was deep into a whispered conversation with Rhian at another table. The woman's face was animated and eager, waving her hands as Evvy, eyes like saucers, was blushing, but she nodded attentively here and there, and a hint of eager mischief sparkled in her eyes.
Galadriel gave the Wizard a gentle nudge with her elbow. "Help often comes from unexpected places, does it not?"
Mithrandir clapped his hands together with glee, then and asked the Lady of Light to dance.
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The Feast was over, the food was being packed up and carried away, the tables and tents were taken down and it was time to say goodbye to their guests. It truly had been the happiest day of his life and his cheeks actually hurt from smiling, but he couldn't help it. Evvy was so stunning in her wedding outfit he nearly fainted.
Just before the ceremony, before they emerged from their small tent, Daeron embraced him and said, "I will say to you with the same love you have for me, Tur: 'No tears; this is a happy day.'" 7
"It is," Tur's voice cracked. "I want this more than I have ever wanted anything. I love her, Gwador."
"I know," Daeron clasped his shoulder and lifted the tent flap. "It is time Tur; your life is waiting."
Of the actual ceremony, Tur remembered nothing: he was lost in the bottomless pools of Evranin's huge, coffee-colored eyes, drowning in them, with no desire to come up for air. Something about music, words, then his lips were on hers and he came back to himself with a ring on his finger and their hands bound to each other.
With a shy laugh, he gazed into his new wife's eyes. "We are wed, Erbain nîn."
She giggled up at him with trusting eyes and said, "Almost."
Almost. The confidence drained from him like water in a sieve. Ai, natho…
What if—"
But he had no more time to think, as he was surrounded by his friends and family, and for the next several hours, he put it out of his mind.
But the Lady was watching him, and so was Mithrandir, both with concern in their eyes.
That is the last thing I need, he thought with gritted teeth, and wished they would turn their attentions elsewhere.
With each salute, with each smile, and with each wave good-night, anxiety grew in Turamarth's chest.
But now, the last of the guests had left the area, and they were alone.
"It is a beautiful night, Hervenn nîn." Evvy smiled up at him with her arms around his waist.
"Not as beautiful as you, my beloved wife." He lifted his hand and ran his fingers softly along her hairline. "You are so beautiful," he said in a shaky voice. "Evvy, I want… so much…"
"Shhh…" she placed her finger on over his lips to silence him. "It will be all right, Tur. No matter what happens we will be fine, I promise."
"But what if I cannot—"
"Ah, ah," she covered his mouth with her entire hand this time, and stared deep into his eyes. "Do you trust me, Turamarth, the love of my life?"
"Mrrf urff ooh," he mumbled.
"Sorry," she snickered, and lowered her hand. "Now I repeat, and must have your honest answer, Tur: Do. You. Trust. Me?"
"I trust you, Evvy, you know I do, but—"
"Silence!" she commanded in a tone he had never heard.
Stunned, he complied. Evvy took his hand, opened the door to the cottage and led him inside. The cottage was charming, bathed in candlelight and shadows danced over the rough stone walls in a soft, golden glow. It was larger than Lord Bard's hunting lodge, and had a living/kitchen area, and two bedrooms with a privy off at the end of the hall.
"Which room is ours?" he asked, but he needn't have bothered. Evvy led him around the comfortable couch and chairs and took him into the first room. Their bags had been unpacked, their personal things were set out on the dresser and the vanity, and the bed—
The bed was large, with a high, intricately carved headboard in light cherry. The spread was white and fluffy, adorned with embroidered Mallorn blossoms in gold light green thread.
Their bed.
His stomach lurched.
Oh, no…
Evvy turned to him and said, "Kiss me, Tur. Now."
He bent his head, and let his lips rest against hers in a gentle, slow kiss. Before he had a chance to pull back, her hands snaked around to the back of his neck and kept him there. Her lips parted and she pushed her tongue into his mouth with a small, soft moan. Tur opened for her and began to explore her mouth. She tasted of wine, fruit and honey from their wedding cake, and his hands pulled her to him of their own volition. With a groan, he bent slightly, tightened his arms, and lifted her up to kiss her again, as her hands tangled in his hair.
When they finally came up for air, chuckled. "Hello, my wife."
"Hello, my husband," Evvy's eyes never left his as her fingers undid the laces of his silk tunic. "This is lovely, Tur."
"Commander Feren's wife made it as a wedding gift; she was unable to come so she sent it with him."
"I love it," she said, "but I will like it better when it is off." Careful not to tear it, she lifted the tunic over his head and left him bare-chested. After carefully folding it and putting on the dresser, she turned her back. "Now undo me."
Tur's fingers were steady when he did the first few buttons, but as he made his way down her back, they began to shake, and his breath grew ragged. He wanted this more than anything, but what if those terrible dreams came back when he finally had her body underneath his?
Stifling a sob, he dropped his hands and stepped back. "I am sorry, Evvy. I…"
"Take a deep breath, Tur," Evvy said softly. "It will be all right. Just trust me, like I asked."
I did as she asked, then resumed his task. Another button… another…
"I love you."
"I love you, too," he managed to say, as his fingers undid the last button. "Daeron told me Rhian's dress had forty-five buttons on it!"
"Oh, dear," Evvy giggled. "That must have been torture."
"My Gwathel has a sick sense of humor." He ran his hands over her bare upper back and started to slide the dress off her shoulders, but she quickly stepped away.
"No."
"No?"
"Not yet," Evvy took him by the hands, led him to the bed and sat him down. "Stay there."
"What are you—"
"Shh!" she pressed her finger against his lips. "Wait." Evvy leaned over him and did something with the pillows, and said. "I need you to sit up here," she patted the spot in the center.
"Why?"
"Because you said you trust me," she placed her hands on her hips, as the sleeve of her dress slipped off, revealing a smooth creamy shoulder.
"You are so beautiful," he breathed.
"Thank you, Naur nîn," she said coyly, "but if you do not do as you are told, you will never touch it."
His eyes blinked for a moment, then he scooted into position like a flash.
"Give me your hand," she whispered.
Spellbound, his hand reached for hers of its own volition. "I love you, Turamarth," she whispered in a low seductive voice," as she reached for something under the pillow behind his back. "I want you to close your eyes, and do not open them until I tell you."
A blast of heat slammed into his chest, and a spark of desire came to life in his groin. With each twitch of his increasingly interested cock, the flame grew.
"I love you, Tur," she said again, as warm lips kissed his palm and soft, smooth cloth surrounded his wrist. "Tell me you trust me."
"I trust you."
"Say it again." The silken fabric of her dress rustled, and her voice now came from his left and she grabbed his other hand.
"I trust you, Evvy. And I love you."
"Good!" she laughed. "You may open your eyes now."
Both his hands were tied to the headboard with red silk scarves. "Uh…. This is… unexpected."
"Exactly," she said lightly, as she bent over to kiss him again. "There is only the two of us in this room, in our marriage bed. This night, my husband," she murmured as she bit his lower lip, "belongs to no one but you and me. Do I make myself clear?"
All he could do was nod, as she stood and slowly let the dress fall from her shoulders.
And oh, was she beautiful! His eyes traveled over her lightly freckled shoulders to the smooth skin of her chest. The white gem sparkled on its silver chain and hung just above her breasts, which were soft and round and peaked with the most beautiful pink nipples he could have envisioned. Her slim waist gracefully curved downward like an hourglass, and – what was that? His mouth watered as he saw the tiny reddish birthmark on her left hip, that was waiting to be kissed.
At the apex of her long, long legs was his prize; the mound of flesh and silky folds of skin that held a treasure that was meant for him. And he wanted to worship that body.
"You are stunning, Erbain nîn," Tur murmured prayerfully, and his words turned into a moan as cock hardened and painfully pushed against the fabric of his leggings. He squirmed and strained against his bindings. "Please…"
Evvy slipped out of her shoes, lowered herself on the bed and crawled to him on all fours. "Are you in distress, my husband?" she smirked, as she pulled off his boots and socks.
"Mmmm…." He panted.
"Shall I…" her eyes widened in innocence, "take these off?"
"A, ma! Gin iallon!" he cried.
His wife made swift work of his clothes, and tossed them on the floor. When his rigid cock sprang free, his head sank back in relief, but was soon followed by a crippling wave of vulnerability, and his body grew tense again and the intimate exposure.
His teeth clenched in frustration and anger, as he felt his member soften. Overcome with shame and disappointment, he squeezed his eyes tighter, yet a small tear escaped.
No… please no… not this, on the most important night of my life…
A moist heat surrounded his cock. His body jolted with a cry, and his eyes flew open again. Evvy's full, pink lips were moving over him, consuming him.
"Evvy!" he gasped in shock. "You—" But words failed him after that. Her fingers held his shaft and moved up and down, as her tongue licked under his foreskin, kissed, and teased the underside of its head until he felt the room spin. Animal-like noises flew from his mouth as his hips gyrated in a delicious agony, but when her hand moved to softly cup his balls, he had to jerk himself away.
"Please, Erbain nîn," he croaked. "You must stop, or I will not last. Please!"
"So… you liked it?" She crawled forward and gave him keep kiss. She tasted of him.
"Liked it? Liked it?" he shook his head and laughed. "You are amazing!"
But his Evvy was still in control. She grabbed his chin, and looked deep into his eyes. "Tell me you want to be one with me, Turamarth, son of Ómar. Say it!"
"Evranin, beloved daughter of Óhtar," his breath caught. "I love you, and want you with everything that I am. My body, my life, my spirit belongs to you and no other. Please, let my fëa touch your beautiful soul, make me whole."
Her mouth lurched forward to capture his, and kiss was deep, strong, and unforgettable. He was so lost in it that he hardly noticed when she moved to straddle his hips, but when she took him in her hand, his eyes flew open.
Evvy was poised above him, his cock about to enter her most sacred place. Her eyes never wavered from his, as she slowly lowered herself down. Trembling, he let out a long, low moan as she lowered herself onto him, and for an instant a flash of memory of Pallando's curse threatened to overtake him.
But it wasn't real. Tur's eyes darted from her gaze to quickly land on the birthmark on her hip. Nowhere in any of the torturous visions he was forced to endure did that mark appear on her body. This was his Evvy. The fingers that dug into his shoulders were real. The beautiful little cries and gasps that fell from her lips were real.
Think of the birthmark…. Think of the fire inside her. There was no heat in the vision; but inside Evvy's body there is fire, meant only for me…
With a soft sigh, Evvy moved her hips and adjusted to his thickness. "We are One at last, Naur nîn."
After another glance at her crimson circle on her left hip, he lost himself in her velvet brown eyes again. "I love you so much," he murmured.
Her response was to lean forward offer him her breast. He eagerly took her nipple in his mouth and gently suckled as her hips began to move up and down. A guttural moan from the deep inside seeped his mouth and his teeth grazed her nipple until it became a hard pebble in his mouth.
"A ma, Tur!" she cried. "Yes!"
Fingers tangled in his hair and the sound of her deep, soft moan sent lightning bolts through him. He bent his knees and thrust his hips up to meet her. Evvy sobbed with pleasure and she lowered her mouth the tips of his ear and sucked.
Turamarth's hands strained against the scarves as his body writhed in a pleasure he had never imagined. "Evvy," he croaked. "Please, Meleth nîn… Look at me. I am going to come and need…" he panted. "Oh…"
Her noises grew more urgent, as put their foreheads together and looked deep into his eyes. Her mouth formed a large O of pleasure as their bodies slammed together with increasing speed.
There was the light, the glow Daeron told him about. Oh, praise Varda and all the Valar… Evvy's fëa, all that she was and would ever be, was there for him, his for the taking and it was astounding. Turamarth's fëa was there, too, and for a spit second, he was afraid. Was it still to damaged? Could he be enough for her?
A undulating shaft of golden light rose before him like smoke from a candle that had just been put out. Below his life of vision, Evvy's necklace lit up like star and another tendril of light – this one pure silver – rose from the Gîl-Cýron. Before their eyes, gold and silver swirled and whirled around each other in an erotic dance.
The heat grew in his groin, sending shockwaves up his back. "Erbain nîn, tolen min!" he shrieked, as tears fell from his eyes unchecked. Evvy's eyes were full of love and acceptance and…
Joy, in its purest form.
The gold and silver shafts of light joined together and Evvy let out a scream of ecstasy that threatened to drown his own screams. They came at the exact same time, bathed blinding light as two fëas became one, yet her eyes were still before him, full of so much joy he wept at the sight of it. White light became colorful stars that fell around them as she held them together.
This beloved, dark-eyed wife had just become his home.
"How did my hands get free?" he whispered later, as he held her in his arms and ran his fingers through the soft, icy-blonde waves. "I do not remember."
Evranin lifted her head and rested her chin on his chest. "I cut your bonds just before… it happened."
"Wh…" he glanced right and left. The red scarves were sliced neatly. "Where was the knife? For that matter? How did you come up with those bonds?"
"I hid them earlier, while here were talking with Lord Celeborn and King Thranduil." She bit her bottom lip nervously. "I… hope you are not angry, Tur. I know you wanted this just as much as I did…" her eyes quickly flew to his. "Not that I doubted you. It is just that this night is special, and I could not bear the thought of anything that might ruin it for you. I thought if I could come up with something…er, unexpected, it might chase away any 'ghosts.'"
He caressed her cheek with the palm. "You did that for me?"
"I would do anything for you," she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. "I wanted nothing to keep us from the joy of that moment. What happened to you – to us – was extreme, so…" she winced, "I asked Rhian for help?"
"You did what?" he propped up on his elbows. "This was all Rhian's idea?"
"Well, who else would understand such things?" she lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. "I took her aside after the wedding and asked her for advice. It was she who suggested I take everything I saw in the Lady's Mirror and do the opposite."
"That… makes sense, actually."
Her her fingers traveled over the hard muscles of his stomach, traced the V-shaped line at his hips and settled over the heavy mass at his groin, "Were you surprised?"
"'Surprised?'" he squeaked. "I was completely shocked! My shy little bird was as bold as a harlot from the villages of Men! I had no idea you were capable of such wanton behavior!"
"Oh…" her face fell, and her eyes began to fill. "Rhian told me she and Daeron love playing like that, and I just thought…"
"No, no, no!" Tur grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her against him. "You misunderstand me, Erbain nîn. It is true was not expecting anything like that, but… I think I liked it."
"Are you sure?" Evvy blinked. "Because, but if you do not want to— Mmmmmrrrrrff!"
Her last words were stifled by Tur's mouth and tongue, and soon muffled words turned into yearning moans.
With a loud grunt, he flipped them over so Evvy was on her back. "Now," he growled, "It is my turn to make you scream."
"Do you worst, Captain," she giggled.
Tur kissed his way down her neck and took a rosy nipple in her mouth, working it mercilessly between his teeth and his tongue until she couldn't remain still. His hand cupped her other breast, enjoyed the soft mound of flesh, just before he pinched her other nipple.
"A, Tur!" she gasped, squirming.
He lifted his head and leered. "I have always wondered how you taste, Erbain nîn." And with that, he let his tongue trail slowly down to her stomach, and after playing with her navel for a moment, licked his way down to the soft folds that were swollen and wet, ready for him.
After peppering her inner thighs with light kisses, Evvy arched her back in frustration. "Please, Tur! Please!"
"Do you want me to stop?" he teased.
"No! Hurry, or I shall burst!" she whined, and lifted her hips up and spread her thighs.
He licked each pink fold and then started to torture her the small nub of flesh as he inserted two fingers and curled them forward. Evvy's eyes rolled into the back of her head and her hands grabbed at the sheets as if to keep from drowning. She tried to form words, but all she could manage were cries, which turned to moans, which turned to shrieks, which ultimately turned to screams. And he reveled in it, in her taste, her smell and the feel of her pulsing around his fingers. Evvy's powerful orgasm pulsed through his own body as well, and his entire body tensed as his hips thrust down into the mattress, the friction on his cock making him come again.
When at last she collapsed back on the pillows, she was limp and panting. "Gellon n'i iuithog i lebir gîn…" she mumbled
"I like this side of you," he studied the birthmark on her hip, and kissed it.
Evvy threw her arm over her eyes and struggled to get her breathing under control. "I am not the only one full of surprises this night," she panted.
"Oh, that," one corner of his mouth slid upwards and winked. "Daeron and I were talking, and…"
With a gasp, her arm flew off her face and sat up. "Turamarth!"
"If you are disappointed," he teased, "I will not do it again."
She smacked him with a pillow. "Bite your tongue."
"What happened to the shy, broken bird I first met?"
Evvy stroked his face. "We were both broken, Meleth nîn, now we can truly fly."
"Yes, we can," he said. "Together, we can do anything."
"Anything?" One of her dark brows lifted.
Tur lifted her hand from his cheek and placed a kiss on its palm. "What did you have in mind," he asked, but he already knew the answer.
Evvy's gaze rested upon his painfully hard cock. "Perhaps you could put that Gwîb to good use and puith me again?"
"Your wish is my command." He moved up to hover over his wife, then kissed her softly as he entered her. "I love you, Evvy."
"Gi melin, Tur."
And Turamarth, son of Ómar, without fear or hesitation, made love to his wife.
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They spent the next seven days and nights exploring the delights of wedding bliss, bathing naked in the pool, kissing under the waterfall, and letting their bodies dry in the sun.
And Tur counted (and kissed) every single freckle on his wife's nose.
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Caras Galadhon, Lothlórien, 21st of August 2946 T.A., Just before midnight
"Pacing with do no good, Mithrandir," Galadriel said from her perch on Celeborn's lap.
Gandalf's hands were behind his back as he traveled the entire length of the Lord and Lady's balcony, high in the trees. He would stop every once in while and look up to the skies.
Below them, the party that left clearing near the Marchwarden's cottage earlier that day was brought to the city and was still in full swing. The Kings from the North were down there mingling with their friends and enjoying this rare break from Royal duty.
"It is out of our hands, Mellon nîn." Galadriel kissed her husband again and went to join the Wizard, covering his cool hand with hers. "Whatever happens, we will still do our best."
Mithrandir stroked his beard thoughtfully, closed his eyes and murmured another prayer.
"Look!" Celeborn on his feet, pointing to the clear night sky.
"There it is!" Galadriel cried with joy. "They did it!"
A shadow slowly grew over the full moon.
"Behold!" the Wizard bellowed throughout the City, stunning its citizens, including those making merry into complete silence. All eyes turned first to the Lord and Lady's balcony, up, up beyond the high trees, and into the sky, where Tilion held the Moon for all to see. 8
But on this night, Tilion's moon was not silver.
On this night, the Ilúvitar sent a special message to those few in Arda who understood its meaning. It was a sign of things to come, offering guidance and hope.
On this night, the Moon glowed Red. A Blood Moon.9 A sign, a path with which to proceed in the troubled times to yet to come.
"Praise the Valar!" The Wizard slumped into a nearby chair and covered his eyes.
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~Fin~
~The Two Thrones Saga continues in Part IV~
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
A, ma! - Oh yes!
Gin iallon! –I beg you!
Ai, natho… – Oh, help…
Alatáriel nîn – My Maiden Crowned with a Radiant Garland
Erbain nîn – My Fair One
Erbain nîn, tolen min! – I am coming, my fair one!
Gellon n'i iuithog i lebir gîn – I love it when you use your fingers
Gîl-Naur – Sun-Star, the necklace given to Tur by Galadriel to bring him help.
Gîl-Cýron - Moon Star, Evvy's necklace made by Nienna and the now-redeemed Saeros.
Gwîb – Penis (Honest!)
Hervenn nîn – My husband
Hervess nîn – My wife
Naur nîn – My Sun
Puith - Fuck
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NOTES:
1 An Invincible Summer, Ch. 54: /works/14127870/chapters/39824019
2 Broken Wings, Ch. 26: /works/20519588/chapters/54434116
3 /wiki/Sun
4 /wiki/Moon
5 "Alatáriel was the Telerin Quenya name given to Galadriel by Celeborn, meaning "Maiden Crowned with Radiant Garland", which referred to her hair" /wiki/Galadriel#Names
6 /wiki/Emyn_Beraid
7 An Invincible Summer, Ch. 55: /works/14127870/chapters/39993237
8 /wiki/Moon
9 A Blood Moon, is the phenomenon whereby the moon in total eclipse appears reddish in color as it is illuminated by sunlight filtered and refracted by the earth's atmosphere.
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